Winter Longing (7 page)
Instinct told me something else was on her mind, but I couldn’t muster the energy to go after her and ask what. Why had she looked so tense?
I inhaled a deep breath to prepare myself before opening my locker. But it didn’t soften the punch to my heart when I saw all the photos taped inside: ones of Spencer alone, another of him with his arms around me when we were still just friends, others of the two of us with Lindsay. Tears pooled in my eyes, but I blinked them away. No way was I crying at school. On top of my grief, I could only take so much embarrassment. And I’d filled that quota on Saturday.
With one final look at the photos, I grabbed my books and closed the door.
“Hey, Winter,” Monica said when I turned and saw her a few lockers down. “Are you okay?”
Hell, no, I wasn’t okay. But I wasn’t going to cry on the shoulder of everyone I met. I nodded and headed past her down the hall.
I stopped as I reached Spencer’s locker and ran my hand down it. I imagined I could see his fingerprints all over it, that I could feel his touch.
How could I feel hollow and filled with despair at the same time?
Throughout the morning, I went through the motions of “normal.” Friends hugged me in the hallways. Teachers extended my homework deadlines. I knew everyone meant well, but all the interactions felt awkward and distant. Like only my body came to school, while my heart was in the mountains looking for Spencer.
English class was the worst. I balked at the door and stared at the empty seat that yawned like a black hole next to my own. When some of my classmates began to edge around me to get into the room, I headed to my desk and tried to ignore Spencer’s empty one. But it proved impossible.
Nervousness shot through me when Jesse entered the room. His tall, hockey player frame seemed to fill the room. I tried to act like I hadn’t noticed him, but he stopped by my desk.
“Hey. How are you?”
I was drained, panicked, and dying to run away and hide.
“Fine,” I said.
He lingered, and it made me want to scream. I didn’t know where this hostility was coming from.
Only when Mrs. Miller entered the room did he walk down the row to his seat at the back of the class. I was so unnerved that I dropped my pencil. Hannah Stevens, who sat in the seat in front of Spencer’s empty one, picked it up and gave it back to me with an understanding smile.
It struck me that
everyone
was being understanding but Lindsay. Irritation at that, on top of everything else, made it next to impossible to concentrate in any of my morning classes.
everyone
was being understanding but Lindsay. Irritation at that, on top of everything else, made it next to impossible to concentrate in any of my morning classes.
When the lunch period rolled around, I didn’t have any appetite. I wandered into the cafeteria and straight to one of the tables by the windows. When someone slid into a chair opposite me, I expected Lindsay or maybe Monica. Not Jesse Kerr.
“Why are you sitting here?” He normally sat with the A-listers. Had he changed lunch tables since his breakup with Patrice?
He extended a cheeseburger toward me. “You don’t have any lunch.”
“I’m not hungry.”
He returned the cheeseburger to his own plate, fiddled with the edge of the plastic tray. “Are you mad at me?”
Yes. But why? Because he’d seen me at my worst? Because I’d been goofing off with him while Spencer had crashed into a mountain? Because he was alive and Spencer wasn’t?
I glanced at him, saw the confusion in his dark eyes. I dropped my gaze to the empty table in front of me. “No.”
“Don’t worry about what happened,” he said. “I won’t say anything.”
I let his words sink in for a few seconds, surprised he’d picked up on my concern that people might get the wrong idea about us. A concern I hadn’t realized until now. How would it look if people knew I’d let him be the one to hold me while I cried out my grief? I still couldn’t believe it’d happened.
“Thank you.” I hoped he understood the significance of my words. The whispers in the hallway were bad enough. Not to mention the fact he was sitting at my table with me, alone. I didn’t dare look around the room to see if everyone was watching, gossiping.
We sat in silence while he ate. I stared out the window. Despite the current strain between Lindsay and me, I found myself wishing she would come in and save me from this awkwardness. I searched frantically for something to say, then remembered I still owed Jesse an apology.
“I’m sorry.”
“About what? Saturday?”
I looked at him. “Well, yes.”
“You don’t have to apologize.”
