Finding Laila: Some Changes are Necessary (10 page)

Haden
walks toward me and wraps his arm around my waist: the first official public
gesture to let anyone know that we’re together. I feel exposed and happy at the
same time, but I know it’s only a matter of time until people decide to start
in on me about it.

“Yeah,
this is the last weekend, so if y’all want to come by, I’ll be there.” He drops
his chin and kisses the top of my head. “Walk you to class?”

“Aw,”
the guys say in unison as they blow kisses and I roll my eyes.

“Shut
it.” I point and narrow my eyes. “None of that. See y’all at lunch.” I turn to
walk off and point to Bailey. “Get my number from Joey.”

* * *

It’s
been a long day and I have a ton of homework to take care of when I get home,
but it will have to wait because I have swim practice. I missed three sessions
last week, but promised coach I’d be there after school every day this week to
make up for it. I grab my phone to check in with Mom about when I’ll be home
before I send Haden a text.

Me: Don’t forget, I have
practice tonight. Call you when I get home.

Haden: Okay. Talk later.

Me: Today was weird.

I
walk into the locker room and set my phone on the bench so I can change into my
swimsuit. I like the
me
-ness of swim team,
and the water calms me after a hectic day. Our team has won state several
times, the most recent being last year. We have some excellent swimmers, ones
that will probably get a scholarship, but I’m not one of them. Don’t get me
wrong—I’m a good swimmer, but I’m not the best. It doesn’t matter to me,
though. I’m on the team because I enjoy swimming and this allows me to do it as
much as I want.

My
phone vibrates on the bench and I pick it up to see Haden’s response.

Haden: Weird?

Me: Yeah. Us. Weird.

The
chatter of other girls entering the room causes me to turn and set my phone
down so I can finish changing. I think about the day and realize that my text
might sound bad so I rush to correct myself.

Me: Good weird.

My
teammates walk in, but I can’t see which ones are there because they’re on the
other side of the lockers. For the most part we get along fine, though I’m an
outsider in the group. Several of them are close and you rarely see them
without the other.

“Did
you hear about Braxton and Laila?”

Braxton?

“She’s
either the luckiest girl around or the easiest. All those guys, all to herself,
I need to make friends with her,” one of them says.

“Is
there even a question?” the first one responds.

“Hold
up, I saw her with Haden this morning. So who is she with?” a third voice asks.

“Jason
said that Braxton was all over her this morning before Haden got to school. I
bet she’s messing with both of them and neither of them know it,” the first one
says.

This has to be one of the
more ridiculous lies I’ve heard about myself.

“Is
she coming to practice today?” someone asks and I close my locker loud enough
that their talking stops. I grab my towel, swim cap, and phone, and walk around
the lockers to see four of my teammates staring at me in shock.

“Yep,
she is,” I answer with a straight face.

“Hey—”
one of them says, but I cut her off.

“Have
any of you ever once considered coming to me and carrying on a real
conversation?”

None
of them can look me in the eye so I continue.

“I
guess not, because it’s more fun to believe all the rumors that you help
spread, isn’t it? Well, let me clarify a couple of things for you: first, those
four guys are the best people I know and would
never
say or do anything to disrespect me the way you just were.
Second, I’m with Haden, not that any of this is your business. Anyway, see ya
out there.”

I
walk off with a sick sense of satisfaction at the look of mortification on each
of their faces. There’s not a doubt in my mind they knew I was there, and they
thought I’d let them say whatever they wanted.

I
check my phone one last time before I have to set it aside to get into the pool
and smile at his words.

Haden: The best kind of
weird.

I’m not sure why, despite seeing me with Haden,
people are so insistent to connect Braxton with me.
My teammates are still avoiding me like
the plague after I found them discussing my relationship with the guys. The
rumors have been running rampant, but as usual, I ignore them when I can and
confront it when I need to.

I’m
relieved that the week is over. Last period flew by and as I grab my stuff out
of the locker, I hear snippets of another rumor. That makes three different
versions of how the chat with Jason went on Monday, none of which are true.

Haden,
Cole, and I head to the parking lot to Haden’s car when my phone rings in my
pocket.

“Hey,
Bailey. What’s up?” Cole looks questioningly at me but I ignore him.

“Not
much, just checking to see if we’re still on and what time.”

“Yeah.
Seven o’clock work for you?”

“Sounds
good, see you then,” she says before disconnecting the call.

Cole
climbs into the back seat so I can get in, but still watches me like I’m
missing something.

“What?”
I ask, turning in my seat to face him.

“Nothing.”
He throws his hands up defensively.

“That
is not a ‘nothing’ look. Spill.”

“I’m
serious, I’m just giving you a hard time. You never hang out with
girls—it’s fascinating.”

