Love Blind (19 page)

“Now, tell me more about the mini road trip you went on this summer.”

T
he first semester of senior year was exactly what I had wanted summer to be. I barely saw Hailey in school, but sometimes I'd catch flashes of her in the hallway. She invited me over to dinner again. And again. Three times altogether. The third time she invited me, I sprung my idea for helping with something on her list.

“I'm totally guessing on this soy milk.” She leaned forward and squinted. “Is this a cup?”

Her skin was flushed, but in a good way. As if she was psyched that she was actually making dinner, and the endorphins poured off of her like palpable energy.

I sat on the counter, my legs dangling over the edge, and watched her pull ingredients from the fridge. “Looks like a cup to me.”

“Maybe you should measure the stuff and I'll mix it all together.”

I jumped down and touched her arm. It was us now. Sort of. Touching and not being weird or awkward. Too much. And my sleaze factor had dialed down considerably the more time I spent with her. I didn't think about all her pink parts whenever I laid a hand on her shoulder now. “The item on your list said ‘Cooking (for the moms),' not ‘Have Kyle make dinner for the moms.' You can do this. I'm here to make sure you don't burn the house down.”

She laughed. Low and husky. So yeah, I wasn't completely oblivious to how she made me feel. But I was starting to actually be a good friend, and I wasn't letting go of that. There were more things to check off my list before I could try for Hailey anyway.

“I should have gone with spaghetti. Spaghetti pie is too complicated.”

I wanted to rub the tension from her shoulders, but even I wasn't dumb enough to think that was innocent and friendly. So I hopped back on the counter. “Spaghetti pie is way better.”

She blew a hair out of her face. “Do you think they'll like it?”

“I do.”

“I want to make it good for them. Because, well, you know . . .”

It still made my throat close up to see her vulnerable about her eyes, about her moms. Such a strange disconnect in the
Hailey everyone saw, but I knew her so much better now that it made sense. All part of the package.

“It will be good. Don't worry. Go for it.”

She pulled out the tomato sauce and reached past me for the can opener. “Thanks,” she whispered. “This was a good one for you to help me with.”

It got me closer to crossing
Be a good friend to Hailey
off the list, but I wasn't there. Not yet. There was too much to make up for.

I'd tackled a few of the things on my list. Asked for a letter of rec from my Calc teacher. Had Pavel teach me stick shift in his crappy family VW van. Which was hilarious and involved a lot of swear words. In the end, he pressed a Zig Ziglar cassette into the ancient player and took me to a cemetery to practice. Weird, but classic Pavel.

The problem was, I kept adding new stuff to do. Some I told Hailey about. Some I didn't. So when she asked, it always seemed like I hadn't accomplished anything.

“I've never had vegan noodles before,” I said, watching her move across the kitchen. She didn't stumble for anything. This was comfortable. Home.

“Well, I hope you ate something before you got here. They feel a little like cardboard and taste a bit like paste.”

“Nice. Meals at your house keep getting better and better.”

She turned and smiled at me, though. Because we both knew it was the truth.

◊ ◊ ◊

We went to the movies one Friday night with Pavel and Tess. But it didn't really work because Pavel kept hitting on Tess with terrible pickup lines like, “It's a good thing I have a library card, because I'm checking you out.” Only, he said “checking you in,” and even I had to laugh. Afterward, Hailey convinced us to get ice cream and walk along the tracks.

“So, five things left on the list?” she asked as she stepped carefully from slat to slat. I knew she couldn't see what she was doing, but I didn't offer to help. Hailey was weird about that kind of stuff, and the line between pity and helpful assistance was pretty gray.

I sighed. “Maybe a few more than that.”

Pavel had run to catch up with Tess, who'd bolted out of the van and onto the tracks as soon as I parked the crappy VW.

“But you've done some stuff, right?”

“Yep.”

“Stop it with the one-word answers. Don't you ever volunteer stuff without me having to conduct an interview?”

