The Last Dance (13 page)
Authors: Kiki Hamilton
I sent her a text:
Hey Mira, it’s Kellen. I had to leave early today. Can you let Ivy know?
I punched send, feeling a lot better. There. I’d told her. There was no reason for her to be pissed. Then I sent a second message:
Hv a good break.
I shoved my phone into my back pocket with a sigh of relief. I was free for four days.
WE ENDED UP hanging at Ollie’s house. He had a great Xbox 360 set-up in their basement and both of his parents worked. Nobody would know we’d cut class. I’d practiced enough at home with a joystick that I could at least hold my own again in a game of Halo. It felt like it had been forever since I’d just hung out with my friends.
“So what’s the latest with Jazzy?” I asked Ollie. I was stretched out in one of the recliner portions of their big brown leather couch. CJ was in the other one, with Ollie on the floor leaning back against the couch in the middle. The shades were pulled and the room was dark, lit only by one lamp and the glow of the 65” TV. “Any marriage plans yet?” I joked.
Ollie and Jazzy had been going out since the beginning of their sophomore year. I didn’t think either of them had dated anyone else. We called them the old married couple. At least they didn’t make out in the halls all the time like they used to the first year they went out.
“What’s Jazzy gonna do when you go play college ball?” CJ asked, as he jerked his joystick to shoot somebody. “Damn! Missed him.”
“Jazzy’s applying to colleges too, isn’t she?” I asked as I missed three easy shots and took a bullet to the heart. Shit. “I mean, you don’t know if you’re going to end up at the same school, right?”
“Yeah.” Ollie said. “I don’t know.” Something in his tone made me glance over at him.
“What?”
Ollie had a sick look on his face. “Jazzy’s pregnant.”
M
ira told me at lunch that she’d gotten a text from Q. I didn’t even ask how he had her cell number. He’d never asked me for mine.
“Good,” I said, munching on a piece of celery like I could care less. “I need to practice my piano piece for the Christmas concert anyway.”
“What are you doing over Thanksgiving?” Mira asked. She was the Union Jack today. Her entire shirt looked like a replica of the British flag and her skinny leg pants were red. Her hair had streaks of blue and she wore white fingerless gloves, which very nicely showcased fingernails painted like the Union Jack too. I wondered how long that had taken her. Possibly an entire episode of Ellen.
In contrast, I wore jeans and a black sweater. It was all about balance. “We’re going to my uncle’s. You know Vietnamese families—lots of relatives. What about you?”
“Staying home. My grandma’s coming over. Want to do something on Friday?” She was eating a Twinkie. As her main dish.
“Yep. Call me.” We headed our different directions for fourth period. Since Q was gone, I decided to practice my own piano pieces during fifth period. It was a little weird being there without him—at first I kept expecting him to walk in, but after I started playing I forgot about him. The piece I was playing for the showcase was complicated and I was still working on memorizing part of it. I had to repeat some passages over and over. Almost thirty minutes had passed when I finished with a flourish.
Someone starting clapping behind me. Surprised, I turned to see who it was.
Brandon stood leaning against the door jamb. “You’re amazing, Ivy.” He stood up and walked toward me. “Your playing is so effortless. You’re going to have colleges beating down the door to get you.”
I laughed, pleased with his compliment. “I wish.”
He stopped next to the bench and look at the empty chair behind the pillar. “Where’s Kellen Peterson today?”
I shrugged. “He had an appointment or something. Which is great,” I added in a hurry. “I needed some time to practice.”
Brandon nodded. He looked like he was going to say something then he seemed to change his mind. “Want to go boarding over the weekend?”
I perked up. I loved to snowboard. The snow had come early this year and the ski resorts were open for the Thanksgiving weekend. “Sure.” Then I sobered. Could I give up an entire day of studying to go to the mountains for fun?
As if reading my mind, Brandon said, “C’mon Ivy, we’re only young once.”
I laughed. “You’re right. Which day are we going?”
THE FOUR DAY WEEKEND flew by. Between cooking for and celebrating Thanksgiving, catching up on homework and music practice, and going snowboarding with Brandon, I hardly thought about Q at all. Which was a huge relief. I didn’t want to think about him. Even Mira took a break from talking about him, for which I was very grateful. By the time Monday rolled around I’d put our relationship back into a healthy context again. Whatever my momentarily flight of fancy had been about the guy—it was gone.
