Any Way You Slice It (17 page)

“I have a memory of being like four years old and walking around the block with our moms. We held hands the whole way.” I grab his hand again and swing it, like a little kid.

He lifts up my hand so our arms make an arch and he twirls me so I walk under it. It's almost like we're dancing down the street. “I wish we'd skipped the taping of the show and gone to a movie instead.”

“Yeah, like we would have gotten away with that.” I do a little cha-cha-cha into my driveway.

He extends his arm for me to do a little flourish, and then pulls me into his chest, and now we're slow dancing without music. For the second time, I'm
this
close to Jake Gomes and it feels perfect. We fit together just right, like that final piece pressed into a puzzle. I put my arms around his neck and relax into his chest.

We only have a few minutes before Dad gets home, and it's a safe bet that Grams is watching out the window right now. But swaying in the driveway to music we can't hear, wearing Jake's jacket, with his arms around me is the perfect ending to any evening, let alone the hideous one we've experienced.

I dance away from him, but he pulls me back, holding my hands against his chest. His brown eyes gaze down at me with such intensity and I wish I could tell what he's thinking.

For a minute, he looks like he's going to say something. He's so close, so warm. My heartbeat pounds in my ears.

Without overthinking the moment, I raise myself on tiptoe to get some height and push my lips against his. He pulls away just a tiny bit at first; I must have surprised him. But then he tightens his grip around me and twirls me around, lifting me off the ground.

Unfortunately, we stray too close to the motion detector on the garage door and suddenly we're awash in bright light.

We break apart, covering our eyes with our arms, and I drag him across the lawn where the light doesn't reach. I take off the jacket and hand it back to him. “Um, thanks.” I pause, glancing at the ground.

He looks up at the front window and waves. “Your mom,” he says, pointing. “You'd better go in.”

I give him a last quick peck on the lips and run up the stairs into the house.

I kissed Jake. Jake kissed me.

I. Kissed. Jake.

And just like that, the last four years didn't happen. We've always been friends. There wasn't a time when I wasn't his friend. He never cut off my hair. I didn't abandon him.

I rush past Mom and Grams to my room, my hands still shaking. I pull out my phone to text Lori, but then … she doesn't need to know right away. This, I need to savor. I fall back onto my bed and relive the last three hours of my life. If I close my eyes, I can imagine an alternate universe where I forgave him at age eleven and we don't lose four years of friendship.

Why is it that the most amazing moment of my life can so closely follow the worst?

When Dad's car pulls into the driveway an hour later, I'm still awake. My brain is whirring. Somewhere out there is film footage of me freaking out about a question of playing hockey against my parents' wishes.

I think about ways to make it right so that every aspect of my life will come closer to perfect. But there's no scenario that doesn't end with me grounded for life. Or worse, culinary school. Although, I think with a smile, that option may be in question if Paul Steen has anything to say about it.

The next morning, the snow they've been predicting for a week finally starts. At first it comes down in beautiful chunky flakes that melt when they hit the ground. But then the storm revs up and it starts to stick. I slip running down the front steps to the car.

“Nice try there,” Lori jokes when I slide into the passenger seat. “I give that a 9.5.”

I pull on the seat belt, and give her “the look.” I'm trying to perfect it.

The tires spin when she pulls of out the driveway, but she doesn't seem to notice. “I'm thinking about that revenge we talked about.”

I sigh. “I thought we were over that. Revenge only leads to trouble. Let's just forget it. What goes around comes around. Karma. The universe will have its revenge on Warren.”

“You're going to write an article for the paper.” She looks at the backseat and points to a pad of paper with a pen clipped to it.

“That's our revenge?” I start to say something else, but what comes out is, “Whoa.” It's all I can think to say. Because at that moment, the tires skid. Lori's pumping the brakes but nothing happens and we're spinning out of control. I'm pinned to the seat.

