#Score (23 page)

I
yank
my arm away from the edge of the hot pan and cradle it against my chest. “Dammit,” I mutter to myself, pissed that I’ve lost my concentration on the food for the millionth time. I’m supposed to be cooking sausage and eggs, but all I’m really doing is taking a ridiculous stroll down memory lane and burning the crap out of my food and various body parts.

Stacey’s doorbell rings, and I stand there waiting for a minute to see if she even notices. “Stacey. Stacey? Stacey!” I call out, even though I doubt she can hear me from all the way upstairs. I throw down the greasy spatula and careen around the corner of the kitchen just in time to make it to the front door before the doorbell rings again.

I open the door, and the UPS guy is already halfway back to his truck. There’s a small package addressed to my sister, and I take it back inside, curious. Stacey is pretty weird about ordering anything online, sort of like our mother. Except our mother hates technology and anything related, and Stacey is super big into conspiracy theories.

Once I’ve finished my small and not-so-filling breakfast, I head upstairs to see what my lovely big sister is up to, holding the package. We have a tradition of doing a sister sleepover once a month, and this time, it’s my turn to stay the night with her and Rafael.

Her door is open so I walk right in, waving around the lightweight box. “You’ve got mail,” I call out in a sing-song voice. “Ooh, maybe it’s from the Illuminati!”

Stacey scoffs at me from inside her closet. “As if. They use different methods of contacting you from what I’ve . . .” she begins, poking her head around the door.

I toss the package onto her bed and take a seat at her vanity, getting a too close for comfort look at my splotchy face. Ah, the not so sexiest look of all.

“What’s that?” Stacey asks. “Is that actually for me?”

I roll my eyes at her. “Well it’s damn sure not for me. It says your name on it. You don’t remember ordering anything from” —I look at the shipping label— “A2Z.com? It looks like it’s from one of their warehouses.” Now, if I didn’t know my sister that well, I wouldn’t know that the twitchy look in her eyes means she’s hiding something. I raise my brow. “So you
do
remember what it is?”

Stacey shrugs her shoulders and goes back into the closet.

“That’s not an answer.” If I was the snooping, gossipy one, I’d probably open it just to be funny, but I don’t. God knows, I don’t need to ruin our sister sleepovers, especially since it’s our way to keep connected and help us stay affectionate instead of hateful like when we were growing up. “Hey, is it that outfit you said you wanted me to wear from that store in the mall? For FitCon next week? I hope not, because you are terrible at guessing what will actually fit me.”

A clang. Then another clang. Finally, a thump, and Stacey swears loudly. What is she doing in there? Building a door to Narnia?

“FitCon. Oh, I was meaning to ask you about that.” She’s back with her basket of random pictures she’s kept since we were kids. “Have you decided what you’re going to do?”

“About what?” I have a knack for delaying the inevitable. That’s right, my super power is procrastination.

Her hand is on her hip faster than if she were strutting her stuff on the runway. “Don’t even play that game. You know damn well what I’m talking about. Which reminds me . . . look what I found earlier.”

Stacey hands me a few photos that are slightly bent but otherwise in decent shape. I see the date on the back of them first, earning me a trip back down memory lane, which is exactly where I don’t want to be.
Dammit, Stacey
.

I don’t bother to turn them over, since I already know what’s on the other sides. “Why do you have these?”

“Honestly, I don’t even know. They must have been mixed up from some of yours. But come on, Paige. Don’t you think this is a sign?”

I let out a sigh. “There you go with the symbolism bullshit again. I don’t believe in any of that. All it means is that you have a serious case of hoarding . . . disease. Like those crazy ladies who live in their trashed houses with, like, fifty cats.”

She brushes my comment off and snatches the box out of my hand. “I’m telling you, it’s fate. You can be a non-believer all you want, but you should at least try to see him. Even if it’s only for closure.” Her words are kind, gentle even.

My chest tightens from emotions that I have to keep at bay, but I give her a small smile. “I’m going there for my business. And maybe, maybe, I’ll see about setting aside some time to look him up. That’s the best I can do.”

The bed creaks as she flops down next to me, pulling me into a tight hug and practically squealing in my ear as she crushes the package between us. “I knew you’d go! I have a good feeling about this!”

