The Girl Who Fell (29 page)

I crack the window for air.

But there isn't enough oxygen on Earth. Not even as we walk across Waxman's lawn.

“Wait here,” Lizzie says as we reach our tucked-away nook against the trees. “I'll grab you some water.”

“I want a beer.”

“Yeah, no.” Lizzie heads to the house as I practice my words for Gregg on a loop in my head, never more thankful that I've chosen Alec. That I'll be hundreds of miles away from all of this bullshit next year. I can't even believe what the mistake of Boston with Gregg would look like. How much more devastated I would feel by his betrayal.

Sounds dart between my ears, arrow blades of indistinguishable noise. But then, clarity. My name. Through the trees. I turn and see Gregg. Looking too casual. Too normal. And I hate him even more for it.

My teeth clench, warping my voice into a growl. “How could you be such an asshole?”

Gregg stiffens. “Um, hello to you too.”

I scoff. “You want me to say hi?” I force nonchalance. “Oh, hey Gregg. You good? Great. Good to hear. So glad you took the time to completely humiliate me. And in my own home, that was a nice touch.” I give a twisted laugh. “Oh wait. Did I say hi? Wouldn't want to be impolite.”

Gregg's face hardens with confusion. Still, he keeps his voice hushed. “
Me
humiliate
you
? Judging from that display you put on in the caf today, you're doing a fine job all by yourself, Zeph. You don't need my help.”

I press my feet into the ground, stand firm. “I got your note. Your little message made it perfectly clear how you feel about me being with Alec.”

“Zephyr, what are you talking about?”

“Are you such a coward that you're not even going to own what you did?”

“I kissed you, Zeph. I've already told you that I didn't mean to fuck everything up with that stupid kiss. And I shouldn't have said that thing today. That wasn't cool. If I could take both back, I would. Believe me.”

The kiss? His words? I stare at him and see a lifetime in his gaze, the years we spent exploring the woods as pirate zombie adventurers, the sharing of Popsicles on a summer day when everything was quiet and we could ask each other anything we didn't understand. Like why the Dead were Grateful or how come jelly always took second chair to peanut butter. Those quiet times reach up from deep inside of me and pull me to the girl I used to be. Gregg's friend, his confidante.

Tears climb into my eyes, uninvited. I scurry after my resolve.

I remember: S-L-U-T.

“Why would you even want to be friends with a slut?”

“You are making zero sense.”

“The note you left in my room. You're seriously going to deny it?”

Gregg runs his hand through his thick hair. “Can we start again? I feel like we're having two different conversations.”

“There's only one conversation, Gregg. And it's our last. I can't even look at you after seeing that note.”

“I need you to slow down. Tell me what note you're freaking about.”

“The one you wrote with your ridiculous red autograph Sharpie.”

He reaches in his back pocket, pulls out the marker. “This?”

Seeing it makes my stomach wretch. “Nice. Want to throw anything else in my face? Now's your chance. You won't have another.”

“When would I have left this note for you?”

“You broke into my room.”

He lets out a laugh. “Broke into your room? Why would I do that?”

“Because you're pissed I'm with Alec.”

He pulls back. “I'm bummed, not pissed. And this isn't news, Zeph. I wouldn't have to break into your room for you to know this bit of information.”

My head swims. “I know it was you.”

“Why? Because of a red marker?” He toggles it between his fingers. “You can pick one up at Staples.” He pulls back his arm, hurls the marker deep into the surrounding trees. I can't hear the rustle of its landing. “That pen is meaningless, but you accusing me of breaking into your house is huge. Christ, Zeph, how is it that lately you don't know me at all?”

A weakness begins to build in my knees. My brain clogs with facts. “It was you. It had to be. You made me sign my newspaper photo at breakfast.”

“Uh, yeah. And I still have it somewhere in my locker.”

“So how is it pinned to my wall?”

“Look, I don't know what you think I wrote, or pinned to your wall or whatever, but you've got the wrong guy.”

“Right. It just appeared there. My signature and all. Did the word slut magically appear over my image too?”

