More Than Good Enough (19 page)

Last year, my class at Southwinds took a trip to Busch Gardens. We walked inside a fake cave and stared through a window at this gorilla named King. It was supposed to look normal and jungle-like in there, but he wasn’t falling for it. He rocked back and forth, throwing whatever he could grab. Basically, he trashed the place. When I moved closer, he lifted his food dish and cracked it against the glass.

As I circled the lunch tables, I knew what that gorilla must’ve thought. I wanted to blow shit up. Tell everybody to stop chugging their artificially flavored milk while I smashed their goddamn cell phones.

Pippa sat way in the back, surrounded by a wall of band people. God, she looked amazing. I tried saluting her, like a complete idiot. She kept talking to those nameless flute girls as if I didn’t exist.

I was so confused, I almost jumped when my stupid watch started beeping. For some reason, I imagined the beeps were inside my head, like the government was spying on my thoughts. Yes, I know this makes no sense. It’s just how my brain operates.

The smell of burnt grease made my stomach twist. Usually, when I’d been drinking, I’d kidnap the nearest hamburger and hold it for ransom. But I hadn’t touched a beer in days. Guess I was suffering from some serious withdrawal.

Enough of this garbage. I needed to talk to Pippa and congratulate her on that badass zombie survival guide. I’d been trapped for way too long in the front office—what a load of bullshit. I would’ve rather hung out on the Rez and help Cookie with her epic sewing projects.

Only one thing was in the way: Me and Uncle Seth had a deal.

Call me a walking disaster, but I sure as hell wasn’t a deal-breaker.

I snuck up behind Pippa and stole a french fry. The last time we talked was in the driveway at her house. Just thinking about it made me sweat. I slid next to her and tried to harness my dark energy back to the present dimension.

“You know, plastic doesn’t really last forever,” I said, digging through the soggy pile of the fries until I found half an onion ring. I love when that happens. “Of course, the same is true for zombies, even though they’re already dead.”

She didn’t laugh at my stupid joke. Any sane person would’ve taken the hint. But no. I kept spitting out random information like I’d morphed into a human version of Google.

“Plastic lasts about a thousand years. Of course, this all depends on what kind … ”

While I blabbed on like an idiot, Pippa’s backup crew glared. I’m talking major death rays. They got up from the table and finally left us alone. Good. I’m sure they had better things to do, like clean the spit out of their flutes.

Pippa still wasn’t smiling. “So what happened to the shout-out?”

I wiped my fingers on my jeans. “What shout-out?”

“The one you promised.”

Damn.

“Listen, homeslice. A lot of shit went down. I mean, after I left that night. My dad basically went crazy. I’m staying with my uncle now. He’s real cool. And there’s a lot I want to show you. There’s this gator that Cookie feeds. She makes toast for him and leaves it on the dock.”

“Cookie?”

“You haven’t met her yet. She’s kind of like my grandmother, but we’re not actually related. Oh. And I just found out. I’m part of the tribe. It’s probably the only smart thing my dad’s ever done.”

“Wow. That’s nice, Trent. And you still had time to go around talking behind my back?”

This wasn’t going the way I’d expected.

Pippa crumpled the empty fry packet—the only thing on the table. She didn’t even have a tray. Maybe she was on some kind of carbohydrate diet? In one quick swoop, she beamed it into the trash can.

“Nice shot,” I said, but she was hustling away, sort of half-tripping in her Frankenstein boots. I was right behind her.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

She was beyond pissed. Why? I couldn’t tell you.

“Find out what, homeslice? I’m not a mind reader. Just tell me what’s going on. Can I beat him up for you?”

“Not unless you beat up yourself.”

“Me? What the hell did I do?”

“You were at a party with Michelle. That’s what people are saying.”

“What people?” I already had a guess. Kenzie and the female mafia strike again. “Listen. I didn’t invite her to Alvaro’s house. She was just … there.”

“And why are you talking to your ex-girlfriend? We can’t be together if you’re still with her.”

“But I’m not.”

“So you’re not with Michelle. But you’re sleeping with her. Is that how it works?”

“You’ve got it all confused. It’s over with that girl, okay? Like I said, it’s
been
over.” I was freaking. How could I be in trouble for a crime I didn’t even commit? Most of all, I couldn’t stop thinking about the word “together.”

Were we together?

I pulled my cell from my pocket. “Look. Michelle’s number isn’t even in the contact list. I deleted it.”

“Your laces are untied. And you dropped something.” She pointed.

The gator tooth had fallen out. I picked it up before it got trampled. When I turned around, Pippa was gone. Of course, I started running after her.

I was in the moment.

That’s all that mattered.

When I reached the lockers, I raised both arms like I was crossing the Olympic finish line. Pippa was not amused. I shoved my phone in her face, trying to get her to see.

“See?”

Pippa waved my hand away. “You can’t erase what happened. Not when it’s already done.”

“Okay. You’re mad at me. I get that. But give me a chance to … you know. Make you un-mad.”

“Too late for that.” She dug inside the locker and yanked out her Language Arts book. The cover was wrapped in a paper bag, as if it hid something dirty instead of boring essays about Research Skills. Too bad we didn’t read stuff that was R-rated, or at least PG-13. Then maybe I’d stay awake.

“Let me prove I’m not a liar.” I checked my text messages. Sorted through the random contents of my life. It was kind of pathetic, especially when absorbed all at once.

