So Much Closer

Table of Contents

 

 

 

VIKING Published by Penguin Group

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Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

 

First published in the U.S.A. by Viking, a member of Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 2010

 

Copyright © Susane Colasanti, 2011

All rights reserved

 

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eISBN : 978-1-101-52857-0

 

 

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

To my beloved city
of New York,
then, now, and always

Today I’m telling
Scott Abrams that I’m in love with him.

Sometimes I think that if he knew, he would admit he feels the same way. Other times I think he would laugh in my face so hard I would never get over it.

But.

It could be so easy. Just go up to him, tell him, and see what happens. Put it all out there. Finally know how he feels about me.

It would probably be easier if he knew I existed.

The hope that Scott Abrams could like me back has kept me going for two years. It’s like this energy I live on. The idea of being with him is almost more exciting than being with him for real. But of course I want to turn this fantasy into reality.

The thing is, he’s never noticed me. Saying sorry because he accidentally bumped into me in the hall last year doesn’t count. So telling him that I know we belong together is probably a crazy thing to do.

I guess I’m crazy then. Because I’m doing it anyway.

“You can’t do that,” April said.

Telling Scott was never some big plan or anything. I mean, yeah, I thought about it every day. I imagined how amazing it would be to let someone in. To trust someone completely. I just never thought I’d actually tell him. So it stayed a fantasy.

Then April and I were blowing up balloons for the junior picnic yesterday (she’s more of a joiner; I thought it would be ironic) when it hit me. I would tell him at the junior picnic. It would probably be the last day we’d see each other until senior year. Plus, it would be the perfect time to start going out, with the whole summer ahead of us. The combination of being with Scott Abrams and two months of freedom would be the ultimate.

April didn’t agree.

“Why not?” I said.

“Think, Brooke.” April let the air out of a partially inflated red balloon. “What do you think he’d say if you told him?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I haven’t told him yet.”

“How many times have we gone over this?”

April had a point. She’d been hearing me obsess over Scott Abrams for two years. She was more than ready for a subject change.

“But you’re assuming he doesn’t like me just because he’s never talked to me,” I went. “We don’t know that for sure.”

“You’re seriously going to do this?”

“Yes.”

“After everything we’ve talked about?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t you care that—”

“No,” I said. “I don’t care if he tells the whole school. And I’ll even tell Candice that I like him. I can’t keep pretending we don’t belong together.”

“But how—”

“I just
know
.”

I can’t explain The Knowing. It’s something I’ve had for as long as I can remember. There are certain things I just know, like when something crucial is about to change my life. It’s only happened to me a few times, but when it happens it’s undeniable. I’ll get this intense feeling of clarity that forces everything else into the background. The Knowing is not supported by logic or factual information. But The Knowing is always right.

You’d think April would be less skeptical about The Knowing by now. We’ve been friends since eighth grade. She’s been there. Well, she wasn’t there for the hardest parts, but those things happened before we were friends.

Anyway. That’s how I know Scott and I are supposed to be together. I’ve never been so sure about anything in my entire life.

There’s always drama at the junior picnic.

For the past three years, major spectacles have occurred. Not
major
as in epic and intense.
Major
as in horrifying and wrong. Last year, Gina Valento went into labor reaching for a burger bun. Her water broke all over Mr. Feinburg’s nasty man-sandals. The year before, some kid broke this other boy’s nose for keying his car. And the year before that, Ms. Richter’s pants ripped open along the back seam. Like, a
lot
.

I really hope I’m not going to be part of the major junior picnic scandal everyone gossips about next year.

Scott Abrams is over with some other boys from the lacrosse team. He’s not like them. I mean, Scott has straight, sandy-blond hair and very light-blue eyes and he’s six feet tall, so he instantly fits in with any group of physically privileged boys. But I’ve been watching Scott long enough to know who he really is. He listens closely when people talk to him. He radiates confidence in a way that makes you want to be his friend. And he’s really smart.

If you saw my report card, you wouldn’t think I’m smart at all. But if school actually interested me enough to care about getting decent grades, things might be different. Mom always says how smart I am. This is usually followed by a rant about how I should be doing better in school or how I’m lazy or how I’m throwing my life away by “not working to my full potential.” So the part where she says I’m smart gets annihilated.

Mom wasn’t always this harsh with me. Before Dad moved out, she was much easier to get along with. Everything changed when he left us. It’s like he was the glue holding us together. He moved out when I was eleven. It’s been six long years of a strained relationship with my mom, which I don’t think we’ll ever be able to fix.

He ruined everything.

April pokes me.

Was I staring again? I was probably staring again.

Note to self: stop staring at Scott Abrams.

“Are you still going to do it?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

“Do what?” Candice says. “Here’s your lemonade.”

“Oh, thanks,” I say, taking the cup from her. “Um—”

April flashes me a look. “Brooke was just saying how she’s getting that bag she wants,” she tells Candice.

“The one from Mandee?” Candice goes.

“The one and only,” I confirm. “We belong together.”

“Is it on sale?”

“No, but there are only two left and I know if I don’t get it I’ll be mad at myself.” I’ve been watching this bag for a few weeks now, waiting for it to go on sale. It’s black with silver trim. Those are my colors.

“Oh, there’s Jill—let’s go ask her about next week,” April says to Candice. I know what April’s thinking. The threat of leaving me alone to make a fool of myself in front of Scott is less serious than the threat of me telling Candice that I like him. So April drags her away, glancing back at me with pleading eyes like,
Don’t do it!

Scott is still hanging out with the lacrosse team. I don’t know how I’m going to get him alone. When I suddenly decided to tell him yesterday, my decision didn’t come with instructions.