The Last Dance (16 page)

Q sat down at the piano, but he only played for a few minutes before he stopped. His fingers were still resting on the ivory keys when he turned toward me.

“Ivy, I’ve been wanting to ask you something for awhile.”

My heart skipped a beat. “What is it?”

“If you could have your pick of any college—where do you want to go?”

I’d never actually given an honest answer to that question before—not even to my parents. I always cloaked the truth in several options. I guess I didn’t want to say it out loud for fear I wasn’t accepted and then would have to admit my failure. But now, for some reason, I told the truth.

“I’d like to go to Harvard. That way I could make both my parents and myself happy. That would be my first choice.”

He nodded. “They’d be lucky to have you.” He slid sideways and straddled the bench facing me. “Would you study music?”

I blinked. No one ever asked me that question. Everyone just assumed that I would study medicine. But the truth was, I had other plans. “I’ve never really told anyone this before, but yes, I’d like to.”

The surprising thing was, he didn’t look surprised at all.

“Have you always known what you wanted to do?” Q’s words were hushed.

I nodded. “I’ve known for a long time. My parents started me on the violin and piano at age three. They are very—” I hesitated, searching for the right word— “
focused.
I excelled at both instruments so they became more focused. But I think their intent was simply to develop my brain so I would be better prepared to pursue medicine as a career.”

“They want you to be a doctor?”

I nodded. “I never had the heart, or the nerve—” I shook my head at my own lameness— “I don’t know what—but I never told them I had a different dream.”

Q was quiet for a moment. “My sister knew from the fifth grade what she wanted to do, too.”

“What about you?” I ventured. “Have you always known?”

“Me?” He leaned his head back to gaze at the ceiling. When he looked back at me, his words were hushed. “I always loved to play football, but mostly because I was so good at it. I was always tall for my age and athletic—it just came easily to me. Then over time, everybody just expected me to keep playing.” One side of his mouth lifted in a smile that was more mocking then genuine. “After awhile I forgot there were other choices.” He fanned his hands in front of himself. “They told me I was going to be a star.” His expression sobered. “I’d never once considered that the choice might be taken away from me. And certainly not now—right when my dream of playing Pac-12 ball was just about to come true.”

I could see the raw wound in his expression, hear it in his voice. The emotions he tried to hide all the time were painfully obvious.

“That’s why I work so hard at getting better,” he said softly. “I’m not sure what else I’m good enough to do.”

There was something so brutally honest about him—so fragile—I dropped my guard and put my hand over his. “But Q, there are always other choices.”

All the swagger and self-confidence that used to emanate from him when he strutted down the hallways were gone.

“Yeah, but can we choose them, Ivy?” We sat frozen, searching each other’s eyes – recognizing our own reflection in the other. He ran his fingertips along the side of my face, so soft and gentle. “Will we?”

A longing filled me until I wasn’t even sure what we were talking about anymore.

“Will you do me a favor, Ivy?”

At that moment I would do just about anything for him.

“Do you remember when I asked you to play your favorite song?” His hand dropped and he threaded his fingers through mine. I felt like I was melting from the inside out.

I nodded. Of course I remembered. I had shocked myself by really playing the song that meant the most to me.

“Will you play it again today?” I couldn’t define the conflicting emotions I saw in his face—I was too chicken to ask. “Play it for you and me?”

My breath caught in my throat. They were simple words that didn’t convey a simple meaning.
For you and me.
It said something and nothing at the same time. Without admitting anything, it said everything.

“Yes,” I whispered.

We switched places and his hand trailed along my back before he sat down in the chair. I put my hands on the keys and looked once at his face, his beautiful face that I had memorized long ago, then I closed my eyes and played from my heart. All the sadness and confusion, the guilt and longing poured out through my fingers. I cried through the music. I held the last note, letting it ring and ache, like my heart did.

I opened my eyes and looked over at him. The silence between us stretched, like a tenuous thread that connected our hearts.

His hair fell across his forehead and shadowed his eyes. On the outside, he looked like a Cali surfer boy, all beautiful and sexy. But the pain in his eyes told me that inside was a different story.

