Who I Kissed (11 page)

Instead of going at him with both of my fists, I spin on my heels and use the last of my energy to sprint away. I glance over my shoulder to make sure he hasn’t jumped back up on the roof, but he’s moving across the field in the opposite direction.

After keying in the code to get inside the house, I stop, swallowing hard, trying not to cry. I’m so sick of crying. Aunt Allie is sitting in the family room with Fredrick curled up on her lap. She takes one look at me and puts the dog on the floor. He gives her a look of disbelief but tilts his head and runs at me. As he’s jumping on my legs, Aunt Allie rushes in and embraces me in the hallway.

“What happened?” Her warmth and concern make me shiver harder. She murmurs comforting words while Fredrick rubs against my legs, like the cat he’s hiding inside his body.

Aunt Allie pushes me down the hallway. Fredrick trots along behind us as if he’s been invited. “We need to warm you up outside and in,” she says and pulls me inside my bedroom. She sits me on the bed, and Fredrick jumps like a Mexican bean until I pick him up and nestle him in my lap.

“Oh,
amiga
,” she says in Fredrick’s voice. “We need to fix you up.”

“Wait here,” she says in her own voice, and she goes into the bathroom, starts the bathtub, and then goes to the guest room. She comes back in seconds, holding a fluffy purple robe, and hangs it on my back. “This was your mom’s.”

She scoops up Fredrick and pushes me to the bathroom. “Okay. Go get in the tub. Warm yourself up and put this on when you’re finished. I’ll grab you some clean underpants from your drawer.”

I actually giggle when she says “underpants,” like I’m a seven-year-old girl. She’s treating me like a child, and in response I’m acting like one, but it’s exactly what I need. I’m not about to fight it. I want to be babied and looked after, even it’s for a little while.

She puts her hand under my chin, kisses my cheek, and then walks out, leaving me alone. I pull off my sweaty clothes and slowly lower myself into the hot bath, breathing in the steam and letting the hot water caress me.

When I come out, there are a bra and panties on the counter. I dry myself, slip them on, and then pull on the huge robe, tie up the belt, and roll up the sleeves. I pet the fuzzy sleeves, thinking of my mom. It makes me feel vulnerable and protected at the same time.

“Come to the kitchen,” Aunt Allie calls.

As I slide into a chair at the table, she hands me a steaming cup of mint tea. Cupping it in my hands, I let the heat seep through my body and inhale the fumes, willing them to relax me and draw the tension from my head. Aunt Allie leans against the stove and crosses her arms, her face wrinkled up with concern.

“What happened?”

I take another sip of the tea. “I ran into Zee. At the school.”

“Zee is the boy you have a crush on?” She pours hot water into another mug.

My cheeks get warmer. “Zee is the boy I used to swim with.”

She presses her lips tight and cups the mug in both hands. “Whatever you say.”

I want to fight her on that, but know it’s not worth it.

“Zee was practicing Parkour at the school. He almost frigging killed himself, right in front of me. It scared me.” I take a sip of the tea and glance at her over the top of the mug. “Parkour is when kids jump over things—”

She walks to the table, still cradling her mug. “I know what Parkour is.”

I lift my shoulder and sigh. Of course she does.

“And?” She puts her mug down, pulls out a chair, and sits close beside me so our knees touch. Steam rises off my tea and I inhale the scent. It reminds me of her. Aunt Allie. Who is always digging deep inside people’s souls. Helping them see what they need.

“It scared me,” I whisper. “Zee was taking stupid chances.”

“Oh, butterfly. Mortality is a hard lesson at your age. Life is very fragile.” She pats my knee. “It sounds as if your Zee is dealing with his feelings by taking risks. You’re doing it by avoiding them.”

I want to tell her he’s not “my” Zee, but I swallow instead. “How did you know about Zee?” I ask in a soft voice.

“You talked about him when I was in Houston.”

“I did?”

“You did. You told me he was your partner. The angels told me he was a good match for you.”

I think back to our phone conversation. “I told you he was my swim partner.”

“Your voice told me more.” She waves her hand in the air. “Oh. A boy named Casper phoned while you were out. I was nice to him. Is that okay? Should I be nice to him? Is he a nice boy? Or do I want to run him off?”