“Fascinating,
huh? Cole, I have made an effort with every single one of the girls you guys
have brought around. For whatever reason, it never works. I have no idea if
Bailey and I are going to be good friends, but I always try—
for you guys
. Besides, this is Joey
we’re talking about. When was the last time he had a girlfriend? I want her to
stick around for a while.”

“So
what are y’all planning to do tonight?” Haden asks as he starts the engine.

“Oh
you know
,
typical girl things,
mani-pedi
,
eat ice cream, gossip.” I over-animate my voice before laughing. “What do you
think? Watch a movie.”

“Damn,”
Cole huffs, “what’s the point of being friends with a girl if we don’t even get
to watch a pillow fight?”

“First
off,
ew
. And second, it’s not a sleepover, so let it
go.”

“A
guy can dream.” He closes his eyes in blissful surrender and I look at Haden,
who rolls his eyes.

We
drop Cole off first, even though he lives closer to Haden than I do. He jumps
out of the car and tells Haden he’ll see him at the gallery, which causes a
groan to escape him.

“I
thought you were cool with the guys coming by, so what’s wrong?” I ask as he
backs out of the driveway.

“Nothing
really,” he answers.

“Okay,
then what are you thinking about?” With Haden, it’s all about how you phrase
the question.

“The
guys don’t know about the pictures of you in the gallery.”

I
stretch my hand between us and he threads his fingers through mine. I don’t
feel the need to say anything, because I know the guys will be cool with all of
it, but this is Haden we’re talking about. He doesn’t let many people in.

“You
know if you told them not to come, they’d listen,” I offer.

He
pulls the car over to the curb outside of my house and throws it into park. We
get out and he takes my hand as we walk up to the front door. It’s funny how so
much has changed in a week, yet it feels completely normal. Haden stops short
of the steps and tugs my hand so I face him.

“I
don’t care who knows how I see you—how I’ve seen you. You are the only
one I care about,” he says with a serious face. “Well, you and my mom.”

“Did
she ever make it to the gallery?” I feel like a jerk because I never asked
before.

“She’s
coming before her shift today, before the gallery opens.” His mouth turns in a
sad smile.

“So
she’s going to see your work?” I swallow hard, curious what she knows of us.

He
lifts his hand and tucks my hair behind my ear, but drags his fingers across my
jaw. “She’s seen drawings of you before, Lai,” he says.

I
open my mouth to speak, but stop when he continues.

“After
Dad died, do you remember what you said to me?”

I
try to recall what sage words I might have imparted but I come up empty.

“You
gave me a hug. That’s it. While everyone else was telling me how much my dad
loved me, how they were here if I needed them—you were
there
. You hugged me and said you wished
that you had something to say to make me feel better.”

My
shoulders slump in defeat when I realize that there was nothing sage in my
words.

“Lai,
you were there for me. You held my hand and stayed by my side to make sure that
I was okay. You didn’t spout some clichéd words or offer lame gestures. It
meant more to me than you know. I was so angry that he was gone, I didn’t want
to be at his funeral—I never even wanted to paint again. But months
later, I was in the house alone, and for the first time it seemed like Dad was
at work—not gone. I was still sad, but I knew things would be okay. I
went into my room and grabbed the sketch pad and let my hand do whatever it
wanted.”

He
stops talking, walks over to the steps and takes a seat. When I don’t follow,
he reaches out his hand and pulls me next to him.

“I
don’t think I’d ever had such an intense session when sketching. Before I knew
it, it was midnight and Mom was getting home from her night shift. I didn’t
even hear her come in until she was in my room and I heard her voice. I looked
over my shoulder and she was staring at the drawing. I looked down at the paper
and realized that I drew you, Laila.”

“Why?”

“I
don’t know. Mom asked me if you knew, but I didn’t know it yet. I thought I was
sketching another scenery like I always did, something that brought me peace.
It wasn’t until I had about six pictures of you that I had to stop and think
about it. It freaked me out because you’re one of my best friends.”

“So
what happened?”

“I
waited up one night for Mom to get home, and I showed her all of the drawings
I’d done. I was looking for an explanation because as it was, it looked like I
was obsessed with you,” he huffs with a crooked smile.

“And
were you?” I tease.

“When
she asked me what I felt when I looked at the images, I smiled and said I felt
calm. Looking into your eyes brought me peace—just like all of the
landscapes I would draw. She knew before me that I was falling for you, but
when I realized it, we’d already decided that none of us were going to take a
chance at ruining our cool group.”

“Haden—”

“So
like I said, it’s nothing she hasn’t seen before. She knows I love
you—that I have for a long time.” He looks away at his last words as if
he’s said too much.

I
welcome the break from his stare because I’m choking over the words. It’s too
soon and yet not soon enough. All four of the guys mean so much to me, and I’ve
told all of them that I love them. But that’s not the kind of love Haden’s
talking about. I can feel it in his story, the way he looks at me—he really
loves me.
Me.

