Read Better Off Friends Online
Authors: Elizabeth Eulberg
Tags: #Young Adult, #Contemporary, #Romance
Better Off Friends (19 page)
Tim did that “
oh
” thing guys do when they try to one up each other. “She did
not
just say that.” He was laughing. Levi remained motionless.
Keith was not as amused. “Honestly, Macallan, I’ve so got you outnumbered in terms of intelligence.”
That was laughable.
Seeing his smug face infuriated me so much. He’d taken Levi away from me, and I wasn’t going to be so easy on him this time.
I leaned in toward him. “You do know that a D on a paper is not for
dope job, yo
, right?”
Keith sized me up, and then a smile slowly spread across his face, like he knew he’d gotten me. But there was no way Keith was going to get me. As a date, in an argument, ever.
“Well, yeah.” Then he slurred his voice. “
I’m
not part retard.”
I was stunned for a second.
I walked a few steps closer. Levi took a few steps back. “Excuse me — would you care to repeat that?” I was convinced that even Keith wouldn’t stoop so low.
He bent his arms up toward his collarbone and let his wrists go limp so his hands were dangling. He collapsed his legs together at the knees and started to walk like he had a disability. “I don’t know, can I? What’s
repeat
mean?”
Before I could understand my movements, I pushed Keith. Hard. He stepped back a few inches. Then he laughed. Which angered me more.
“Macallan.” Levi grabbed my arm. “Calm down.”
I shoved him away. “No, I will
not
calm down. And how are you going to stand here like that when he’s making fun of my uncle, who, need I remind you, has been nothing but kind to you? Has never said a bad word about anybody? Who certainly would never be so cruel as to make fun of somebody?” My voice started to crack. I could feel my entire body start to shake.
“God.” Keith looked shocked at my behavior. “I’m sorry, Macallan. I thought you could take a joke.”
“Do you find this funny?” I asked, my voice hard. I didn’t want to cry in front of Keith. I could not let him know that he
had
gotten to me. “You’re so pathetic. I can’t wait to see you in ten years when the reality of life outside these walls hits you.”
His face became as hard as my voice. “You think you’re so tough and above it all, don’t you? But guess what. Just because your mom’s dead doesn’t mean you can be such a bitch.”
A rage I could not describe, one that I hadn’t felt in years, overtook my body. Even though I could see that the second those words left his mouth, he regretted them, it was too little, too late. Keith could say what he wanted about me, but how dare he bring up my mom.
I wanted to shut him up. And I did that the only way I knew how.
He wasn’t lucky like Levi to get a kiss from me.
Instead, I tightened up my fists and hit him right in the kisser.
Keith, Mr. Athlete Extraordinaire, was knocked onto his butt.
I towered over him. “You say one more word to me ever again about my family, and I will not be so gentle.”
I turned on my heel and came face-to-face with Mr. Matthews, the gym teacher.
“Miss Dietz, I think you need to come to the office, and that goes for you gentlemen as well.”
“
She
attacked
me
!” Keith cried out.
“That’s enough, Mr. Simon.” Mr. Matthews stepped in between us. “Don’t think I didn’t hear what you were saying.”
The four of us followed Mr. Matthews to the office. I was put in a separate room from them. I knew I was in trouble. I knew my flawless school record was in jeopardy. But I didn’t care. I was angry. I was mad at the world. And why shouldn’t I have been? I’d had the most important thing taken away from me without explanation. There were times where I was able to be strong. Many instances where I could pretend that everything was fine.
But sometimes a girl just needs her mother.
The wait in the principal’s office felt like forever. I had the entire time to reevaluate how I acted. I remembered once in first grade I’d been mad at this fourth-grade boy who always teased me during recess. He’d call me names and sometimes throw sticks at me.
I finally told Mom about it. I said that I hated him and I wanted to punch him in the face.
Mom said I should never hit anybody, because violence was never the answer. That hitting someone showed that you cared. And you should never give someone that kind of power over you.
But it wasn’t Keith I was mad at. Or cared about.
The door finally opened and I saw my father. I felt so guilty for having to bring him in. I never wanted to be responsible for one of those calls.
“Hey, Calley,” Dad said softly to me. He only called me this when he was worried about his “baby girl.”
