Flat-Out Celeste (14 page)

Her email icon lit up with a white number one in a red circle. The way her stomach went crazy every time a new message came in was really inexcusable. One should not come undone over a highlighted numeral. Really. It was unbecoming. And it was probably spam.

But it wasn’t. It was what she had come to view in the past month as the most beautiful kind of email.

Celeste!

Hi! Whatcha doing? You’re in school right now, so you shouldn’t be reading this because you should be paying attention to your teachers. Unless you’re in a reeeeeeally boring lecture about chlorophyll or something. Nobody cares about chlorophyll. I mean some people do. And plants do. They love chlorophyll and tend to drone on for hours about how fabulous they are in the most obnoxious manner. “Check us out, being all full of sexy green pigment and stuff! We’ve got the super keenest biomolecule around! And, pfft, don’t even get us started on our ability to photosynthesize. Who else makes energy from light? Who? That’s. No one. At least no one that we know of. Fine, we don’t know everybody, but we for sure make energy in a more fascinating way than anyone else could. In fact, to annually commemorate our being so superfly, we have a holiday. Did you know that? Yes. It’s called Chlorophistmas, and it falls in August because there are no other holidays then. Obviously there’s a Chlorophistmas tree, because, hello! GREEN! And a bunch of other important traditions that will be revealed over time because we don’t want to overwhelm you with all of our spectacularness right away, but you’re gonna love everything about us and this holiday or we will shoot out green pigment and wreck your beautiful outfit. So there!”

See? Told you. Plants are insufferable.

But speaking of holidays, I’m coming home on the 22
^nd
. Or maybe it’s the 23
^rd
. I’ll find out. Do you celebrate Christmas? I love Christmas. Not in any kind of a religious sense, really. I’m just a big fan of decorations. I get that from my dad, who clearly has some kind of Christmas disorder that compels him to go to extremes. Fortunately, he’s not about mini-Santa collections or anything. It’s all very tasteful. Lots of white snow-like stuff. And lights. And lights. Also, lights. Did I say lights? Our condo gets lit up like a glow stick. But it’s fun. Although there are a lot of requirements for present wrapping. You know, no paper with cartoon reindeer or anything. It’s white paper, mostly. White ribbons. OH GOD, GIVE ME COLOR! Hey… maybe the plants will lend me some chlorophyll?

So a white Christmas is our tradition. What about you? What does the Watkins family do every year that can compare?

Can I take you out again when I’m home? I say we hit up a sushi bar this time. Or you can come to my house to see the white lights. Don’t wear white, though, or I might not see you. And that would be a tragedy from which I might never recover.

-Justin

Only Justin could create a holiday for chlorophyll. But more notable was the fact that he wanted to
take her out
. And he wanted to take her out
again
.

It was only now, in this very moment, that Celeste really examined their night out together. It was looking more and more as though they had gone out together. On a date. Her first date.

For someone so intellectually gifted, she was an absolute dummy.

“I may have gone on a date with Justin,” she whispered. “I may have had a date.” Even saying the words aloud did not make this feel any more real. She wanted to jump up and down. To scream. To holler to the world that she had gone on an actual, real, very first date. With a cute boy. And the boy spilled things, and babbled, and bowed. Most of all, he delighted her on every level. However, she wasn’t the sort of young woman who went bananas over this type of thing, was she? She wasn’t sure. It seemed unbecoming.

For now, she would simply remember to breathe. She would not panic or have a boy-related anxiety attack. She would just take this one email at a time.

Justin-

I am at home this afternoon because we had a shorter day due to teacher workshops, but had I been suffering through yet another lecture on chlorophyll, I would have been greatly relieved to have received your email during such a dull occasion. It does seem as though teachers have an unnatural fixation on chlorophyll, and photosynthesis, and such, does it not? Every science teacher spends an inordinate amount of time discussing the details of these as though there is nothing more important or interesting in the world than photosynthesis. Goodness, there are imaginary plant holidays that certainly warrant greater attention! I very much look forward to August this year now that I am aware that there is a celebration to be had. Are there gifts involved? I do enjoy gift giving.

