Chapter Fifteen
Nora
It’s been a long week. Eli was out of school through Wednesday getting the MRI and driving to Gainesville to see the orthopedist. I tell him I’ll help him with his missed work, if he wants. I don’t expect him to take me up on that. Homework isn’t a priority with him.
Another thing that happened this week—Caleb and I have been texting—a lot. He’s interested, and so cute. I know I need to follow through. Now I get a text from Eli.
Party at o’dells 2morrow night? Time for another lesson? Night driving practice v important
I’m surprised, and also a little nervous about being alone with him. I’ve been thinking about him a lot, mostly because of the knee, and because he told me I was hot.
When he said that, I felt it. I felt hot. All over. But then there was pie, and the moment was over, mostly. Since then, he’s made it into more than the usual amount of my dreams, which have also definitely been hot.
All the more reason to say no to this party. Plus, O’Dell’s is a big old hunting lodge out in the middle of nowhere. It’s famous for out-of-control parties and I’m not fond of anything that’s out of control or of driving in the dark.
What about knee?
Crutches work. What say you?
I say NO! Say it, Nora, SAY IT!
Do I have to?
Need someone to hold my crutches while I play beer pong.
I don’t respond.
It will be fun. And driving test coming up.
Again, I’m silent, trying to figure out how to stand my ground.
Come on. Senior yr.… YOLO, babe. Amirite?
Okay. Get some sleep weirdo. don’t call me babe.
God, I’m the weakest of weaklings.
The next night, Eli hobbles out of the house on the arm of his mom who helps him limp toward our garage. My mom comes out, too, almost giddy. She’s so happy I’m being more social that it’s freaking me out. I still haven’t told her I’ve been driving, just like Emory feels like it needs to stay a necessary secret, for now. Not that I’m afraid of her reaction. I just don’t want to rock the boat when it doesn’t need to be rocked. I feel the same about telling Eli. Keep the waters calm. Put on the lifejackets only if needed.
“You sure you’re okay to drive, honey?” my mom asks Eli.
He beams at my mother, liberally spreading that Eli charm like fertilizer. “Yes, ma’am. Right leg works great. Haven’t taken any painkillers today, so I’m safe to operate large machinery.”
Mom laughs, completely snowed by him.
Mrs. Costas looks worried. “All right, you two, have fun, and be careful, Eli. I really think this is too soon.”
“Mom, I’ll be fine, trust me.” She isn’t as easily charmed, though. I wonder if the Costas charm comes from his father and between the two of them, his mom has been on the receiving end of it long enough to be immune.
I wonder if I’ll ever be immune to Eli.
She frowns. “Absolutely no drinking, Eli.” She winks at me. “You’ve got precious cargo with you.” They still treat us like we’re eight.
He grumbles. She bends in through the car door and gives him a kiss on the cheek. “God, Ma, I get it. I’ll be careful.” His jaw tenses as he starts the engine and backs down the driveway.
He adjusts the rearview mirror. “I guess it doesn’t qualify as ‘precious cargo’ when it’s just me?” he says.
“She’s got another son,” I say. “You’re easily replaced.”
“Sadly true. They like him much better anyway.”
I snicker. “Can you blame them?” As he backs my car out, and our mothers wave good-bye to us—which we don’t acknowledge—I smooth my hair and try to calm my nerves. I’m nervous about everything—about driving, this party, being with Eli. “How’s the knee today?” I ask.
He hesitates. “It’s fine. Just sucks, you know.”
I do know—I hate that this has happened to him. “Yeah.”
“Hey,” he says. “You look nice tonight.”
I keep my eyes forward out the windshield. What’s with him and making comments on my clothes? I pick at the shirt I’m wearing. “Oh.” It’s just a lightweight button-down top with jeans shorts, because it’s still so hot out. I almost ask what he really means by that, but then I realize that this is a compliment, and I should be able to take a compliment from a friend.
I sit up straighter. “Thank you.”
Eli pulls into the Mermaid and parks. I don’t want to drive, but that’s the main reason I’ve agreed to go to the party in the first place. Plus Caleb’s supposed to be there.
That doesn’t stop a lump of fear from forming in my throat when I get behind the wheel. My hands start to sweat and my stomach churns. Clear your mind, Nora. It’s fifteen miles to O’Dell’s. That’s three sets of five miles. You can drive five miles with your eyes closed. A trickle of fear crawls up my spine. Driving with my eyes closed would be a bad idea.
“All right,” Eli says, way too excited. “Let’s go!”
I put the car in reverse…and that’s about it.
He leans in, close to my ear. “Go!” he whispers firmly.
I swallow hard, my mouth is doing that tingly pre-puke thing. I hit that woman’s leg in the dark. Maybe I should just not drive at night?
Fifteen miles. Fifteen miles. Fifteen miles. “Okay,” I say, “backing up now.” I pull out of the spot slowly, too slowly judging from the depth of Eli’s groan.
“Stop with the noises and talk to me,” I say, and he does. In fact, he starts and doesn’t stop. He talks about the homework he’s missed and the movie he took Ari to this week, and the fact that the CSU coach didn’t even show up at the game Tuesday like he was supposed to. The Highlanders lost, he tells me, but not by much. He was there, on his crutches, cheering them on, although he hated being on the sidelines, not in the action.
He keeps chatting and before I know it, we’re three sets of five miles out in the middle of the country, parked along a dirt road with about a hundred other cars.
“I did it,” I say, mostly to myself.
“You’re definitely getting better. You feel more confident?”
My pulse is at a normal range. I’m not about to hyperventilate. I take the keys out of the ignition. “Yeah. I think so.”
“You need more practice, but don’t worry, you’ll get there.” He opens his door. “Let’s do this.”
Now I feel my pulse start to race. I open my door. “Let’s get it over with.”