I laughed. “You don't really give me a chance. You sort of start with the interview questions right off the bat.”

She stopped and I bumped into her. My hands reached to steady her. And sort of landed on her ass instead. Which really was an accident.

Hailey barked out a laugh. “Did you just grab my ass?”

“No. Well, yes, but I didn't mean to.”

“Hey, Pavel,” Hailey called, “Kyle grabbed my ass.”

Pavel raised a fist in the air. “Good going, brother. Now you find the G-spot.”

Hailey laughed hard enough to snort. “Seriously,” she finally said, “why would you even want other friends?”

I smiled. “Yeah. He's kinda great.”

She nodded and I realized we'd sort of stopped when she'd stumbled. “So can I ask you something?”

“Aren't you already doing that?”

“You write all the time. In your notebooks. What're you writing?”

I released a deep breath. “Everything. Nothing. It's all sort of stupid. Sometimes song lyrics that remind me of things. Sometimes lines from books. Bands to check out. Podcasts I like. Sometimes the notebook is like a vacuum for my thoughts. You know, when they're circling around my head so much and won't really shut up? If I write them down, they aren't so loud.”

“I kinda suspected as much. Journaling is sort of a weird hobby for guys.”

She pulled off her glasses and scrubbed the lenses as if that would somehow help her peer at me better in the dark.

“I started after the locker-room thing with Pavel. Because I didn't really talk to anyone. And all the school guidance counselors told me I needed to move past it, but no one actually wanted to listen to get me past it. Not in the way that you did. My sort-of friends at the time turned into nonfriends. I was
alone with my thoughts every day. And the locker room was the only thing I could think about. I'd relive it over and over. Know I wasn't doing enough to stop them, feeling hate and fear over and over. I could taste the blood. Hear Pavel's screams in my head. I started writing it all down, and it got a little better.”

Her face softened and she reached out her hand to squeeze mine. I squished my eyes shut and wondered if it would always hurt to be with her and not with her at the same time. “I can't imagine you being in worse shape than what I found you in. I'm maybe glad I wasn't around that year.”

“Yeah, you probably wouldn't have taken me under your wing in quite the same way.”

She laughed. “Is that what I did?”

I released her hand and stuffed mine back in my pocket. “Something like that.”

“So what else have you added to your list?”

I lifted my shoulder. Stupid. She couldn't see it. The worst kind of insensitive nonanswer.

“I don't think I'm ready to go there with you yet.”

“Really? After the big journal reveal, you have even more secrets? Huh. I'm intrigued. Is it something dirty?”

I laughed. “Hardly.”

She tapped her chin, then pressed the glasses back up on her nose. “Well, I guess I'll have to wait until we're best friends for full disclosure, huh?”

“Kyle,” Pavel called from so far down the tracks that if it
were anyone else, I might not have heard. “Tess has agreed to introduce me to her lady friends. I'm looking after our interests, my friend.”

Hailey laughed again. Addictive laugh. Addictive girl. “Looks like I won't be usurping Pavel's BFF title anytime soon.”

“Unless he throws me over for one of the ladies.”

“Well, as the only
ladies
Tess talks to are Mira and me, and Mira's not even around regularly, I don't see Pavel having a lot of luck in that area.”

She started off down the tracks again and I watched her for a few seconds. She turned back and grinned at me. “Stop checking my ass out. You already copped a feel. That's all you're getting tonight.”

◊ ◊ ◊

I wasn't happy-happy, but I wasn't miserable. I had a friend who was a girl. And yes, maybe I wanted more, but it didn't matter because when I was with her, it was spectacular. And I had a friend who was a guy who snail-mailed me ridiculous photocopied articles and told me stupid theories about women. I wished his life were different, I wished our past together were different, but he didn't seem so bothered by all of it. So maybe I should've been able to let go some too.