Principal Boockmeier motioned for him to sit down. I couldn’t even look at my father, I was so horrified by my behavior.
“Well, I filled in your father about what happened. It seems that Levi’s and Tim’s stories matched. Keith’s seemed to be a bit more dramatic.” Principal Boockmeier pursed her lips, like she was holding in a laugh. “While I understand you were provoked, what Keith said, though unfortunate, did not warrant your response. We have a very tough policy on violence of any kind, and you did hit him. So you’ll be suspended for the rest of the week and have after-school detention for two weeks. If there are no more incidents, this will not go on your college transcripts.”
I was shocked and relieved. Thanksgiving was this week, so I was only going to miss two days. And there was a chance it wouldn’t totally mess up my record.
I quickly got up and followed Dad out of school. He stayed silent on the car ride home. I looked down at my sore, slightly red right hand.
The car stopped and Dad shut off the engine. I looked up and found us in the Culver’s parking lot.
“What …” I mumbled.
Dad turned to me, tears in his eyes. “I can’t say that was a fun call to get, Macallan. But then I heard from both Principal Boockmeier and Levi about what happened and, well … your mother was one of the sweetest people on earth. She wouldn’t have hurt a fly.”
Tears began to well up in my eyes. I’d let my father down and, worse, I’d let my mother down.
“But” — he put his hand on mine — “she would never have tolerated anybody talking crap about her family.
That
would not go over well. Your mother would’ve done the same thing, sweetheart. You remind me more and more of her every day, and while I might not be able to help you with everything she could, I’m so proud of you. She would’ve been, too.”
“Really?” Tears were coming out harder now.
“Of course.” Dad held on to my hand tightly. “And I know she’s looking down on you right now, probably laughing a little, and wishing she could be here with you. She’d want me to treat you to some custard for being strong and standing up for your uncle, and for yourself.”
I pictured Mom as Dad described her, and knew he was right. She’d never tolerated anybody treating Adam differently. One of the things Dad said he loved most about her when they first started dating was that she never babied Adam. She treated his younger brother like everybody else. She certainly wouldn’t have allowed anybody to speak to him, or me, that way.
“Is that a smile I’m seeing?” Dad asked.
I nodded. “You’re right. I know Mom would be proud. She’d be proud of both of us, Dad.” He seemed surprised about my confession, but I wasn’t the only person who’d lost somebody. “Let’s go get some custard.”
I’m so sorry, Macallan. You know how awful I feel about what happened. I should’ve stepped in,
I
should’ve punched him in the face. I can’t believe I acted like such a wimp. It really is a miracle you ever talked to me again. And I’m grateful that I’ve never had to experience your right hook.
I’m so sorry, I know I shouldn’t joke about that.
I’m such an idiot.
Blimey if I didn’t deserve a punch in the face.
I’m so sorry.
Moving on.
I
needed to clear my head.
So I did the only thing I could think of to make me feel better.
Run.
Since football season was over, I didn’t have to worry about running too long and burning off extra calories. Or have to think about keeping my weight up. Or think about anything.
I only had to run.
I’ll admit that catching that ball and hearing the cheering was amazing. I understand how people can get caught up in moments like that. How you want to keep reliving one small fraction of time when you felt invincible.
My dad has this friend who always makes him tell this story about a baseball game from back in high school. Every time the guy’s over, he tells it. And we sit there like we haven’t heard it a million times before. I thought it was pathetic, how you could look back on something so insignificant as one game, one play, and think that was the greatest moment in your life.
But then I totally got it.
I was THE MAN. The hero. The MVP. And all I had to do was catch a ball. One that Jacob threw with precision. Did he get the credit he deserved? Not as much as I did.
There I was on a total ego high when Macallan had to come in and crash the party.
And what did THE MAN, the hero, the MVP do? He stood there terrified and did nothing.
NOTHING.
I had to recount what happened not only to the principal, but to Macallan’s dad. He looked so upset when he arrived at school, then had to listen to me tell him how brave his daughter had been.
While I’d just stood there.
I had to tell him all the awful things Keith had said.
While I’d just stood there.
I’d never felt more like a loser in my life.
