Between the Notes (11 page)

I
n the haze of half sleep and early dawn, I wondered why so many birds had chosen top of our house for their morning perch. And also, why were they tap-dancing? But the sound soon revealed itself as rain thrumming on our roof, a few inches from my head. I bolted upright.

Shit.
Rain.

I’d be soaked if I tried to ride my bike to school. The day I’d been dreading was here.
Already.
I was going to have to take the bus. The state pen bus.

My bed thought I should stay, bury myself in its warm folds and forget school. Forget everything. I wanted to listen to it, but ditching school a second day in a row probably wasn’t the best idea. Plus I needed to find out what Lennie could’ve done to earn a you’re-gonna-die rating from Reesa.

I selected my favorite ankle boots, a pair of tights, my vintage paisley dress with the short flowy skirt, and a cropped jacket. Might as well go down looking fabulous.

“Can you drive me today?” I gave my mother a pathetic, pleading look as I spooned cereal into my mouth. It was worth a try. “Please? Don’t make me take that bus.”

“Sorry, Ivy. I’ve got to get myself ready, see the twins off on their bus, and drop your father at the office, then get to work myself. I’ll barely make it on time as it is.” The newspaper had offered Mom additional work hours two mornings a week, and this was one of them. “Did something happen on the bus yesterday?”

Sometimes it was hard to keep up with my lies. “Uh, no, nothing.”

I zipped my backpack and found an umbrella hanging on the coatrack by the door. It had purple and pink cats and dogs all over it, but at this point, what difference did it make? I carried it down the front steps and pushed the umbrella out the door ahead of me as I opened it into the wind. Maybe the dress wasn’t such a brilliant idea. I clutched it tight against my thigh with my left hand while wrangling the cats and dogs with my right. The rain was coming down hard, spraying my legs. The narrow walk that led to the road was mostly puddles. I jumped from the lower step to the first spot of high ground, and another and another until I reached the gravel drive and turned toward the main road where the bus picked up. It was about a thousand puddles away.

I leaped to the middle of the road, which appeared to offer the driest path, and walked slowly.

A car horn beeped and I spun toward the sound. Lennie’s Jeep
sat there, its low rumble masked by the pounding rain. I puddle-jumped over to the tinted driver’s-side window, which he rolled down about an inch to keep from getting drenched. I could barely see him in there.

“Nice umbrella,” he said.

“Thanks.” Any other day I would’ve had something far less gracious to say, but I’d been humbled. And he could bring up assault charges against me for what I’d done yesterday.

“Sure you don’t want a ride?”

I contemplated my options as water seeped through the seams of my boots. Standing in a puddle is always a nice place to discover your footwear isn’t waterproof. A ride with Lennie wouldn’t have been my first choice, but it was a clear winner over riding the Lakeside bus. I finally nodded, walked as gracefully as possible to the passenger side and climbed in, dropping my soggy umbrella to the floor. “Thanks,” I said again.

His only reply was to push the gearshift roughly into place. The Jeep was warm; he had the heat cranked. I wondered how long he’d been waiting out there.

“I’m so sorry, Len, about kicking you yesterday. It really was an accident. I didn’t—”

He held up his hand. “It’s okay. I guess I had it coming.”

“Still . . .”

Lennie kept his face pointed straight ahead as we drove past a couple of umbrellas with legs waiting for the bus, and rumbled out onto the road. The rain was coming down in torrents, and the
Jeep’s wipers couldn’t keep up with it. It was almost impossible to see where we were going. He leaned toward the windshield.

“Be careful,” I said. “Can you see?”

“Yep.”

It was raining so hard, I doubted anyone would look up from their mad dash into the building to notice who had chauffeured me to school, but still I was glad when Lennie parked in a small lot along the side of the building. Less chance of being spotted there. When he cut the engine, I unbuckled my seat belt and shifted to face him, but he kept staring straight ahead.

“Look, I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s been hard, moving from Westside to Lakeside . . .”

“Must be awful for you.” He nodded.

“No offense, it’s just . . . not what I’m used to.”

