I Know It's Over (27 page)

“Did you ask him for proof?”

“I didn’t think of that,” Holland says. “Are you picking up or what?”

“No.” I’m not going to beg him so what’s the point?

“What?” Holland scrunches up her face. “Are you guys fighting?”

“Yeah, so go downstairs and hang up the phone like a good little girl, okay?”

“I don’t think so.” Holland picks up the receiver and places it facedown on my bed. “Do your own dirty work, Nick.” She shuts the door gingerly behind her and I stare down at the abandoned receiver.

“Hello?” Dad’s voice is sputtering. “Hello? Nick? Hello?”

“Okay, fine,” I say irritably, my fingers closing around the receiver. “I’m here.”

“There was no need to hang up, Nick.” Dad’s really worked up; he sounds like my parents’ divorce all over again. “If you’d listen for a moment—all I’m saying is that next week is out. We have theater tickets tomorrow and Saturday we’re leaving for Montreal for two days. So, I’d really like to do this in two weeks’ time.” He pauses and then adds, “I’d like to see you.”

“Just us?” I need to make my temporary escape now, but I can see that’s not going to happen this week. “Because it’d be cool if it could just be me and you for a change.”

“All right, Nick,” Dad says. “We can do that, but you have to realize Bridgette is important to me and that’s probably not going to change anytime soon.”

“That’s your business,” I tell him.

“Sure, but it’d be nice if the two of you could get along.”

“I’ll be nice. But I’m not going to promise anything else. You can’t expect me to like her just because you do.”

“Okay,” Dad concedes, frustration rumbling around in the back of his throat. “I’ll give you a call next week and let you know the arrangements.”

“Thanks,” I say sincerely.

“Are you going to be all right?” Concern gives his words a razor edge.

“I’m okay. I just need to get away from everything for a while.”

“Sure,” Dad says genially. He’s already forgiving me, silently ascribing my attitude to everything I’ve been through lately, or at least that’s the way it sounds. “I think it’s good you told your mother. Most secrets don’t do people much good.” He didn’t say
all,
I notice, and I still believe in good secrets, but they’re fragile.

After Diego’s gone, I throw my dinner in the microwave and tell Mom I won’t be going to Dad’s for a couple weeks yet. She doesn’t ask me to explain; she says it’ll be good for me to spend some time in Toronto and that the time frame will give me the chance to book shifts off work. I realize I never told her about leaving the Courtland Cougars and fill her in on that too.

The next morning she wakes me up, stares down at me, and says, “I wasn’t sure you’d want to go school today but I thought I’d check.”

I must’ve forgotten to set the alarm, but I want to go to school and I mumble that in barely coherent morning English. Mom smiles and tells me that with everything that happened yesterday, she forgot to mention that the company she interviewed at wants her to come in for a second interview.

“See?” I say. “I knew you’d do good.”

“They’re interviewing three other people too, but I’m still in the running,” Mom says, her lips stuck in a grin. “The second interview is on Monday.” She tosses her head back in mock aggravation. “There goes another sick day.”

Monday’s also Sasha’s first day back at school and the thought of that makes me shudder. I want her to be there and I know I can’t avoid her, but I know exactly what it’ll feel like to see her again—like I’m missing a layer of skin. I don’t know how to walk around like normal all day when I can run into her at any time.

But for today, at least, I don’t have to deal with that. My egomaniac English teacher makes jokes at various students’ expense, and Keelor hunts me down in the hall and wants to know how I am. I can tell he doesn’t get it, but at least he’s trying. Keelor wants me back on the ice as soon as possible, but he’s trying not to push it. Everybody’s being so good and concerned and I’m glad, for sure, but underneath that there’s another part of me that nothing even touches.

Ms. Navarro has the radio on during art class, like always, and it relaxes me a little even though it’s jazz. Nathan talks to me in a mellow voice through the whole thing and that relaxes me too.

“So what happened to the journalism student from New Year’s Eve?” I whisper. “You ever going to see him again?”

“Naw.” Nathan stops sketching and looks up at me. “Not really my type.”

Here we are again. I’m clumsy at this, not like him, but he needs to know that I’m going to try. Seriously, I mean it. “You know there will be somebody, though,” I say under my breath. “It’s just this stupid small town.”

“Maybe.” Nathan’s eyes are suspicious.

“For sure,” I tell him.

“You know.” His tone turns breezy. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to tell me something.”