I shrug. “I’m not sure.” I get up and pour myself a glass of water. “Want some?” I ask her, but she shakes her head.

I’m not about to tell her that Casper is trying to get into my pants. For a second, I wonder whether the angels will reveal it to her. Do they tell my aunt things like that?

“Poor baby,” Aunt Allie says, tsking me. “Boys are hard. So what about Casper?”

I wrap my braid around and around my finger. “We’re working on an English project together.”

“That’s all?” She lifts her brow, and a deep blush starts in my toes and travels up. I walk back to the table and sit.

“I don’t think he’s all he appears to be,” she says.

I tilt my head. “How would you know what he appears to be?”

She smiles at me and points up.

I roll my eyes, even though I believe her. “Casper is just being nice.” I pause and stick my braid in my mouth, chewing the end of it, not wanting to admit what we’re up to. How I’m getting involved in something that might be over my head. I decide to shift the conversation.

“He said I should talk to his sister. I mean, Alex’s sister.”

Aunt Allie doesn’t react to obvious diversion. She nods in agreement. “
That
I do approve of. You need to talk to her. Can I make a suggestion?”

I wait. “What?” I ask when she doesn’t respond.

“Write it out to her in a letter. You’ll be able to say everything you want. I’m a strong believer in the written word.”

She doesn’t ask if I’ve written to Alex yet. We both know I haven’t. Won’t. Can’t.

I think about her suggestion. Take a sip of tea. It’s cooled down, and I swallow a large mouthful and the flavor of mint lingers on my tongue. “What if she doesn’t want to hear what I have to say? I know you’re trying to protect me, Aunt Allie. But what about Chloe? Maybe she doesn’t want to hear how I feel. Maybe she doesn’t want to hear my excuses.”

“My heart is filled with sympathy for her, Sam. But you come first for me. I’m your person. But I think the sister needs to hear from you too. They’re not excuses. There is heartfelt sorrow in you too. Like hers.”

She stands, goes to the pantry, and opens the door. “She has a void. And yes, she may be angry with you. Maybe even guilty about feeling that anger, because she knows you didn’t mean for it to happen. But how can she begin to not hate you if you don’t speak to her about it?”

My head falls to my chest. She grabs a bag of pretzels from a shelf and brings it to the table. “I don’t blame you. Alex doesn’t blame you, and even his sister probably doesn’t, but you need to face up to the people he loved. Help them let go of their anger by talking to them.”

I reach for a pretzel and nibble at it. “But what if she doesn’t want to? I’m no good at confrontation. We actively avoid it in this house.”

“Well, that’s why I’m here.”

I nod.

“What do you think?” she asks.

I close my eyes, concentrating. Trying to put on Chloe’s shoes. “If I were Chloe and I knew I roamed the same school with her every day, well, it would be weird. Hard.” I open my eyes and look at Aunt Allie. “I guess we’re both kind of connected by this horrible thing.”

“And…” she prompts me.

“And if I don’t talk to her, she will start to hate me because I am not allowing her to deal with it. I can’t change what happened. But I can at least apologize for the part I played in it.”

She nods, purses her lips out, and taps the bottom one with her finger. “Good, butterfly. Good.”

“But how do you tell someone that you’re sorry for something like that?” I ask.

“I honestly don’t know. But you’re a smart girl. Dig deep inside. Write it out. And then afterward, talk to her. You need to talk to her.” She takes another pretzel and bites into it. “But explore it on your own first. Write the letter.”

“Do you always make people write letters?”

“As a matter of a fact, I think it’s a great way to deal with things. I suggest it as a tool when it’s appropriate. Sometimes it’s all we can do.”

Like with Alex. We sit quietly for a while longer, munching pretzels and gulping down tea. When I’m done, Aunt Allie takes my cup from me and looks inside at the leaves on the bottom.

“Yes,” she says.

“What?” I ask, but she takes the cup to the sink, dumps the loose leaves out, rinses it, and says nothing.

I get up from the table and walk to the sink. Without a word I wrap my arms around her and squeeze tight. “Thank you,” I tell her.

She wipes a tear from her eye as I leave her and head to my room. I check my cell phone and text Taylor to turn down an offer to hang out with her and Justin. They don’t need me hanging around, but I do appreciate the offer.