As well as being someone who now celebrates Chlorophistmas with full gusto, I also celebrate the lesser known Christmas, as you do. Our family has not been much for passing down traditions, although I feel as though I should start one. My brother Matt’s ex-girlfriend Julie is glued to her tradition of laying under the Christmas tree and looking up through the branches, taking in the candlelight (Yes, candlelight! From real candles!). Julie takes the opportunity to focus on the past year, the upcoming year, and essentially take stock of her life. Make a wish, have a dream. Things along those lines. She has a propensity for the romantic, and I believe this routine ties into that side of her. I myself do not wish to lose an eye, particularly as emergency rooms are quite harried during the holiday season, and thus do not cram my body under prickly branches in order to daydream. It sounds unsafe and uncomfortable, but I do quite like the idea of adopting some type of tradition as my own. Perhaps this year will be a first for me? I shall keep you updated, if you like.

The Boston area is full of culinary exploration opportunities, and I feel sure that we could keep quite busy restaurant hopping if you would like to get together again. Sushi would be another first for me. Or I am certainly amenable to visiting at your parents’ place if you prefer that location. My room is done entirely in white, so I feel that your father and I might get along splendidly. Please do let me know when you will be home, and we can find a time that works for us.

I imagine that you are in the midst of your final exams right now, so I hope that those are going well for you. You do have an ample supply of coffee, yes?

She stopped typing for a moment to think about what to say next. How to sign off. How risky to be.

It will be lovely to see you again. I have missed you, and I don’t have occasion to miss many people.

-Celeste

Before she could rethink her wording, she hit the send button.

Today was about bravery.

She thought briefly of Finn and of his never-ending bravery. She opened the photos on her tablet and scrolled through until she found her favorite picture of him. Her grief would be forever; she knew that. Some days it was still excruciating and complex, but more and more, her grief was simple, clean. It was tolerable sadness. Sadness for the brother whom she lost, but also for the brother whom she could have had with her now. He would have gone on to… Well, to do
anything
really. He was wild that way. Unpredictable, curious, daring, extreme. She would love to know what sort of a man he would have grown into.

Today may have been made of small steps, but they were steps nonetheless. They mattered. Finn would, she knew, be very proud, even though her type of daring was different from his.

Her phone rang, Celeste assumed it would be one of her parents or Matt, but Justin’s name appeared on the screen. The phone seemed to fly out of her hand, shoot across the room, and land on her bed. She couldn’t talk to him on the phone! They hadn’t done that! Oh God, why was he calling? But what if he hung up? It would be a missed opportunity. And she had just decided that today was a day of bravery.

Celeste scrambled out of the chair and dove onto the bed in a most ungainly manner, catching the call on what was surely its final ring. Controlling her voice and breath took some effort, but it would not do to answer her first call from Justin sounding all sorts of bananas. “Hello?”

“Why haven’t we talked on the phone before?” he immediately asked.

Because there was no one to see her, she let herself smile broadly. “Hello, Justin. I do not know why we have not communicated by phone.”

“Maybe we got so used to just emailing and texting that it didn’t occur to us to use the phone?”

“Perhaps.”

“Okay, that was a total lie. I’ve thought about calling you a million times.”

“You have?”

“I’ll refrain from being emotionally scarred by the implication that you’ve never once thought about talking to me on the phone, but, yes, I’ve totally wanted to call you. But I was nervous. In fact, I’m a little freaked out right now. But since you said that you were at home and all, I thought that I’d take the opportunity to be all brazen and assertive.”

“Oh. Yes.”

“How am I doing?”

“How are you doing with what?”

“Being brazen and assertive?”

“You are doing very well.”

“I’m nervous. Is that weird? But you make me nervous. I mean, in an awesome way. But you make me nervous,” he said.