I pull back, eyeing the box. “If I go, will you tell me what that is?”

“Maybe,” she replies with a funny look on her face.

--

I don’t mean to do it, but I turn on my ‘weird mood’ playlist in my car to try to drown out the sounds of the world, thinking more about the past. I tell myself these little lies as if I’m actually going to convince myself with them.

Lie # 1- The only reason I’m even entertaining the idea of trying to see Elijah is because I will already be out in San Antonio. It’s not like I’m hopping on a plane for some whimsical wish to reunite with the boy who stole my heart. That would be insane. Definitely insane. And I don’t do insane. I’m too straight-laced for that.

Lie # 2- I’m too much of a realist to believe in anything like fate or destiny. I don’t read my horoscope because it’s just a silly bunch of crap that doesn’t at all make me giggle at my kitchen table . . . sometimes.

Lie # 3- I’m not at all worried that Elijah wouldn’t recognize me from the skinny little thing I used to be before puberty really set in. Really. Set. In.

Lie # 4- It wasn’t really love. Not at eleven years old—there’s no such thing when you’re that young.

The reality of what may lie before me if I seek out Elijah suddenly hits me like a ton of bricks. I could ask him what happened after he left me and our hometown behind. Was he sad? Was he relieved? Is that maybe why he never wrote back? Did he ever think of me . . . or even miss me?

The windshield wipers squeak-squeak against the sloshing rain, helping to create the background music to my memories as they slowly wash over me. How could it be fifteen years since Elijah walked into my life with that same mop of black hair and a devil-may-care attitude?

I should’ve never worn this dress for two days in a row. It isn’t the first time I’ve had to do that because Mama hadn’t had enough time to take our clothes to the laundromat this week and I am stuck having to space my dirty clothes out and make sure I don’t do this very thing. But it’s a Monday, so it seems fine until I get to school and Jessie Landers pushes me out the way, laughing about how I’m so poor I have to wear my dirty underwear inside out. 

I forgot that she saw me when Mama took me and Stacey out grocery shopping with her yesterday morning. What I wouldn’t give to live somewhere completely new and start seventh grade this fall with a blank slate.

The tears are already streaming down my cheeks before I think to wipe them away. Jessie rounds on me with her BFFs, Mandy and Nicki. They remind me of the Cerberus, the three-headed dog from Greek mythology. This makes me laugh a little to myself, but I stop short when Nicki and Mandy both take their turns pushing me against the wall until I finally trip over my backpack and hit the ground.

Part of me wishes Stacey were here to show them up, but then I remember Stacey sort of hates me right now, for some reason, and she would probably help them humiliate me in front of everyone.

“God, Paige, you’re such a baby. Are you seriously crying? I barely even touched you,” Jessie screeches, laughing along with her friends. “Look at her. She’s like one of those sad little dogs that never get fed at the shelter.” 

I know that if I don’t get up, I’m going to regret it, that I need to stop letting her treat me like dirt and finally do something about it. She throws more insults my way, and just as I’m trying to think of the best comeback, I hear shoes shuffling behind me and I see Jessie’s smirk turn to a frown.

“Better than being one of the circus elephants puttin’ on a show,” someone says behind me. I slowly turn and look way up to see a tall boy standing right over top of me. I think I remember him now—he’s a new kid who transferred from another elementary school in the next town over. 

“Excuse me?” Jessie fumes, crossing her arms across her chest. Mandy and Nicki copy her move exactly, and the boy and I laugh at the same time.

“My point exactly,” he says, pointing to her copycats. “All we need is one of those funny clown cars.” 

He’s helping me up, but I don’t know why. “Do you always let them say that kind of stuff to you?” 

“Not always. Sometimes, I walk away before they get the chance.” 

I don’t like the way he looks at me, like I’m some poor little girl. I mean, I am a poor little girl, but still. He introduces himself, even though I’m trying to hurry and wipe my face before he sees me cry. “I’m Elijah Simmons. Who are you?”

I’m grabbing for my giant red-framed glasses, glad no one stepped on them like last time. When I put them on, I finally get a good look at the blurry tall boy. But he’s not blurry any more. And I’m pretty sure I’ve swallowed my tongue, because I can’t talk. He pushes his floppy black hair out of his face, and then the rest of me is frozen.