“Yeah, we’re kind of short on limousines and butlers.”

“We didn’t have those, either,” I said. “I just don’t want to make a big deal about it. Okay? The entire planet doesn’t need to know that we moved to Lakeside. It’s embarrassing.”

“You mean I’m embarrassing.”

The guy had an amazing bullshit-o-meter. “Okay, fine. You’re embarrassing me. You threw a potato at me in front of everybody in the cafeteria. I was embarrassed.”

“Come on. If one of your friends had done that, nobody would’ve blinked.”

Was he really going to make me spell this out? “My friends don’t have your reputation. Which isn’t exactly stellar.”

He gasped in feigned shock. “It’s not?”

“Might have something to do with the fact that you come to school every morning smelling like a bong.”

“I don’t smoke pot.”

“Okay.” I laughed, rolling my eyes. “Sure you don’t.”

He started to say something, then stopped and continued to stare straight ahead.

We waited for the rain to stop or for somebody to say something else. I wasn’t sure which. But we sat and waited and watched others go into the building. The five-minute warning bell rang.

“You go ahead,” Lennie finally said. “I’ll wait here, so I don’t embarrass you or anything.”

I sighed. “Whatever.”

It was weird, the way he wouldn’t look at me. I picked up my wet umbrella and climbed out. Instead of walking toward the school, I rounded the front of the Jeep and approached his window. It was still raining and I couldn’t see more than a blur of him sitting there, but I knew he could see me.

I tapped.

He again rolled it down barely far enough to expose the top of his head.

“Roll it down, Lennie. All the way.”

He chuckled, in an it’s-not-really-that-funny sort of way. The window squeaked down. I knew it was coming but the sight of it made me cringe. The socket of Lennie’s left eye was colored a hideous shade of bruise. Purple and yellowish brown. I’d given him a
serious shiner. And his eye wasn’t open the whole way.

“Here’s lookin’ at you, kid.” He tried winking at me with the bad eye and winced.

“Oh, Len. I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that, would ya?”

I stood on tiptoes and leaned in the window to get a closer look at the damage I’d inflicted. As my head was tilted to the side inspecting his eye, he leaned down and kissed me on the cheek. Soft and gentle. Just like that.

I stepped back and lifted my fingers to my cheek. “I’m sorry,” I said again.

He grinned and pulled his head back into the cab. “Don’t worry. I’ll survive.”

M
y hand trembled as I dialed the combination on my locker. I made a fist, digging my nails into my palms, forcing them to be calm.
Lennie kissed me.
Why? And why had I said, “I’m sorry”? I was sorry I kicked him. I was sorry I’d given him a hideous bruise.
I was sorry I let him kiss me?

My wet jacket dripped a puddle around my feet. I stripped it off and hung it on the hook in my locker and grabbed the books I’d need for my first two classes. Amid the scramble of students hurrying to beat the bell, I heard the hooflike clomp of four heels, approaching me in purposeful unison. Maybe if I stood perfectly still, they wouldn’t . . .

“Ivy.” Willow growled my name.

I turned around slowly. She and Wynn crowded up against me. They both had potatoes clutched in their fists and pushed them at me.

“What is with Lazarski and these effing potatoes?” said Wynn.

I stared down at the potatoes I was now hugging to my chest. “W-what?”

“He gave me that potato yesterday after seventh period. He yelled my name in the hall, and when I turned around, he tossed it to me! I’m lucky it didn’t hit me in the face. The guy is seriously twisted,” said Willow.

“He did the same thing to me,” said Wynn. “After school, out in front of the building. What is his deal?”

I shrugged. My mind bounced through the possibilities of what Lennie had been up to. “No idea,” I mumbled.

Reesa walked up to us, saw the potatoes in my arms. “He’s giving them to all the prettiest girls in school,” she said casually. “Bethany Bartell got one, too, and Shawna Evans. He even gave one to Chandra.”