I scrolled through, barely paying attention, until Michelle’s number popped up. Sure, I’d deleted her from the list. That hadn’t stopped her from texting me after I left Alvaro’s. I’d been so wasted that night, I didn’t remember answering it.

Michelle:
Why did you leave so fast?

Trent:
Got better places to be

Michelle:
That’s why you should come over

Trent:
No thanks

Michelle:
Because of your gf? She won’t find out.

Trent:
But I found out about you

Michelle:
Are you in love with her?

Trent:
Yes

The whole situation didn’t seem real. I kept staring at the screen. It felt so weird, looking at stuff I had no memory of typing. That’s how drunk I’d been, just minutes before I’d found Dad on the lawn. Almost like an out-of-body experience. Or ghostly possession.

I was the ghost.

Pippa had left me standing there alone. Okay. It was too late to erase the damage. I couldn’t travel backward in time and tell her about Michelle at Alvaro’s. Maybe I could move forward.

The first thing I did was block Michelle’s number. No more booty calls from her. Next, I ran up the stairs to find Pippa. It wasn’t like I’d memorized her schedule or anything. I still hadn’t memorized my own. I must’ve looked like a creeper, moving from one classroom to another.

The windows in the doors were painted with flying hearts and these creepy-looking babies with bows and arrows. That was bad enough. Then everybody had to take turns scratching bad words into the paint. So it was like “Yay, let’s celebrate love. And by the way, fuck you.”

I peeked through the scratched-up hearts. It was so dark in the room, I could barely see anything except the dull glow of a television and Pippa’s sweet face in silhouette. Guess the teacher was showing a movie. What’s the point in coming to school if you’re just sitting at a desk, watching some lame DVD that you could probably download for free online? I mean, come on.

Slowly, I cracked the door. A beam of sunlight oozed across the carpet.

“What can I do for you?” the teacher mumbled, like a waitress taking an order at Denny’s.

I wanted to say, “You can’t do anything.” Not a single person on Planet Earth could help me now. It was all in my hands. Instead, I said the magic words:

“I need to talk to Pippa.”

All the heads in the room craned around. Pippa was trying to melt into her chair, but she couldn’t hide from me.

“Do you have a permission slip?” The teacher was going on about campus rules. Like I needed her permission to talk to the girl I loved.

The stupid TV was blasting a speech about Manifest Destiny. In other words, the excuse to do what you wanted. Take away somebody’s home. Steal their food and basically destroy the land. We’re supposed to pretend it happened a long time ago. Well, history repeats itself. That’s one thing I learned.

I cruised past the teacher and headed straight for Pippa’s desk. “Come on,” I said, stretching out my hand.

She stared at it. Then grabbed hold.

We marched through the classroom. When we reached the door, she said, “I’ll be right back.”

I was trying not to laugh. For a second I almost forgot she was pissed. It didn’t take long to refresh my memory.

“You better have a good reason for this.”

“Trust me. It’s good,” I said, pulling her toward the staircase.

“How can I trust you anymore?”

“Here’s one reason.” I brushed my mouth against her ear.

“Stop.”

“You want another reason?” I kissed her neck, the warm space below her throat. Both of us sank to the steps. The railing was bubbled with rust, like it might collapse at any second. The whole school was falling apart but I didn’t care. We could hold on to each other.

When we finally let go, Pippa said, “I waited for you to call.”

I looked at the trash that had rolled, tumbleweed-style, to the bottom—all the deflated snack bags and crumpled balls of paper. At that moment I felt like tossing myself into the pile.

“Yeah, my ex was at that party. I had no control over that. And you’re right. I should’ve called when I got home, but I was too wasted.” That’s what I told her. The truth.

“That’s no excuse,” she said.

“No, it’s not. But I want you to know I’m sorry.”

“Sorry you got caught?”

“Just … sorry.”

Pippa leaned against my shoulder. I held my breath and stayed still so I wouldn’t break our connection.

“Remember back in sixth grade?” she said. “You used to call my house in the middle of the night and we’d talk on the phone forever and watch movies and stuff.”

Technically, you couldn’t watch movies over the phone, but I remembered.

“You never wanted to hang up first,” she said, laughing. “I’d say goodbye and all I’d get was dead silence.”

“I liked your silence.”

“Me too,” she said. “I mean, I liked yours.”

We sat there, being silent. Then I kissed her forehead. “Don’t hang up on me, okay?”

Pippa hooked her thumb around mine. “Promise I won’t.”

Alone on the stairs, it felt like we were the last humans on earth. That wouldn’t be so bad, as long as we were together.

“Your mom probably hated me calling all the time,” I said. “No wonder she didn’t want me coming over.”

“What’re you talking about? I thought it was your mom.”

We both looked at each other.

There had to be a good reason why our moms broke us up. They probably couldn’t deal with our co-ed slumber parties once me and Pippa hit middle school. Or maybe they thought we hung out too much, we needed more friends. Or friends that weren’t the opposite sex.

Was there a good reason?

I couldn’t think of one.

Pippa was still holding my hand. “Just to let you know …
my mom doesn’t hate you. Everything’s been weird since my parents got divorced. You saw my house. It’s not like I’m oblivious to my mom’s hoarding problem. I just don’t want people to know about it.”

“Because they’ll judge you?”

“Of course,” she said. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s time to stop caring so much. All families are weird.”

“Feels like it sometimes.”

“Well, yeah, trust me. You’re not alone.”

She sighed. “There you go again with that trust thing.”