“Shut up.” I roll my eyes at him. “You know what I’m saying. Don’t be an asshole.”

“I know. Thanks for the approval rating.” Nathan grins and shakes his head. “You’re so uptight, Severson. What’re you gonna do in university when the gay city boys start hitting on you?”

I give him a suitably dirty reply and Nathan busts his gut laughing. I laugh too. I laugh so hard that it hurts and I bend over clutching my sides. Ms. Navarro glances in our direction and I straighten up, this goofy grin stretched across my face.

I wish I could spend all day in art class, but the bell doesn’t care. After it rings, Nathan and I file into the hallway, which is swarming with skaters, posers, stoners, brains, and jocks. Everybody’s got someone to be and a group of people to be it with, but sometimes I’m not in the mood for it, you know. Sometimes it all feels foreign and phony. Like a big waste.

The difference is today I’m just glad I’ve got somewhere to be and I look over at Nathan, ex-jock and present everything, and say, “You want to watch the game at my house on Saturday?” The Leafs are playing the Boston Bruins and Nathan still watches the games. You can be an ex-hockey player, but I don’t know if it’s possible to be an ex-fan.

“You asking Keelor too?” He stops in the middle of the hallway.

Like I said before, Nathan always knows. “Like old times,” I tell him. Not that I think it’ll change anything between the three of us, but I guess I need it—even if it’s just for a few hours.

“Sounds good, but I’m still grounded,” Nathan says, arching his eyebrows. “Why don’t you guys come by my place instead? Sound cool?”

It could be. I could even be looking forward to it except that it’s a day closer to Monday and there’s not a person in the world who can help me pull that day off.

Mom drives me over to Sports 2 Go on Saturday morning. My driving test is nine days away, but I’m exhausted. I slept for seven hours, but I could climb back in bed and do another seven no problem. A coma’s exactly what I need right now, but what I have is Mom in the driver’s seat, telling me that we’ll have a lot more money if she gets this job. She’s so psyched about the thing that we get to the mall in record time. I’m worried that she might spontaneously combust before Monday if she doesn’t calm down.

My manager, Brian, is kicking around the store when I get there. A rack of fifty-percent-off outerwear that nobody wants has been shoved to the back of the store; otherwise there’s no sign of the post-Christmas-sale madness. Grayson hovers around the whole morning, describing his weekend in elaborate detail. Personally, I have trouble believing that anyone who shoots off his mouth that much gets laid more than twice a year, but I stop just short of telling him that he’s full of shit.

Sometime after two Grayson sidles back up to me and points, as discreetly as a guy like Grayson can, towards a girl strolling through the door. “The tall ones are the hottest,” he says definitively. He bites his lip and groans.

I turn and take a long look. This isn’t something new from Grayson, but sometimes he happens to be right. Turns out this is one of those times. Keelor’s cousin Jillian is gliding towards us, wearing three-inch-tall shoes and black pants slung just below her waist and smiling right at me.

“Blond too,” Grayson says. “You think it’s natural?”

I think I came close to finding out. I smile back at her and start walking. We meet in the middle of the store, where I feel Grayson burning a hole in the back of my T-shirt.

“My uncle’s driving me back tomorrow,” she says. “Owen said you worked here so…” She shrugs like it’s not a big deal. “I had some stuff to pick up and I thought I could say goodbye at the same time.”

“It’s good to see you,” I tell her. Maybe it’s not a big deal, but it’s something. She has to be four inches taller than me in those shoes. I feel like a dwarf or a ten-year-old kid staring up at her and I just have to ask, “How tall are you anyway?”

“People always ask that,” Jillian says with a laugh.

“And what do you tell them?”

“Five eleven and a half,” she tells me, standing even straighter. “Without the shoes.”

“It looks good.” My stomach dips as soon as I say that. I shouldn’t be this glad to see her.

“Yeah, you too.” She grazes my shoulder and studies my face. “Your eyes kill me.” She says it like she’s fooling around. I am a midget, after all. I’m also bad news.

“Uh-huh,” I say doubtfully. I toss a glance at Grayson and motion to the door. He’s recovered enough to nod back and I tell Jillian I can take a quick break.

We take a seat by the fountain and she says, “So how are you? Did you see your girlfriend?”

“Yeah, I did. She’s doing okay.”

“I’m glad.” The look on Jillian’s face makes it clear she really means it. “You were pretty worried.”

The word doesn’t begin to cover it. I explain about breaking the news to my mom and my upcoming trip to Toronto to spend a few days with my dad.