Chandra Mandretti was a senior, and the most gorgeous creature ever to walk the planet. Harps played when she passed by, I swear. She had a long, thick, wavy brown mane that belonged on a TV commercial for hair care products. And her body was like a work of art. Toned and curved and shazzam in all the right places. I would kill for that body.

“Chandra?” Willow and Wynn said in unison. They looked stunned, and then . . . I couldn’t believe it . . . pleased.

“Yeah.” Reesa laughed. “She asked Lazarski what the potato was for, and he told her it was a tradition where he’s from to give potatoes to the most beautiful girls in town.”

“What?” I screeched.

“That’s what I heard. He said it was a rite of passage of sorts, like a bar mitzvah or something. Chandra thought it was really sweet and funny.” Her lips curled into an exaggerated pout. “Now I’m kinda pissed I didn’t get one.”

Willow and Wynn gave Reesa the most ridiculously insincere “poor you” faces and assured her she was stunning. Lazarski simply hadn’t gotten to her yet, of course! Then Willow snatched her potato back from me and Wynn did the same. They smiled smugly and clomped off. With Chandra’s blessing, Lennie’s potatoes were now a coveted symbol of beauty.

I shook my head as they flounced away. “You cannot be serious.”

Reesa’s face broke into a wide grin. “He did give potatoes to Shawna and Bethany, but I made the rest up.”

“Chandra?”

“Total bullshit.”

“The tradition of . . .”

“Utter fabrication,” said Reesa, clearly pleased with herself. “Someone had to save your ass.”

“Thanks.” But part of me knew full well it wasn’t only my ass she was saving. She didn’t want to lose me as a best friend, but she also didn’t want to be the best friend of a loser.

I slipped into my homeroom seat as the bell rang, still unnerved by my own bizarre behavior. And Lennie’s. The potato thing
was . . . weird. When I’d left school with James yesterday, everyone was chattering about Lennie and me and the potato. This morning, it was diffused. Four other girls had received potatoes, so the gossip was no longer focused on me.

Maybe it wasn’t Reesa who had saved my ass. Maybe it was Lennie.

But, I reminded myself, Lennie was the one who got my ass in trouble in the first place.

As our homeroom teacher took attendance, the speaker came on with a fuzzy blast and one of the office receptionists said, “Excuse me, Mr. Dalton? Could you please send Ivy Emerson to the office?”

“Okay,” said Mr. Dalton. “She’s on her way.” Everyone made the ooohh-you’re-in-trouble sound. My face did its I-am-a-beet impersonation.

The speaker gave another fuzzy blast and then the morning announcements began as I left the room. The Pledge of Allegiance reverberated down the hallway, accompanied by the squeak of my wet boots. I waited outside the office door until the pledge was over, but I could see James sitting in there, studying the floor between his knees.

He didn’t smile or nod or lift an eyebrow when I entered, merely held my gaze. Under the fluorescent lights, his eyes seemed dimmer than they had in the cemetery. No reflection of bright-blue sky today. No light from within. I gave him a faltering smile but his face didn’t change. He looked like he might be sick.

The assistant principal, Mrs. Lanahan, stepped out of her office and asked us both to follow her. James stood and gestured for me to go first. We took seats facing her desk.

“Ivy. I’m surprised to see you here.” Mrs. Lanahan was in charge of discipline and had been for years. She flipped through a manila folder with my name of it. I knew it was filled with honors and perfect attendance. “I’m told you missed your afternoon classes yesterday, but I have no record of an early dismissal. Explain.”

“Oh, um, I wasn’t feeling well and wanted to go home.” I glanced at James. His presence here meant she knew we’d been together. “James offered me a ride.”

“I see,” she said. “You know you can’t simply leave school because you feel like it. Even if you’re ill, you must ask to be excused. Why didn’t you go to the nurse?”

“I don’t know, I needed some air, I guess. . . .” My voice trailed off.

She turned to James. “And you, Mr. Wickerton, are studying here under special circumstances, as a part-time student.” She picked up a thinner, blue folder with his name on it. “You are free to leave the premises after your classes. But if I learn that you are transporting other students off the property before their dismissal time . . .”

“It won’t happen again.”

