The Start of Me and You (7 page)

Without any of my friends beside me, I wove through crowds of people. I situated myself at the edge of the tall
deck and took a deep breath. Below, kids in my grade splashed each other, bare skin against blue pool water. The water rippled as it moved, and I imagined the little waves as tiny hands, waiting to grab on and pull them down. My throat thickened, but I forced a slow inhale. No one was going to drown. They were all safe.

The warm breeze lifted my bangs off my forehead, and I didn’t bother to fix them.

Someone leaned on the railing next to me, arms crossed the same way as mine. I glanced over to see Ryan Chase, inches away and likewise surveying the swimmers.

“Hey,” he said, smiling over at me. His eyes looked as wildly blue as the pool.

“Hey.”

“Is your hair different?”

Words, Paige. Say them
. “Bangs.”

“Nice.” When he smiled, crinkles formed at the sides of his eyes. I’d never noticed before. Maybe they made him look a little older, but I was charmed—here was a boy whose happiness had already left its mark on his face.

Through fluttering eyelashes and a shy smile, I managed, “Thanks.”

Step back, ladies: eyelash batting and monosyllabic responses. Obviously, I had this completely under control.

Before I could recover from this verbal blundering, Ryan Chase’s face morphed. His mouth creased in concern and
worst of all, he touched my elbow. It was, undeniably, That Look. Voice drenched in pity, he said, “I think it’s great that you came tonight.”

My head sagged, shoulders slumping. But then I remembered: the gossip and watchful eyes found Ryan Chase here, too—everyone, even me, silently evaluating how he was doing post-Leanne. So I took a chance. “Thanks. You, too.”

This caught him off guard, his eyebrows flinching. Oh, God—I’d overstepped. And the award for World’s Clunkiest Flirtation goes to … Paige “the Social Boundary Violator” Hancock! But then Ryan flashed me a sad, knowing smile. “I’m trying.”

I nodded, trying not to show my relief. “Yeah. I am, too.”

We stood there together, kindred for a moment—here but separate from our classmates, each dealing with something private in a public setting. I understood, and he knew I did.

“There you are.” Tessa leaned in beside me, and Ryan’s eyes shifted to her. Morgan and Kayleigh weren’t far behind.

“Here I am,” I said weakly.

“Hey, Tessa.” Ryan stood up straighter.

“Hey,” she said, not bothering to make eye contact. She spun around, back against the railing.

“Tessa and I are new lunch table buddies,” Ryan told me.

My whole body seared with jealousy, and I wondered
why she hadn’t told me about sitting with Ryan at lunch. Probably because it wasn’t a big deal to her.

“You just missed Tessa schooling every guy here in darts,” Kayleigh said.

Tessa smiled to herself.

“Dart aficionado, eh?” Ryan Chase asked.

“There’s a dartboard at the Carmichael,” she said, as if he knew how much time she spent there.

He grinned, zeroing in on her completely. “So what’s your secret?”

Only then did she cast him a look. She mimed throwing a dart and then smiled smugly. “I’ve got the touch.”

“Oh, hey,” Kayleigh said to her. “Are you seeing Ursa Major at the Carmichael next month? My brother’s going to that.”

Tessa exhaled sharply, almost a snort. “Of course I’m going.”

She blocked Ryan Chase out as if he’d never been there and continued to chat with Kayleigh. Morgan glanced around the deck, combing the crowd for prospects. This seemed as good a time as any to duck out to the bathroom. Ryan Chase and I had shared a moment. Yes, Tessa’s tiny, blasé presence trumped me in an instant. But, eventually, he’d realize she wasn’t interested. Or so I told myself, as I made my way upstairs, where I was pleased to find no line at the bathroom door.

The door was already open a crack, so I didn’t even knock. But this wasn’t a bathroom at all. I took in a spacious office with a wide desk and a bookcase lining the entire back wall. And, in the back corner, a tall figure with dark hair, sitting perfectly still in a wingback chair.

“Oh my God.” I gasped, my hand flying to my chest in surprise. But I recognized him: Max Watson, Ryan Chase’s cousin.

