P.S. I Like You (7 page)

“No, but I’m too old for trick-or-treating … so Halloween isn’t such a big deal anymore.”

“I’m never going to get too old for trick-or-treating.”

I ruffled his hair. “Yes, of course I can take you … in exchange for a piece of candy.”

Jonah gave a yelp of joy as he ran out of my room.

“One of the good ones!” I called after him.

I opened my notebook back up to the lyrics I’d been writing, but it was too late. The inspiration was gone. If I tried
to write a song right now, it’d be about rabbits, dinosaurs, and Halloween candy. Almost as good as monsters in trees. I’d have to try again later.

“Monsters in trees,” I said to Isabel the next morning when I saw her by our lockers.

“What?”

“That’s what I thought about before going to bed last night. Are we doing this or not?”

She clapped her hands, then bit her lip in thought.

I laughed. “Gabriel, right?”

“Shhh. There was something after that. I’m trying to remember. Oh! Nutella crepes.”

“Now I’m hungry.”

“And I’m confused,” Isabel said, shutting her locker. “Monsters in trees?”

“Fake song idea. But I actually started a real song, one I’ll read to you when I’m done.”

“I’d like that.”

“This is going to be a fun tradition.”

She laughed. “It is. I feel our friendship getting cuter already.”

I may have started the morning tradition with Isabel because I felt guilty about how excited I was to read this letter.
The letter that I had retrieved from beneath my desk in Chemistry and was now unfolded on top of my desk.

Track 8 on Blackout’s
Blue
album? I haven’t listened to that one yet. I only have their first album. And even though it goes against my reverse psychology theory of how I handle life, if you think it’s good, I’ll try it out. Any other bands I should add to my “shutting out the world” playlist? I could use some of that to deal with my life right now. Does that make me sound pathetic? I’m not, most of the time. I’m actually a pretty fun guy when not at home.

Guy?
I blinked. My pen pal was a
he
? My eyes went back to the notes written on the desk—to the line that had made me think he was a girl. It was still there. His claim that he had dibs on wanting to be Lyssa when he grew up. So it had been a joke? He liked to joke.

He was a guy. A guy who liked the same music as me and was bored in Chemistry and had a sense of humor. We were soul mates. I smiled a little, then shook my head. The guy was bored and was writing me letters to pass time. He wasn’t asking me out or anything.

I realized my brain had stopped mid-letter. I read the rest.

So what should we chat about that’s not so depressing? I’m open to suggestions. Perhaps one of the following
topics: Death, cancer, global warming (or is it climate change now?), animal cruelty …

I turned over the page, but that was the end. We’d filled up an entire page with our back and forth communication. Which meant I got to keep this page. I folded it nicely and stuck it in my bag.

I stared at the new, clean sheet in front of me, and then wrote:

How about we discuss the fact that you’re a guy. Let’s get married and have cute Indie Rock babies.

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing and dropped that sheet of paper in my backpack by my feet. I wasn’t even going to mention the fact that he was a he. I was going to pretend I knew all along. Because it changed nothing.

I finally got a chance in the chaos that is my house to listen to The Crooked Brookes. Brilliant. Track 4. I must’ve listened to that one five times in a row. I wasn’t sure I could trust your taste in music before, but you have now proven yourself. I will listen to anything you suggest. I’ll include a list of my favorites at the bottom of this page. Do you play any instruments? I’m a self-taught not-very-good-but-thinks-she-is guitarist. Okay, you’ve convinced me, we can start a band
together. Unless you play the guitar, too. Sorry, but I won’t fight you for solo time.

I re-read what I wrote three times. It was me, but I wasn’t sure I
should
be me. I didn’t have the best track record with guys. But at least on paper he could read it in a smooth, confident voice, not in the way I would’ve delivered it in person: awkwardly.

It didn’t matter. Why was I suddenly worried about how he would perceive me? I wished I hadn’t found out he was a guy. This had been fun until I learned that piece of information. I had actually been looking forward to Chemistry for the last week. Something that had never happened before. And I would continue to look forward to it. We still had anonymity on our side.

I
opened another drawer of my dresser and flung several shirts onto my bed.

Where is it?
I wondered in frustration.

I was the organized one in this room. I didn’t misplace my favorite shirt. Especially when I saved it specifically for nights like tonight—nights where I’d be hanging out with Isabel, her boyfriend, and a bunch of his friends I didn’t know.