“I look at you, Ivy,” he said softly, “and you can do so much. You have so much talent, you’re so smart…”

“Stop it.” I scooted to the edge of the piano bench. My fingers brushed his warm skin as I swept his hair out of his eyes. I cupped the sides of his face with my hands—the growth along his jaw rough against my fingers. My heart ached with the love I had for this man-boy.

“Q, you are a star,” I whispered. “You’re so smart, such a hard worker. Everyone loves you.” I spoke slowly. “You are meant to do great things. You inspire others to do great things.” I smoothed his hair again, loving the feel of it against my fingers, the chance to just touch him. “You
will
do great things. I know it. Just follow your heart. The rest will fall into place.” And then I kissed him. With all my heart.

He kissed me back, so tender and sweet. His hand crept up and entwined in my hair and he pulled me closer. His lips parted mine and our tongues met. I could taste him, tangy-sweet like cherry coke, and smell the fresh scent of soap on his skin. I loved every thing about him.

“Ivy.” He pulled back, his voice soft, his fingers still wrapped in my hair. “We have to talk.”

I sat back. Dread replacing desire. Don’t make me say it. Plead ignorance. “About what?” For just this one moment I’d given into my feelings. No one would ever know.

“About us.” He pushed himself out of the chair and slid onto the bench beside me. His blue eyes bored straight into my soul. “We can’t keep pretending there’s nothing happening here.”

“Q.” My voice sounded small, which is how I felt. “There can’t be an ‘us’.” My heart broke with every word.

His brows pulled down in a frown. “Why not?”

My eyes pleaded for understanding. “Because my best friend has been crazy about you for over a year. It would break her heart if you and I went out.” A single tear slipped from the corner of my eye. “I could never do that to her.”

“Are you talking about Mira?” He sounded shocked.

I nodded. “Remember what she told you that first day in study hall?”

“You can’t be serious.” He honestly didn’t seem to know that Mira thought she loved him. “Who says something like that and actually
means
it?”

“Mira.” I ran my hand along his cheek, looking up into his blue eyes. I needed to soak it all up in this moment because I knew we would never be here again.

“Ivy, I like Mira but I wouldn’t date her in a million years.” He sounded desperate. “I think about you all the time—I wonder what you’re doing, if you’d like certain things. I
miss
you when you’re not here. I’ve never felt like this about anybody before.” He cupped my face in his large hands. “I want to be with
you
, Ivy, not Mira.” Then he kissed me again—slow and sweet and wonderful.

“Hey guys!” Mira’s voice called from around the corner. “Are you ready to go to study hall?”

We jerked apart just as her stunned voice said, ‘What the
hell
is going on here?”

Chapter Thirty-Two

Kellen

I
vy jerked away like somebody had stabbed her. Our heads swiveled toward Mira at the exact same moment. I’ll never forget the look on Mira’s face right then: her mouth hanging open in shock. A pair of felt reindeer antlers were perched on her head and they bobbed with little jingly bells. But in that split-second it was like everything was frozen in time, even the bells. Then Mira turned and ran. Before I could even open my mouth, Ivy jumped off the piano bench and ran after her.

“Ivy—wait!” I called after her.

“I can’t! I’ve got to explain this to Mira.” Then she disappeared out the door. I swung around on the piano bench and stared at the black and white keys. How did Ivy think she could undo the truth?

IVY WAS GONE. She had told me they were flying out first thing Saturday morning. It felt like part of me had gone with her. There was so much left unsaid between us.

When Ivy ran after Mira but they’d both apparently left school because I couldn’t find either one of them again before classes ended.

I called Ivy later but she didn’t pick up. I sent her three text messages. Finally on the last one she responded. I looked at it again on my phone for about the millionth time:
Q I’m sorry. I let things go too far. I can’t do this right now. I’ll talk to you when I get back.

My emotions, which I’d thought were finally beginning to level out after my accident, were suddenly back on a roller coaster. And to top it all off, Laurel came up to me at the end of study hall and suggested we get together during break. Talk about timing. She hadn’t talked to me in three months and she had to pick today, of all days, to break the ice?

What a shitty way to start vacation.