And suddenly, life wasn't so incredibly lonely. Home became texts from Pavel and school became maybe seeing Hailey in the halls. And my thoughts quieted some. I still wrote. Especially
in the house alone or on the train to Concordia. But it wasn't all depressing. I had people to talk about. Things in my life that sort of mattered that didn't have anything to do with the past or my mom.

Mom and I cooked a real Thanksgiving dinner, and even though it was out of cans, and done in silence, I felt like this new normal of my life was a totally livable one. Better than livable. Good.

So again, I let my guard down, walking between buildings at school, in the snow, and not paying attention.

“Nice backpack.” My pack was ripped from my shoulders.

I swung around, just in time for a fist to connect with my jaw and knock me to the ground.

I was a senior. Was this still supposed to happen?

Someone kicked my thigh, and then my stomach. Instead of curling up and slamming my eyes closed until he or they finished, I opened my eyes to see legs within kicking distance.

I lashed out with both feet as hard and fast as I could, catching the faceless guy in the shins. The force knocked his feet out from underneath him. I scrambled to sitting just in time for a hand to clamp down on my shoulder.

“You three. Principal's office. Now.”

◊ ◊ ◊

The dull rumble of Mom's car wasn't enough to drum out my thoughts.

“I can't believe you would do this to me, Kyle. I need my
nursing job. Do you have
any
idea how embarrassing it is to be called out of work to pick up your delinquent son?” she snapped.

Of course I didn't, but it wasn't a question she meant for me to answer.

“Being a mother isn't easy. Being a single parent isn't easy!” She regripped the steering wheel. “I don't even know what to do with you!”

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

I'd finally fought back, and earned myself a pissed-off mother and a three-day suspension.

“This will never happen again, Kyle. Do you understand me?”

“Yeah. Got it.”

Then she glanced at me, anger draining away to defeat. “Please, Kyle. We
have
to work together. I need you to be better.”

I nodded and felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I'd sent Hailey a text about the fight and the suspension but hadn't heard back.

Hailey: Proud of you for standing up for yourself.

I smiled and shoved the phone back in my pocket, glancing at my mom's tight face. At least someone understood.

T
he wind bit into my cheeks, and I shrugged deeper into my coat. Winter in Chicago could be a real bitch.

“Why do you keep making that weird face at me?” I asked Lila.

She laughed like I wasn't in on some joke. Kind of the best way to annoy someone, honestly.

“What?”

“We're out buying a present for Kyle,” she said.

Oh, so that was what the look was about. She thought there might be something between us. “I think we're all painfully aware that I should not be dating.”

The same smile pressed Lila's lips together and made her dimple grow deeper.

“Can I meet you back here in, like”—I glanced up the street—“an hour?”

She patted my shoulder like she used to do when I was ten. “Let me know if you need any help.”

“No, thanks.” When I found Kyle's gift, I'd know. But telling that to Lila would totally give her the wrong idea.

More knowing smiles from my mom wasn't going to help my irritation factor. And if I got tense, she'd try to drag me into another yoga class.

I paused at the streetlight, making sure I was okay to walk. Nothing would rile her up more than my confusing a
DON'T WALK
for a
WALK
.

This little crunchy part of town wasn't the best place to get something not patchouli-scented or without Bob Marley on the front, but still . . . I had options. Ideas.

I'd already done one thing for him, which was probably more self-serving than gifting. I wanted to gauge his reaction to my favor out of curiosity, I guess. But it was stupid to get someone a present that wasn't wrapped—at least it felt like it was. Which was why I'd ended up shopping in the cold to begin with.

I walked into a storefront that screamed
tourist trap
, but sometimes I got lucky.

Tapping my pockets, I wandered through the racks, squinting at the print on the bright-colored shirts.
Not right . . . not right . . . not right . . .

“Can I help you with something?” A guy's voice, but slightly off. Sort of too smooth and higher-pitched.

“I'm good,” I said without looking up.

Better that than squinting or stepping too close to make sure I was talking to the right person.

“I know the stock,” he tried again. Closer.