Unraveling (18 page)
I slip out of class early and walk to the front of campus and wait for Nick in the shade under the overhang.
I’m going to be short and concise, tell him he’s awesome, but I’m just not interested. That’s harsh, but I’m not going to give him some “It’s not you, it’s me” cliché, and I’m not going to lie and say I need time by myself or that we’d be better as friends.
Nick sees me waiting for him. He and Kevin are together, coming out of the gym—they have weight lifting together.
When he sees me a smile overtakes his face. I can see it from here.
“J!” Kevin shouts, and the two of them continue their walk to the front entrance, where they’ll pass right by me.
My heart pounds harder in my chest, and I feel sick to my stomach. A text message would have been less stressful.
“We’re going to head to It’s a Grind and get coffee,” Nick says, when they’ve almost reached me. “Want to come with us? I think we can get you off.”
I shake my head. “Actually, can I talk to you a minute before you leave?”
“Sure,” Nick says at the same time Kevin says, “Want to walk and talk? We still wanna beat the crowd, babe.”
“Then go start the car,” I say without looking at him.
Kevin smirks. “Good luck, dude.”
“Look, J, I’m really sorry about the other night,” Nick says as soon as Kevin’s out of earshot. “I don’t know what I was thinking—well, I mean, I wasn’t thinking, and it won’t happen again....”
My plan is completely out the window. I don’t know how to break up with an apology.
But then the G building lets out and I see Alex come out of our calculus classroom, and on the other side of the building, Elijah and Ben come out of another class. I wish I was there with Alex so that I could run into Ben.
“Look, Nick, I don’t think we’re right for each other. Any girl on this campus would forgive you, but—”
Nick looks away. “But you’re not any girl, are you?”
I sigh. “No, I’m not, and I just don’t think this is working for me.”
He nods but doesn’t face me. “Is this because of the other night?”
“A little,” I say because that’s the truth. “I just don’t feel like we’re good together. I’d say we should just be friends, but…”
That does get him to look back at me. The smile on his face is sad and forced. “We were never really friends in the first place.”
I nod.
We stand there awkwardly. He doesn’t say anything and I don’t say anything, and around us the noise of students getting out of class just gets louder. Until a car horn honks, and I hear Kevin shout, “Let’s go, dude! What’s the holdup?”
“So I’ll see you around?” Nick says.
I let out a breath. I feel bad that it’s come down to this. “Yeah, around.”
As he walks off, I’m relieved that it’s done. It feels right. And I realize I’m ridiculously happy.
Ten days ago, I should have died. But I didn’t. I’m alive. I have so much to live for. And this time I’m going to do it right.
“S
o,” Mr. Hubley says as he tosses a piece of chalk and catches it—he’s the only teacher at Eastview who refuses to convert to whiteboards. “What is the ultimate goal of today’s lab?”
Next to me, Cecily’s hand shoots into the air—shocking.
This time Hubley doesn’t even ask if “anyone other than Cee” wants to wager a guess. He just nods at her.
“Of course, the goal is to observe and participate in an actual projectile word problem, but it’s also to see the differences in height and distance that an object will travel based on the angle of the projectile it creates and the force—”
The door to the classroom opens, and for a second I think I stop breathing.
Because Ben is there in the doorway.
Something in my chest flutters a little as he moves into the room and extends a piece of paper to Hubley. He looks around the room. Our eyes meet, and he offers me a half smile that I can’t help returning with a full one.
“It’s awfully late for a schedule change,” Hubley is saying. “You’ll have a lot of work to catch up on.” Ben doesn’t react to that, so Hubley just shrugs and looks at the rest of us. “Well, double up and grab your materials and let’s head to the soccer fields.”
Everyone stands up at once, grabbing their papers, notebooks, and lab supplies. I don’t take my eyes off Ben as I get my own stuff, and I must be sort of in a daze, because when I’m reaching for my pumpkin—approximately one kilogram in weight—Cecily grabs my arm and snaps a finger in front of my face.
“Alex will do that. Let’s go get a good spot.” As she talks, she grabs my arm and pulls me away from our table, then lowers her voice. “And by a good spot, I mean one where we can keep watch on wherever Ben Michaels is. I, for one, want to know what he’s doing suddenly transferring into our class. And because I know you’ve got a thing for him.”