On Sunday Aunt Allie suggests an afternoon matinee, but Dad begs off, saying he’s too tired. We go to a romantic comedy, but it’s bad and we sneak into the next theatre and watch an action flick.

Afterward I climb into the driver’s seat as Aunt Allie opens the passenger door. When I put the key in the ignition, I notice something on the window of the car. I open the door, slide my arm to the front window, grab it, and pull it inside.

My heart stops when I look down at the lumpy package. It’s a bag of Jelly Bellys.

“What’s that? An advertising gimmick?” Aunt Allie asks.

“It must be,” I whisper. Coincidence and nothing more. Nothing more. I toss them over to her lap as if they’re poison ivy leaves.

“Not my favorite,” she says. “I’m more of a chocolate person. But you love these, don’t you?” She picks up the package and rubs it between her fingers. “Hmmmm. Interesting.”

“What?” I yell.

“Nothing.” She glances sideways at me with a tiny smile. “They’re obviously meant for you. That’s all.”

“Why?” I try not to shriek and ask her what she knows from rubbing the package.

She studies my profile for a moment. “Well you’re the one who likes them. Right?” She smiles when I turn to her. “Plus,” she says. “There’s a message written on the package.” She holds it in the air and then puts the bag down on the console between us.

“What does it say?”

“
Sorry
.”

I swallow and swallow.

“The swimmer?” she asks.

I don’t answer.

“Is there a health food store nearby?” she asks softly. “I need to pick up some things.”

She punches information into the GPS and finds a store nearby. In the store, she wanders with a shopping basket over her elbow, mumbling and throwing things into it.

When we get home, she starts mixing herbs and spices in jars and pans and Dad mumbles something about witchcraft. She doesn’t mention the Jelly Bellys. But I can’t stop thinking about them.

It’s getting easier to block out the angry stares and ignore the nicknames haters whisper when they walk by in the school hallways. Maybe my heart is hardening, but a part of me wonders if it really does have to do with the small sachet of herbs Aunt Allie made me promise to carry in my backpack at all times. Or the message scrawled on the Jelly Bellys. It does seem like there’s a smile and wave of support here and there. I hate to admit it, but it’s nice to know some people don’t think my entire entity sucks.

I’m early and at my locker putting away books, when I look up and see Zee stalking toward me, like a predator about to take down an enemy. I have a terrible feeling the enemy is me and wonder what’s changed from when he almost killed himself doing Parkour. At least then he’d been cordial, if also stupid. Now the intensity of his gaze freezes me in place like a paralyzed bunny. I can only blink as he pounces closer, about to rip me apart limb by limb. He looks scary and I secretly mourn the loss of how he was before.

Zee stops directly in front of me. His hands are clenched. “Seriously?” he says. “You’re hooking up with Casper?”

The breath I was holding whooshes out. “Whaa?” I manage.

“Casper Cooper uses girls, Sam. He chews them up and spits them out when he’s finished.”

I have an image of Casper biting off my head and nervously laugh. Zee frowns and pushes back his floppy hair.

“We’re working together on the English assignment.” I blow my braid out of my eyes. “He’s smart,” I add. As if that matters.

“You were working on an English assignment on Friday night?”

My mind immediately conjures up memories of Casper kissing me. I push the images away, wondering how Zee even knows about Friday night. He certainly didn’t when we ran into each other Saturday afternoon. Someone told him after that.

“I never said I was an exciting person. Doing homework on the weekend is not out of the ordinary for me.” I slam my locker a little too hard, and it bangs. Nearby, a girl giggles and whispers something to her friend. They’re leaning against a locker opposite mine, surrounded by guys.

“Well. It is for Casper. No matter how smart he is.” Zee stares at me, and the flashing emotion in his eyes muddles his anger.

“You plan on coming back?” He scowls at me and cracks out his knuckle.

His negative energy seeps into me. “Why do you care?”

“Clair asked me to talk to you,” he spits out. “This morning at five o’clock. At practice. The one you didn’t bother to show up for. Again.”

I spin around and start walking away from him, but he’s on my heels. “She’s worried about you. You’re missing out on the chance of a lifetime if you stay out much longer. The finals are only weeks away, and you’re going to be out of shape. Even if you are running. It’s not the same. You need to swim.”

I walk faster. “No. I don’t.”