We have to walk a while to reach the house, and the crutches slow us down. On the way in, we merge with a few small groups of kids who are also arriving, most of whom I know. They all greet Eli in a variety of ways—a pat on the back, a shaken hand, a flirty look, a hair flip. They’re polite to me, but he gets the full celebrity treatment. Everyone asks about his knee and if he’s going to play this season.
I need to lighten his mood, which I can tell is turning sour. “You wanted to come for the sympathy flirting, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. It’s awesome.” His voice is pure sarcasm. I hold the door open and he and I move into the cavernous front room. It’s decorated in hunting-lodge chic with stuffed animal heads all over the walls, and it reeks of beer. A basic nightmare.
“Can I just remind you,” I say to him, “you said we didn’t have to stay long.”
“We don’t. Just promise you’ll try to have fun, okay?”
I check out the crowd. So many people. “Okay, just don’t disappear on me.”
“I won’t. But you’ll try, right?”
He wobbles on his crutches and I reach out to grab his arm. When I do I feel a spark. We both jump and I squeak. “Static,” I explain.
He gives me the smile. Adds in the dimple. “Electricity.”
“Dude!” I hear Koviak before I see him, plowing toward us through the crowd. “What’s up?” He gives Eli a man-hug and then turns my way. “Nora, haven’t seen you at one of these in a while. Welcome.”
He’s smiling, and I almost actually believe that he’s being sincere.
“Oh my God, Nora!” Someone yells. I turn to find the source and see Abby waving at me from the kitchen. She waves me over. “Come here!”
I go to “here,” which is where the keg is set up. Abby’s standing in a puddle of beer, filling a red plastic cup.
Her eyes trail behind me and I know she’s looking at Eli. “What are you doing here?” Again, she looks over my shoulder and grins. “You came in together. It finally happened? Did you two finally hook up? Mmm-hmm. I knew it!”
I can’t believe her. She never stops. “No! Abby, we’re not here together, okay? We drove, together, that’s it. Why are you here? Aren’t you still grounded?”
She drops the tap and screws up her mouth. She won’t look at me.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
She scratches the side of her face, holds out the beer. “Here, pumped it just for you.”
I watch her, wondering why she’s acting so weird. “What’s going on, Abby?”
“So…I might have told my mom that I was at your house.”
“You did? Why?”
She’s swaying a little, like she’s already had too much to drink. “Because when it comes to you, Mom totally doesn’t question anything.” She leans into me. “I don’t know what it is, but don’t ever lose it. At least not for the next five months.” She tugs the bottom of my shirt and winks. “I might need to use it again.”
Anger bubbles up inside of me. Abby and I had so much in common, once, but I wouldn’t do that to anyone, especially a friend. Plus, she could have invited me to this party. Instead, she used me as a cover story. Maybe that’s all I am to her.
She steps back. “Oh God, are you mad? No! NO! Stop it, Nor, I love you, you know that. You and me, we’re like sisters from a different mister.” She moves closer, tilts her head toward mine. “Like, you and I are smarter than the rest of the school put together. Right? I would go insane without your brain.” Her rhyme cracks her up, and she takes the beer out of my hand when she sees I’m not drinking it. “You just don’t like to party, which is fine, no judgment. But I wanted to come, so I needed to give Mom a name.”
“My name?”
She screws up her mouth. “Yes. I really didn’t think you’d mind, Nora. It’s not like it’s hurting you.”
It does hurt, though. “I gotta go, Abby.” I take the beer out of her hand and I walk away.
“Don’t be like that, Nor!” she calls after me. I ignore her and keep walking, feeling terrible, like I don’t have one real friend at this party, except for Eli and he’s disappeared. That didn’t take long. I want to leave already, but we’ve been here for less than ten minutes and most of that was walking from my car to the front door.
I wind my way through some hallways jammed with people, and look for a place to hide.
I open one door—a powder room. Another door—a packed closet. The last door opens into a laundry room—no bodies in here. I step inside and close the door behind me. A minute later, I hear a familiar voice on the other side. Veronica? She was actually nice to me at the beach.
“He’s so hot,” she says.
“So hot,” another voice echoes. “Do you think they’re together?”
“No. They’re neighbors.” That’s Veronica talking. “He has to drive her around because she’s banned from getting a license. He couldn’t wait to get away from her when they got here. Did you see that?” She laughs like a witch.
“Why’d she even come?” the other voice says. “She hates us.”
“And God, what’s with her hair anyway? Does she actually think it looks good?”
“I’m sure she does.”
Now they both laugh.
Now. Now I’m ready to leave, except there’s no way I’m walking out there, right through them. There’s a door on the other side of the washing machine, hopefully an exit. I open it—the garage. Its dark in here, but I don’t care. I light up the space with my phone. There’s an old car with no tires that, like the rest of this place, looks like it hasn’t been touched in decades. It’s unlocked, so I sit sideways on the driver’s seat and text Eli.
I’m ready to go I type, but don’t hit send right away, knowing he’ll give me a hard time about leaving so soon.
I look at my phone, at pictures of this party that are spreading online like wildfire. There’s Veronica Peele’s Snapchat story, featuring her face in a series of selfies with just about every boy in school. Veronica who was once my friend, back in middle school. Why does she think I hate her? She hates me. And was that true, what she said? Could Eli not wait to get away from me? I have no idea where he is right now, or what he’s doing. He could be drinking. He could be having sex.
I hit send on the text. A few seconds later, I get a response.
Where are you?
Garage
I never should have come tonight. I brush the concrete floor with my shoe—I know it’s my theory that’s gotten me to this place, hiding in the dark in the middle of a huge party with people who used to be my friends. Proving a hypothesis doesn’t always make you popular, but I’m committed to it, no matter what the cost.