The Reece Malcolm List (24 page)

“Quite.” He nods. “That Pixies song was excellent.”

“Brad, can you get me a soda?” my mother asks. “Devan, do you need anything?”

I don’t, and Brad goes into the kitchen. Right away, my mother leans in my direction.

“You were in the boy’s room?”

“Platonically,” I say, even though I’m only mostly sure that’s true.

“Is that even possible with him?”

I laugh instead of answering, as Brad walks back in with a soda for my mother and a beer for himself.

“So I heard through Kate that you actually have one of the leads in the school musical,” my mother says.

“Oh, yeah, it’s . . .” I was going to say it isn’t a big deal, but it
is
. Not sharing is pretty much my default setting, though. When I first started making it into show choir and getting roles in shows, I saved up the news, waiting for the perfect moment to tell Dad and maybe melt through some of the silence that was settling in around us more and more. And it wasn’t that Dad didn’t care—I really was sure of that—but he just didn’t get why it was so important. Dad was a practical person; he couldn’t understand me giving so much time to music. And occasionally Tracie would flat-out call it a waste of time, which I worried was what Dad was already thinking. So I stopped talking about it.

“I didn’t think you cared much about musicals or whatever,” I say to my mother. It’s weird, but a hurt look flickers over her face. I’m pretty bad at backpedaling but it never stops me from trying. “I mean, I know people think they’re cheesy and stupid.”

“I wouldn’t say I care about musicals in general,” she says. “But I do care, specifically, about any you’re doing.”

“Didn’t someone want to make a musical out of one of your books?” Brad asks, while I feel a warm flush fan out over my face.

People care about me.

“Oh, God,
yes
.” My mother cracks up. “
Destruction: The Musical
.”

“It’s not the worst idea ever,” I say, kind of surprised at myself for taking an unpopular point of view. “Some really good musicals have, like, really serious source material.”

“Hmmm,” is all she says. And then laughs again. “I’m dubious but it’s not as if
Destruction: The Musical
is ever going to happen anyway. Brad, could you go get me another Diet Coke?”

“You’ve only taken three sips from that one,” he says.

“First of all, why are you counting my sips? Second, take a hint.”

Brad picks up his plate and gets back up. “I’ll be in the kitchen, love, until I hear otherwise from you.”

My mother stares at me for a few moments once Brad is out of the room. “So you’ve read my books?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve read
Destruction
?” she asks. And I know that actually means,
You’ve read the dedication?
“When?”

“Last year,” I say. “For school.”

She furrows her brow at that. “High schools teach
Destruction
?”

“No, it was like an extra-credit thing. We got to pick whatever book from this shelf of modern classics my teacher had.” I leave out what had happened at home, when Tracie saw me reading it. I leave out never having the nerve to ask Dad about it or about her.

“And you randomly picked
Destruction
.”

“I liked the cover.”

She laughs. “Fair enough. So what happened with Guyliner?”

Everything in me feels lighter with the subject changed. “I guess we kind of broke up,” I say, even if that doesn’t sound entirely right. It’s not like we were ever officially together; he was my Almost Boyfriend, not my Actual Boyfriend. And it’s weird how I’m okay with that now.

“I’ll kick his ass if you need me to.”

I laugh, trying to imagine that amazing scenario. “I was the one who broke up with him. I just . . . I guess it’s stupid when Sai has a girlfriend and all, but it didn’t feel fair for me to go out with Elijah if most of what I thought about . . .”

“Good for you,” she says. “That was the right thing to do.”

“He’s interested in someone else anyway,” I say. “So we’re both okay with it.”

“That’s a relief. There’s nothing worse than breaking up with someone who’s still hung up on you,” she says. “Not that I’m any sort of relationship expert. I’ve had approximately two and a half of those.”

I almost ask how it’s possible to have half of one, but then again I would totally count myself as having half a relationship myself. It’s so weird when stuff that people with actual life experience say makes sense to me.

“I really like your books,” I tell her, even though we’re probably both grateful to be on the safer topic of boys. “You’re an amazing writer.”

“Thank you,” she says.

We smile at each other, and I swear something solidifies then. Like maybe we’ll never be great, but we’re okay, and that’s a lot. I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to feel that, but now I do.

