The Tension of Opposites (6 page)

When they walked in, I was standing in a bathroom stall, buttoning my jeans and debating whether to discuss the whole Noelle problem with Max over lunch. As their heels
click-click-click
ed against the tile floor, I heard the first voice.

“I can't believe he's being so weird,” someone said.

“He's not worth it, Jess,” a different voice offered.

I peered through the crack in the door and saw three girls staring at the large wall mirror, talking to their reflections instead of to one another. Kirsten Holmes and Tabby Lock stood on either side, both applying shiny lip gloss. In the middle was Jessie Richards. It was hard to be sure, but her eyes looked red and puffy, and her hair was missing its usual luster.

“He's a prick,” Kirsten said.

“I don't get it.” Jessie's voice was soft. Her eyes started roaming, finally settling on something near her feet. “I mean, I didn't do anything.”

Tabby and Kirsten stared at each other. Tabby widened her eyes. Kirsten shrugged. Tabby mouthed a few words, and Kirsten nodded. Then the two turned and faced Jessie.

“I might know something,” Tabby said.

Jessie's head snapped up. She grabbed Tabby's hand.

“What?” Jessie asked. “Is it bad?”

“I saw him,” Tabby said. “It was this weekend, after Tom's party, so … pretty late. I'd just dropped Carrie off and was stopped at a four-way in her neighborhood when he passed me coming from the opposite direction.”

“So?” Jessie shook her head. “Maybe he was going to—”

“There was a girl in the car,” Kirsten said.

Jessie startled at the words. Then she stood very still.

“Who?” Jessie asked.

“I didn't get a good look at—”

“Who was it?” Jessie pulled her hand from Tabby's grasp. Tabby shrugged, squinted her eyes. “It kind of looked like Shelby Stadler.”

“Are you for real?” Jessie sucked in a breath. “After everything I did to help her make varsity this year, she's—” Jessie tapped her foot on the floor, fast and erratic. “Doesn't everyone know he's mine? We've been together almost four years.”

“Off and on,” Kirsten said.

“Kirsten,”
Tabby said.

“I have to figure out who was with him. You guys'll help, right?” Jessie's voice lifted up at the end of the sentence, this sweet and juicy sound. There was a pause as the two girls nodded at her. “One thing I guarantee, when we get this bitch, we'll destroy her.”

I listened as one set of shoes, crisp and quick, exited the restroom.

“Why'd you even say Shelby's name?” Kirsten whispered. “I thought you had no idea who—”

“Jessie had to have something to go on,” Tabby said. I peered through the crack in the door and watched Tabby comb through her shoulder-length hair with the fingers of one hand. “Besides, Shelby was a total snot about my haircut last week.”

“But Jessie's really pissed.”

“I know.” Tabby giggled. “This year has been way too boring. Something needs to happen, doncha think?”

“Oh,” Kirsten said. “You are such a bitch.”

“Yeah.” Tabby smiled. Flitted her eyelashes. “I am.”

“Are you guys coming, or what?” Jessie called from the hall. “I thought you were right behind me.”

“We are,” Tabby said.

Both girls laughed as they
click-click-click
ed out of the restroom, leaving me with an answer to the question I'd been asking myself for days. I couldn't trust anyone enough to talk about Noelle (
Elle, Elle, Elle—get it straight: her name is Elle
), not even Max.

“So, what's up?” Max asked.

“Nothing,” I said, looking at my peanut-butter-and-honey sandwich instead of at him.

“I thought you said you had something you wanted to talk to me about.”

“Yeah, I just…” I could practically feel Max's eyes on me, and it made me want to hide under the table. Like he would have any clue as to how I could crack through the icy layers surrounding Elle? “I think I figured it out.” I looked up.

Max's eyes narrowed a bit. “Okay,” he said. “If you say so.”

The silence that fell between us as we ate was uncomfortable, and it dragged out in these long stretches. I don't know if it was sheer boredom or a way for both of us to avoid the strange vibes passing between us, but we became focused on things happening around us, ignoring each other almost completely.

“Just to let you know,” Max said halfway through the lunch period, “I'm pretty good at figuring things out.”

In my peripheral vision, I could see him looking at me. I ignored him. By then, I was too intent on Jessie—who had planted herself right next to Shelby Stadler—and her friends. It was like watching one of those old silent movies; I had to pay close attention to facial expression and body language if I was going to determine what was happening in the middle of the lunchroom.

Max cocked his head to the side and turned to follow my gaze. “You're certainly into something over there.”

