Chapter Sixteen
Eli
I flip a switch that turns on a bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. “This is what you call trying?”
She’s sitting sideways in the front seat of an old red hatchback, her feet hanging out. “I did try,” she says. “It didn’t work out.”
I rock back and forth on my crutches. “Wow. You gave it a whole five minutes.”
“More like fifteen—but yes.”
I maneuver the perimeter of the garage, which isn’t easy. There’s a workbench piled high with old tools. Next to it, an ancient green refrigerator. “Hey look,” I say, “just like eighth grade. Heh. Wonder if there’s a Coke in here.” I pull it open. Empty. “Don’t worry,” I close it again. “We won’t relive the past. Fridge smells like death.”
“Great. You’re going to make fun of me, too? And thanks for not disappearing.” She pulls her legs into the car and slams the door.
Dammit. She’s right. I told her I’d stay close, then she walked away, and then I saw Tex and was trying to keep him busy, away from her.
She’s got her head down in there. I hope she’s not crying. I hate when she cries. I hoist my lame self around to the passenger side. It’s some old Chevy, a model I don’t recognize, rusty and falling apart. I open the door, hop inside, and fling my crutches to the floor.
“I wasn’t making fun of you.”
“I don’t want to talk,” she says.
“Okay, let’s not talk.” I close my door.
She sighs and then makes a growling sound. “I hate my life.” She digs in her purse and pulls out a hair thingy, starts to gather up her hair. Without thinking, I snatch it out of her hand.
“What are you doing?” she says. “Give me that.”
I pass it to my right hand, out of her reach. “No.”
She scowls. “It’s mine. Give it to me.”
I shake my head. “No. I like your hair down.”
She turns forward and grips the steering wheel. “Why do you keep bringing up my hair? It’s weird.”
I don’t get it, either. “Yeah, it is. I have no explanation.”
She turns to me again. Honestly, I’m a little scared right now, but I push forward. Now’s not the time to be a chickenshit.
I lean my body toward her, just an inch or two. “Why do you hate your life?” I ask.
Her lips press together and she shrugs. “I don’t know? Because it sucks. I have no friends. Mom’s a mess. Gigi. And…college.” She freezes, and I think, now, now she’ll tell me.
I stare at her. “What about college?”
Her body shifts forward again. “Nothing.”
That’s it. Enough is enough.
“It’s not nothing, Nora. You got accepted to Emory, and it’s one of the best programs in the country.”
Her eyes almost bug out of her head. Gotcha.
“What?”
“Yeah, I know. I saw that printout that Chaffee gave you. The scholarship thing.” I slap a rhythm on the dashboard. “Ha! I’ve known all along.”
She’s silent for a few second, lowers her head. “I haven’t gotten any scholarships.” Her voice is soft. “That’s why I didn’t tell you.”
It’s close in here, to the point of distraction, but I have to focus. “Whatever. I just figured maybe we’ve gotten to the point where we’re not gonna tell each other everything anymore.” My voice sounds sad and I’m working that Costas charm, keeping my eye on the goal. “It’s okay. Doesn’t mean we’re not friends.”
“No.” She gulps. “That’s not it.” There’s a beer in the cup holder between us and she taps its rim with her finger. “It wasn’t our plan and I didn’t want to say anything. I don’t even think it’s going to happen.” Her gaze comes back to me. “I should have told you. Please don’t be mad.”
I nod, recognizing that I need to proceed with caution. “No, I get it. I mean, I was pissed at first. Then this week, when I was just lying around, I went to my favorite internet source, Wikipedia, and learned all about the Emory Eagles. That place is a big deal. Also, hard to get into. Like twenty-five percent acceptance rate. You know what that means?”
She exhales, maybe she’s relieved? I can’t tell, but her eyes are definitely doing that sparkling thing that they do.
“Yeah, I do.”
“That means, that for seventy-five percent of the kids who apply, Emory is all like, nah, you’re stupid. Get lost.”
The corners of her mouth are turned up slightly. “I might not get any scholarships. It’s really expensive, and if I don’t get enough money, I can’t go. I haven’t told Mom, either. It’s not worth worrying her yet.”
“Do you want to go?” My stomach turns over. I don’t know if I want to hear the answer.
She pushes back her hair. “I don’t know. I’m worried about leaving Mom and Gigi. Ari. Marie. Home…”
It’s a long list and I’m not on it.