Chapter Eighteen

Things I know about Reece Malcolm:

34. She’s worn a dress at least once.

35. She cares about what I’m doing.

“Okay, so.” Travis flops down next to me in the auditorium while we’re watching Sai sing “Franklin Shepard, Inc.” for maybe the ten-thousandth time in the weeks since rehearsals started. It’s a crazy song, with a billion lyrics, and super emotional because it’s when Charley explodes thanks to Frank’s soul-selling ways. “I’ve forgiven you.”

“
You’ve
forgiven
me
?”

“Oh, fine,” he says. “You know what I mean.”

I go back to watching Sai, because I’m not sure I should forgive Travis just because he’s willing to talk to me again. I want to though, of course. It’s funny how much I miss someone I haven’t even known for that long.

“I’m in the
chorus
,” he whines. “And I’m a
junior
.”

“But that’s not my fault,” I say. “Or anyone else’s.”

“I would nail that line,” he says, as Sai jumbles the lyric about the gross percent and the billing clause. I sing it in my room all the time and can verify it’s a tricky verse to get through, which I tell Travis.

“Well, of course
you’d
defend him,” he says. “Big shock.”

I really hope he means because we’re friends, not because my
obsession
crush is that apparent.

“It’s going to look awful on my college applications,” he says.

“It’s a smaller part but at a really good school,” I say. “Also, seriously, if you wanted to complain about it, I would have been here for you. I’m your
friend
. And you acted like I was invisible, which is one of the meanest ways to treat someone.”

I can’t believe how easily it rolls out of me. I’m so used to composing text messages and wannabe-snarky replies in my head. It turns out saying the truth out loud feels kind of great.

“Okay, Devvie, point taken.” He slides his arm around my shoulder. “I’m sorry, okay? Is that what you want?”

Obviously it is, but after weeks of him all but ignoring me it’s not like everything’s just automatically fine. But I guess maybe it’ll get there.

I pull away from him—which is really all for show—and get out of my seat. “Apologize to Sai and Mira later.”

“Fine, fine. Where are you going?”

“He’ll probably get through this better if we aren’t sitting here staring at him.”

“You’re way too nice,” Travis says, though he does follow me to the back of the auditorium and around the corner. “Ohhh my God! Are you being way too nice because something happened?”

“Nothing has happened,” I say. “Nothing’s going to happen.”

He sticks out his lower lip like a little kid put into time-out. “That’s so boring. You have to make something happen. Especially since you and Elijah came to a tragic end.”

“We didn’t come to a tragic end,” I say. “And Sai has a girlfriend. And even if he didn’t . . . he’s him, you know? And I’m just me.”

“What are you talking about? You’re talented and always have the best clothes and you’re cute and you have really good boobs.”

I cross my arms in front of my chest without even really meaning to. Still. I don’t want Travis looking at them. “Thank you. But lots of people here are talented.”

“Not like you,” he says. “I hate you for how you sing. And you know what I’m saying! Sorry if you don’t want to believe it, and I know he’s all godlike and one of the Popular Ones but, no, you guys are clearly right for each other.”

It’s kind of weird because the other day in the hallway I caught sight of this familiar-looking girl with great hair and an amazing dress, and then I realized that she was my reflection. Inside I’m pretty close to the same me, but on the surface I’m just not her anymore. It’s weird trying to see yourself the way other people do—and I’m totally not saying I’m in Sai’s league exactly, if there’s such a thing as leagues anyway—but maybe Travis is only a little crazy, not completely.

“Devan! We need you!”

I run to the stage, apologizing to Mr. Deans as I make my way up.

“Man,” Sai says. “Can’t believe how much I screwed that up.”

“It’s a hard song,” I say.

“I’m glad it’s yours and not mine,” Aaron says.

Sai rakes his hands through his hair, which makes him look like a really hot mad scientist. “I’m never gonna have it right by opening night.”

“Opening night’s in four weeks,” Aaron says. “Not tomorrow. Chillax.”

Sai and I exchange a look at that, because who says
chillax
? Then I think about Travis and what he said and how Sai and I always seem in sync about everything. There’s seriously no one who I’ve felt this way for before, most especially not someone I also wanted to make out with.

