May 1999
Today I had to tell Ivy we are moving. Today I saw tears welling in her eyes for the first time. Today I hurt her. Today is probably the worst day I have ever had. Today blows.
It is graduation day, and we are signing yearbooks in the cafeteria. Her back is against the wall, and she looks sadder than I have ever seen, even sadder than the first day I met her, and I didn’t think that was possible. I feel bad. No one is asking her to sign their book, but everyone is asking me. Especially girls.
I take a book from a girl’s hands, but I can’t keep my eyes off Ivy. “Um … what did you say your name was?”
The girl sighs and slaps a sharpie onto the book. “Eliza. E-L-I-Z-A. Eliza.”
I scribble her name, then write HAGS, and sign mine.
“Here.” I thrust the book in her hands again.
She stares at what I wrote, her eyes squinting at me like she’s mad, before she walks off.
I pick up Ivy’s book that I left on the signing table. I press my lips together and think hard about what I want to say—something that would make her smile and make her happy. It sounds lame, but I write: I will never forget U Ivy! Call me in France! Ivy & Brooks 4Ever! Then, I jot down the phone number she can reach me at, which I memorized.
I carry the yearbook to her and place it in her hands. “Here,” I say, but I try not to look at her eyes, because they make me want to cry, and boys can’t cry. Or, that’s what they say, anyway.
“Brooks,” my mom says, grabbing my arm. She pulls me a few feet away.
“Son, we just got some news,” my dad says.
“Okay?” Oh God, please don’t say we are never coming back. Please don’t say we are staying in France forever. I have to see Ivy again, I just have to.
“We won’t be leaving for another month.”
It’s a few seconds before I realize what Dad just said. “Really?”
“Really!” they say together.
I smile so big my cheeks instantly start hurting, which never happens to me. “Be right back! I gotta tell Ivy!”
My body turns, and I run to her, shouting her name, not noticing anyone else around us. I grab her hands.
“Ivy! Ivy, Ivy, Ivy! We’re not going for another month!”
She looks confused at first, but then she grins and closes her hands around mine harder than she ever has. “Really?”
“Yeah, really!” I nod, then swoop my hair from my eyes, and put my arms around her. We hug tighter than we have ever hugged, jumping in the air like maniacs, as all the kids close by stare at us. “I’ll call you later, okay? We can meet at the creek behind the school until I move.”
We pull away from each other now. Her head nods. Her smile relaxes a little, but her eyes are happy. She is happy. Today I made Ivy happy. Today is one of the best days, because I get another day with her. A lot more days. Today is rad.
I hug her again before I have to go, because my parents are checking me out early. My parents decide to take me to get lunch at my favorite taco place to celebrate my good grades.
When we are waiting for our food, I snack on the chips and salsa while my parents whisper to each other. I am sure it is about Ivy. They hadn’t seen her until today, and I had avoided telling them anything about her except for her name.
Finally, I can’t stand it anymore, especially the stupid side glances they are giving each other. “Are you guys talking about Ivy?”
“No, of course not, sweetie,” my mother says. She reaches across the table and pats my hand.
“You don’t like her, do you?”
They look at each other, my dad shrugging as my mom tucks her hair behind her ears.
“No, sweetie, it isn’t that.” She smiles. “Remember when I told you before that all the girls were going to go crazy for you?”
I roll my eyes and lightly shake my head. “Yes, Mom. How could I forget?”
“Well, baby, you’re going to be in sixth grade in a brand-new country. A year wouldn’t be so difficult for two adults to handle, but you’re a kid, sweetie. It’s going to seem like forever.”
“What’s your point?” I ask as the taco lady puts the plates down and pours more soda in my glass.
“What your mother is trying to say is that it’s very unlikely you two will even care about each other when we get back.”
“Rick...” my mother says as she elbows him. She looks back to me. “The point is, baby … I don’t like the way you were looking at each other.
“What?” I say, my mouth full of tortilla and meat. I finish chewing. “What do you mean the way we looked at each other?”
“Sweetie, you were looking at each other like you were in love!”
In love. “That’s crazy, Mom. I’m only twelve!”
“Exactly, dear.” She scoops up some salsa with a chip. “You were acting like you were seventeen and in the middle of some tragic goodbye. You’re both twelve. Sixth grade is going to be an entirely new experience. And you’ll be in a different country with so many new things to see, and new friends to make.”
I slap my palms on the table. “This is because she’s poor, isn’t it? You could tell, couldn’t you? You start making money, and maybe you think me having a poor friend would somehow make us like that again. Well, that’s stupid, and it won’t.”
“Brooks!” my mother says, mouth hanging open at my accusation.
“Don’t you dare speak to her in that tone, young man. Do you understand me?”
I lean back against the booth. “Sorry.”
My mother scoots out of the booth and comes to my side, sitting down beside me. She wraps her arm around me and pulls me close to her. “Brooks, this has nothing to do with money. The last thing I want is for you to sit around moping and missing her is all, because you’re young, and that wouldn’t be healthy. You worried me today—the way you two were acting. You’re too young to be acting like you’re in love when you don’t even know what love is yet. Cheer up is all I’m trying to say.”
Love. Is this what love is? The feeling that I won’t be the same when we’re gone—when I don’t have Ivy? When I can’t see her every day? Can’t hear her laugh or see her smile? Can’t protect her from the jerks that go to our school or see her ocean eyes anymore?
If that’s what love is, then my mother is wrong.
If that’s what love is, then I love Ivy Hobbs.
And I need to tell her before I go.