The snow coming at us makes me feel like we're in hyperspace, and the absurdity of thinking about
Star Wars
while we're spinning out of control makes me hysterical. I scream, expecting the impact to be violent, but because the tires are caked with snow, we're only going five miles an hour when we collide with the guardrail. We spin in a perfect 360 before the car stops facing the same direction we started. The whole thing takes about two seconds, but it feels like so much longer. The snow swirls around us, mocking our terrified screams.

Lori laughs shakily. “Winter in New England, gotta love it.” She pushes the door open and swears loudly.

My handprint might be permanently embedded in the armrest. I don't even want to know what Lori was thinking in the driver's seat. I've never been so glad to get out of car. Unfortunately, the car is the loser. Even though we weren't going very fast, the bumper looks permanently fused to the guardrail.

She swears from the other side of the hood. “We're not going anywhere.”

My hands shake as I text Jake. Ten minutes later, he pulls up in his mother's minivan. “You guys do realize I've only got my learner's permit?” he says, climbing out of the van. “My mom is still asleep. I've got to get the van home before she wakes up.”

He's wearing a thick gray hoodie, with a Sherpa lining in the hood. His black knit cap covers his curls. And those jeans. Even in the storm, I notice the jeans. Black Levi's that make half the girls in school swoon when he walks down the hall. Even with all his layers on, you can tell he's in good shape. Not overly muscular, but just tight in all the right places. Strong and fast. I can't believe I'm the one he wants to be with. Me.

We were just in a car accident, and all I can think about is Jake's butt.

He rushes at me as soon as he slams the car door, and before I can even think about what I'm doing, I run into his arms. He scoops me up. I'm not crying exactly, I just feel like I've been given a gift. Life is too short to lie to the people you love. Or not tell them how you feel. I know Lori is watching, but I don't care. I'm kissing his face with reckless abandon.

“Oh, brother. Did I miss something after I left you guys last night?”

Jake releases me and blushes. “Are you guys okay?” He looks over at Lori, who seems to be taking the total destruction of her car in stride.

“Why don't you let Jake drive you today,” Lori calls to us. “I have a feeling I'm going to be dealing with this for a while.”

Jake glances at me. “Looks like you're going to have to find another way to get to the rink.”

“Yeah.” In all the time we've been on the side of the road, not one car has passed us. Obviously we're the only crazy ones out in the snow. But movement catches my eye over Jake's shoulder. It's a van parked on the street about a hundred yards behind us. I squint through the swirling snow and point. “Who's that?”

Lori shields her eyes to block the snow. “Are you kidding me? It's the Restaurant Network van. Are they filming us?”

Jake yells, “Hey! You there!” He sprints down the street, skidding in his All Stars.

“Don't! Let's just get out of here! They want a reaction out of us; that's got to be what they're hoping for!” I gesture for him to come back. “We need to get out of here.”

“I can't believe they filmed a car crash,” Jake says, walking back toward the minivan.

Lori hits the hood of the car as the camera guy gets out of his van to get a better shot. She cups her hand and yells loud so they can hear her. “I can't believe they didn't stop to help us!”

I can't believe we've sunk this low.

We're really about to run from a reality television camera crew, who just followed us in a snow storm and caught Lori wrecking her car on film?

A half hour later, Jake pulls into his driveway. Not that the crew can't easily figure out where he lives, but we've crisscrossed the town and seem to have lost them. I cringe when I see Mrs. Gomes in her bathrobe at the front door. I halfheartedly wave, but Jake holds up his hand. “Wait here. I'll explain and then have her drive us to school.”

My hands are still shaking a few minutes later when Jake grabs my hand and walks me into the building. I might have managed to reply to a couple of polite questions from his mother, but I really have no idea what she said. He squeezes my hand and smiles that big beautiful smile of his. “We're fine. Look.” He holds up my hand. “We're fine.”