“Uh … hey,” he said, looking up.

I exhaled. “You scared me.”

“I got bored,” he said, holding up the book in his hand so I could infer the rest.

“So you came in here to read?”

“Well, not exactly. I was looking for the bathroom, but it turns out that someone who lives here is really into John Irving. And so am I.”

I leaned closer to get a view of the book’s cover. “Is that
Owen Meany
?”

“It is,” he said, his eyebrows rising. “You’re on a first-name basis with this book?”

“I guess so. I love the closing lines.”

“Yeah,” Max said. “All the longing in the book is right there in the last two sentences.”

Barely repressing an amused smile, I crossed my arms. “You’ve read it before?”

“I have.” He pushed his glasses farther up on his nose.

“So you’re sitting in this office, alone, reading a book you’ve already read … ?”

He thought for a moment. “Seems that way.”

There was a pause, and I realized I was out of things to say. So I stumbled into an introduction. “I’m Paige, by the way.”

“I know,” he said. “I’m Max.”

“Right. English class.”

“Ms. Pepper told me you were considering QuizBowl.”

“Oh, right.” In all the drama with my parents, I’d totally forgotten. “Yeah, I am. You’re the captain, right?”

He saluted. “Aye-aye. I’m really only captain by default, though. The other two team members are super busy. I just have robotics team and Latin Club, so they said I should do it.”

“Robotics?” I asked. “Is that, like, building robots?”

“Pretty much,” he said, shrugging, and I decided I’d hit my awkwardness capacity.

“Well, have fun with John and Owen,” I said, backing out of the room. I knew Max was smart, but this was a committed and impressive display of nerdiness.

“Oh, I will,” he called as I shut the door.

I shook my head, brushing off our weird encounter. Even though Ryan had always been popular in school, it was common knowledge that Max was his closest friend. I’d even heard rumors that Max transferred back to Oakhurst
because Ryan was having a rough time. During the first week of school, I’d certainly noticed that Ryan wasn’t running with his usual crowd. Leanne still walked down the hallways flanked by the same group Ryan had always belonged to. Ryan seemed separate now, chatting with random track buddies or student council people in the hallway instead of his big clique of so-called friends.

By the time I found the real restroom and made my way back to my friends, Tessa had texted me:
This party is dead. Meet you at the car
.

I found Maggie to say good-bye and then made my way through the crowd. But, once outside, I was distracted by the black Jeep parked immediately in front of the house—Ryan Chase’s Jeep.

And leaning against Ryan Chase’s Jeep was Max Watson, arms crossed.

“You again,” I said, slowing my pace. I’d never seen Max Watson at a party before, and now he seemed to be everywhere.

“Me again,” he agreed. “Slightly less creepy this time.”

I smiled. “How was the book?”

“Excellent, as you know.”

“Well,” I said. “You missed an excellent party.” It wasn’t true, really, and my time probably would have been better spent reading or watching TV.

He shrugged. “I only came because my mom is on my
case about being ‘actively social’ now that I’m back at Oakhurst. Compared to Ryan, I think I seem like a recluse to her.”

“Ha,” I said, almost fully laughing at how close my own thoughts had been to his mother’s thoughts.

“Why is that funny?” He frowned. I stood close enough to see my reflection in his glasses. The bangs surprised me; an already forgotten addition.

“Only because …” My mind stumbled, searching. “My mom wishes I was more social, too.”

That wasn’t exactly true. After what happened with Aaron, my mom wanted me to have “healthy relationships,” but she preferred that I have friends over to our house, where she’d know I was safe. She almost forbade me from riding in Tessa’s car entirely. “Teen drivers have such a high rate of accidents,” she’d said.

“Ah,” Max said. “I thought you were making fun of me.”

“Never,” I lied, as a pang of guilt hit me. This was not good. I really needed Ryan Chase’s cousin to like me. Plus, if I stayed here talking to him long enough, Ryan Chase was bound to come to his car eventually. My friends could wait.

“Actually,” I said, buying some time, “when I was younger, I would sneak off at slumber parties to read whatever book I’d brought. My friends still make fun of me for it.”