Except Ben waits for us, standing by the doorway and smiling at me.
“Any advice for me?” he asks when we reach him. For some reason, I have no idea what to say.
“Yes,” Cecily answers. “Do all the reading and don’t fall asleep in class. Take notes and then read them over each night before you do the homework.”
“I meant, got any advice on getting Janelle away from Alex.”
My face heats up, and I bite my bottom lip to keep from looking too excited. “You can join the three of us.”
“What? No,” Cecily says. “Alex, Janelle, and I are a triumvirate. And by triumvirate, I mean not just anyone can break us up.”
“Cee, he has to have a partner,” I say, trying to extricate myself from her, but she tightens her grip.
“You’ll have to pass a test so we can see if you’re worthy,” she says.
Ben glances at me, and something must be wrong with me because I have the urge to burst into giggles—and I don’t
ever
giggle. “I accept.”
“That’s a mistake,” Alex says, coming up behind us. “Here, first challenge. Carry all this.”
“These too,” Cecily says, grabbing my notebook and handing all of our things over to Ben.
And he does. He takes all four pumpkins, the measuring tape, the stopwatch, the slingshot, and all three of our notebooks, and he walks with us as we cross campus.
I try to absorb every answer as Cecily grills him on everything from his favorite color (“blue”) and movie (“
Donnie Darko
”) to what he thinks about aliens (“we can’t be alone, not with all the other planets, solar systems”). I want to remember exactly what he says.
“You know this might be the longest ninety minutes of your life,” I say when we finally get to the soccer fields and Cecily takes a break to argue with Alex about exactly how we should set everything up.
Ben leans over, his mouth close to my ear, and says, “I hope so,” and then he heads over to Cecily and Alex. “So what exactly are we doing with all this stuff?”
“Essentially we’re slingshotting pumpkins,” Cecily says. “We have to measure the angle of the projectile, the distance, and of course the time for each shot. That will allow us to also determine the height and effectively draw a graph of each projectile.”
“Awesome. Let’s get started.”
“Cee, did you know Ben rides a motorcycle?” Alex says, and I want to hit him.
Cecily frowns. “You know, I’m not sure you’re smart enough to wreck the triumvirate. I mean, we can’t be a triumvirate with a tagalong. We’ll have to graduate to some kind of higher power if we take on someone else.”
“Because I like motorcycles, I’m not smart enough?” Ben laughs. “But we could be a tetrarchy.”
“Motorcycles are dangerous,” she says with a roll of her eyes.
“True, but they’re freeing,” Ben says. “When the wind is on you like that, you can smell everything. You feel everything with a thousand times more significance.” Our eyes connect again. “But I appreciate people who think motorcycles are dangerous and less practical than cars.”
I’m not sure if he’s saying that because I said it last night or if it’s a coincidence, but I smile anyway.
Cecily puts her hands on her hips. “Okay, I have one more question, and it’s the most important one.”
“Maybe we should actually do the lab?” I say, even though this is just as fun.
Ben rubs his hands together like he’s getting ready. “Hit me.”
And with complete seriousness, she asks, “Who’s your favorite superhero?”
Ben steps back like he’s been wounded. “That’s it?” He laughs. “That’s all you got? That’s easy. Wonder Woman.”
“Wonder Woman? Why her?”
He looks at me this time when he answers. “I’ve always liked female superheroes best. A girl saving a guy is hot.”
I think of pulling him out of the water when we were younger—of saving him—and I feel like I need to sit down. For the best possible reason.
“Then there’s her costume,” Alex adds.
“Yeah, I wasn’t forgetting that.”
“Here, come help me, you can be the shooter,” Alex says.
“No, Alex, I’m the shooter,” Cecily says. “Ben can help you hold the slingshot, and Janelle can be the timer. And yes, this means you’re with us, on a trial basis only.”
“I’ll be on my best behavior.” Ben grins.
As I’m grabbing the stopwatch, Cecily turns to me and whispers, “So we totally know what you have to be for Halloween now.”