THREE DAYS LATER Ollie and I were stretched out in the recliners at his house playing Halo 3. For the first time in a long time I was kicking his butt. His parents were at work and it was just the two of us down in the basement. The shades were drawn like usual and the room was mostly dark.

“How’s Jazzy?” I ventured, not sure if he wanted to talk about it or not.

“I guess she’s okay. We haven’t talked much lately.” Ollie sounded glum.

“Do your parents know?”

“Not yet.” He jerked his joystick up as he tried to make his vehicle jump a gap in the grid but he didn’t make it and exploded in a ball of flames. He dropped his hands in his lap with a dejected sigh. “They’re gonna fuckin’
freak
.” He flopped his head back against the cushion. “God, I can’t even think about it. It makes me want to throw up.”

I paused the game. I felt depressed for him. Or maybe I felt depressed for me. Or maybe I felt depressed for both of us. Shit - when did life get so messed up? I wanted the rewind button – to go back to the day of the Homecoming Dance and start over. “What’s Jazzy want to do?”

He rolled his head over to look at me. “You have to ask?”

I ran my hand through my hair and let my head flop back against the cushion too. “Damn.”

“I know. And I love Jazzy. I do. It’s just—
God.”

We sat in silence for a few minutes.

“How’s it goin’ with the tutor?”

I let out a deep sigh. “Rocky.”

“Yeah. Hasn’t she got a boyfriend?”

I wondered how Ollie possibly knew that. “Yeah. And there’s some other shit goin’ on too.”

Ollie started the game again. “Forget her, man. Chicks aren’t worth it. Get yourself well and go play ball at U-Dub. You’ll have it made. With your looks—you’ll be able to get any girl you want.”

I THOUGHT ABOUT Ollie’s advice as I laid in bed that night staring into the darkness. The problem was, I didn’t want any girl—I wanted Ivy.

MY RIGHT FOOT and leg had improved enough that my parents finally agreed to let me drive again. It was a thrill to get back behind the wheel of my F150 truck and regain some independence.

I worked out harder than ever during Christmas break. Not only at the gym, but at the piano as well. Coach had asked me to come in and talk about making some updated training films after break that we could send out to the scouts who had offered.

There were some days I was so freakin’ tired I wasn’t sure I could climb the stairs to my room. But there was no doubt things were improving.

WE CELEBRATED CHRISTMAS at our house. My older sister, Julie, was home from college and my mom’s sister and her family always came to celebrate with us. My cousins were close in age to Julie and I. We’d grown up together, though they’d gone to Bellevue, but I didn’t hold that against them. Besides, we’d beaten Bellevue this year.

We were all sitting around the dinner table, stuffing ourselves, when Ronnie, my cousin who was a year old than me, asked me how I was doing.

“Pretty good,” I said. “I can actually hold a football in my right hand again.” I usually tried to answer questions about my health quickly and get on to other topics. I didn’t want to talk about all the things I couldn’t do now.

“You’re not thinking of playing football again, are you?” he asked.

I paused with a bite halfway to my mouth and looked at him in surprise. “Of course I am.”

“Dude,” he gave me an incredulous look, “you’re damn lucky you weren’t a permanent stroke victim. Why would you take the chance of messin’ yourself up again? Do you have any idea how long it’ll take your brain to totally heal from the damage it’s already suffered?”

I saw my mom and dad exchange a look. An odd silence settled over the table. I slowly lowered my fork to the plate, suddenly pissed.

“No, Ronnie. I don’t know. How long?”

“Years, man. If ever. Your brain probably had to completely rewire that section. Don’t you remember they had to drill a hole in your head to take the pressure off so your skull didn’t explode—”

My aunt cut him off. “Ron, that’s enough.”

“What?” He looked over at his mother. “I’m trying to save Kellen from ending up being a vegetable…”

“Enough.” The warning glare my aunt gave him should have made his hair sizzle.

I glanced over at my sister, who was sitting next to Ronnie, but she dropped her eyes. Something twisted in my stomach. What the hell was going on?

“It’s okay, Aunt Sheila,” I said, scooping up a big bite of mashed potatoes. “Thanks for the warning, Ron.” I wondered how Ivy’s Christmas dinner was going.