“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.” I tilt my head, hit her with the smile, and throw in the dimples as a bonus.
She does that thing, lowering her eyelids, slowly, like they’ve got weights attached. It’s sexy.
“No,” she says, her voice going an octave deeper like it does when she’s serious. “And you. I’d miss you.”
I suck in those words like they’re oxygen and I’m about to drown. “You would? Really?”
Her eyes drop again. “Yes. Really. Of course.”
“Huh.” I turn away, peer out into the dim garage.
“What?”
I brace myself. It’s time to make my move. I face her again. “Maybe it’s being in a garage with you again. It’s messing with my head.”
Anger flashes in her eyes. “Why do you have to bring that up?”
Shit. This whole plan of mine, it feels like a dance. I’m trying to get the steps right, but I think I’m always about to fall on my ass.
“I don’t know,” I say. “Not like it’s my favorite memory.”
She laughs low. “No. Mine either. I had such a huge crush on you then.”
I can’t believe she just said that.
“You did not.”
Her eyebrows pull together. “Why do you think I kissed you?”
“Because I was your first test case?”
The corners of her mouth curve up slightly. “No. It wasn’t an experiment, not yet, not back then. I didn’t think there’d be anyone else. I thought you were the only one.”
She lifts the plastic cup from the drink holder, takes a sip, makes a face and shudders. “Beer is disgusting,” she says.
I don’t want to talk about beer. “What if I had been?”
“Been what?”
“The One. What if you’d felt it, back then? The lightning strike. We were only thirteen,” I say, skeptical. “What would have happened to us?”
She lifts her hands. “I guess we would have been like Romeo and Juliet.”
“Double murder suicide?”
She pushes my shoulder. “No! I mean”—she pauses—“young lovers.”
“Oh.” I twist in my seat, trying not to get excited thinking of us as lovers, young or otherwise. “You’re seriously missing the point of that story, you know.”
“Which is?”
I pause, put a finger to my mouth, thinking. “What was Willie’s point?”
“Willie?”
I give her the smile again—I’m on to something here. “Willie Shakespeare, my literary bro?”
She purses her lips, not buying my bullshit.
“You doubt me? You might be surprised to know I’ve got an eighty-four average in English. So, pretty much top of the class. So for Will, it was all about the tragedy. Star-crossed lovers. No happy endings.”
“Right,” she agrees. “So depressing.” She glances out her side window. Her hair moves with her. I want to touch it.
Keep going, Costas. “It’s only depressing if you kill yourself over it. Love doesn’t always work out. Shit happens. That’s life.”
She doesn’t respond, but turns back to me again. God, those eyes. I can’t control myself. I reach out and touch her hair, hold a lock of it between my fingers. She doesn’t move, doesn’t take her eyes off of me, doesn’t ask what I’m doing, doesn’t tell me to stop. I have her attention.
“That’s what makes it so good,” I say. “When you find it, and it’s right—and I think you can know it’s right. Even without an earthquake, I think you can know, not that it’s going to last forever, but that it’s at least worth a try.”
Her eyes, they’re sucking me in, they’re the bottom of the glass boat, a window to another world. They close slowly again, and open, like a butterfly’s wings.
Nora is worth a try. “What about science?” she whispers. She’s moved closer, I think, and it’s getting hot in this car. I swallow hard. Got to keep my head.
“I told you.” I’ve still got her hair, holding it tight. She still doesn’t stop me. “It’s not science. It’s chaos.”
“Chaos?”
She closes the space between us. Nora and me, we’re sharing the same air, lips about to touch, again. My body is sending me signals. I don’t want to stop. Every fantasy I’ve had about kissing her, touching her, flashes through my head, and all I can think about is how maybe, just maybe, every one of them might have a chance to come true if I just lean in and take what I want. What I’m pretty sure she wants, too.
Hey, dumbass, you can’t kiss her.
Moment. Destroyed.
I pull back, which is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. “Uhh…”
She comes to, jerks away from me, smoothes her hair, and flings open the door. “Sorry,” she says. “I’m. I’m a little…” She scans the interior of the car wildly. “I had a beer.”
I see her beer. It’s full.
My body slumps, utterly exhausted. This plan of mine is taking its toll on me. “Okay,” I say. “Nor, look.” I need to be careful, but I have no idea what I’m saying anymore. “I had a crush on you, too, back then, back in Madison’s garage. Man, it was a bad crush.”