And then she’s back to being the general and ordering us around. When we’re in position, with Alex and Ben each holding one end of the slingshot three feet off the ground, Cecily pulling the slingshot and pumpkin four feet back, and me off to the side with a stopwatch, I count to three. Cecily releases the pumpkin and sends it soaring.
“Alex, measuring tape!” she says, before she runs after it.
Ben and I stand there for a second, watching them, and then he says, “What are you doing after school?”
“Just the usual, homework and stuff.”
He swipes a hand through his hair. “You want to grab something to eat tonight, maybe?”
I can’t imagine much that would be more perfect.
B
en shows up at my house with Reid’s 4Runner—and looking like he raided Reid’s wardrobe. In a polo shirt and jeans, he probably looks nicer than I do, since I’m still wearing the same jeans and T-shirt combo I’ve been in all day.
“Who are you and what did you do with Ben?” I ask, even though I love it. He shrugs, and I’m worried I embarrassed him, so I add, “You look nice.”
He smiles like he doesn’t necessarily believe me, and as he walks me to the car and opens my door, I have a second to wonder if this isn’t the best idea. He seems stiff and tense, and I’m not that great at putting people at ease, and I don’t even know him that well. Plus, I just broke up with Nick.
But I want to know Ben Michaels.
As I get into the car, he looks like he might say something but then he doesn’t, and the awkwardness during the ride seems to stretch out in front of us as we pull out of my driveway and get on the 56 heading west. Ben doesn’t say anything; he just keeps his eyes on the road and fidgets in his seat.
The car smells like Mexican food and I’m starving, and I’m not sure what else to say, so I say that.
And it must be the right thing to say, because Ben glances over at me with a smile and asks, “Best place to get Mexican food?”
“Roberto’s. No contest.” The California burritos are to die for. My dad started taking Jared and me there when we were younger. We’d go every time something good happened. I think I’ve celebrated every major accomplishment in my life—swimming or school-related—with a California burrito from Roberto’s.
Ben smiles. He doesn’t say why he asked or what his plan is, but his whole body seems to relax into the seat.
“Tell me something about you—something I don’t know,” I add, because that’s what I want. I might as well cut to the chase.
“When I was fourteen, I got a paper route and woke up every day at four thirty in the morning to get all the papers out. I bought an old 1954 Harley-Davidson Flathead from a junkyard for twenty dollars, then I spent two years working that paper route, so I could spend the money restoring it.”
“So is that the motorcycle you have now?”
Ben shakes his head. “That’s how I got a job at Kon-Tiki. I sold them the bike for five grand, and they turned around and sold it for eight and offered me a job.”
The amount of hard work, dedication, and patience it must have taken to restore a bike from a junkyard is mind-blowing. And then to know enough to sell it to a restoration shop and impress them enough to get a job offer. I’m not surprised. This fits the new image I have of Ben—even if it is different from the one I used to have.
I ask a few more questions about motorcycles—not because I’m all that interested in them, but because I like the way Ben smiles when he talks about them. When he tells me about the 1917 Indian he sold for more than twenty thousand dollars, he goes on this whole tangent and tells me everything I could have ever wanted to know about them.
I’ve always found passionate people sort of infectious, though, and he sucks me right in, so by the time he’s finished talking about it, I almost want to at least see an Indian motorcycle. At this rate, I don’t think it’ll take Ben long to convince me to ride one.
And then I notice where we are. We’re driving south through Ocean Beach. “Where are we going?” I ask, interrupting Ben’s story.
“We’re almost there,” he says, and we both fall silent. As I stare out the window, Ben turns onto Sunset Cliffs Boulevard. The road runs right up against the cliffs, and it feels like we’re only inches from the edge, inches from going over and tumbling down to the ocean. Something in my chest swells, because I know exactly where we’re going. We pass the parking lot we’d use if we were going to try to head down to the beach like normal people—because Sunset Cliffs is one of the hardest beaches to get to.
Some of the cliffs literally drop straight down to the water, and the city actually put stairs in at the one place where there’s beach to use. In some of the good surf spots you can see paths that have worn down from people heading the same way over the years. But there are mile-long—or more—stretches where you’d have to use rock-climbing equipment or be insane in order to get down to the water.