I pulled the dirty laundry basket out of my closet and dumped it on the floor, then sifted through the pile of clothes. When I came up empty, I let out a growl. That’s when I spotted my sister’s laundry basket on the other side of the closet. I stormed over to it and after shifting a few clothes, found my favorite green shirt. I held it up. It was wrinkled and had a big dark stain on the right side.

“Ashley!” Anger made my eyes hot. I tore out of the room, taking my shirt and my anger with me.

Ashley was sitting on the couch eating a bowl of ice cream. Her eyes went wide when she saw me. “What?”

“This!” I held the shirt for her to see.

“I was going to wash it.”

“Why were you wearing it? You didn’t even ask. It probably doesn’t even fit you right, anyway.” Ashley was much taller than me.

She made a face. “You weren’t home to ask.”

“Ashley. Seriously.”

“Fine. Chill. I’ll ask next time.”

At this point, Mom walked in. “What’s going on, girls?”

“Nothing.” I started to walk away. There was nothing I could do about the shirt now. I was meeting Isabel in an hour. I’d have to find something else to wear.

“Where are you going?” Mom asked.

She must’ve noted my hair, which I had managed to tame into relative smoothness tonight. “To finish getting ready,” I said.

“Ready for what?”

Just then, Jonah came bouncing over, wearing a blue-and-red dinosaur costume. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” he yelled louder than necessary.

My mom put her hand on his shoulder and he stopped bouncing. She continued to look at me, waiting for an answer.

“I’m going out with Isabel,” I said.

“You didn’t tell me that,” Mom said.

I panicked, my mind rewinding through the week to try to pick out the conversation I could’ve sworn I had with my mom so I could reference it now. It didn’t exist.

“You said you’d take us trick-or-treating,” Jonah whined.

“Ashley can take you,” I said.

My sister shook her head. “Nope. I’m going to a Halloween party tonight.”

“Can’t Mom take you?” I asked Jonah, desperate now because I knew how he got when he had his mind set on something.

Mom gave me her disappointed look but to Jonah said, “Yes, I’ll take you.”

The dinosaur head tipped forward as he looked at the ground in a pout. It was a really pathetic sight. As I clung to my stained shirt, I knew neither it nor I would be going out tonight. I sighed. Oh well. It was going to be a group date that I would have to spend my last twenty bucks on, anyway. Might as well save the money for something I really wanted to do.

“I’ll take you, Jonah.”

Jonah cheered.

“Thank you, Lily,” Mom said, giving me a quick hug. “Tomorrow night is all yours.”

“Sounds good.”

I shuffled back to my room and called Isabel.

She answered on the second ring. “You better not be canceling on me.”

“I’m sorry. I promised Jonah I’d take him trick-or-treating.”

“What do you mean? We’ve been planning this all week. Why can’t Ashley take him?”

“She’s going to a party.” I took my shirt to the bathroom where I treated the stain with an old toothbrush and soap.

“Lily,” Isabel whined, sounding an awful lot like Jonah. “You promised.”

I turned off the sink. “I know, but unfortunately my family has reigning power over my life.”

“Didn’t you ask your mom about tonight earlier?”

“I thought I had, but I guess I didn’t.”

She sighed. “Fine. I’ll talk to you later.” She hung up before waiting for me to say good-bye. I felt bad, but she had Gabriel. She’d be fine without me.

I glanced at my hair in the mirror. My waves were softer, straighter, tonight. When I put in the effort with a blow-dryer and a little bit of product, I could accomplish this look. I rarely did.

“How come you can’t look this good when I actually end up going out?”

“Stop talking to yourself,” Ashley sang out as she walked by the bathroom.

“I was on the phone,” I called after her. Then I gathered my hair into a ponytail and left to grab my hoodie.

W
hen Isabel said she’d talk to me later, I hadn’t thought she meant
that
night, on my porch, with two guys flanking her.

After taking my brothers trick-or-treating, I had changed into a pair of flannel pajama pants and a tee. I sat on the sofa with a large bowl of candy in my lap, in case any trick-or-treaters stopped by.

But when I answered the doorbell, I didn’t find costumed kids out there.

I clutched the candy bowl as I stared at Isabel, my mouth doing the fish thing it sometimes did when words wouldn’t come out.

“Hey,” Isabel said, ignoring my expression. She adjusted the pair of cat ears on her head. “Trick-or-Treat. Can we come in?”

“I … ”

She plucked a roll of Smarties out of the bowl I held and pushed past me, dragging Gabriel by one arm and the other guy, whose floppy hair and lanky frame looked vaguely familiar, by the other.

“Sure, come in,” I said lamely, setting the candy bowl on the entry table.

They all slipped off their shoes at the edge of the tiled entryway.