So Much Closer (16 page)

Hoots abound. What a bunch of geeks. Who else would get so excited about a low-rent shirt and some coffee?

“The runners-up will receive free drinks and Cracker Jack prizes!” Bill continues. “And third prize is a tasty snack.”

“Do we have to split the snack?” the guy in the back shouts.

Bill’s all, “Sounds like it’s time to turn on those brain cells!”

John is excited. When John gets worked up, it’s even harder for him to sit still. It’s like all of his nervous energy whips up into a frenzy that’s impossible to contain. He’s jiggling his leg, which is making his chair rattle.

He passes our team answer form to me. “Want to do the honors? Write our names in?”

In the box at the top, I write:

“What do we put for our team name?” I ask John.

“What do you want to put?”

“I don’t know. What’s your regular team’s name?”

“Endoplasmic Reticulum.”

I look at Scott and Sadie. “What do you guys think it should be?”

“Blood Sugars?” Sadie suggests.

“Why?”

“Because I love that band. And it sounds cool.”

“I think our name should have more significance,” John says. “It should be something that describes all of us.”

Scott goes, “So ... what are we?”

That’s a question I’m dying to ask him. Here we are, sitting with our friends who don’t even know about us yet. Why isn’t Scott telling them that we’re together? Does he want to keep it a secret? He hasn’t even touched me the whole time we’ve been here, except for one second when his elbow accidentally jabbed my arm.

“We’re two New Yorkers and two New Jerseyans,” Sadie decides.

“How about Two New?” Scott says.

John considers this. “Tell you what. Let’s put that down for now, and if we think of anything better we can change it.”

“Works for me,” I say, writing it in.

“First round!” Bill booms into the mic. The mic retaliates with a high-pitched whine of feedback. “The category is ... Top Tens.”

The first few questions are crazy obscure. John writes in a few answers. The rest of us are completely lost.

Then Bill goes, “Question four has two parts. Which eighties television show featured nightly top ten lists and what year did it premiere? ”

“Letterman!” Sadie hisses.

“
The Late Show
,” Scott adds, reaching for John’s pencil.

“No!” I say too loudly. Then I hunch over the table. The tables are clustered so closely together that other teams could be spying on us. “It wasn’t called that before,” I explain, lowering my voice. “It was
Late Night with David Letterman
.”

“Are you sure?” John asks.

“I own this one.” I write it in, buzzing on adrenaline over knowing an answer. “It came on in 1982.”

“Righteous,” John goes. “I had no idea.”

“This is disturbingly hard,” Sadie says.

Scott leans over to me and whispers, “That’s what she said.”

I crack up. Sadie and John look at us.

“What?” John says.

“It’s an
Office
thing,” I tell him. I smack Scott’s arm.

“Ow,” he goes.

“As if.”

“As
if
,” he mocks. I don’t know why he’s acting so immature instead of acting like part of a couple. I want to jump up on the table, command Bill to shine a spotlight on me, and announce to everyone that Scott and I are together. But I don’t think Scott would do any of that.

After the first five rounds, there’s an intermission. People line up at the counter for more drinks. A few baristas go around clearing empty mugs and glasses from the tables. One of them reaches for my mug from across the table.

“Beer me that mug,” Scott says.

I pass it to him, all giggly. I don’t know who this mug-passing giggly girl is. I just know that I love our inside
Office
jokes. It’s like we have our own private language or something.

“Is there a reason you guys are keeping all the good jokes to yourselves?” Sadie asks.

I really want to tell them about us. I give Scott a look like,
Can I tell them?
He shrugs, all casual about it.

“Um.” I mash my lips together to quit giggling. “We’re ... together now.”

“Like ...
together
together?” Sadie says.

“
Together
together,” I confirm.

“When did this happen?” John asks.

“Last night,” I say, gazing at Scott. I can feel myself getting girlier by the second. I still can’t believe this is real.

“That’s awesome!” Sadie gushes. “You guys are so cute together!”

John stares at me.

“Oh!” Sadie goes. “I almost forgot.” She digs around in her massive bag, pulling out some Bliss Body Butter samples. “For you.”

“Thanks! I love this stuff.” I rub some body butter into my hands.

“Smells nice,” Scott observes.

John stares some more.

Things get worse when the next round starts. We were doing pretty well before the break. John knows a lot of random facts. There was a Literary Classics round that I rocked. Not because I’m into literary classics, but because I remember most of that tedium from English classes past. Between Scott and Sadie, we knew a few more answers. But now things are different. No one knows anything about dead presidents. The round after that is Science in the City. John was just telling me about Manhattanhenge the other day, so when Bill asks, “On which two dates will Manhattanhenge take place next year?” I shove the answer form at John, all excited that we finally know something again.

Except John just sits there, staring at his pencil.

“Hello?” I say. “You were just telling me about Manhattanhenge the other day.”

“Was I?”

“Come on! I know you know this!”

John gives me a defeated look. “Give it a rest,” he says. “We’re not in tutoring.” He doesn’t write anything.

I try to figure it out based on what he told me. Everyone else sips their coffees.

This isn’t awkward at all.

“Did you guys arrange the matching before?” Scott asks, pointing at me and Sadie. I have on a shiny silver shirt with a black cardigan and Sadie’s wearing a sparkly black shirt with a gray, cropped sweater.

“No,” Sadie says. “There’s a lot Brooke forgot to tell me before.” Her eyes are screaming,
I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about Scott!
I try to make my eyes say,
Dude, I’ll tell you later.
But it’s really hard to communicate that in a look.

The next round involves a basket of peppers. Each one is labeled with a number. We have to identify each type of pepper.

“Please tell me one of you knows something about peppers,” Sadie begs.

“Sorry,” Scott says. “I’m out.”