He grabs my arm and pulls me to a stop. “You need to come back.”

I try to shake his arm off me, but he holds tight.

“I can’t.”

“Why? Is there lead in your ass? You suddenly allergic to chlorine? What’s stopping you?” He squeezes my arm a little harder and it pinches, but I don’t flinch.

A freshman walks by, trying not to look like she’s witnessing prime gossip and taking mental notes to deliver to her friends.

He lets go of my arm and I automatically rub where he was pressing.

“It’s not just about you, Sam. The Titans need you to help us win our division. This is the first year we can actually do it.” His deep voice growls. “Clair deserves it. She’s the best coach in the state, and she should get this. But she needs you back.” My face turns red, but I don’t answer him.

I glance around the hallway, looking for someone to save me, but there’s no friendly face. No one in this school is going to run to rescue me. Taylor’s my main ally, and I’ve hardly talked to her. Who knows, maybe she’s pissed with me for not coming back too. I’m letting the team down. I want to help Clair. But it’s not like I have a choice. Not really.

Zee’s lips turn into a snarl. “You afraid? I thought you were tougher than that. I didn’t know you were a quitter.”

“It’s not that,” my voice snaps with anger.

“Then what is it?” Zee’s upper lip turns up in a sneer.

I glance straight into his dark, storming eyes. “Do you really need me to spell it out for you?” I ask.

“Yes,” he says, and his lips quiver. “I do.”

“Fine.” I take a deep breath. “Alex won’t ever get a baseball scholarship, will he?”

Zee’s angry expression changes to disbelief.

“So why should I get my chance? Why should I swim and keep on with my life when he can’t do the same?”

Zee’s swagger deflates. My heart hurts for putting that look on his face.

“What,” he says, his voice barely a whisper, “is that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what I said. Why should I go after my dreams, when Alex can’t go after his?”

Zee opens his mouth. Shuts it. “Alex wasn’t like that,” he says, his voice low. Almost hollow. “He would never have wanted anyone to punish you.” He drags a knuckle back and forth over his eyebrow. “Not even yourself.”

He turns abruptly to leave, stops, and then turns back. “And so you know, Casper’s not as nice as he pretends to be.” He stomps away and disappears around a corner.

I stare at the empty space, wondering how we got here.

“Hmm,” a voice says. “Zee doesn’t like you much, does he?” Kaitlin steps up beside me in high boots and a short skirt that show off model-worthy legs. She’s got a smile on her face, and she blinks slowly and opens her eyes wider. “Too bad. I know you have a crush on him.”

She holds up her hand and inspects her nails. She’s got a perfect-looking manicure with pink nail polish to finish it off. “Too bad you killed his best friend. Not exactly the best way to get on a boy’s good side.”

A surge of anger gets the best of me. Who says things like that to people? “Shut up, Kaitlin,” I growl.

She laughs as she walks away. “I heard you were much sweeter when everyone thought you were a lesbian.” Her leather boots clack along on the tile floor and I wonder how she heard, but the swim community is small. And she knows lots of swimmers. My hands shake from the confrontation, and my stomach flops like a dying fish.

“Everything okay?” asks a voice.

I turn the opposite way and see Casper. Great.

“You look upset,” he says. “Kaitlin being her usual self?”

“It’s nothing,” I tell him. “She heard the old rumor about me.”

“That you’re a lesbian? Well, we’ve proved that wrong, right?” He bumps my shoulder with his, but I step away from him.

Casper puts a hand on my arm. “Hey? You okay?”

“Fine.”

“Ouch,” he says. “Never trust a woman who says ‘fine.’”

I pretend to smile. “She just said some really ignorant things about me and Zee.”

“She’s jealous. She knows you’re friends from swimming.”

“Were friends,” I correct him.

He nods, and it breaks my heart that he agrees with me. “You know how they talk about girls with daddy complexes in psychology?” Before I can answer, he continues.

“Kaitlin is a classic example. She’s damaged. She chases boys who clearly aren’t interested in her. Stalks, really. Her dad is an asshole. Belittles her. She cries about it when she’s had too much to drink. It’s kind of sad. She’s focused on Zee right now. But trust me. I’ve been in his shoes. She gets kind of crazy.”

He waits for me to start walking, and it’s obvious he’s planning on going to class with me, so I start moving. I want to feel sorry for Kaitlin, but it’s hard.

