Chasing Midnight (29 page)

Mom and Dad stop what they’re doing and gape at me. “Aren’t you the one who begged him to come?” Mom says, handing me a smoothie.

Oops. “Right,” I say, hiding my flub behind my glass.

“You okay, Kenzie?” Dad asks.

I nod my head and gulp down my smoothie, realizing I better cut out this sentimental crap or I’ll be late to school. “I need to get ready,” I say, discarding the empty cup in the dishwasher and heading upstairs.

“You were a lifesaver last night,” Dad calls when I’m halfway up.

I turn. “Is Spencer okay, Dad?” I can’t help but remember how fragile he looked all curled up in a ball on the floor, his lips blue, his eyes glossy. It almost hurts to think about it.

Dad nods his head. “He’s fine, Kenzie.”

“But, I mean . . . is he going to be okay? Like . . . like in the future? When he’s older? It’s never going to go away, Dad. He’s not getting better. Ever. How’s he going to—?”

Dad jumps up the stairs in two leaps, my body in his arms in two seconds. “He’s got us, Kenzie-bear. He has you. He’s going to be fine, I promise.”

My neck and shoulders and rib cage shudder against Dad’s chest like a coiled-up spring being released, finally letting go.

two

A
ly is up ahead of me, waiting under the big redwood
tree where we’ve been meeting each other since freshman year. Her hair is extra straight today, hanging all the way down to her shoulders, parted slightly off-center. She’s on her phone and doesn’t see me approaching. I sprint the rest of the way to her and tackle her on the spot.

“Knock it off!” she laughs, finally breaking free. I love how she recognizes me so immediately, how that electric smile on her face matches the animation in her eyes, all of it aimed at me. “What’s up with the sneak attack?”

“Sorry. Just trying to let you know how awesome of a best friend you are. You do know that, right? My life would be pretty sucky without you.”

True story.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sweet, huh?” she says, sliding her phone in her pocket and slinging her bag over her shoulder.

I want to scream I’m so happy at us walking together and talking like it’s no big deal. Like best friends do each day of the year.

Every girl needs a best friend.

“How’d it go with Indy last night?” she asks.

I fill her in on Indy’s injury while we walk to school, finishing up with Spencer’s asthma emergency.

“Maybe it was from all the ice cream we ate,” she says, reminding me about their excursion to Fenton’s to get Ezra’s mind off Indy’s arm. “That’s messed Spencer’s asthma up before.” She says it so knowingly, like she’s so familiar with every aspect of our family and what makes us tick.

That’s because she does.

“How was the Pumpkin Ball?” she asks. “I still can’t believe you were actually there, Kenzie! Was it as dreamy and amazing as everyone makes it sound?”

“Yes and no.”

She laughs. “How can it be both?”

“It’s hard to explain. But you should’ve seen Brecke’s house, Aly. You know the one at the very top of Sea View with all the chimneys and the glass turret?”

“Oh, man, I would’ve loved to check the inside of that place out,” she says as we cut through the school parking lot and start up the back stairs.

“And the view from there—I’m telling you—it’s magical.”

But before she gets too excited for me, I remind her why I was there in the first place, reiterating how amazing I looked in my bow-tied, pleated ensemble. I can tell she’s jealous. Who wouldn’t be?

“You’ll never guess who was there,” I say, stopping by the bike racks.

“You mean other than James Odera and Tanner Slade and the rest of the lucky ones, right?”

“Yes. Other than them.”

She leans against a tree, trying to guess. But I know she won’t be able to. “I don’t know! Who?”

“Cale Blackburn.”

The air feels thinner when I say his name, like I have to inhale extra deep to get it all out. I look to either side of us as if he’s lurking nearby, listening in on our conversation.

I wish.

It takes Aly a minute to register his name, and then her eyes
widen and crease at the edges, her smile breaking loose. “No way! Cale Blackburn’s a lucky one? Where does he even live?”

“Up there with the rest of them. But he’s definitely
not
a lucky one, not like them at least.” I want to keep talking about Cale, like doing so will bring him out of the shadows, straight to me. It feels like he’s already mine and I’m his bragging girlfriend.

“Did you talk to him or were you too chicken as usual? Tell me you at least had enough guts to offer him an appetizer.”

“Relax. I wasn’t a total failure. We talked a little,” I say, wishing I could tell her everything—about his crooked tooth and his pancakes, about the way he mows his own lawn and has an art studio. About how he has a thing for throwing cartooned notes at me in the middle of class. About our kiss.

Instead I skip over all that because it hurts too much to remember, and I don’t want to be sad right now. Not with Aly.

I laugh. “I was too busy being mortified by my black bow tie and pleated pants. You should’ve seen the looks everyone gave me.”

Aly bursts out laughing. “You didn’t take any pictures, did you?”

I shake my head, regretting not documenting my mortifying outfit for posterity.

“Oh man! You disappoint me, Kenzie.”

At the sound of the first bell, we join a rush of kids all trying to push through the entrance. I can’t help but look for Cale’s ski-capped head bobbing up above the rest of the crowd. Where would he be right now?

Just before reaching my own wall of lockers, I stop and pull Aly’s arm backward. “What?” she says, giving me a look.