“Number four might be jalapeño,” I offer.

John scowls at the peppers.

“Wait.” Sadie picks up number seven. “I think this one’s cayenne. My mom sometimes tortures us with them when she’s in a culinary mood.”

We write down our best guesses. John slides the paper in front of him and writes
serrano
for number nine.

When the last round starts, I’m relieved that it’s almost time to go. John has completely shut down. I mean, he probably seems fine to Scott and Sadie, but I know something’s wrong. His energy level has dipped. He’s actually sitting still.

This one’s an audio round, where Bill will play three-second clips of each song. We have to record both the title of the song and the musician. The first two clips are impossible. When the third song comes on Scott and I both go, “I know this one!” Then we’re cracking up and yelling for the answer sheet and fighting over a pencil.

It would have been sweet if Two New (we never thought of a better name) bested everyone else. But we didn’t. Not even close. Those trivia-night teams are hardcore. It also would have been sweet if I got to spend the rest of the night alone with Scott. But his brother’s supposed to call soon and Scott said he really didn’t feel like hanging out. I was hoping he’d kiss me before he left. That didn’t happen, either. He just gave me a quick hug and took off. John was still in a stank mood when he left. So it’s just me and Sadie, walking home together.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Scott?!” Sadie yells.

“It was too late to call you last night. I was going to tell you on the way over.”

“It’s so cool that you guys are together.”

“I know.”

“How did it happen? Tell me everything.”

I tell her everything.

“That,” Sadie says, “is intense. You freaking
moved
here for him! How romantic is that?”

“I’m just relieved it worked out.”

“You totally belong together. Not that I’m surprised or anything.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just that I knew you liked him.”

“How?”

“Um, because I’ve seen you in the same room with him? It’s kind of obvious.”

This is news. I thought I was being discreet.

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew?” I ask.

Sadie takes out a pack of gum. It’s that rainbow-stripe kind with the giraffe. “It wasn’t any of my business. I figured you’d tell me if you wanted me to know. And after you agreed to be a tutor, I really didn’t want to push it.”

“After you
harassed
me to be a tutor.”

“Did not.”

“So did.”

Sadie chews her gum. She offers me a piece. I take a green one. “Okay, maybe I went after your big brain because I knew you would rule. You have to admit it’s fun, right?”

“Hmph.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Maybe.”

“Oh, you like it!” A biker zips past us at the corner, narrowly missing our noses by about two millimeters. My heart races at the near-death encounter. Sadie is unfazed. “You’re so lucky. I wish Carlos would show up at my door and kiss me.”

“Well, maybe he would if he knew you liked him.”

“Why should we have to do all the work?”

“Not that Scott
said
he likes me. I mean, I’m assuming he likes me because he kissed me, but then what was with tonight? He didn’t even touch me the whole time. And when he left he was all like, ‘See ya.’ Like I was just a friend or something.”

“At least you’re friends with him. Carlos doesn’t even know I exist.” Sadie darts across the street in the middle of the block. I run after her. I’m getting used to her frenzied walking habits, but it’s still impossible to predict where she’ll zigzag next.

“He knows you exist,” I say. “You can’t get all flustered the way you do around him without him knowing you exist.”

“What if he doesn’t, though? What if I ask him out and he’s like, ‘Have we met?’ ”

“You’ll never know unless—”

“Or worse! What if he has a girlfriend? I would totally be humiliating myself for nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.”

“It is to him.”

“Only because you’re not giving him a chance to make it something. If I assumed that nothing would ever happen with Scott, I wouldn’t even be here right now. Don’t you think I was scared moving here, starting at a new school, not knowing anybody, living with my dad after not even seeing him for six years? We’re all scared that people will disappoint us. You think you know someone and then ...”

“I can’t believe you followed Scott here. You took this major risk. You’re so much braver than me.”

“No I’m not. I just never stopped believing that what I wanted could be real.”

This dream came true. The possibility that other dreams could also come true makes me want to turn my life into everything it can be.

Those couples that
celebrate ridiculous things like one-month anniversaries used to irritate me. I mean, really? Does being together for one month really deserve celebration? How is that such a profound accomplishment?

But now that I’m part of a couple, things are different. I don’t think celebrating our one-month anniversary is ridiculous at all. Not that I told Scott that’s what we’re doing today. I was hoping he’d bring it up. When he never did, I decided to keep the celebrating to myself. I’m not sure why I didn’t tell him about it. Maybe I was worried he’d think it’s stupid.

The middle of November isn’t normally the best time for outdoor stuff. But today is freakishly warm. Scott and I have this thing where we explore a new area every week. Today we’re doing Union Square. We’ve been walking around for half an hour and it’s already proven itself to be highly explorable territory.

That whole weirdness when Scott wouldn’t kiss me or hold my hand is over. All I can think about is making out with him. All I look forward to is the next time we can make out. The parts of my day when I’m not kissing him are unbearable.

“Let’s go in here,” Scott says.

“Where? The playground?”

“Like you never get an urge to swing.”

“All the time. How did you know?”

Scott gently presses me back against the fence. “Because I know you,” he says. He presses up against me. Then he kisses me.

A mother passing by with two kids eyes us sharply.

“We should probably wait,” I say.

“I hate waiting.”

“I know.”

At the entrance to the playground, there’s a sign that says you can’t go in unless you have a child with you. But no one’s watching, so we slip in.

“No way!” Scott runs ahead. I follow him. “Talk tubes!”

“Oh, I love these!” I haven’t played with talk tubes in forever. Every time we went on a field trip to the science museum, I’d hog them. How cool is New York for having them in playgrounds?

We take over the talk tubes. I tell Scott how I used to hog them at the science museum. He tells me what he’s going to do to me when we get back to his room.