I
can’t formulate an adequate response, so I lean over and take his face in my
hands so that he is looking at me. He opens his mouth to speak, but I silence
him with a kiss and pour as much of my heart into it as I possibly can.

“Call
me later?” I ask before turning to head inside but he catches my hand to stop
me.

“Can
I come over?”

“I’ll
let you know.”

He
kisses me one last time and I watch him walk to his car and drive away.

* * *

Took Luka to Gwen’s birthday party

and
your dad said he might be
working late.

Back later.

Love,

Mom

I
wad the paper in my hand and toss it into the trash so I can straighten up
before Bailey gets here. I hope Bailey has a good sense of humor because I rent
The Heat
for us to watch. Two of my favorite
people in one movie—can’t beat it.

Bailey
and I talked a few times at school, but nothing worth noting and nothing that
let me in on what type of person she really is. I have no grand illusions that
we’re going to instantly bond tonight and be lifelong friends, but maybe we’ll
be able to find something that will help us.

My
phone chimes and I look to see a text from Bailey.

Bailey: Mind if I come
earlier? I’m bored.

Me: C’mon over. Know how to
get here?

Bailey: Joey gave me your
address.

Me: There isn’t much food
in the house.
Wanna
grab a pizza?

Bailey: Be there in 10 to
pick you up.

Me:
Kewl

Bailey:
Kewl
?
Really?

Me: Bite me. Better?

Bailey: Much

There
might be more to Bailey Butler than I thought. I need to change into something
comfortable, and I see my laundry is in a pile on top of my bed.
Thanks, Mom.
I dig through until I find
my favorite yoga pants—yes, I have a favorite—and pull on a loose
tank before pulling my hair into a ponytail. When I look at my reflection I
note that this is as dressed up as I get for movie night, so I’m definitely not
trying to impress. Granted, I will be seen in public, but that’s not something
I usually worry about anyway. It’s not like I look bad, just really relaxed.

“Laila?
You home?” Dad calls out from downstairs.

“Yeah,
be right down. I thought Mom said you were working late.”

“Your
mom never listens to me, I said I didn’t have to,” he laughs. “Hey, Lai,
there’s a blue convertible in the driveway. Is someone here?”

“That’s
probably Bailey, we’re going to get something to eat.”

I
trot down the stairs and see my dad standing behind the kitchen counter with a
strange look on his face.

“Everything
okay, Dad?”

“Bailey?”
He cocks his head to the side and furrows his brow.

“Yeah,
Joey’s girlfriend.”

As
if on cue, the doorbell rings and I head over to answer it. I’m relieved to see
Bailey dressed in similar clothes, not looking to impress anyone either.

“Hey,
c’mon in, my dad just got home.”

“Nice
house,” she offers, looking at pictures that Mom has covering the walls.

“Thanks,”
I say as we enter the kitchen. “Dad, this is Bailey, Joey’s girlfriend. Bailey,
this is my dad.”

“Nice
to meet you, Mr. Nixon.” She smiles and extends her dainty hand in greeting.

“Wow,
Laila, you ditched the guys for once?” He laughs. “Nice to meet you, Bailey.
Joey treating you all right?”

Her
cheeks flame and she grins happily. “He really is.”

“Good.
So what do you ladies have planned for the night?”

“Ah,
the usual—debauchery, trouble, and of course vandalism,” I tease.

“That’s
my girl,” he says and looks through the waiting unopened mail on the counter.

“We’re
going to grab something to eat and then come back here to watch a movie. So we
get the theater room?”

“It’s
all yours.”

“Thanks,
Dad.” I give him a hug and we start to leave, but Dad’s voice stops me.

“Hey
Bailey, word of advice: don’t let Laila pick out the movie—it’s always
blood and gore.”

I
laugh and wave him off, but Bailey looks mildly concerned.

“I
got
The Heat
, we’re good.”

We
drive to the nearest pizza place, a tiny restaurant we used to go to every
Friday when I was a kid. The same family has owned it for years and they always
give us hugs and gush over Luka when we come in. We take a seat at one of the
ten tables there and the waiter hands Bailey a menu. They all know me and I
always know what I want.

“You
two always like that?” she asks over her menu.

“Dad
and me? Pretty much.
Mom, too.
It’s pretty laid back
in our house,” I offer.

“That’s
cool. I wish my parents were fun,” she mutters.

“What’s
not fun about them?”

“Don’t
get me wrong, they’re not bad parents. I mean
,
I know
things could be worse, but Dad travels a lot and Mom works downtown. When they
are around, it feels like business.”

“Funny,
sometimes I wish mine weren’t around so much. I mean, they are always home—I
feel like I never have a moment to myself unless I get out of the house.”

“So
that’s why you invited me over,” she laughs.