The Girl Who Fell (5 page)

I need advice.

I text Lizzie to meet me outside for lunch and she's already at our picnic table when I arrive. She starts her interrogation before I'm fully plunked down across from her.

“So are you finally going to tell me what's up? You've been acting weird all day.”

“Have I?”

She wrestles a handful of Junior Mints from their box. “You thinking about your dad?”

“What? No. I mean, yeah, I guess, but no.”

“Then what?”

“More like who.” I pop the top of my soda, trace its metal rim with my finger. “Gregg, who.”

“Slice? Is he okay?”

“He's fine. At least, I think.” I hesitate. It's unsettling spilling my private bits, even to someone I trust as much as Lizzie. But what choice do I have? “He kissed me. On Saturday. At Waxman's.”

“He
kissed
you?” Lizzie practically yells. “That's why you two were acting so weird. Zee, oh my god! It's about time.”

I stare at her, dumbfounded.

“You cannot be shocked. He's been in love with you since junior high.”

“He has not.”

“Zee, I'm a reporter. I get paid to notice these things.”

“You're the editor of the school newspaper. No one pays you.”

She waves off the technicality. “Slice loves you. Everyone knows that. And you guys would be incredible together, an unstoppable force of hockey on the ice and field.” She ghosts her hand along an imagined, overenlarged headline. “Hockey Couple Zee and Slice, Twice as Nice.” She frowns, considering. “Okay, needs some work.”

“I think there's a bigger problem than your headline.” I swallow hard. Gregg is strong and kind and all the things any sane girl would want in a boyfriend, but he's practically family. “I just can't like Gregg like that, you know—I don't
like
him like him.”

“You're not interested in being swept off your feet by one of the most popular guys in school?”

“It's too weird, Lizzie. He's like my brother. You know, if I had a brother.”

Lizzie steals a sip of my soda and contemplates. “Yeah, okay, I get that.”

“Why would he do this? It's beyond bizarre. I mean, our families have been friends forever.” My face rushes with heat.

“Complicated.”

“Right? And now he's avoiding me. Even moved his seat to the front of French class. Told Mrs. Sarter some bullshit excuse about not being able to see the board. But he never misses a puck flying at him at breakneck speed. Doesn't need glasses for that.”

“Ouch. What are you gonna do?”

I shrug. “I have no idea.”

“You have to talk to him. Drive to his house. Confront him. You guys can get past this. I'll even go with you if you want.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course. This will all blow over, Zee. And this could be a good thing.” She pops a mint.

“How do you figure?”

“It's probably healthy that you're dealing with a little boy drama instead of the relationship chaos imploding over at
chez
Doyle.”

“I can assure you that getting kissed by Gregg does not feel healthy.”

“Okay, maybe the Slice thing is bizarre, but it'll make for a great story when we're years away from this crap town.”

Just as she says it we look at each other, realizing maybe clearly for the first time that we won't be together next fall. This is the part of limbo that we don't talk about, how our individual futures don't include each other. It physically hurts to imagine my life without Lizzie, but I never imagined my life without Gregg, and yet here it is, my life, with Gregg conspicuously absent.

Lizzie clears her throat and nods at the space behind me. I turn, my heart quickening, expecting—hoping—to see Gregg. The sun hangs directly behind the approaching silhouette but even after one short week, I know his shape, the rolling lope of his stride. Alec looks haloed in the brightness as he moves closer. I raise my hand to my forehead to shield my eyes as he peers down at me.

“Hello, Zephyr actually.”

“Hey.” I don't have to see the smirk plastered across Lizzie's face to know it's there.

Alec reaches to shake Lizzie's hand. “I'm Alec. Residential new kid.”

“Lizzie. Smartest girl in school.”

“Always a good person to know.” Alec points to the building across the courtyard. “I was on my way to meet Coach. Thought I'd say hi. Do you guys always eat out here?”

“When the weather's nice,” Lizzie says. I see her skilled observer gaze sizing Alec up. “Why?”

“The caf's a little overwhelming when you've got no one to sit with.” I find myself intrigued by his vulnerability.

