Aspen (13 page)

“Cass is my best friend.”

“That’s nice.”

“That’s why we’re going together. As friends.”

“Friends are good.” Ben’s eyes are still fixed on the string.

I flip through my notes and find the page of definitions. Ben finally pulls the string loose from my quilt, snapping it free.

“I like Ninny,” he says.

I roll my eyes. “Everyone likes Ninny. And she likes them back, a little too much.”

Ben chuckles, making the bed move. My eyes strain not to look down the length of his body. Down his back to his butt and to his legs. He’s wearing an old red T-shirt with a few holes in the neckline, and jeans. It might be my favorite outfit ever.

“The big bang theory: the current model of galactic evolution in which the universe was created from an intense and brilliant explosion of a primeval fireball,” I read aloud.

“Primeval Fireball would be an awesome name for a band.” Ben rolls onto his side.

“A band?”

“They’d be a mix of Metallica and Adam Lambert. Hardcore rock with makeup.”

“Can we stick to definitions?”

Ben yawns. “Definitions are boring.”

“Definitions are not boring. They’re comforting.”

“Comforting?”

“Yes. There are no surprises. You know exactly what a word means. You just have to memorize it.”

“You don’t like surprises?”

I grunt and snap my book closed. “You’re the one who asked for this study session. If you don’t want to do it, then why are you here?”

Ben looks at me with wide eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says, and cracks a grin.

“Now you’re laughing at me.”

“No, I’m not.” Ben hides his smile with his hand. I pick up one of my pillows and whack him over the head with it. He grabs it from my hands and does the same back, knocking one of my braids loose.

“You wrecked my hair.” I laugh, checking my reflection in the mirror. One of my braids is loose, so I pull both free, returning my hair to ‘fro status.

“I thought you didn’t care about things like that.” Ben hugs the pillow to his chest.

I tie my hair in a bun on top of my head. “It’s not that I don’t care. I just know I’ll never be perfect.” I use the word intentionally.

“No one is perfect.”

“People say Katelyn was.”

Ben’s eyes focus on my pillow.

When he doesn’t respond, I ask, “What was she like?” I ask. My stomach rumbles with nerves the moment the question comes out of my mouth.

It takes a second for him to respond. Then Ben says, “Complicated.”

“Everyone is complicated.”

“Then she was like everyone.” He doesn’t say anything else.

I pretend to check my reflection in the mirror one more time, but really, I steal a glance at Ben. His head hangs low. It makes all my nerves turn sour.

“Beta Particle,” I say.

“What?”

I move to sit back down on the bed. “That would be the name of my techno band of geeks, and their groupies would be called ‘electrons.’”

Ben’s one cheek pulls up into a half-smile and he finally looks at me. “Can I be an electron?”

“No way. Electrons love definitions.”

“I can love definitions.”

“You just said they’re boring.”

“I take it back.”

“For someone who loves definitions, you can’t seem to make up your mind.”

“I love definitions.” Ben grabs my hand and places it on his heart. “I swear.”

My breath catches in my throat. I grab the pillow away from him and hit him in the shoulder with it. “I don’t know. You probably can’t even define beta particle.”

“That’s why I’m here.” Ben walks over to my stereo. “But we need music.” Before I can stop him, he presses play on my iPod. As guitar chords come through the speakers, I stuff my face into the pillow, embarrassed. “Vampire Weekend?” he asks.

I peek one eye out. “I thought I’d see what’s so great about them.”

“And?”

“They’re pretty good.” I set the pillow back down. “But not as good as Beta Particle.”

“Duh. It’s impossible to be better than Beta Particle.”

“Spoken like a true electron.”

Ben scoots back on my bed and lies down. “By the way, I’m glad you’re going to homecoming with a friend,” he says, yawning and closing his eyes. I can’t tell if he means it’s nice I can go to a dance with my friend, or if he’s happy I don’t have a real date. And like so many other things in my life, I’m not sure I want to know.

I remember Ben falling asleep multiple pages of definitions into studying. I remember thinking I might rest my eyes, too. And then I woke up, my face plastered to my notebook, and now there’s a small puddle of drool on the paper. The music has stopped. I sit up quickly. For a second I have no idea where I am. It’s the hardest I’ve slept in weeks. I rub my eyes, checking the corners of my room for any hint of the brown-haired girl that lurks in the shadows. Nothing.

Ben sleeps next to me, his face resting on my quilt. He breathes evenly and slowly. For just one moment, I stare at his back rising up and down.

When I finally do get up, I stand in front of the Grove, staring at the empty spaces. The only noise in my room is Ben’s deep breathing. I go to my desk and grab my sketchpad, excited to capture this moment with Ben lying on my bed, so I can add him to my wall forever. My charcoal pencil sits poised on top of the paper . . . and then I set the sketchpad down. I inwardly wish Katelyn to be alive.

“I fell asleep,” Ben whispers as he pushes himself up on the bed.

My cheeks get hot at the sound of his voice. “Me, too.”

“You have pen on your face.”

“I do?” I check my reflection in the mirror. There are blue faded words on my cheek. I lick my hand and start to rub them away.

“That seems to be a pattern with you.” Ben looks at me through the reflection in the mirror, his eyes clouded with sleep. He stretches his arms over his head, revealing a sliver of skin right above his jeans. I divert my gaze to the ground.