“How can you think I would call you a slut? Ever.”

“You did. You wanted me to know it was you. That's why you used that photo. It was signed. You
knew
I'd know it came from you.”

“Fuck. I don't know shit about that photo. It could have dropped out of my locker. I don't know.” He lets out an exasperated sigh and I feel its depth. A canyon of regret. “How did I become the enemy?”

He reaches out, touches my elbow with his. I want to pull away but I can't. It's our secret code, the one we'd started when our parents were torturing us by making us watch boring documentaries that were supposed to broaden our view of the world. But we were nine and we dreamed of bigger things. Explorer things. So we'd touch elbows to communicate that we'd make it through the torment together. We'd come out the other side.

But now when he touches me in this way, the connection seems fragile. It's the first time I'm unsure if we'll be okay on the other side.

“Look, Zeph, I don't know how or why that note got pinned to your wall and I'm pissed it did, but it wasn't me. There isn't a part of me that could hurt you. Not on purpose. You have to know that.”

Confusion spills over my thoughts. “So then how . . . ?”

He shakes his head. “I don't know, but I promise I'll find out. No one deserves that, Zeph, least of all you.” He twists his empty keg cup in his hand.

“You swear it wasn't you?”

He reaches for my hand and I let him hold me. “You know it wasn't me, Zeph. You know me.”

And I do. The Gregg standing before me is the Gregg I've always known, not the monster that note conjured in my head.

He gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “I always thought senior year would all go down so differently.”

My throat is dirt dry. My nerves scattered. “Yeah.”

He throws a quick laugh. “Something tells me you and I had different versions of how it would unfold, but I'm willing to overlook the details.”

A small smile creeps onto my face. “Gracious.”

“I just want this again.” He strokes his finger across my palm. “Me and you, the way we used to be. Before I fucked up.”

The way Gregg holds on to his uninvited kiss as the worst thing he's done makes me certain he couldn't have written that note. Makes me hate myself for believing he could. And that's when I know it had to be Lani. She must have heard what Gregg said to me in the lunchroom. I'd seen the way she hung her stare on me. I'd always known she was jealous of my friendship with Gregg. And then I threw it in her face, how she's not invited to Anna's wedding. She's pissed that I am. Or maybe she thinks I'm leading Gregg on—that I want Gregg
and
Alec.

The more I think of it, the more I'm sure. She would have ripped Gregg from his half of our childhood picture. She would have had access to Gregg's locker. She set him up. Wanted me to suspect him. So I'd back off, stop being his friend.

“I'm sorry,” I tell Gregg, because I am. For too much.

“You're lucky I'm the forgiving type.” His smile spreads easily across his face. It's the smile he's always had for me, the one that sits a little deeper in his cheeks than the smile in his press photos. Even deeper than his smile for Lani. She must see that too, the way he looks at me. I stare at his features, maybe a beat too long. Our eyes catch but we don't look away. I can't look away.

“Hiding in the bushes?” Lizzie says as she joins us. She registers me and Gregg holding hands and our fingers release simultaneously. Lizzie offers me a keg cup and I bring the water to my lips. It is cold, cleansing. “You two good now?”

“Fine,” I tell her.

Lizzie eyes me with her need to know the details, but I'm thankful she doesn't press. She turns to Gregg. “I heard about Boston College wanting you to play for them.”

A bashful look crawls over Gregg's features. “Yeah, looks like everything's going according to plan.”

A sadness plummets then. For all our plans. Before.

Lizzie darts her eyes between us, craves the story that's not being told. My feet shift, restless and a little trapped. “I think it's incredible. Not that I ever had any doubts. About you or Zephyr.”

Gregg raises his cup to her in a toast, but her gaze stays on me. A quiet interrogation.

When Gregg taps my cup with his, this small gesture is like a string between us, a pulley. I move to him and place my arm over his hard shoulder. His free hand rounds my waist and he draws me in for a hug. My arm wraps tight, pulling him closer as an apology. And a promise.