We check in at the office, because we're late. But because of the snow, the secretary doesn't ask any questions before waving us on. “Two of the buses haven't even arrived yet.”

Just then, Lori skids up behind us. “I've never been so glad to get to school,” she says, giving voice to exactly how I'd felt. “I hope it's easier to repair than it looked.”

“How are you not shaken up?” I hold out my still shaking hand. “And how did you get here?”

She grabs my hand and swings it. “Strong constitution, I guess.” She shrugs and puts her arms around both of us. “Really cute tow truck driver dropped me off. In other news, I'm brilliant. We're going to make Warren see red,” she says. “Your article is going to rock his world to the core.”

I roll my eyes. “We almost died this morning and all you can think about is revenge?”

“We did not almost die. I'm a very good driver. We crashed—the car isn't even totaled. They'll fix the bumper and I'll have the car back by the end of the week. And from where I'm sitting, nothing is more important than revenge.”

Jake furrows his brow and looks at me with that adorable smirk I love. “What are you talking about?”

“Lori wants me to write an article for the paper. The team
does
need a little positive press.” I glance at Lori, hoping she'll agree to what I'm about to say. “But I don't want my name on the byline.”

“You have to be kidding me,” Lori says. “You're a great writer; this is the best idea in ages.” She pulls open the door to the west wing and we walk by her. “What, you want me to put anonymous as the byline? No one will believe it.”

“You're going to write it.” I grimace and grab her shoulder. “I just think it's better if it comes from an impartial writer, not someone in the middle of the action.”

“No one is going to believe I'm impartial.” Lori frowns at me and shakes her head. “No, this is about your parents,” she hisses in my ear so Jake doesn't hear. “You have to tell them. This is getting ridiculous.”

“Tell me more about this article that you're writing.” Jake raises his eyebrows. “Anything about yours truly in it?”

“Really? This is not all about you.” I poke his arm as we walk away from Lori. “We haven't written it yet.” I don't tell him I'm just starting to wrap my brain around it. But the more I think about it, the more I like the idea.

I turn to Jake as we reach the hallway to go down to our lockers. “The school should know there are other things out there beyond these four walls. That positive things happen outside of school.”

He shakes his head. “They know that. That's not what this is about. You guys are trying to stick it to Warren, plain and simple. I'm guessing you're going to elaborate a bit about the team, right?” He taps my arm. “Maybe make us sound a little bit better than we actually are?”

It takes me a minute to answer because he's right. “Since when are you all about backing down from a fight?”

“Really, Pen?” Jake stares at me like he doesn't know me. “Where have you been the last few days? I've never looked for a fight. People just assume the worst.” He shakes his head and turns, a disgusted look on his face. “I'll catch up to you guys later.”

“Wait, Jake. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to …” My eyes fill with tears. It's been such a crappy morning and my hands are still shaking. “Warren should not get to the call the shots just because he's the captain of the beloved varsity hockey team. He doesn't deserve the title of king of the school. I'm sick of him thinking he can ruin everyone else's lives.”

He takes a deep breath. “Believe me, Pen. I've lived with his special sort of harassment for years. It's not worth it. It's just better to keep your head down and—”

I shake my head. “I don't think so. Not anymore.” I pull open my locker, knowing I sound more defensive than I intend. “It's not about sticking it to anyone. It's about a group of people getting the respect they deserve.”

Lori whispers, “Damn straight.”

“So, Penelope … How's that new indoor pool at the restaurant?” Warren snickers when I walk into math. I successfully manage to ignore him, but I can't pretend he's not there. Every other word is some obnoxious comment that just skirts an actual confession.

Unfortunately, things get worse before they get better. As the bell rings at the end of the class, I get a text message from Lori.

Bad news. Car is totaled after all. No more rides.

My heart sinks.
How am I going to get to the rink?

It might finally be time to confess.

I spend all evening trying to come up with a plan. Trying to figure out the right words, the thing that's going to be the magic bullet and make everything better.