He smiled genuinely now, but his eyes traveled above my head.

“You ready?” he asked someone behind me. I turned my head to find Ryan Chase, striding toward us.

“Yep,” Ryan said, jingling his car keys as evidence.

“See you Monday,” Max said to me as Morgan appeared on the sidewalk near the car, flagging me down.

“You coming?” she called to me.

“Yeah.” To the guys, I said, “See you later.”

“Bye, Paige,” Ryan said, like we were friends. I half expected his grin to have an actual glint to it, with a
Ding
! like a toothpaste commercial.

I hurried to a coy-looking Morgan. She crossed her arms. “They sent me on a search-and-rescue mission but, clearly, you needed no rescue. What did Ryan Chase say to you?”

“Um, he said, ‘Bye Paige.’ ”

“Oh. Well, he totally gave you the eyes.”

“I think that’s just … how his eyes are.”

“Dreamy? True.” She laughed as she pulled me toward Tessa’s car.

“Coffee?” Tessa asked, once we’d climbed in. It wasn’t really a question. She took the back roads with the windows down, and I closed my eyes, feeling my hair dance all around me.

I spilled my family drama to my friends after all, in two numb sentences. “My mom and dad have been dating each other for four months. My mom told me tonight.”

“Oh my
God
,” Kayleigh whispered, and Morgan elbowed her.

“Are you okay?” I knew Morgan well enough to expect this question first, along with her hand on my arm. Kayleigh slurped at her drink, and Tessa leaned a bit closer, our shoulders touching.

I shrugged. “I don’t think it matters. They’re dating, and that’s it.”

We were in the corner booth at Alcott’s, our usual spot on the nights when Tessa’s parents were actually at home. Sometimes we got drinks and talked the whole time. Other nights, we gathered our books or magazines of choice, alternately reading and laughing—at Kayleigh’s dramatic readings from
Cosmo
or Tessa’s scandalous facts from a rock star’s autobiography. This could go on for hours, tucked away from the rest of the world.

“Why didn’t you tell us earlier tonight?” Kayleigh frowned. “We could have skipped the party.”

I shrugged again. “I didn’t really want to talk about it.”

“That’s okay,” Morgan said. She twisted one pearl earring. “We don’t have to talk about it. We just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“It’s okay if you’re not okay,” Kayleigh added. There were too many okays flying around, and it was becoming glaringly obvious that I was not, in fact, okay.

I glanced around at each of them, their eyes on mine,
and sighed. “It’s just that everything I thought I knew seems different. It’s like, when my parents divorced, it was a period. Not an ellipsis.”

Morgan shook her head after a moment. “I don’t follow.”

“It wasn’t ‘Divorced, dot-dot-dot,’ ” I said. “It was ‘Divorced, period.’ That’s what divorce
is
. The ending punctuation.”

“Maybe it’s a new sentence,” Tessa suggested. “A new story.”

“Or maybe it was a semicolon before,” Morgan said.

I had to smile at this, their additions to my loose metaphor. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but do any of you guys have problems that we can talk about instead?”

Morgan heaved a dramatic sigh. “I have
many
problems. For example, I was talking to Brandon Trevino—total potential, right?—while Tessa was throwing darts, and it was going so well until he made this comment about girls and competitive sports that had, frankly, misogynistic undertones. So
that
was a waste of time.”

“Brandon Trevino is a ratbag,” I said, recalling things I’d overheard him saying in the hallway once. Misogynistic was an understatement.

“It’s true,” Kayleigh said. “He once asked me, ‘So, what are you, anyway?’ He doesn’t even know me!”

We all made grossed-out noises. People had always been
blunt in asking Kayleigh’s ethnicity. If someone was polite enough about it, Kayleigh told them the truth: that her dad’s side was French and Polish, and her mom was African American. If people asked rudely—like, “So, what are you, anyway?”—Kayleigh would say, “I’m fabulous; what are you?”

“I’m telling you,” Tessa said, “high school guys are a waste of time. Go college or go home.”

“Hey,” Kayleigh said. “Eric’s still in high school!”