“You can't look.” I smacked his arm. “They might see.”

“You're kidding, right?” Max rolled up a ball of cling wrap from his ham sandwich. “You sound like you're some secret agent.”

“I'll tell you about it later, okay? I just need to see what's going to happen.”

Max looked at me. “I thought you weren't a gossip girl.”

I rolled my eyes. “I'm not, okay? But there's a potentially explosive situation over there. Forgive me for hoping it ignites and takes some focus off Noelle.” I turned my eyes to the girls and shook my head. “I mean Elle.”

“Okay, then,” he said with a shrug. “Here's to hoping for a major scandal.”

Not much happened while the girls were eating. It wasn't until the last ten minutes of lunch that I noticed Jessie turn her body, sliding her knees up against the side of Shelby's chair.

They were both laughing, and part of me wanted to run to Shelby and warn her that Jessie was about to bring the whole world crashing down on her head. But that wouldn't give the students of CHS anything tantalizing to gossip, text, or IM about, and I was hoping for a full-scale blowout. So I didn't move.

Jessie reached up and tapped one of the pencils that secured a twisted bun on top of Shelby's head. Shelby ducked away and shook her head back and forth. Then Jessie spoke, and the smile that had been saturating Shelby's face dried up to nothing. I watched her squint and the lines on her forehead pull tight. She shook her head once again, harder now, and her lips mouthed the word
no
several times.

“Here we go,” I said.

Jessie looked at Tabby. Shelby's eyebrows shot up, and her mouth started moving quickly as she glanced at all the girls seated at the table. Next, she looked at the girl on her right, who started nodding and moving her hands as she spoke. The girl across from them nodded as well.

Then everything stopped. Jessie's chest puffed up with a few deep breaths. She looked at Tabby, who shrugged as she crunched on a carrot stick. Jessie nodded, and Shelby's body hunched forward, the tension streaming from her like the air from a too-full balloon.

“Damn,” I said, stomping my foot into the ground.

“Crisis averted?” Max asked.

“Unfortunately.” I planted an elbow on the table and propped my chin in my hand. “It would have been perfect. A breakdown in the highest rung of senior-class popularity.”

“People will move on,” Max said. “That is, once the news coverage dies down.”

I tried not to think of how the media had grabbed hold of Elle's story and couldn't seem to let go.

“You heard the latest about the kidnapper?” Max asked. I looked into his eyes, the caramel color reminding me of melted brown sugar. “That he changed his plea?”

I shook my head. “He did?”

“Yeah. Saw it this morning while I was eating breakfast. He's going with guilty.”

The noise around us faded away as I focused on Max's words.

“The reporters were saying tons of money will be saved because now there won't be any trial. All I could think about is how much your friend Noelle will be relieved that she doesn't have to testify.”

“Elle,” I said. “She wants to be called Elle now.”

“Okay. Elle.” Max nodded.

I didn't know how to feel. I should have been happy. But I was scared. Somehow, Elle's being so different, keeping herself from me, had made some kind of sense. I'd been telling myself that our distance was due to her need to hold everything in while she prepped herself for the trial. But now, if there was no trial, if all of that was over and she still stayed away, I would have to start facing the fact that she just might not want to have anything to do with me.

“Have you seen her yet?”

It came back in one quick flash, my need for another opinion, the utter confusion that swelled whenever I thought of Elle these last few weeks. I almost let the story of my late-night encounter with her tumble from my lips. Instead, I slowly shook my head.

“Hey.” Max pointed to something over my shoulder. “Isn't that her brother?”

I turned, following his gaze.

“Four tables away. There's a kid wearing a shirt with a red skateboard. Next to him, the one in the green hoodie. Isn't that him?”

I found him right away. It was definitely Coop, sitting there with his freckled hands on the table. He was with three other guys, and they were all cracking up about something.

“You
want
to see her, right?” Max asked.

My brain fumbled over the question. I knew what I was supposed to say. But the encounter I'd had with her three nights before had been so awkward. I took a deep breath and nodded.

Max stood from the table, grabbing his trash. “Come on,” he said.

“Where are you going?” I stood and grabbed my lunch.

“Do you trust me?” Max asked over his shoulder.

“I don't trust anyone.”

Max stopped walking, and my foot skidded into his heel. He turned. Looked me in the eye. “Fine,” he said. “Maybe this'll help you start.” He walked toward the trash can near Coop's table.

I followed, the trail of his soapy scent wafting into my nose, mixing everything up even more than it already was.