“Do you want me to guess?” 

His words don’t make sense, but that’s probably because I can’t hear over the loud way my inner voice is screeching in my ears, telling me this is a cute boy and to proceed with caution. This is not a drill. “Do I want you to guess what?” 

“Your name. Didn’t you hear me? Usually, when someone asks you who you are, you give them your name.” 

“Oh. Uh, Paige.” And now I’m dying, because ew, why am I such a dork? A dork with flaming red cheeks that hurt from smiling so hard.

He smiles back. “Uh, Paige. That’s a new one.” 

I don’t know why, but Elijah thinks I’m at least cool enough to talk to every time we see each other. Most of our classes are together, but he usually sits in the back of the room while I sit up front. It’s only been a couple of weeks since he started school here, but Elijah gets pulled out of class. He looks mad when he comes back in a little later, but he won’t tell me why. Since we talk a lot now, I’m surprised, but I don’t want to make him mad by asking him about it, so I don’t. 

The park is our new favorite place. We ride our bikes, and Stacey is mad because we share one, and she wants to go ride around with her boyfriend. But she’s only fourteen, and Mama says no, so I win this time! 

Another couple of weeks go by before he tells me his real story. He lives close to me, but his mom works at the only lawyer’s office in town, so they’re not as poor as we are. But sometimes, he has to do the cooking because his mom works long hours, and that makes me feel better because I do, too. Stacey is supposed to, but she refuses to do anything except stay on the phone when Mama’s working.

Elijah gets mad when I ask him if he’s read one of my favorite books. I finally stop asking him and bring one to him one day. It’s my absolute favorite,
The Secret Garden
. He gets really quiet and then pulls me into his room and makes me promise not to tell a secret. I think he’s about to tell me something super cool like his dad is a spy, which makes sense, because his dad isn’t around and he doesn’t really talk about him that much. But instead, he tells me he has dyslexia. I know what that is because I read a lot, so I am quiet. I would be so sad if I couldn’t read right.

He’s failing his classes because his mom doesn’t know how to help him learn and has to work so much. So I take the long way back home on my bike so I can go to the library first. I borrow every book I can find about dyslexia and read as much as I can over the weekend. When Monday comes, I’m ready.

We work for weeks, and finally, Elijah is able to work through reading on his own. He gives me a big hug and tells me I’m his best friend and I can’t leave him because he needs me too much. I don’t tell him this, but I need him too. Jessie doesn’t always bother me when he’s around, and that makes stuff so much easier.

The summer is finally here, and we leave elementary school for good. I used to be scared about seventh grade and middle school, but I know Elijah will still be there, so I don’t worry too much any more.

Elijah comes to my house one night, and we swing on our ugly front porch swing, drinking the warm sodas he brought from his house. I know something big is about to happen, because Elijah keeps touching my leg with his, and it’s making me shake like I’m cold, and I’m bouncing around on my toes, even though I can’t reach the porch floor very well.

We’ve grown so much just in the last few months since we’ve been best friends. Elijah is super tall, like the tallest kid ever. He said he’s 5’7”, which is crazy because I’m only 5’0”. But it’s nice, because I like the way he looks down at me to smile.

Elijah kisses me, but he accidentally knocks into my teeth too hard because I was getting ready to ask him what he was doing. Then I get it. And I kiss him the next time, exactly three seconds later. It’s kind of awesome, and I keep feeling hot in my cheeks and pushing my stupid red hair back. I know my whole face is the same color as my freckles.

But Elijah just smiles down at me like he’s just learned his favorite rock star is coming to town and playing a concert just for him.

It’s funny because that was the beginning of the summer. We meet in the park a lot, sometimes just to ride bikes and sometimes to walk around without everyone spying on us. My mama and Stacey both bug me so bad. Stacey calls Elijah my boyfriend, and even though I sort of like it, it’s super embarrassing.

His mom is really nice and always hugs me and calls me Reba because my hair is the same color as her favorite country singer. But she makes the best cookies when she’s around and lets us have soda, so I’m definitely okay with it.