Before I really knew where I was running to, I ended up at Riverside Park. I’d been running so hard, I could see my breath come out in short spurts. I walked a bit to cool down, even though the cold weather was already helping with that.
I normally didn’t run that hard when it was early winter, but I needed to get some distance from what had happened the day before.
I’d begun to walk forward to the swings when I noticed someone stretching, out over by the picnic tables. I abruptly stopped when I realized it was Macallan. She had her right leg up on the table and was bending over to stretch out her hamstrings.
Confusion swirled around whether I should approach her or walk away before she saw me.
I stepped forward. It was about time I started acting like the stud I’d been pretending to be for the past week. Or more accurately, past few months.
“Hey!” I called out to her.
She spun around quickly. “Oh, hey.” She paused for a second before continuing to stretch.
“You just starting?”
“Nope, I’m done.”
I knew that. I knew her routine. She was happy running for herself. To help clear her head. She didn’t need the justification of a team or a crowd to do something.
I had no idea what to do. I wanted to make things right between us, but I wasn’t sure at what cost. So I would start with what I should’ve done months ago: apologize.
“Macallan, about —”
She cut me off. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“He’s a jerk,” I offered.
Her lip curled slightly. “He’s your best friend.”
I wanted to say
No, he’s not. You are.
But I hadn’t been acting like a friend to her, let alone a best friend.
I opened my mouth, trying to think of something to say to mend this tension between us. The words that came out were: “See you at Thanksgiving.”
See you at Thanksgiving?
I should’ve asked her to punch me right then and there. Maybe she would’ve knocked some sense into me.
“Yeah.” She began to walk away.
“Hey, Macallan,” I called after her. “Is it okay that we’re still coming?”
She hesitated briefly. “Of course.”
While that pause was only a couple seconds, it was long enough for me to know I’d done some real damage.
My parents let me drive my new car to Thanksgiving. I should’ve been excited for this rather adult responsibility, but I was nervous. For the first time since I’ve known the Dietzes, I wasn’t sure how to act. This needed to be a great Thanksgiving for Macallan. I didn’t want to do anything or say anything that would upset her.
What I did want was for us to figure some way to get back to normal. To pre-Levi-being-an-idiot. To pre-Ireland. Maybe even to pre-Emily.
Adam opened the door with a giant smile. “Happy Thanksgiving!”
Guilt stabbed me as I thought about what Keith had said.
We all exchanged holiday greetings and unloaded our winter coats and gifts. We’d brought the centerpiece, pumpkin pie, shrimp for an appetizer, and some adult beverages for the grown-ups.
The amazing smell of the holidays greeted us as we stepped into the living room.
Mom set out the shrimp cocktail on the coffee table next to Macallan’s offerings: spiced pecans, bacon roll-ups, and, I was beyond thrilled to see, her cheese ball.
“Yes!” I sat down and grabbed a cracker.
“Get your own!” Adam gently shoved me as we both started helping ourselves to the food. If only Thanksgiving happened in the summer, I would never have had a problem putting on weight for football season.
“Macallan!” Mom greeted Macallan with a giant hug as she entered the room. “This all looks wonderful. What can I help you with?”
“Nothing, really.” She glanced at her watch. “I don’t have to worry about anything for at least thirty minutes.”
“Do you want me to be on turkey duty?” Mom offered.
“Turkey’s done. I cooked it yesterday.” Macallan popped a bacon roll-up into her mouth. “I did the fancy turkey last time. This year I wanted to do my aunt Janet’s recipe. Cooked the turkey yesterday, then marinated it overnight in gravy.”
“It’s so good,” Adam said as he took the knife away from me to help himself to more cheese ball.
“Don’t eat the entire cheese ball! You know I’ve got a ton of food for dinner: stuffing, wild rice, macaroni and cheese, sweet potato casserole, glazed carrots…. I think there’s a green vegetable somewhere in there. I’m not sure, it’s a holiday!”
“It all sounds fabulous.” Mom rubbed Macallan’s arm. “You look gorgeous, sweetie.” She really did. She had this green dress on that accentuated her red hair. “We’ve really missed you. All we keep hearing from Levi is how busy you’ve been.”