“What if I don't want to?” My words were hijacked by the voices of others around me and never reached Max's ears.

Max stopped and pitched his trash. Leaning against the brick column next to Coop's table, he grabbed my arm when I reached out to dump the remains of my own lunch.

“Say something to him,” he said. “Start a conversation.”

I shook my head. Max gave me a little push, and I bumped into Coop's table. I looked down and pretended to see him for the first time.

“Hey, Coop.” I smiled. He raised his head and nodded. “I, eh, have a question for you.”

Max walked up beside me and suddenly our legs were touching. I was already having trouble with what to say next, and the warmth of Max's touch garbled my thoughts even more.

“Well, not a question exactly.” I was totally blank. I couldn't think of one thing to say.

“What's up?” Coop asked.

“I, um…” I looked at Max.

“She wants to come over for dinner,” Max said. “To see your sister.”

Coop looked from Max to me and shook his head. “Elle's not ready yet,” he said.

Max plucked a few jelly beans from an open bag on the tabletop. “But they're best friends.” He shook the little candies in his hand, the hard pieces clicking against one another.

“I don't know, Tessa.” Coop sat forward. “She's different.”

“Nothing will erase all the years Tess and Elle spent together. That kind of friendship is healing, man.” Max sat on the tabletop and looked at Coop. His face and eyes were soft, understanding. In that moment, I wanted to kiss him more than ever. “There's got to be some way you can—”

Just then, the bell rang, and the crowd stood simultaneously. Coop, though, stayed planted in his seat.

I moved around the table until I was just a few inches from him. The noise level had almost doubled, and I wanted him to hear me. “I really need to see her.”

“Tessa,” Coop said, “I can't make any promises. But I'll work on it.”

I mouthed the words
thank you
before turning to Max. We were pushed up against each other in the crowd, and I had to stop myself from thinking about how much I liked being so close to him, and how the sweet grape jelly-bean scent that rode Max's delicious breath was making me want to taste his tongue.

“So she just called and said she couldn't make it?” Max was sitting next to me, looking out the side window of the Jeep. We were driving through the country a few miles from town, and the thick green grass of the farmyard we had just passed gave way to a field choked with tall cornstalks.

“Pretty much,” I said, staring at the two-lane road ahead. I was lying by omission, but that couldn't be avoided. Darcy had called my cell just before I'd driven to Max's house to pick him up, and when she said she couldn't meet us, it all clicked into place. She'd masterfully plotted the outing, planning from the start to ditch us at the last second, when she knew for sure I'd be stuck. As I thought about how she'd leaned against her desk with a smirk on her face in life photography the day before, telling me that we had to take Max because the field would be too hard for him to find on his own, I was positive.

“You're such a schemer,” I'd said to her. “This time, I'm not sure I'll forgive you.”

“Oh, shut up, Tessa.” Darcy's laughter sprang through the phone. “Have some fun for a change.”

“You know my parents would freak themselves into a panic, me being alone with a mysterious guy from out of town.”

“First of all, he's not mysterious, he's Max. And he lives
here
now, in warm and cheerful Centerville.” Darcy sighed. “Stop using your parents as an excuse. When you get home, you can simply forget to tell them the whole
alone
part.”

About a half hour later, with Max at my side, I slowed for a tight curve and immediately pulled to the side of the road, parking next to a wooden fence that was slathered with some viny vegetation.

“This is it?” Max asked, turning to me.

I nodded.

“Darcy was right. I would have passed this a hundred times.”

I turned and reached into the backseat for my camera. “Wait'll you see what's around the bend.” I paused and looked at my backpack, wondering what I was waiting for, wondering if I had the guts to share what was inside.
No,
I decided.
No, no, no.
Instead of grabbing for the blue bag, unzipping it, and spilling its contents, I picked up my camera, opened my car door, and stepped out, the cool air chilling me instantly.

I led the way through a shady patch of tall grass. We rounded the corner of the fence and walked under the golden-red canopy of a large maple tree before finally stepping into a wide field washed in sunlight. I stopped, and Max walked into my back.

“This is …”

“Unbelievable,” I said. “I know.”

Before us, a sea of sunflowers swayed lazily in the breeze, their dark faces surrounded by luminous orange-yellow petals, just staring like they'd been waiting for us since their seeds had been pressed into the ground.

“It looks like they're dancing,” I said.

Max stepped to my side and held his camera up to his face. The shutter snapped.

“How many do you think there are?” he asked.

“Hundreds,” I said, “and hundreds. We're lucky Darcy drove by earlier in the week. This field will be wilted and falling soon.”

