Joie

 

With sweating palms, I rang the doorbell to the house across the street. It had been more than three years since the last time I stood on this porch. Back then I never rang the bell or knocked, instead walked in knowing I was as welcome there as if it were my own house. But that was a long time ago. Things have changed since then. Or maybe they haven’t as much as I’d like to think. Either way, desperate times called for desperate measures and I was desperate.

Mrs. Lewis had finally given me the go-ahead to start preliminary stages of production for the play I’d written. The play was my ticket out of here. The only problem- there hadn’t been a dramatic production at my high school in over a decade. It had taken some serious effort, and by effort, I mean begging and pleading, to find a teacher willing to sponsor the play and participate as the resident voice of authority over the newly formed drama club, of which I was currently the president and only member.

And so here I was, at the house across the street. Because everyone knows any great production needed a celebrity. And Cole Parker was the closest thing to a celebrity our little town could claim.

“Joie! What a surprise!” Mrs. Parker greeted, a furrow forming between her brows even as her lips curled into a happy smile.

“Hi, Mrs. Parker. Is Cole home,” I asked, nerves shaking my voice.

If possible, Mrs. Parker’s smile widened. “Of course, he’s up in his room. Should I call him down or do you want to go on up?”

“Oh, no. I can go up.” I glanced up the stairs. “Are you sure that’s okay?”

Mrs. Parker placed a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sure. It’s good to see you, Joie.” She gave me a sad smile. She had no idea why I stopped showing up on her doorstep and for the first time, I felt bad about it. Not just for my own sake or Cole’s, but for this family who had been as much mine as his. Before I could talk myself out of it, I gave Mrs. Parker a quick hug.

“It’s good to see you.” She squeezed me tight when I would have pulled away, holding on for a few seconds more.

“Go on up. He’s supposed to be doing homework.” Mrs. Parker’s expression turned jokingly sour. “But he’s probably watching SportsCenter.”

I laughed, because even though I hadn’t talked to Cole in a long time, I felt certain she was right. Taking a deep breath, I placed my foot on the first step leading to the second story of the Parker’s home. Memories pulsed through my mind with each one. Cole and I as little kids, sliding down the steps in slick sleeping bags. Picnics on the landing with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and grape Kool-Aid. Building castles and spaceships with Legos in his room for hours and hours until his mom called us down for dinner. Forcing him to play house after his sister, Macy, was born, pretending she was our daughter. Ha. Maybe I could use that one as blackmail.

Too soon, I stood in front of his door. Taking a deep breath, I slid my damp palms down the thighs of my bootcut jeans. From inside the room, sports commentators discussed the likelihood of some college basketball team making it into the tournament next month. I could picture Cole easily in my mind. Just because we hadn’t spoken in years didn’t mean I hadn’t seen him as recently as a couple of hours ago. In fact, I’d seen him not thirty minutes ago when he pulled his beat up old Camaro into the driveway out front. I’d given it that long before coming over, so he’d have time to shower and eat.

Cole would be reclined on his bed, books strewn around him. He was a good student and would get his homework done, even with SportsCenter on. His dark brown hair would probably still be damp from his shower and he’d smell like Acqua Di Gio. He’d started wearing it before- well, just before. And he’d be wearing some kind of Cambridge High garb. Sweats and a t-shirt. If I was a betting girl, that’s what I’d gamble on. Not that Cole was predictable, except when it came to school spirit.

Come on, Joie. You can do this. But I wasn’t entirely sure I could. He’d caught my eye a few times since well, then, and I’d seen it in his eyes. The confusion. The anger. Emotions he attempted to hide behind a mask of indifference. Every time, I turned away from him as quickly as I could. It was fine. He didn’t need me. And I didn’t need him. He had his football team. His basketball team. The love and adoration of the whole school. What did it matter he didn’t have small, insignificant me? It didn’t.

And me? Well, I had my writing. My plans. My goals. And as soon as I could- I’d be out of here. At the beginning of this year, my senior year, I’d begun a countdown. One hundred and five days and I would graduate. Another ninety-two before classes started at USC, the top-five school for performance arts that was the furthest from my hometown of South Bend, Indiana. And that was why I was here, in the one place I swore I’d never be again. Because I needed my play to be a success if I was ever going to leave this place. And I needed Cole to do it.

I raised my knuckles and knocked on his door.

 

Cole

 

“I’m doing my homework, I swear, Ma!” I shouted, scrambling for the remote buried in my comforter and pushing the mute button. Damn! Where was my Calculus book? Grabbing it off the floor, I opened to a random page. Notebook? Check. Where was that pencil? There.

“Cole.”

I froze. I knew that voice. An aching pain sluiced through my body. What was she doing here? And why in the hell had my mother sent her up to my room? Jumping from the bed, I threw on a Cambridge High t-shirt. If I was going to see her, it wasn’t going to be bare-chested. She knocked again.

“Cole. Please. It’s me.”

Like I didn’t already know. Pretending I wanted to check the mirror for...something, and that I wasn’t too chicken to open my bedroom door, I studied my reflection. I took a second to wonder what Joie saw when she looked at me these days. If she looked at me at all- the way I looked at her.

I’ve tried not to over the years. Not to notice the way she’d grown a couple of inches since middle school. And that even with the extra height she still didn’t come up passed the middle of my chest. I didn’t notice the way she’d grown out her long chocolate brown hair until it reached the top of her round bottom, which I also didn’t notice. I didn’t even notice when she sat by herself in the school cafeteria or when she walked home alone after school. I especially didn’t notice when she sat at the window in her room, her gaze straying toward mine every now and then. I never saw that.

Come on, man. Get it together. Rolling my shoulders, I tried to psych myself out, jumping up and down a couple of times and jabbing the air in front of me, practiced breaths puffing out of my mouth. If I was going open that door, I better get my game face on.