Celeste rolled onto her back and stared at the smooth white ceiling. Justin’s voice was wonderful. “I have also wondered about talking to you on the phone. And I, too, am quite nervous right now.”

“You are? Really?”

“Yes. I am.”

“How can you be nervous with me? I mean, it’s
me
. I’m not exactly suave and polished.” He laughed.

“That may be why. You are exceptionally comfortable with yourself.” Celeste took a deep breath. She thought for a moment. Justin was decidedly direct. He was open and not afraid of showing his vulnerability. She should—and could—return his honesty. That was important. “And I am anything but. I admire that about you.”

“Seriously? I’m totally not comfortable with myself. Are you kidding me? I love that you think that, but…”

“You are very self-aware, I find.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that. I’m pretty introspective, but you are, too, aren’t you? You seem to know yourself well.”

“In many ways, yes. I do know myself.” Another big breath. “And it is because I know myself so well that I am uncomfortable. In many situations.”

“What do you mean? Why?”

“Justin… I know that we do not care for clichés, but this is a rather large can of worms that you are attempting to pry open using a rusty can opener.”

“Like one of those old creaky ones you’d find in a summer rental home? With the super skinny handles that hurt?”

Celeste laughed. “Yes. Like that.”

“I like worms. You can let the worms out. But only if you want. I won’t make you talk about anything you don’t want to.”

She sighed and rubbed a hand over her eyes. How to explain so much to this boy? “It’s just that… quite obviously, I am not the average high school girl.”

“I love that.”

“I do not have friends. Well, maybe I do now.” She thought about Dallas and Zeke. She was friendly with them. And maybe getting to be friends. “But I do not fit well into any social mold whatsoever. That is not appealing to others.”

“It’s appealing to me.”

Celeste didn’t know what to say to this. “I do not use contractions. That is odd, I know that.”

“Sometimes you do.”

“I do?”

“You just did a minute ago. You said, ‘
It’s
just that…’ And you used a few the night we went out. Besides, who cares about whether or not you use contractions? They’re overrated.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so,” Justin said emphatically. “Does using contractions or not using contractions have anything to do with the kind of person you are?”

“Well… no.”

“So there. See? Who cares?”

“I have social difficulties. I do not always read situations properly. Or, more correctly, I do not always read people properly.”

“Maybe people don’t read
you
properly.”

“That is a generous way to see me.”

“It’s the only way to see you.”

Celeste could feel both tremendous tension and overwhelming gratitude course through her. Her mind was racing, and she had no idea what to say.

“Hey, Celeste?”

Her heart soared. “Hey, Justin?”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes. I’m very much all right.”

“Then I’m very all right, too.”

“Hey, Justin?”

“Hey, Celeste?”

“I would like to ask you a question, although I have worries about doing so.”

“What kind of worries?” His voice was so gentle that she could cry.

“I am afraid that you will think me silly. Or find my question to be inappropriate. Or that I will embarrass myself due to my naiveté in this area.”

“That won’t happen. You can ask me anything. C’mon, lay it on me.”

She would take the risk. “When you were last home, we went into Harvard Square together. We ate at a number of locations.”

“We did,” he prompted. “Keep going.”

“When we made arrangements to connect that night, I had been under the impression that our evening was affiliated with Barton. That you were a dining companion to a prospective student. You did not, however, discuss college at all that night. So it has only recently occurred to me that there is the slightest chance that we were not out together for admissions reasons, but… Obviously, nothing untoward occurred between us. I don’t have experience in this area, so I am unclear… I believe us to be friends, but then there have been many so many emails between us, although all highly appropriate…” She was floundering. “And many, many texts of coffee froth and Rorschach tests. And you have asked to take me out again which leads me to think that… that you might… I am trying to define the nature of… of our status… as one person relating to another….” This was not going well. At all. “There is the undeniable fact that you are a sophomore in college and I am a senior in high school, so it is likely that you were just—”