“You ready?” he asked, looking at me.

“Always,” I said, holding my camera up in the air. “Why don't we split up? Make sure we don't get in each other's shots?”

Max shrugged. “Okay.”

For the next half hour, I walked through the rows of sunflowers, their petals grazing my shoulders, kissing my cheeks. I took close-ups of the dark seeds swirling from their centers in a dizzying spiral, the thin white hairs sprouting from their thick stalks, the velvety green leaves spreading out like reaching arms. Some of my shots I aimed from the ground up, making a single flower look as powerful as one of the Three Sisters. Others I took from the side, so I could capture an entire row, standing proud like decorated soldiers.

I tried to keep an eye on Max without his noticing, but he caught me staring a few times. Once, he aimed his camera my way and snapped a shot or two. Laughing, I ducked down quickly and had to dig my fingers into the damp earth to keep from falling.

When I finished my third roll of film, I found Max close to the front of the field. He was stooping over a shorter flower, aiming his camera into its center.

“They're crazy,” he said when he heard my footsteps.

“I know. I love the way the light moves through them.” I looked over the field, watching soft rays of the waning sun flicker through the flowers' waving bodies.

“I mean these bees,” Max said.

I stepped closer and peered into the center of the flower Max was standing beside, finding that he was focused on three bees. “Yeah. They're all over the place,” I said as one took flight and buzzed around my head. I swatted the air until it was gone. “Did you get some good shots of the sunflowers?” I asked.

“I did. But once I saw all the bees, I decided they should be my focus instead.”

I heard the shutter of Max's camera snap a few more times. “Coop found me after school today,” I said. “He talked his mother into inviting me for dinner.”

“Really?” Max lowered his camera from his face and turned to look me in the eyes. “That's great.”

Uncomfortable with the weight of his stare, I kicked the thick grass clawing at my feet. “I'm going tomorrow night. It's because of you, you know.”

“I'm glad I could help.”

I shook my head. Then I spoke without thinking, all my worries tumbling from my mouth without any filter. “I'm not sure what to say. Or what not to say. She went through some awful stuff, Max. I mean, how do you talk to your best friend after she's spent two years with some greasy pedophile?”

Max let his camera fall to his chest. “How did you talk to her before?”

“I dunno.” I paused, considering this for the first time. “I just talked. I didn't think about it.”

“There's your answer.”

I turned toward the Jeep and started walking. “It's not that easy,” I said.

“Maybe it is.” Max spoke from a few steps behind me. “Tell me about her.”

“Elle?”

“No. I want to hear about Noelle. The girl she was before she was kidnapped.”

I looked over my shoulder and slowed until he was walking beside me. For several seconds, the only sound was the grass whisking against our jeans.

“It's been a really long time since I've thought about Noelle,” I said. “Just Noelle.”

Max nodded. Like he already knew.

“She could remember every word of a song after hearing it just a few times. That used to drive me crazy. I'd spend hours in my bedroom listening to the same thing over and over, writing out the lyrics if it wasn't sticking, just so I could sing along with her.”

Max stopped when we were under the maple. I looked up, noticing that the leaves above us were a flickering fire.

“She was crazy about her clothes. This one time, I borrowed a sweater and spilled barbecue sauce on it. She flipped out.” I laughed, remembering how red her face had been as she'd told me she'd never loan me anything for the rest of her life. “Honestly, she could be a real bitch.”

Max smiled. “What else?”

I took a few steps back and leaned against the side of the Jeep. “She was more daring than me. Noelle used to tease me, saying that it was her job to break me out of my goody-goody mold. She made me try my first sip of alcohol and my first cigarette.”

Max chuckled. “I had a friend like that back in Montana.”

“Noelle was always sneaking out of her house. Her bedroom window opens onto the roof of her garage. Some nights she'd just sit there and look at the stars; others she'd go tromping through the neighborhood. That's not how she …” I took a deep breath and ran my thumb along the cool silver button that activated the camera's shutter. “When she went missing, it was the middle of the day.”

I looked at Max. His head was down, his hands clasping the body of his camera as his fingers tapped the lens cap. The sun behind him was setting, and the golden glow lapped at him like a warm, buttery liquid.

For weeks, I'd been debating, unsure if or when I would give in. I'd wondered about it often, and in this silent moment, after he'd asked me to tell him about Noelle, I knew it was time.

“You wanna see them?” I asked.

Max looked up, his eyes crinkling.

“My pictures?” I turned and walked to the driver's side of the Jeep. “It's now or never.”