“You miss your friends?” Lizzie asks.

“I miss things being familiar. It's not easy starting at a new school senior year.”

“I'll bet.” Lizzie gives a sympathetic nod. “But your girlfriend will visit, right? That'll help.”

He grins. “No girlfriend.”

“That's not the rumor going around,” Lizzie says. I nudge her on the thigh, a move Alec registers.

“Do you believe everything you hear?” Alec asks.

“No, that's why I'm fact-checking. The story is that you got kicked out of school for snogging a girl in your dorm room.”

“Snogging?” Alec laughs.

“There are a million different words for it. Pick another, if you'd like.”

“Like I said, don't believe everything you hear.” He gives the table a quick knock and throws me a soft smile. My stomach twitters. “I gotta run. Coach will kill me if I'm late.”

“So you made the team?” I ask.

“That's what they tell me.”

“Congratulations,” I say.

“Thanks.” That blush deepens across his cheeks. “I only hope ice hockey is as good as field hockey in this town.” He turns to Lizzie. “It was nice meeting you.” Then, to me. “See you in French, Zephyr actually?”

I nod. “See you.”

Lizzie waves.

Alec jogs to the granite steps, takes them two at a time before disappearing into the mouth of the school.

Lizzie needles my thigh with her finger. “The new kid has a pet name for you.”

“Funny.”

“He looked pretty sincere to me.” Lizzie tosses a trio of mints into her mouth, her smile growing wider. “I don't think it would kill you to investigate hanging out with him. He seems nice. We could all go out together, maybe. Jason will be home next weekend. What do you say?”

“Maybe.” But it's a big maybe. I think Lizzie found something special in Jason, and there are only so many Jason and Lizzies in the world. Up until a few months ago, I thought my parents had that same kind of steel cable connection.

I raise my face to the low sun and close my eyes the way I've watched Lizzie do hundreds of times. I try to push away the fear of anyone watching me and relax into the wash of yellow light that paints the backs of my lids like a canvas. On it, my mind draws Alec and his smile, the way it speaks of a secret. It's easy to be distracted by him, for sure. But then Alec morphs into my dad, grinning, happy. Popping out of his art studio with his next idea for a character from another galaxy. I dart my eyes open, fully aware of how dangerous blind faith can be.

Saturday morning I hang in bed studying for my upcoming trig test. Finn seems content to lounge next to me all day, but by noon stir-craziness beats inside me fast as hummingbird wings. I can't deal with the silent treatment from Gregg and I need to head over to his house. But first, a run. To clear my head. Prepare for The Talk I'm pretty sure we need to have.

I lace up my sneakers and grab my iPod. “Sorry Finn,” I say when his pant becomes
please, please, please
. “You wouldn't be able to keep up with me today.” Or any day, for that matter. Finn's a mixed breed, but the girl at the shelter called him a Couch Retriever since all he ever did was sleep. “I promise I'll walk you later.”

I jog the quarter-mile length of our dirt driveway and check the mailbox for an envelope from Boston College. Nothing. I channel my disappointment and head into the woods, running carefully over the grooved ruts of the path, the ground already hard with the coming winter. My thoughts crowd with Gregg's kiss, and I struggle to find the words to make us right again.

After nearly four miles my brain shuts off and all I feel is the breath passing in and out of my lungs. It's the best kind of inner quiet, the kind where every other problem in the world falls away.

When I reach Gosland Park I take a break before heading home. I settle onto a swing and pedal my feet off the ground. I float above the earth, back and forth until my body cools. I lean way back, extended. My eyes study the unobstructed blue of the sky, as vibrant as a spring wildflower. I breathe the color deep into my lungs, knowing December will soon rob me of this hue.

“Zephyr?” My name carries on the wind, like a whisper, like birdsong. I'm in such a fog, I think I imagine it. Until I hear it again.

I squint, see Alec leaning on the swing set pole, one hand crooked into his side.

I sit upright, dig my toes into the bark chips to brake. “What are you doing here?”

