Weird Girl and What's His Name (23 page)

“I dunno. Maybe someday. I'm not sure I'm really prepared to deal if he turns out to be a major jerk. Or if he just doesn't care. I mean, he wasn't exactly fighting for custody of me when my mom bailed.”

“True,” Rory agreed. “But maybe he's got a different side of the story.”

“Yeah, maybe. Still, the whole mom thing was kind of a bust. I'm kinda maxed out on disinterested parents right now. Honestly, sometimes . . . sometimes I kind of wish I hadn't gone out there to meet her.”

“But if you hadn't, you always would've wondered,” Rory said softly. He handed the picture back to me. I put it back in its drawer.

“Yeah. Guess I had to burst the bubble sometime.”

Rory nodded up at my wall. “What happened to your posters?”

“Oh, yeah. I, um. Redecorated.” I shrugged. “Needed a change. You know.”

“You threw them all away?”

“Nah, they're in the closet. In case I change my mind.”

“Hey, if you ever decide to get rid of that
I Want to Believe
teaser poster, I call dibs.”

“The one with Mulder and Scully walking away from each other, but their shadows cross and form an X?”

“That's the one.”

“Hmm . . . hold that thought.” I opened my closet door and took out the cardboard mailing tube that held all my rolled-up posters. I shook them out and unrolled them. When I found the teaser poster with the shadow X, I handed it to Rory. “Here. Take it.”

“Seriously?” He seemed genuinely surprised. “You were so psyched when it came in the mail. Are you sure you don't want to put it back up?”

“I'm sure. That poster makes me sad, to be honest.” I picked around in the pen jar on my desk for a rubber band. “The thought of Scully and Mulder walking away from each other kind of bums me out.”

“Me too,” Rory agreed. “But their shadows are still crossed. It's like, even when they're apart, they're still together. It's a cool, uh . . . visual metaphor.”

“Consider that visual metaphor yours to keep.” I handed him a rubber band, and he rolled the poster back up. From downstairs, we could hear muffled voices. Barbra Streisand. Leo laughing. I sat at my desk. Hesitating.

“Now, Theodore,” I started to speak to him in my pretend-mom voice, like I used to. But it didn't seem to fit anymore. “Rory.” I reached into the top drawer of my desk. “I have something else . . . I wanted to give this to you.”

“What is it?”

“It's a letter.” I handed him the envelope. “I wrote it after I got back, but I haven't been—I haven't had the courage to give it to you. It's an apology.”

“You already apologized.”

“It wasn't enough. I tried to think about how it must have been for you. Not knowing where I was, or what happened. I pretty much did the same thing to you that my mom did to me. And it sucks. It sucks to not know why somebody left you. Or to think that it's your fault. When it wasn't your fault at all.”

“It was kind of my fault,” Rory said. “I should have trusted you. We were best friends and I shouldn't have let anybody come between us. But I was afraid. I didn't even realize how afraid I was until now. I was so afraid of losing this, like, ghost of a relationship that I almost lost my best friend.” His voice had gotten quiet. He went on. “Being with Tommy—Speed—makes me realize how much better it is, being with somebody who really cares about me and wants the same things I want. Somebody who isn't afraid to be seen with me. I mean, we still have to be careful where we hold hands around town, but, like, Tommy actually really wanted to go to that stupid Homecoming dance with me. I think even if the legal thing hadn't been an issue, Andy still would've wanted to keep me a secret. He still wasn't even out to most of his friends and his family. He never wanted to introduce me to his kids, or—” Rory's voice halted. “It's just way better now. I don't have to lie anymore. I should never have lied to you. And I really never, ever should have said all those hurtful things to you, and I apologize. I was such a jerk to you and I'm sorry. I love you. Lula. I never said that before. But it's true. Maybe I can't . . . love you like you want me to. Like a boyfriend. But you're my best friend, and I love you.”

“Rory.” I didn't know what to say. So I just said it. “I love you, too.”

“Knock knock!” Janet opened the door, carrying a big white ceramic bowl in the crook of her arm. “Popcorn's ready!”

“Thanks, Janet,” Rory took the popcorn. I turned away from them, wiping my eyes on my shirtsleeve.

“So bright in here! You guys can't watch your show in this.” She flipped off the light. “Have fun! Don't stay up too late!”

I got up and turned on the lamp by my bed. Rory set the popcorn bowl down on my desk.

“Where were we?” he asked.

“Um. I was apologizing.”

“No, I mean, where were we in the series?” He examined the DVD shelf. “Season Three, right? ‘Pusher'? Or were we already up to ‘Jose Chung' and the lava men?”

“I can't remember,” I admitted. “It's been a while.”

“Maybe we should start over,” Rory suggested.

“From the very beginning?”

“Why not? Pilot episode. Boy meets girl. Boy loses girl to possible alien abduction . . .” He waved the first-season DVD box at me. “Tell me I'm crazy,” he deadpanned.

“Mulder, you're crazy,” I couldn't help smiling as I finished the quote. “But are you sure you want to do this?”

“Watch
The X-Files?
Do you even have to ask?” Rory cracked open the DVD case. He dropped the disc into the player. The machine hummed, warming up.

“Seriously, you really want to re-watch a nine-season-long television series, one episode a week, starting from the pilot episode? I mean, don't you have a life now? Aren't you gonna get bored?”

Rory yanked the pillows off my bed and propped himself up in his usual place on the rug. I sat down on the edge of the bed. Not quite able to settle in yet.

“Bored? Lula, come on.” He grabbed the remote. “It's the beginning of a great adventure.”

Rory turned on the television. The copyright warnings faded to black and the old, familiar theme song started up. Without missing a beat, we both joined in, whistling in unison.

It wasn't long before both of us were laughing again.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thank you to Jeff Bens for reading this back when it was a too-long short story and encouraging me to keep it in motion.

Thank you to Kat Georges, Peter Carlaftes, and Constance Renfrow at Three Rooms Press for your hard work, tireless dedication to getting it right, and unflagging enthusiasm. Thank you, Victoria Bellavia, for making it look beautiful.

Thank you to Emily Sylvan Kim, Manhattanville College, and the practitioners and staff of Sports Medicine at Chelsea for your continued support through the years.

Thank you to Jackie Sheeler, force of nature. Thank you to Jenn Northington for getting behind this book early on, and to Jesse Orona for schooling me on Dana Scully as Gay Icon.

I have the best friends in all of explored space—eternal gratitude to all of you!

Heather, Hannah, Liz, Flip. Ryan and Tracy. John P. Dang, y'all.

Thanks and apologies to my family—maybe someday I'll write something without so many damn cuss words in it. Sincerest thanks to my grandparents and my great-grandmother for being the village.

Thank you to the fandom and the fans.

Thank you to Chris Carter, Robert Pollard, and my parents.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

M
EAGAN
B
ROTHERS IS THE AUTHOR OF
two previous novels for young adults,
Debbie Harry Sings in French
and
Supergirl Mixtapes.
She has also been, variously, a musician, a performing poet, a record store clerk, and an adjunct professor of creative writing at Manhattanville College in Purchase, NY. A native Carolinian, she currently lives and works in New York City.

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