“Speaking of Zee. I saw him at the school yard on Saturday. He was doing some dangerous stuff,” I tell him.

Casper shrugs. “Zee always does dangerous stuff.”

“But this was pretty risky. It looked like he was taking real chances. Like he could have hurt himself. You know. Badly.”

“That’s just Zee, Sam. He’s nuts.”

I wonder. I never saw nuts in the pool. I saw dedicated. Focused. I can’t imagine him being much different in Parkour.

“Maybe you should talk to him.” We turn a corner, and a new wave of students heads for us. We both dodge out of the way.

“We aren’t talking much lately,” he tells me.

I glance at him, surprised. “I thought you were friends?”

Casper lifts a shoulder and waves at someone down the hall turning into our class. “We were friends because of Alex. With him gone, it’s complicated.

“He’s been spending a lot of time with Chloe these days,” Casper continues, as if the two subjects are somehow connected.“You think Zee would hurt Chloe. You know. With his reputation with girls?” he asks.

I frown. “I don’t know much about his reputation.” These two guys each seem convinced that the other is a bad ass.

“Come on. Zee didn’t make moves on you?”

I have an urge to punch him in the arm. I want him to be quiet. To shut the hell up. I develop an interest in my braid, winding it around my finger, stroking the smoothness, making sure the elastic is secure and intact. “It’s natural that Zee is hanging out with Chloe,” I remind him. “You shouldn’t worry. It’s possible for boys and girls to be friends, you know.”

“It is not.”

I frown. “Of course it is.”

“Well. He better not hurt her is all.” We pass a group of girls huddled around the water fountain, and they narrow their eyes at me but call out hello to Casper. He waves, then he places his hand on my back as we reach the classroom and pushes me through the doorway first. No one looks surprised when the two of us stroll in together. No one calls me a name. They keep talking or texting, ignoring me. Some of them wave or say hey to Casper, but it’s like I’m not even there.

“Our essay is awesome,” Casper says loudly as we head to our seats. His voice is friendly. There’s nothing in his inflection to give away that we were swapping spit doing our “awesome” assignment.

“Everyone knows you’re friggin’ brilliant,” calls a girl in the front of our row. She stares at me. I have no idea who she is.

“Whatever it takes to get the best grade.” He grins a lopsided grin at her. “You know it, Callie.”

She raises her middle finger at him and turns back to her notebook. I slide into my desk. Casper slides in behind me.

“Callie Zibler,” he says under his breath. “She’s pissed off because in the past I used to work with her. But I’ll get a better grade with you.”

Cold.

I glance up at Callie, but she’s paying no attention to me. As if I need to give anyone another reason to hate me.

Zee’s seat is empty. Kaitlin turns her back to me, then leans forward to the girl in front of her, and they both turn and glare at me. I try to imagine her crying over her dad, but it’s not easy to imagine her with real emotions.

The bell rings, and phones get shoved away so they won’t be confiscated. Mr. Duffield, who has been quietly lurking at his desk in the corner, stands to start the class. Zee’s seat stays empty.

***

Later, I’m walking down the hall with my eyes cast down when a noticeable hush falls and people step out of my way. I glance up and spot Chloe. We see each other at the same time and lower our eyes simultaneously. I wish I could disappear instead of being a constant reminder to her of what she lost. How can I justify rubbing my existence in her face? I know I should reconsider homeschooling.

A friend uses her body to shield Chloe from me, and they veer off and walk away in a big circle. My heart races like I’ve just finished a sprint. I wonder how Chloe manages to go on with day-to-day stuff with the threat of seeing me around every corner. I hope her friends are helping her.

She’s an only child now. Like me.

Taylor swings up behind me and latches her arm around my elbow. I do my best to smile at her.

“Hey, friend,” she says.

I think about how she was the fastest breaststroker on the team until I showed up. Instead of being pissed off, she told me she improved her times after I joined the team. I lean close to her and soak up some of her body heat and feel ashamed for the times being around her made me turn an unattractive shade of green. And not from the chlorine in the pool. She’s a true friend. Better than any I’ve had before.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I whisper to her.

“You don’t have to find out,” she says.

“You’re my real-life angel.” She gives me a funny side-eye, but pats my arm.