Ben doesn’t seem to notice. He packs up his things and says, “Sorry I totally crashed. It’s just that I have a hard time sleeping at night. I start thinking about everything and . . . ” He trails off.

“Me, too,” I admit.

A look of relief comes over Ben. “You, too?”

I nod, and he smiles. “Well, I guess I should get out of your hair,” he says, tapping the matted bun on my head.

“Are you making a hair joke? Because it’s not funny.”

Ben smiles. “Do you want to come with me?”

“Where?”

“Wherever.”

I pause and then ask, “Can we walk . . . wherever?”

“We can do whatever you want.”

“Do you like free stuff?”

A moment later, Ben and I are headed out the door and into the cool fall air.

Ninny’s face lights up when we walk into Shakedown Street. “Done
studying
?” She winks at Ben.

“Control your hormones, Ninny. We just want a shake,” I say.

“You both work here?” Ben whispers to me.

“How do you know I work here?”

“I saw your apron in your backpack.”

Ninny leans on the counter, her eyes moving up and down Ben’s clothes. “One shake with two straws? I don’t know. His clothes look pretty wrinkled.”

“They’re always wrinkled.”

“Hey.” Ben nudges me.

I elbow him back. “You’re the one who called me honest.”

“You guys are too cute,” Ninny says, leaning even further over the counter, a goofy grin on her face. She looks like a twelve-year-old kid. “
Studying
suits you Aspen, baby. I haven’t seen you look this good in weeks. I told you orgasms make you live longer.”

“Ninny!” I yell, but a laugh bursts out of Ben’s lips.

“We just fell asleep,” he says. “I promise. I’m not that kind of guy.”

“You look like that kind of guy.” Ninny smiles.

“Can you get us two Strawberry Fields? Please?” Free food might be awesome, but it’s not worth this torture. “We’re gonna sit outside, away from you. And you should clean the tables before Mickey sees.”

Ninny salutes me and pinches my cheek. Ben and I take a seat at one of the few wire chairs and tables in front of Shakedown Street on the Pearl Street Mall. It’s the kind of mall I like: the outdoor kind that’s really just a pedestrian street with shops and people walking with coffees, all bundled in scarves. And every store door opens directly outside.

“Is it weird that you work together?” Ben asks, sitting down.

“Sometimes.” I zip up my fleece jacket to block the cooler fall air. “But usually I’m just glad she has a job.”

“I like Ninny. She’s not like my parents at all.”

“She’s not like anyone’s parents. I’m sure yours are normal.”

“What’s normal?”

I pull out my phone to look up the definition. “Normal: usual, average or typical.”

“Nope. My parents definitely aren’t normal.”

“What’s not normal about them?”

“For starters, that sentence is plural and I only have one.” Ben leans back in his seat, hugging his arms over his chest to protect himself against the chill. “My mom died after my sister was born.”

“How?”

“Cancer.” Ben doesn’t look at me when he says it.

“How old is your sister?”

“Sam’s ten,” he says.

I sit back in my seat letting the information sink in. Ben’s mom has been dead for ten years. Ninny’s trip to Taos doesn’t seem so bad. And at least I never knew my dad, so I can’t really miss
him
. I just miss the idea of him. But Ben must remember what his mom looked like, how she sounded and smelled.

“What about your dad?” I ask.

“Still trying to get over it.” Ben’s voice is deep as he looks off at the people walking down the street. “So am I officially an electron or what?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “You did fall asleep.”

Ben finally looks back at me. “So did you.”

“Define kinetic energy.”

“Energy that a body possesses by virtue of being in motion.”

“Radiant energy?”

“Energy that is transmitted in the form of electromagnetic radiation.”

“Potential energy?”

“Energy possessed by a body by virtue of its position relative to others.” Ben leans in across the table, a sly grin on his face. “I told you I love definitions.”

I stumble over the next word in my head. Luckily, Ninny comes out with two drinks and sets them down in front of us, breaking up the moment.

“Have a beautiful day,” she says, and winks at Ben.

“Thanks, Ninny.” He takes a sip.

“Speaking of beautiful, my daughter’s not bad to look at.”

I choke, and some of my red shake comes out my nose. “What is wrong with you?”

“Aspen’s not like anyone else I know, that’s for sure,” Ben says.

“What does that mean?” I set my cup down and lean toward Ben.

“I just mean that you’re not like anyone else. You leave dirt on your face. You wear Jesus sandals.” Ben’s voice wobbles as he speaks.

“It wasn’t dirt. It was charcoal,” I say through clenched teeth.

“I just mean you’re unique.” Ben stumbles over his words. “Shit. You lie down in the middle of the road.” He looks at Ninny and back at me.

“That’s my cue,” Ninny says, and exits quickly.

“I’m not saying this right,” Ben says.

“That seems to be a theme with you,” I mumble.

“It’s because you make me nervous.”

I ignore the disappointed feeling in my stomach and focus on the people walking up and down the street. You can find every different kind of person on Pearl Street. Rich, poor, college students, four-piece string bands, homeless bucket drummers by the name of Toaster.

“Aspen, look at me.”

I blink, noticing someone in the crowd. Two people actually.

“Don’t be mad,” Ben says.

My breath picks up as they walk towards us. One—with long brown hair down her back and the hips of a goddess. The other—his hips shift awkwardly, weighed down by the gun and handcuffs clipped to his thick belt.