“I expect it won’t,” she said, and looked back at me. “Ivy, I’m letting you go with a warning, because of your perfect record.
Next time, you’ll be enjoying a stay at camp detention. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She waved the back of her hand toward the door. “Get a late pass from Miss Bennett. James, stay a moment.”

I collected my things and scooted out her door, pulling it closed behind me, then wishing I hadn’t. What was she saying to him that she didn’t want me to hear? I waited for my pass, straining to catch bits of their conversation. It was all too quiet and muffled until the door opened, and I heard the last bit.

“. . . can’t hide the truth forever,” she said.

The hall was empty as we headed toward class. James walked about as far away from me as he could get and still looked slightly green. I felt like my own skin must’ve turned a lovely shade of creamed asparagus.

What did she mean, “can’t hide the truth”? Surely, my parents had submitted a change of address, maybe even explained our circumstances. If that woman told James anything about it, I would report her for . . . for breach of privacy or confidentiality. Or something.

“Sorry to get you into trouble like that,” said James, merging over to my side of the hallway.

“It was my idea. Remember?”

He smiled. “In that case, thanks a lot for getting me in trouble.”

I shoved him gently with my elbow. He shoved back.

“So . . . ,” I said. “You’re part-time? I didn’t even know that was allowed.”

“Technically, I’m homeschooled.” He made little air quotes around the term. “That’s the only way they’d let me enroll for just two classes—AP English and art history. But that’s all I needed.” A guilty expression came over his face, like he couldn’t believe he was getting away with it.

“To graduate?”

He nodded. “My last high school was pretty intense.”

He didn’t elaborate further and I didn’t ask. The only schools I knew of like that were private and expensive. There was an all-boys boarding school people said was like the first two years of an Ivy League college. Kids came from as far away as California to go there. Maybe Reesa was right about James and the wealthy Wickertons.

As we started for the stairs, James took my wrist and pulled me into the same corner where Reesa had reamed me out over Lennie the day before.

“I have something for you.” He reached into his messenger bag and handed me a piece of notebook paper that was folded into a small rectangle.

I started to unfold it.

“Not now,” he said. “It’s too embarrassing. Open it later, okay?”

The door at the top of the stairwell swung wide and one of the math teachers came plodding down. He gave us a dirty look. “Passes?”

We pulled ours out and showed them to him.

“Move along,” he said.

James motioned for me to go ahead of him. When we reached Mr. Eli’s room, he put one hand on the doorknob and the other on the small of my back. It was a simple gesture, but it melted me. He looked into my eyes, opened the door, and poured me into the room.

I quickly wiped the swoon off my face when I realized the entire class was staring at us, including Reesa. Mr. Eli took our passes and even he gave us a funny look. I sat and tried to focus on what he was saying. I gave up after about two minutes and pulled out the paper James had given me, discreetly smoothing it flat inside my notebook.

Then I looked down at it and . . .
Oh, my God.

It was the most incredible drawing, a crazy collage of our trip to the cemetery. The wine-bottle sculpture was there, and the headless deer, and the giant oak tree and tombstones. And he’d drawn us on the hill as Romeo and Juliet. It actually looked like us, except I wasn’t wearing a hoodie for a change. He’d depicted me in a flowing dress with wings—like an angel. It was insanely beautiful. Around the edges of the paper he’d colored in a yellow frame—like the one on the house we’d driven past—our portal to another world.

At the center of it all was a little illustration of an open book, and on its pages a note in old-fashioned cursive handwriting:

I had to stifle a laugh. It was like the last two lines of a sonnet! I snapped my notebook shut and looked straight ahead, my face nearly bursting with giddy surprise. I wanted to look at it again, but Reesa was shooting curious eyebrows my way and I
definitely
didn’t want Mr. Eli to confiscate this note.

James dropped his pencil then and it rolled under Reesa’s chair. He smiled at me over her head when she swooped down to retrieve it for him. I don’t know if he did it on purpose, but it distracted her long enough so I could pull myself together.

I refolded the note into a rectangle and slipped it in my pocket.