I lowered my eyes to my hands in my lap picking at my cuticles. “I also meant about the day of the cookout, when I ran into you.”
He waved away my words. “No big deal. I just wasn’t having the best day. But it’s nothing now.”
I suspected he meant in light of Spencer’s death, but I wasn’t ready to start talking about that. First, I had to try to make it through one day without falling to pieces.
“Did you get in trouble?”
He shook his head. “Would have been my fault anyway.” He glanced across the room, toward Patrice. With a snort, he returned his attention to his plate and shoved a french fry in his mouth.
I eyed the door and wondered where Lindsay was. Was she mad enough to avoid me? Maybe I deserved to be avoided.
“Listen, since we’re doing apologies, I’m sorry about the other day at the river.” Jesse’s last words were rushed. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I . . .” He fumbled for words for a couple of seconds. “I just wanted to make sure you hadn’t . . .”
“Done something stupid?”
He caught my gaze. “Yeah. People sometimes don’t think clearly when they’ve lost someone close to them.”
Jesse sounded like he knew what he was talking about. Was he talking about Patrice? Or did he mean his mother? Everyone knew Mr. Kerr had divorced Jesse’s biological mom, but no one knew why. I’d never really given it any thought before. His stepmother was great; but all of a sudden, I wondered if having a stepmom take his mother’s place was harder for him than it had always seemed.
I stared at him for a moment, still confused about why he was making the effort to talk. “I’m not going to hurt myself.”
“Good.” He held out a cup of strawberry ice cream, suddenly seeming unsure. “Want some ice cream? I’m full.”
I doubted that, considering his size, but I took the ice cream anyway.
Though it was simple, something about our exchange lightened my mood. I stopped trying to figure out why he was being nice and just began to accept his efforts. My life was so surreal lately; why would this be any different? A week ago, I wouldn’t have been able to imagine him acting this way. But then, I’d also never imagined there’d be a reason for him to.
Though Jesse had finished his lunch, he showed no signs of leaving. As I ate the last bites of ice cream, I tried to remember why I’d been so rude to him in the first place. It wasn’t because he lived one rung up the school social ladder from me. I liked my niche, my friends. I wasn’t jealous.
And as much as I wished I could blame and punish someone for Spencer’s death, it wasn’t Jesse’s fault.
Unbidden, an image came to me of Jesse giving Spencer a high five after scoring during volleyball in PE. That solitary memory softened my attitude toward Jesse even more. Once again, I felt like Spencer was with me, guiding my actions, giving me that memory. If Jesse was making the effort to be nice to me, I should at least attempt to reciprocate.
“So, um, is the hockey team ready for the season?”
He seemed startled by the question. “I think so. Guess we better be. We have a scrimmage against Cold Creek on Saturday.”
I shifted in my seat. “Good luck.”
He wiped his hands on a napkin before tossing it on his tray. Then he fixed his eyes on me as he fiddled with his straw. “You should come.”
It was sweet of him to ask, but I highly doubted I’d be up for any social outings anytime soon. He should know that. Still, something compelled me not to reject his suggestion entirely. “Maybe.”
He nodded. There was that look of understanding again. The crazy idea that Jesse and I might become real friends startled me.
Jesse placed his hand atop mine on the table. My whole body froze, and my breathing halted.
“No pressure.” He gave my hand a little squeeze. “Well, I’ve got to run to the library.” He stood to his full height, a few inches over six feet, and grabbed his tray. “The scrimmage is at six if you decide to come.”
I pried my gaze away from the scarred tabletop up to his eyes. “Okay.”
After he walked away, I noticed a few people giving me curious stares. Let them look. Their guesses were as good as mine. Maybe Jesse was just a decent person, and I’d never made the effort to notice.
For all his love of books, Spencer wasn’t a fan of Shakespeare. So his look of distaste wasn’t a surprise when he read the Shakespeare quote the two of us had been assigned to dissect in our ninth-grade English class. He handed it to me so I could read it.
“My bounty is as boundless as the sea,
My love as deep; the more I give to thee,
The more I have, for both are infinite.”