He plucks an earbud and lets it drop around his neck. “Out for a run.” I take in his fleece, his running sneakers, the horizon of sweat that hangs at his hairline. “Clears my head.” He takes the swing next to me, pushes off before tucking his feet under his body like a child. He surveys the park. “You come here a lot?”

“Sometimes,” I lie. “I used to come here when I was a kid.” It was special then. Now it's an escape.

He stares at the far fields, where tiny kids in blue shirts play T-ball against tinier kids in red shirts. “Would it be dorky to want to ride the seesaw?”

I laugh. “Totally.”

“Wanna be a dork with me?”

I stare at him, registering this unexpected request. “Sure.” I stand. “Why not?”

“Not exactly a ringing endorsement, but I'll take it.” Alec smiles as he invites me to mount the board first and then slowly lifts my side of the seesaw into the air. My legs dangle with the freedom and I can't help the way my toes kick out, happy. He straddles his end and calls, “Just so you know, I plan on having kids someday, so no quick movements.”

“Got it.”

He climbs on, shimmies forward to balance us. We catch an easy steady rhythm and the floating sensation makes my whole body soar. I'd forgotten how weightless seesawing could make me feel, like a world of problems can be brushed away through bristles of moving air.

“My dad used to take me here every Sunday. We'd tell my mother we went to church, but really we just ate donuts.” I'm surprised at how easy this personal memory rises into the space between us.

“Is that your flaw, then?”

“My flaw?”

“You come from some donut-worshipping cult and I should be afraid. Very afraid.”

I laugh and the sound rises along with my body.

“Do you still do that with your dad?”

I shake my head, float downward.

“I don't think I've ever been to a park with my dad. Not even when I was little. He's too serious for such nonsense.” Alec's face contorts like he's mimicking a familiar stern expression. “Not sure he's ever even eaten a donut, poor guy. If it's not made of bran or cabbage, it's not worthy of his gullet.” I wrinkle my nose. Alec laughs. “Exactly.”

“Is your dad glad you're home? He'll be able to go to all your games now, right?”

A flicker of sadness drops over his face before disappearing. “My mother's the one who got me into hockey. Probably thought the coach would be a good role model, seeing as my dad was never around.”

“Are your parents divorced?” It seems like such a simple question to ask a stranger, even though I can't bring myself to ask my mother or father if that's what's coming for them. My body rises and my ponytail bounces just as I peak, then instantly begin to fall.

“Nah. They're more of the
live separate lives
type of people. My dad works in Singapore. Tries his best to get home for Christmas. He Skypes sometimes, when he can remember he has a family.”

“That's kind of awful.” I plant my feet on the ground before pushing hard.

“Not really.” Alec floats buoyant toward the sky. “Not when it's all you've ever known.” His face retains a kind of peace at this statement and I bite back envy. Will I ever be okay with Dad leaving the way he did? Or is my family's situation harder to understand since Dad never seemed distant or unhappy? Just one day he was gone. My stomach drops, but not from the seesaw.

I dig my heels into the ground at my next landing. “I should go.”

“Is it something I said? Perhaps it's the potent stench of my runner's cologne? And the fact that you've had the pleasure of being downwind?”

“Nothing like that.” I nod toward the sandbox and reach for an excuse. “There are a couple of kids giving us the stink-eye. I don't mess with playground politics.”

He laughs, gives me a shy smile. “Drop me down.” I do. He dismounts carefully and holds the seat to counterweight my descent. It's another gallant gesture and my stomach tumbles.

I look toward the darkening sky. “I should run home while there's still light.”

He agrees and we walk in silence until we arrive at the park's metal gate. He reaches for the latch, lifts it free. “It'll get better, you know.”

I narrow my eyes. “What will?”

“Whatever's going on between you and Gregg.”

“How did you . . . ?”

“I didn't know for sure. Not until just now. But you two haven't been exactly chatting it up in class lately.”

Even he's noticed Gregg avoiding me all week. “Has he . . . said anything about me?”

He surveys the ground at his feet. “Gregg talked about you a lot when I met him. I thought you were his girlfriend, but he said you guys were just friends. Best friends, I think he said.”