He knows what I am saying. Without words.

Gregg has always known.

I close my eyes as he holds me, suspended. I wish I could stop time. Let this moment between us erase all of my mistakes. I let the safety of Gregg's hug envelope me and a tear forms. For Gregg going to Boston. Without me. For not being able to have Alec and Gregg next year. I blink away the tear because I can't let more follow. That would be too much.

Gregg's arm relaxes and I open my eyes. The forest folds back into existence, sound rises to my ears. And something else. A figure in the distance. Too familiar.

Gregg puts me down and my feet stumble. He rights me and I hold onto his outstretched arm. For balance. For strength. But the scene beyond pulls me and I step away from Gregg's support, Lizzie, and the small pocket of our shared Earth.

I walk toward the figure, squint my eyes.

Lizzie's words are far away now. “Zee, where are you going?” Or maybe this is an echo in my head. My mind focuses only on the boy who looks like Alec.

I squint in the darkness, knowing my eyes are wrong. Praying they are wrong.

The way his body leans in against the house, the easy set of his hips. The way his frame seems to hover.

Over something?

Someone.

A shiver rattles through me. A surge of panic propels me forward, even as I want to shrink back.

Lizzie pulls at my jacket. “Zephyr, are you okay?”

That someone is a girl.

He's got one hand pressed against the house, his head tilting in.

What is he saying? What are the words he is listening to?

I snap my coat free of Lizzie's grasp. I keep my eyes trained on the boy who looks too much like Alec. The boy who is about to kiss the girl leaning against the house.

So it can't be Alec.

My feet tread a steady beat, the Earth pushing back hard beneath each step. I pick up speed, while the party around me slows. The logs in the fire pit squeal and then pop as loud as a firecracker. My heart skips faster.

I'm closer. He's closer. She's closer.

The couple swims in clearer now. He reaches an arm toward the girl, tucks a strand of blond hair behind her ear. The gesture is so familiar it spasms my gut. But wait. I don't recognize his jacket.

That's not Alec's blue fleece.

The one I've pulled off his body.

The one that makes his eyes shine.

It's someone else. It has to be.

This is all a mistake.

Then Gregg is in front of me, jogging backward, blocking my view. I stop. His eyes swell with a sadness I've never seen, not even after he saw me kiss Alec that day at the rink. This sadness is different. It's not because of me, I realize; it's
for
me. That's when I know the boy doesn't just look like Alec.

The boy on my horizon is Alec.

And the scene before me cuts deeper than any note Lani could write.

“Leave it, Zeph.” Gregg reaches for me, but I slink him off. I clutch my cup so hard the plastic crackles in my fist, water slipping out over the side, shocking my skin with cold.

His free hand sits on her shoulder now, like it's made to be there.

Alec's hips sling closer to the girl's, his body almost covering her in that blanket. My blanket. My thoughts fog.

Her hand rising to his hair, just over his ear.

His lips move but I can't make out the words.

Her head lifts to his, her mouth inviting a kiss.

“Alec?” I whisper. The couple doesn't stir. Maybe I'm too far away for him to hear me. Maybe it's not really him. Loud music rushes into my ears. I step past the speakers, tuck behind the deck to listen.

He drops his head so close to her shoulder.

Is he kissing her neck? Asking her to go somewhere else? To be alone?

Her body pulling him in, so eager.

Lizzie and Gregg approach but I wave them away. I hush everything around me so I can hear this couple. And I hear them.

“You are really beautiful,” he tells her. “Sexy.”

I feel sick. The kind of sick I'll never stop being sick from.

“You cold?” He rubs her forearms.

“Not with you.” Her flirt drips sugar.

“You want to go inside?”

Inside?

“Alec?” I blurt. The name I've held on my lips for months, the name that edged out Boston College.

He turns then, focuses on my face in the shadows. His hand drops from the twist of the girl's hair. He takes a half step back from the house. I can't read his expression. Is it satisfaction? Regret?

“Zephyr.” His voice silks out my name while my world implodes.