The cheese ball got caught in my throat. I didn’t want the day to begin with me getting caught in a lie. I wanted this to be a fun meal like we always had together, even though I knew my mere presence was enough to prevent that from happening.
I studied Macallan’s face to see if she was going to give away the fact that I’d been using excuse after excuse for reasons why Macallan wasn’t around. Why we couldn’t do Sunday dinners anymore. I kept saying Macallan had this cooking thing or that academic event.
But the real reason was that I was being selfish. I didn’t want anything to take away from my time with my guys. I didn’t want to be attached to Macallan. Like she was some sort of tether weighing me down. But it was my ego, my insecurity about where I fit in that was responsible for my stupidity.
Macallan smiled. “Yeah, it’s been a crazy few months.” She took a handful of pecans and headed into the kitchen.
“Ah, I’m going to see if she needs any help,” I said as I got up. I ignored the sarcastic comments from my dad, as it was pretty clear that the only help I could give anybody in the kitchen would be to exit immediately.
Macallan was washing a pot. Her back was to me. I couldn’t tell if she was angry.
“Do you need help?” I offered.
Her shoulders tensed up. “No, I’m okay.”
“Are you sure?” I approached the side of the sink and picked up a towel.
“Suit yourself.” She handed me the dripping dish.
Macallan jumped up to sit on the kitchen island as I began to dry off the pot.
“Did you invite Stacey for dessert?” she asked.
When Mom had talked to Macallan to see what we could bring, Macallan had invited Stacey to join us later when she was done with her family.
“Nah. I thought it would be good to be only family.” I hesitated. “To tell you the truth, I’m not sure how much longer we’ll be together.” Which was true. Stacey was a cool girl, but I was with her because I thought I should be with a cheerleader. That was what most of the varsity athletes did. That was what Keith did. Plus, I thought it would be easier to have a girlfriend to keep my feelings for Macallan in check. And that wasn’t fair to Stacey. Or to me.
“That’s too bad,” Macallan replied. There was absolutely no emotion on her face. I couldn’t tell if she really thought this was bad news or if she was being sarcastic. Usually, it was pretty clear when she was being sarcastic, mostly at my expense.
A smile started to slowly spread across my lips as I thought back on some of our epic bantering sessions. Guys think they can talk crap, but they’ve got nothing on Macallan in terms of wit and a rapid-fire reflex.
She looked confused. “You’re smiling over your relationship ending?”
“No, no.” I didn’t need her to think of me worse than she probably already did. “I was thinking about the time we went to that Brewers game —”
“And you dropped your hot dog,” she finished for me.
“Yes! And you would not let me forget it because I —”
“
Still
ate it!”
“Yeah!” I said a little louder than I intended, mostly because I was excited to remind her about a fun time we’d had. “But!”
“There’s no buts about it. It was disgusting.”
“It was only —”
“ ‘On the floor for five seconds.’ ” She repeated what I kept saying to her that day in a low voice, the one she always used when she imitated me. Usually, it annoyed me when she did that. I was ecstatic to hear it from her now.
“Remember, I hadn’t put anything on it yet.”
“Which would’ve been better because then you could’ve at least wiped the dirty ketchup off.”
“Yeah, but you wouldn’t stop teasing me about it.”
“Because it was disgusting.” She said this slowly, like she was talking to a toddler.
I started laughing. For the entire game, anytime something happened, the Brewers struck out or the other team scored, Macallan had leaned forward and said, “Well, they may be losing the game, but at least they didn’t eat a dirty hot dog.” Or “Wow, that must be tough to swallow, although not as tough as a dirty hot dog.”
Macallan studied me. “Well, what about it?”
“What about what?”
She wrinkled her nose. “What about that game?”
“Oh,” I said, disappointment seeping through. “It was fun.”
“Yeah,” she agreed. One of her timers went off. “Well, I think I need to ask you to leave. I don’t serve dirty food, and with your luck …” She let the words hang there, but I was grateful to have her say something teasing to me. Macallan didn’t waste her time, or her barbs, on people she didn’t care about.
Now that I think about it, having Macallan as my best friend prepared me for all the trash talking that can happen in the locker room. And the weight room.
“You call that a rep?” Keith taunted Tim as he pushed up the weights on the bench press a week after Thanksgiving.