Max was in his seat, closing his door before I could pull my backpack from behind him. My hands felt numb as I lifted the envelope containing my pictures. I shoved it at him without looking, and then, after securing the camera, turned the key in the ignition. The Jeep rumbled to life, and soft music hummed through the speakers.

Max's hand was over mine before I could put the Jeep in drive.

“Wait,” he said.

“If I don't drive,” I said, turning off the radio, “I might throw up.”

Max laughed. “I'll take my chances.”

I took a deep breath and let my hands fall into my lap, ignoring every instinct that told me to drive so I could avoid eye contact.

He dug his hands into one of the most private places in my world and slid out all of my favorite pictures. A few tumbled on his lap, and he gathered them, tapping the sides of the bundle until they were neatly stacked one on top of another.

“I get it,” Max said. “You know that, right?” He looked at me, flicking a curl from his eye. The sky outside had melted into a soft orange-pink, reminding me of cotton candy.

I shook my head. “I'm not sure anyone gets it.”

“It's kind of like letting someone inside your head to listen to your thoughts.” Max hadn't looked at the pictures yet. He was staring into my eyes, his velvety-looking lips almost close enough to kiss.

“Just look at them already,” I said.

Max bowed his head and began to shuffle slowly through my pictures. At first, I stared out the windshield, focusing on the yellow lines in the middle of the road, the way the leaves of one tree were this crazy deep orange, how the squirrel scurrying from one high branch to another looked like he might take flight. Then I studied the long shadows cast by the setting sun.

“You took this?” he asked. “Really?”

My nervous energy flashed into irritation. “I took all of them,” I said.

“Easy,” he said. “I didn't mean it like that.” He held up a photograph. “Where's this?”

One quick glance and I knew.

“SunWatch Indian Village. They have this summer solstice celebration with a drum circle and bonfire.”

On the paper between us was a Native American. He was suspended in the air, his arms spread like the wings of a bird, the beaded fringes of his long shirt tossing out all around him. His mouth was open, and his eyes were closed. His moccasined feet, several inches off the ground, had flung particles of dust into the air. Everything was so vivid—the colors of his large headdress, the paint on his face, the beadwork that adorned every piece of his clothing.

“It was sunset,” I said. “They were dancing to honor the passing of spring, and to welcome the coming of summer.”

“I can practically hear him chanting,” Max said. “And the way you captured his movement, I expect him to just float off the page.”

I looked down so Max wouldn't see my smile. A car sped past, rocking the Jeep a bit.

A few minutes later, Max laughed. “Finally,” he said, holding another picture in the air. “These are as awesome as I expected they would be.”

I knew before I looked. He'd seen my shots of the Three Sisters.

“You were wise to use both color and black-and-white film that day,” he said. “These are much better than mine.”

“That reminds me,” I said. “We had a deal. When do I get to see your pictures?” I slid sideways in my seat, leaning toward him a little.

Max looked down, flipped through a few more pictures, and smiled. “How about over dinner? Next weekend?”

I moved so suddenly, I hit the car door. “What?” It was almost completely dark on the backcountry road, and I was glad for the cover of shadow blanketing my face.

“Dinner,” he said. “It's usually where a date starts.”

“A date.” I pointed. Like an idiot, I pointed at him and then at myself. “Like, you and me?”

“Am I that far off base?” Max put the stack of photos back into the manila envelope and shut the clasp.

“No. You're not—”

“Good, because I was starting to wonder.” He put the envelope on his lap and patted it with one hand. “These are really good, by the way. I can see why you got into life photography a year early.”

I didn't know what to say. Had he really just asked me out on a date? I wanted to jump out of the car. Rewind the last thirty minutes. I would take back my revelations about Elle. I would never show him my pictures. And I would
not
look at his lips.

When I let my mind flitter over the reality of what had just happened, I was overcome by that floaty, detached-from-my-body feeling. But I couldn't actually go.

“So, do you do Thai?” Max asked.

“Max, no, I can't—”

“There's always Italian. You just—”

“It's not the food. I can't go out with you,” I said, looking down at my hands, which were now clasped around the bottom of the steering wheel, vibrating a bit under the hum of the engine.

“I don't get it.” Max turned to face me. “Look at me,” he said.

I let go of the steering wheel. Turned just a little. “I want to,” I said. “I just can't.”

“That doesn't make any sense.” Max shook his head. “I like you, Tessa.”

“I like you, too, Max. There's just too much going on right now. With Elle and everything, I can't—”