“It sounds like you’re working some stuff out,” she says.

“I guess.” I nudge her arm. “What about you? How’s your mom doing?”

“I’m okay.” Jillian nods and stretches her legs out in front of her. “I talked to her yesterday and she sounded all right, but it’s not like it’s ever really over, you know?” She shifts her attention to the water falling behind us. “I don’t know if it’s something I can trust in the long run.”

“I guess no one ever knows that about anything.”

“I guess.” Jillian’s lips spring into a smile. “How come every time we get together it turns deep?”

“Maybe we’re just deep people.” I smile back. “So are you gonna give me your IM or what?”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, why not?” Unless I’m so much bad news that she’d never consider typing two words to me. “You can let me know how it’s going back in Windsor.”

Jillian tells me her IM address, but my brain is crawling along on half power and I know I’ll never remember it. I jog into Sports 2 Go for a pen and piece of scrap paper and jot down my IM and e-mail addresses. Back at the fountain, I watch Jillian print out hers. She tears the paper in half and hands me the bottom part.

“Sorry I laid that stuff on you the other day,” I say, sliding the paper into my pocket. “I’ve been pretty messed up lately.”

“Don’t worry about it. It was a mutual thing.” Jillian hunches over, smiles, and folds her arms across her knees. “You see—deep.”

“Well, the casual sex thing didn’t work out,” I tease.

“Hey.” She rolls her eyes, but she’s still smiling. “Reality check. I was never going to have sex with you.” She sits up straight and glances over at Sports 2 Go. “Anyway, I guess I should let you get back to work.”

We stand up together and I tell her I’ll IM her next week. It sounds like a line, but I mean it. I hardly know her, but I’d like to find out more and IM is about my speed right now. With some distance between us maybe we can actually be friends. It’s a nice thought and I’m standing there wondering if it’s okay to hug her goodbye again when she leans down and kisses me fast on the lips.

“You’ll be okay,” she says.

She turns and I watch her stride off—all six feet plus of her, blond ringlets trailing down her back over her T-shirt. It’s weird, she doesn’t remind me of Kate Hudson anymore. The fact is, up close the only thing they have in common is blond good looks. Jillian is definitely the kind of girl all the guys chase, even though she doesn’t act like it, but I’m better off out of the running. Everything’s okay with us and I mean to keep it that way.

I walk back into Sports 2 Go and Grayson cuts me off at the new cargo pants display. “She your girl?” he asks, voice bursting with approval.

“She’s just a friend.”

“Now that,” he says, earnestly shaking his head, “is a shameful waste.”

Depends on how you look at it, but I don’t drop an explanation on Grayson.

Nathan picks me up at the end of my shift. Keelor’s already in the car and it’s such a flashback to be in the car with the two of them that I shiver under my skin as I climb into the backseat. We swing by Taco Bell on the way over to Nathan’s and pick up burritos, nachos, and quesadillas—your basic heartburn combo. The only thing missing is cold beer and the more the three of us talk about that the worse the craving gets. By the time we get to Nathan’s house, we sound like your standard beer commercial and Nathan’s dad actually smiles as the three of us charge through the front door.

“Unbelievable,” Nathan whispers as we park ourselves in the living room. “We’ve barely said three words to each other since New Year’s, but give him a whiff of testosterone and bingo, instant Mr. Congeniality.”

“Is he watching the game with us?” Keelor asks.

“Without a doubt,” Nathan says. “You think I could keep him away? It’s probably the only reason he let you guys come over.”

Sure enough, Nathan’s dad joins us in the living room at game time. He looks more relaxed than I’ve seen him in months, like a man who has a handle on things. Familiar territory can do that to a person. I should know. I’m so glad to be sitting there with Nathan and Keelor that I don’t even mind about Nathan’s dad crashing the game.

It’s an absolutely spectacular game too. The Leafs have four players out with injuries, but they battle hard. Chiaramonte gets off to a slow start, pissing himself off so much with his uninspired performance that he smashes his stick against the boards in disgust. That earns him an unsportsmanlike conduct penalty, but well-directed anger can work wonders and once he’s back on the ice, he pulls himself together and scores two quick goals. Shane Vanderbreggen drives the puck into the Boston net too. Suddenly they’re an unstoppable force out there. Lightning on ice. It’s awesome to watch and when Leafs goalie Mulcahy finally lets one in during the third period, they hit back with another goal straightaway.