They
are over there, surrounding my locker. Brecke’s locker. I can hear James’s distinctive voice much too clearly, as if he were right here beside me, whispering in my ear. Katie is next to him, her arm somewhere on his body, as usual. He leans in and whispers something to her, twirling her dark hair in his fingers,
drawing her closer to him. Jared and Tanner are high-fiving each other and laughing. Liv protests something someone said, the whole time talking with her hands like she always does, her metal bracelets clanking against each other in their own Livlike melody. Brecke stands in the middle of everyone all poised and perfect in an attempt to keep her life in order.

“What’s the problem?” Aly says, tugging my arm.

“It’s just . . . ” I don’t know what to say or how to explain my hesitation. It isn’t that I’m afraid or intimidated, or even jealous.

Just displaced.

I feel out of sorts, not quite sure how to act. Almost like a voyeur.

I know everything there is to know about these people. Their deepest secrets . . . Brecke’s pills, Jared’s insecurity, Katie’s craving for attention, and
James.
I know everything about James Odera, the “man of my dreams.”

But it seems that the longer I stare at each of them, I can see bits of plaster starting to crumble off their faces. A little piece here, a little piece there, slowly revealing the truth inside.

“Did something happen last night with them? Why are you acting all cagey?”

“I’m not. Nothing happened.” But that’s a lie.
A lot
had happened.

Only not just last night.

“Look at him, Kenzie. He’s such a babe. Why can’t all guys be as perfect as that?” she says, her eyes lost in a trance at James’s every move.

Look at him.

There’s still a part of me that wilts inside at the memory of those lips grazing my ear, at the way he would say my name and catch my eyes in his, even when he was angry. I can feel it, even now. And I can’t explain it, either. Maybe there’s something in all of us craving attention no matter where it comes from . . . even if it is twisted.

But when I think of Cale . . .

Something blooms in my heart like it’s spring. Like a swirl of wind is snaking through me, plucking away my breath. He invigorates me rather than striking me numb. He makes me smile. He makes me want to shout out loud instead of hide under his wings for protection.

“Kenzie.”

“Huh?” I look up. Aly is standing in front of me, staring at me funny.

“You still in there?” she says, passing her hand in front of my eyes.

“Yes.” I smile. “I’m still in here.”

Call me a stalker, but when fourth period rolls around, I leave five minutes early and wander down to the other end of the school—the artsy side—stopping outside Mr. Tabish’s classroom. The door is closed, so I wait in the hallway until the bell rings, looking like an idiot leaning against the wall by myself for no reason.

The door bursts open, spilling out into the hallway the first string of students. I squeeze in closer as the hall begins to fill up, keeping my eye on every head as it exits the classroom, determined not to miss a single person. But as more and more kids barrel out the door, my hopes for catching Cale begin to waste away . . .

Wait.

That head.

There it is. Second to last one out of the classroom, buried as usual in a black Raiders ski cap and a shirt I’ve seen before. WE GIVE GOOD FEELING. One of my favorites.

I am rooted in place.

Now that he’s right in front of me, I don’t know what to do or say.

What kind of idiot have I become?

Dry cotton sticks to the roof of my mouth, refusing to let me speak.

Help me, please.

He passes by me, not even noticing.

His scent! I can smell his subtle essence, even from here. I want to reach for his hand and pull him to me. Instead, I only watch the back of that tall, muscular body merging into the crowd, walking away from me.

Don’t leave.

I can’t let him leave.

I have to say something. Anything.

I charge forward, grabbing a random arm to propel myself ahead of Cale, and then stop and spin around to face him.

He halts, his eyes lifted in surprise. I so miss that look—that mischievous expression that means he’s about to start teasing me. Those long eyelashes.

“Hi,” I say, trying to get my erratic breaths somewhat under control.

Somebody bumps into me and another tells me to watch it. I know,
I know.

“Interesting place to stop,” Cale says as crowds of hungry students on their way to lunch stream around us like we’re our own little island.

Where are my thoughts? My words? I stand there dumb, not saying a thing. “Um . . . ”

His eyes settle briefly on mine as if looking for a reason to trust me, and then a smile attacks his face and his eyebrows lift everything upward. “Mackenzie Love. I thought I’d never see you again. How’d you enjoy the Ball?”

An exhale the size of Texas whooshes out of me.
He remembers my name.
He still knows who I am.

Breathe.

“It was a lot of work,” I say, dumbly. Why did I say that?

“Yeah. Not just for you, either. I’d skip the whole thing if it were up to me.”

I can’t believe Cale is right here. Right in front of me. It feels so strange, talking to him like we are meeting for the first time. I want to punch him in the shoulder to wake him up, and
slide my arms around his torso to get him closer to me. My eyes are stuck staring at his mouth . . . his lips, knowing what they feel like . . .

“So, I’ll see you around?” he says, trying to get past me. Already.

No. Cale, you can’t leave me. Don’t you know what it’s like when we kiss?

“Yeah, sure,” I say, losing my nerve.

Melting into the tile beneath my feet.

three

W
hen I walk into work after school, Tony yells at
me for being late and then disappears into the studio without saying another word. Talk about anticlimactic. My whole life today has been an entire string of one anticlimactic moment after another because nobody knows anything is different—except for me. Yet, for some reason, I still keep expecting everyone to be as excited to see me again as I am to see them. Even Tony.

It’s like that moment when you wave at someone but they don’t see you and you drop your hand to the side, hoping nobody noticed. Mortified you ever lifted your hand to wave in the first place.