I WAS ALREADY seated in first period when Q got to class on Monday. By now, the other kids always left a seat open next to me for him and vice versa. I smiled at him when he slid into the seat about five seconds before the tardy bell was going to ring. He always made it to class with barely seconds to spare.
“Nice timing,” I whispered. It only took about two seconds for his physical presence to blow my hair back. Sweet shizzle sauce that guy was good-looking.
He wore a tight black Nike zip-up jacket that showed off his broad shoulders and muscular arms. His blondy-brown hair still looked a bit damp, like he’d showered fifteen minutes before he ran out the door. The ends twisted in little wavy curls that most girls paid a ton of money to get. The cut of his jaw was the stuff that made movie stars famous and dark lashes fringed his magnetic blue eyes. The whole package added up to beautiful. But there was something different about him today that I couldn’t put my finger on. Was it that he looked more rested? Then I realized what it was: Q looked happy.
Class hadn’t formally started as Mrs. Cooper, the Calculus teacher, was still messing around with some papers at the front of the class.
Q leaned across the aisle to talk to me. That was new. “How was your break?”
I nodded. “Good.”
His elbow rested on the desk and he turned sideways in the seat so he could face me. “Sorry I bailed on Wednesday. I had a friend who needed some help. Did you get my message?”
I blinked. Wow. He was a Chatty Kathy this morning. Must’ve had a strong cup of joe for breakfast. “You mean the one you sent Mira?” I replied. My voice sounded drier than I intended.
“Yeah, well—” for a second he actually looked embarrassed— “I didn’t have your cell number. She told you though, right?” He smiled at me, not caring about the wacky side of his mouth. He seemed so
earnest
, I didn’t really know what to think. “And did she tell you that I said to have a nice break?”
Mira hadn’t told me that part. I was trying to decide if he was joking or not when he kept talking.
“So, can I get your cell number now? You know—” he gave me the sexy half-grin and raised his eyebrows at me— “for emergency purposes?”
My heart skipped a beat. This kind of behavior from Q was not in my healthy context plan. What sort of defense does any girl have against innate charm? Especially in the form of the once-star quarterback? I rattled off my cell number and I’ll be damned if he didn’t enter it into his phone right then. Mrs. Cooper started the class, but that didn’t slow Q down at all. At least he slid around to face forward in his seat, but he turned his head toward me and kept talking.
“Do you want mine?” he whispered.
Was he serious? I quickly reviewed the rules of engagement when one is flustered and buying time to think: Feign ignorance and repeat the question. “Your what?”
“My cell number.” He sounded a bit exasperated. “Here.” Before I could stop him, he grabbed my hand, turned it over and wrote his cell number in black ink on my palm. 9526548. Even though I only looked at the numbers for a few seconds I swear they were burned into my brain for eternity.
“Mr. Peterson, do you have a question?” Mrs. Cooper was glaring at us.
He straightened up and smiled, capping his pen with a snap. “No Ma’m. Ivy did.” I gasp-snorted and made a face. “But I answered it for her.” He grinned at me like a little boy.
“That was very kind of you,” Mrs. Cooper said in a voice that didn’t sound like she thought he was kind at all. “In the future, Miss Ly, please direct your questions to me.” She turned and went back to the board. I debated about pointing out that I had already passed this stupid class but I knew she wouldn’t care.
“Funny.” I mouthed the word at Q.
He just smiled at me and then pulled out a notebook and started taking his own notes. Up until now, he’d let me take the notes. He peeked out of the corner of his eyes to see if I’d noticed. I raised my eyebrows at his right hand, awkwardly clutching the pen, and nodded in approval.
TEN MINUTES LATER my phone vibrated in my pocket. Mira and I often texted each other during the day. I pulled it out to see what she had to say. But the text wasn’t from Mira. It was from Q.
Want to go get coffee after school today?
O
n one hand, Ollie’s news was a shock. On the other hand, it wasn’t a surprise at all. Ollie and Jazzy had been doin’ it for over two years now. I would’ve thought they’d got the contraception thing figured out, but Ollie said he never thought one time without protection would make any difference.