—Romeo and Juliet
CHAPTER 8
By
the end of the day, I was totally wrung out. All I wanted to do was go home, curl up in my bed, and sleep for twelve or fourteen hours straight. If I was sleeping, I didn’t have to think about Spencer’s absence, Jesse’s odd behavior, or Lindsay avoiding me. It was the perfect escape.
the end of the day, I was totally wrung out. All I wanted to do was go home, curl up in my bed, and sleep for twelve or fourteen hours straight. If I was sleeping, I didn’t have to think about Spencer’s absence, Jesse’s odd behavior, or Lindsay avoiding me. It was the perfect escape.
I spotted Lindsay at her locker, hurriedly shoving books into her backpack. Was she trying to get away before I saw her? I’d been sharp with her, and worst of all, I hadn’t acknowledged her own pain about Spencer. Sometimes it felt as if I didn’t have control of my own body or the words and emotions that spilled out of my mouth. Still, she should understand that, right?
“Linds? ”
Her shoulders stiffened.
Maybe because of the stress, my anger flared more violently than usual. But I bit down on it as much as I could. “Where were you at lunch today?”
“Busy.”
“Busy, where?”
She spun toward me, her eyes piercing. “Why do you care?” she asked too loudly, drawing the attention of those around us. “You haven’t cared how I feel, or how anyone else feels, for the past week.”
I staggered back. “That’s not fair! ” But a voice inside my head acknowledged the truth of Lindsay’s words. Still, I couldn’t force myself to agree out loud. How could anyone be hurting as much as I was?
“It’s not fair I lost a best friend, either. It’s not fair that Mr. and Mrs. Isaacs lost their only child. It’s not fair that Sam’s wife lost her husband. None of it is fair!”
She slammed her locker loud enough that it echoed over all the post-school noise in the halls. Then she headed for the door. I stood frozen in place, stunned, until she was halfway to the exit.
“Lindsay, wait.” I hurried to her side, grabbing her arm. “Come on, let’s talk.”
She jerked away from me. “I have to get to work.”
“Work?”
Lindsay ignored my question. I gripped her arm more firmly this time and pulled her to a stop. That’s when I saw the shine of tears in her eyes.
“Come on.” I tugged her into the restroom. Once inside, I forced her to face me. “I’m sorry, okay?” My voice broke, and I swallowed. “I’m sorry I’ve been so awful. I just don’t know how to deal with this. I feel like I’m being ripped to shreds.”
A tear escaped Lindsay’s eye. “So do I. He was my oldest friend.”
The three of us always said we were best friends, but the truth was that Linds was closer to Spencer than she was to me. I’d long ago figured out that she confessed things to him that I never heard. And that was okay then. Now, well, now I hoped things would change. They’d have to.
“I know.” Tears pooled in my eyes as I took her hands in mine, examined the look of fatigue and sorrow on her face. “Something else is going on, isn’t it?”
She retrieved her hands and paced to the other side of the restroom. “Everything’s just gone to hell, and I want it to stop.”
The way her body shook scared me. It was so unlike her, the girl who kept everything inside.
But maybe she hadn’t. Maybe Spencer had been there when she’d needed to talk about whatever it was that ate at her now. I suspected it had something to do with her family.
I forced myself to be brave and selfless as I picked words I hoped would make things better. “I know I’m not Spencer, but you
can
talk to me. I’m your friend, too.”
can
talk to me. I’m your friend, too.”
She swiped at a tear, angrily.
“Linds, is your dad home?”
She shook her head. “No. The sperm donor’s gone, thank God.”
I’d heard Lindsay call her father this so often it didn’t faze me anymore. She maintained that the creation of her and her three brothers was the only thing Dimitri had ever done for them. He’d certainly not done anything to deserve the name
dad
or
father
. Definitely not
adax
, the Aleut word for
father
. If I knew enough to figure out he was a worthless human being, how much more had she told Spencer?
dad
or
father
. Definitely not
adax
, the Aleut word for
father
. If I knew enough to figure out he was a worthless human being, how much more had she told Spencer?
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