It’s weird and possibly stupid, but for a split second I wonder if I’m falling in love with him. But he’s
probably
definitely
not interested in me at all. And even if he was, he has a girlfriend. Also, I’m sixteen, and I’m pretty sure when you’re sixteen you aren’t supposed to do things like
fall in love
anyway.

Still. Maybe I feel
something
. Something bigger than just make-outability.

“Old Friends” is a much easier song, which means I can focus on getting the (totally simple) choreography down completely. I also keep reminding myself of everything Kate told me, and I try to look for more in the lyrics so I can use more emotion. It’s there, too: anger, annoyance, eagerness, love. I love that I can find it when I just think to look.

Sai and I are free to go after we run through the short scene after the song a few times, since Mr. Deans will be working more with Aaron for his solo that comes next. I check my phone to discover a text from my mother (
Going out with Brad tonight, can you get a ride home? xo
) and text back a fast response without checking (
Yes of course!
).

“Um,” I say, because it’s weird asking favors from Sai, “is there any way you can take me home?”

“Yeah, of course, Dev,” he says. “Was gonna stop and get food, that okay?”

I like
Dev
a lot better than
man
. “Totally, if I’m not intruding on your plans.”

“Nah, think my book’ll take it okay I’m spending my time with you and not it,” he says, gesturing to the paperback in his back pocket. “Come on.”

We stop for pizza, the only thing we can agree on, because apparently Sai doesn’t like Mexican, Chinese, Thai, Japanese, or Indian. I want to ask him if that was weird growing up, with a mom who’s Chinese and Indian, but I don’t know if that’s an okay thing to ask.

“What do you think of Nic?” Sai asks as we sit down with our giant slices (me: one, him: three).

“What do you mean? I barely know her.”

“Really? You guys have some classes together.”

I’m still not sure what it means that Sai seems to see no differentiation between the group I’m in and the one he mainly hangs out with. “Yeah, but . . . we’re not friends.”

He nods and plows through more of his first slice.

“Why?” I ask.

“Doesn’t matter,” he says. “Just—not to complain or anything . . . Nic’s a great girl. I think she just wishes I wasn’t depressed all the time. Not like I don’t.”

“Right.” A tiny thrill dances on my fingertips and down my spine. Now I have a legitimate reason to dislike her. “I wish . . . Back in St. Louis, my best friend had this key to our choir room; she got a copy so we could practice our solos. Anyway, whenever we were having crappy nights, we’d sneak in to use the piano and sing and . . . ” Out of my mouth it doesn’t sound like salvation, though, it sounds incredibly geeky.

Sai slowly grins at me. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for a breaking and entering girl, Dev.”

“It was just entering! We had a key!”

His eyes are all crinkly and distracting. Just like he can smile with his voice, Sai can smile with his eyes, too. “A
stolen
key. So do you miss St. Louis?”

“Not really. Sometimes I forget to even think about it.” It feels physically buried in my chest somewhere, like I only feel it when I move certain ways. Justine and Dad and Tracie, pushed as far underneath as I can keep them.

Sai looks at me, jutting his chin up into the air a little.

“You don’t believe me?”

“Neither of us has been here that long—it’s interesting you don’t think past the last few months.”

Really, Sai? What about you, guy with a girlfriend, seeking solace in someone else, if we’re talking about being
interesting
?

Wait, am I mad at Sai?

“It’s complicated,” is what I finally say.

“Yeah?”

“My dad died,” I say. “Which you know already, sorry. Just . . . before I moved, I never knew my mother. I don’t know why, but I didn’t. She didn’t have anything to do with me, and if my dad hadn’t died . . . ”

This thing that’s almost everything about me that I don’t want anyone to know didn’t just slip out. I said it because no matter how weird things can get between us, I trust Sai. And I can’t say that about anyone else in my life, at all. Travis could turn on me again with no warning, Mira makes no sense to me, Justine only knew my superficial dreams—and not even those anymore—and Lissa and Elijah are both a little awkward to talk to now about anything, much less the most personal stuff. But Sai has this honesty practically pulsing in him. It’s like even if he wanted to he’d never be able to keep his true feelings under wraps.