“You did?” Her voice is small. I’m making her uncomfortable.
“Yeah. I was too much of a chickenshit to do anything about it, then you kissed me, and it sucked, and you shut me down. I never had a chance.”
She won’t look at me all of a sudden. Is she even listening? I move my hand, touch her cheek, lift her face until I have her attention again. “Nora?”
There she is.
“I’m not a chickenshit anymore.”
She looks confused, not sure what’s happening. If I’m honest, I feel the same way, but I can’t let that stop me.
“Nora, if I ever get a chance to kiss you again, it won’t be because you’re having a moment of weakness, or because you’re scared maybe your theory is wrong.”
She bites her lip, and the movement is like the fucking Death Star tractor beam. But I’m not done.
“If we kiss again, when we kiss again, it’ll be because you’re done experimenting, and you know who you’ve been looking for.”
Her eyes drill into mine, it’s like I can see her brain processing my words. Did I really just say all that? I lower my hand, and she turns forward, with that same terrified look she gets when she has to drive. What have I done?
She steps out of the car. “I’m sorry, Eli. I’m so sorry.”
That’s it. I’m sunk. I watch her walk around the car to my side, apologizing the whole way around. “It’s okay,” I say, though it’s not clear what she’s sorry about. She helps me with my crutches, I can see she’s shaken. So am I.
As we make our way out, the irony of this happening again, in another garage, with her, is not lost on me.
I step into the laundry room and my eyes adjust to the bright light. In front of me are Eddie Ponti, going through a cabinet above the dryer, and—shit—Tex.
“Costas!” Eddie yells. “You seen cups? We need cups!”
I’m about to answer when Nora appears next to me. Eddie’s face lights up like he’s just seen goddamn Santa Claus. “Heeeey, Nora,” he says, never taking his eyes off me. I know what this looks like.
Tex looks at Nora and doesn’t stop. I don’t like it.
“You two have fun out there?” Ponti laughs, the asshole.
Tex catches up to what’s going on and his face gets all serious like his cow ran away.
“Shut it,” I say to Ed.
“Yes, we had fun,” Nora says in her matter-of-fact, don’t-fuck-with-me tone. She glares at Eddie. “We’re friends, Ed. We had fun, talking. Just because a male and a female are alone together doesn’t mean they must be having sex. If any girl would ever agree to be alone with you, you would know that.”
The corner of Tex’s mouth curls up on one side. Asshole cowboy face.
“Fine.” Eddie wisely doesn’t try to defend himself. He clears a space for us to walk through. “Sorry.”
“Hey, Nora,” Tex drawls. “Can I get you a beer?”
“You know what?” I don’t give her a chance to answer. “My knee’s killing me.” I’m not proud of lying to a teammate, but I can’t deal with this shithead for another minute. “We gotta go.”
“I can take you home,” he says to Nora.
I’m going to kick his ass.
“No thanks, Caleb,” Nora says. “I drove us.”
“Okay,” he says. “You wanna do something this week?”
“Maybe,” she says, biting her bottom lip.
Tex doesn’t give up, the douchebag. “There’s a JV game Thursday. I was gonna go. We could go together, maybe get some dinner after?”
No. I’m willing her to say it. Please. Say no.
Is it me, or does she look like a deer in headlights? “All right, just text me,” she says. She sounds like she can’t get away from him fast enough. Why didn’t she say no?
She follows me out to the main room, where about twenty more people ask about my knee. I’m about to go full-on Incredible Hulk by the time we finally get outside.
Nora helps me down the porch stairs and I can’t move. I’m frozen with panic. Did I just destroy any chance I had with her, coming on to her like that? What is with me? It was like I had diarrhea of the mouth in that car. I couldn’t stop. I should’ve stopped.
Now she’s gonna go on a date with that Lone Star–state dillweed. She stops walking when she notices I’m not moving. “What is it? Eli?” She rushes back to my side, her voice panicky. “You should have told me your knee was hurting. I’ll go get the car. Don’t move.”
I nod, once, and watch her run down the gravel road. My knee doesn’t hurt, not at all, but I can’t move. It’s like my body has gone into shock, trying to absorb what my heart just realized.
That girl…the one running away who wants nothing to do with me? I love her.
I love Nora Reid.