One freakin’ time.
I really felt for the guy. For the first time in a long time, I felt sorry for someone besides myself. With my TBI I’d stood on the cliffs of hell and watched my football career disappear in the fiery abyss. But at least for me, there was a chance I could recover. Even if my arm and leg didn’t get any better, I could still go to college, party, travel the world—whatever.
For Ollie—the dude just did a swan dive into the flames. Pretty hard to do anything but work your ass off for the rest of your life with a wife and kid to support. Assuming he got married and Jazzy had the baby. He hadn’t really said what their plans were. And how far would he get without a college degree? Plus, he was a gifted football player. It had been his dream to play college ball as much as it’d been mine.
I thought a lot about Ollie and life over the four day weekend. About what I wanted to achieve, about what was important to me. And who I wanted to be.
“SO, HOW ABOUT IT?” I asked Ivy as we left first period. “You didn’t answer my text. Want to go get coffee after school? The Java Hut has these new mini donuts with chocolate sprinkles that are killer.” Ivy walked slowly enough so my limp was hardly noticeable. I realized for the first time that she did it on purpose, though she’d probably never admit it. She was so tiny she barely reached my shoulder. I had a strange urge to put my arm around her and help her navigate the crowded hallway. Not that she needed my help. “Plus, we could work on that science project.”
She didn’t look at me. Instead she held her books to her chest and stared straight ahead. “That sounds fun, but Mira always gives me a ride home after school.”
I thought about that for a minute. “Great! Maybe Mira could come too?” I had to pause and turn sideways to fit my shoulders through the crush of kids. I got caught in the flow as Ivy kept moving forward, forcing me to hop-skip to catch up. I laughed. “Especially since she’s the only one with a car. I still haven’t got the okay to drive.”
Ivy turned and looked up at me, her face perfectly blank. Her black eyes were shadowed by silver-grey makeup. Her lips were the color of crushed cranberries against her tan skin. She was fragile and perfect. The thought of kissing her flitted through my head again. I grinned. God – what a scene that would cause.
Ivy raised her eyebrows. “Why don’t you ask her?”
I got the funny feeling something was wrong, but I wasn’t sure what it could be. “Good idea. I’ll text her.”
“Good idea.”
WE DIDN’T GET a chance to talk in science. Mr. Pruitt was a dick—it wasn’t worth trying to mess with him. But Mira responded to my text with lots of exclamation points after her ‘yes’ and one of those little smiley-face things that looked like it was blowing a kiss. I moved my phone closer to my face and squinted at the little picture then moved it farther away. Whatever. I gave Ivy a thumbs up to let her know Mira’s answer. She just nodded and smiled.
Third period was French, which Mira had too. I don’t remember ever seeing her in my class before Ivy started tutoring me, but apparently she’d always been there. It seemed impossible that I could have missed her with all those crazy outfits she wore but apparently I had.
The three of us sat together now and lately Tank Bergstrom had been hanging around too. I didn’t really know the guy, other than he was a total head and was really into his music. But he seemed nice enough and he definitely got the material better than I did at this point. Would my brain ever be normal again?
I HAD BEEN practicing hard on the piano and it was finally beginning to show. My fingers were starting to work better and I was remembering the notes easier. Four years of lessons had to have formed some kind of synapses in my brain, right? Ivy seemed pleased with my progress and was very encouraging.
“That’s excellent, Q! I can tell how much you’ve been practicing. It’s really paying off, you’re doing great.”
You’d think I’d get tired of hearing it—but I didn’t. I loved it. Especially coming from her, because I don’t think she’d pay me a compliment unless she meant it. It was weird, but it made me want to try harder—just to make her proud of me.
When there was only fifteen minutes left in the period I got up and motioned for her to sit on the piano bench. “Your turn.”
She waved me off like she wasn’t going to play as I worked my gimpy self out from behind the piano.
“Forget it, Ivy. You promised.” Before she could move I slipped my hands under her arms and picked her up. She half-shrieked in surprise. She couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred and ten. My right arm didn’t hold up quite as well as my left, but it was enough to get her over to the bench. I sort-of dropped her in place, then leaned forward to speak in her ear. “A deal’s a deal.”
