When Reason Breaks (20 page)

“I thought this one thing was mine—ours—that this was about us, not about her or anyone else,” she said.

“It has been all about us,” said Kevin, turning his body to face her. “I kept my promise. I never posted anything about us until last night, when everything exploded. But I had to say something because I knew you wouldn't. Before that, though, I never talked to anyone about our relationship, except for Tommy, Elizabeth, and my parents, but they don't really count, do they? I know I'm rambling and you probably hate me, but I need you to know that I think we're great together, Em. You mean everything to me.”

Emily's eyes softened and she squeezed Kevin's hand. He leaned in and planted a kiss near her ear. He brushed his cheek against hers and then made a trail of small, gentle kisses to her lips. Her body relaxed and tingled all over, the same way it did when they first kissed. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. But, Emily couldn't focus on the moment, his lips tenderly touching hers, his hands soft and
warm on her waist. This time, the outside world didn't fade away.

Emily pulled back and started to cry.

“What's wrong? Why are you crying?”

She shook her head and said, “You need to go. My parents and brother will be home soon.”

“I don't want to leave you this way.”

“I'll be fine,” she lied. “You can't be here when they get home. My dad would kill me for sure.”

Before he left, he held her tight and said, “Everything's going to be okay, Em.”

She stared at Kevin through her tear-blurred vision. Abby had orchestrated everything, nudging him and pushing her. They were fools, moving predictably with each tug of their strings. And last night's online scrape was only the beginning. Emily would have to face everyone at school, and her dad would know soon, which would trigger another onslaught.
Everything's going to be okay?

“I don't know, Kev,” she said and shook her head. “I can't think straight and my family will be home soon. You really have to leave.”

She kissed him hard and then let him go.

Minutes after he left, she deleted all of her social media accounts and blocked several numbers on her cell phone, including Kevin's.

When prompted electronically,
“Are you sure?”
she hesitated before hitting “Yes.”

Emily waited in her bedroom, with her coat on but unzipped, and her backpack hanging on her shoulders. She stared at the second hand circling her watch's face. Her plan was to sprint downstairs and out the front door with enough time to make it to the bus stop and zero time to chitchat with her family in the kitchen.

Austin intercepted Emily as she bounded down the stairs.

“I'll drive you to school today,” he said. He also wore his coat, ready to go.

“Okay,” she said, relieved because a ride meant she'd dodge Sarah and Abby on the bus.

As soon as they were on the road, Austin said, “I'm sorry about what happened.”

Emily nodded.

“I talked to Abby and told her to back off. I hope that helps.”

Emily nodded again but didn't respond.

“It's stupid high school shit, Em. Don't worry about it.”

“You're talking about my life, Austin.”

“I'm sorry,” he said and sighed. “What I mean is you and Abby have been friends forever. Isn't there the slightest chance she'll apologize in a few days and you'll be friends again?”

“Not a chance,” said Emily. “It's as likely as Pop saying, ‘So, you've had a boyfriend for months, which means you've been lying to me and Mamá every time you've left the house. That's okay, we forgive you. And your classmates think you might be bisexual and in love with your best friend. No problem. My people will somehow fit that into my ultraconservative campaign.' ”

“Good point, but guess what? Pop is leaving this morning for some convention. He won't be back until Saturday. The even better news is Luís called in sick with the flu, so he'll be down for a few days. You've got some time, probably until this weekend, before you need to face Pop.”

Emily nodded again. “Thanks for the ride,” she said when Austin stopped in front of the school's main entrance.

“Hey,” he said and grabbed her arm. “I'm going back to Amherst today, but if you need me to intimidate anyone big-brother style, say the word.”

“Thanks.” Emily pushed in her earbuds and cranked the volume on her iPod before entering school. She strolled halfway to her locker but decided to hide out in the nurse's office for as long as possible. After the last bell rang, signaling
the start of classes, Emily ambled to her locker in near-empty hallways. Still, the few people who passed her jabbed her with snide comments. Nicole Taylor whispered, “I'm friends with Sue Huntington. I can set you up, if you want,” and Anthony Ramos yelled, “Can I get a videotape of you and Abby together?”

Emily didn't respond. She almost ripped up the note on her locker, but she recognized Kevin's handwriting:
You've disappeared from all electronic forms of communication, so I'm writing a good, old-fashioned note to say hi and I hope you're okay and I'll find you later
.

Emily tossed the note into her locker and camped in the library for the rest of the period, sitting on the floor in the nonfiction section, where no one would find her. English and lunch were the only periods she shared with her friends. Avoiding them at lunch would be easy, but she couldn't cut English every day, and she'd have to see them in the halls and on the bus. Plus, Kevin knew her schedule, so he'd probably wait outside her classes to talk to her. She could blast her iPod to shut out the whispers and crude remarks, but she couldn't elude Kevin or her friends forever.

After the period two bell rang, she walked past her locker and retrieved another note from Kevin:
You skipped English. I know because someone said they spotted you this morning, but you weren't in class. Call me Sherlock. Anyway, cutting class is more Elizabeth's thing, not yours. I'm worried about you. Find me later
.

Emily walked different routes to her classes and arrived a
few minutes late to each one to avoid crowds. Music blared in her ears and she avoided eye contact. In between classes, she received two more notes from Kevin.

I haven't seen you all day. Well, it's only third period, but still, this is unusual. It's like you're purposely avoiding me. Did I do something wrong?

Seriously, Emily, what's going on? Find me or leave me a note
.

Emily scribbled on a ripped piece of notebook paper and folded it so the square fit in her palm. Walking down the hall, she purposely bumped her shoulder into Elizabeth's.

“What the …?!” Elizabeth stopped when she saw Emily. They locked gazes and Emily slipped the note into Elizabeth's hand and kept walking.

At lunchtime, Elizabeth met Emily at the clearing.

“It's freezing out here, Delgado. Make it quick.”

Emily grinned. “It's not that cold. I thought you were a badass.”

“This badass likes to be warm,” she said with a smile. “So, I heard about what happened. How are you holding up? Not that I care.”

“I'm fine,” she said with a smirk.

“Liar.”

“Yeah,” Emily admitted. “I'm lying. Everything's all screwed up.”

“So, Kevin was prodded by Abby, so what? Think of her as the teen version of match.com. Kevin really likes you. Trust me, I have to hear about it all the freakin' time.”

“Maybe,” said Emily. She zipped her coat to the top and bounced to keep warm. “But I can't be around any of them right now.”

“Sounds familiar,” Elizabeth said and threw up her hood.

“What's going on with you? Not that I care,” Emily said with a smile.

“Tommy and I still aren't talking. We only spoke once last week, but he was all formal, in the role of editor, not friend. He asked me again about publishing one of my poems in the newspaper. I knew he was trying to break the ice, but we're still living in Glacierville.”

Emily remembered the poem she gave Tommy in January. “What did you say?”

“I said maybe.”

“Your maybe usually means yes.”

Elizabeth smiled. “Don't act like you know me, Delgado. They don't call me Enigmatic Elizabeth for nothing.”

“No one calls you that,” said Emily.

“True,” she said.

They laughed and stomped on the melting snow for a few moments.

“So, I know we're not really friends, but can you do me a favor?” asked Emily.

“What?”

“Can you give this to Kevin for me?” She pulled a small envelope from her pocket.

“Oh, you want me to deliver a message for you. That's why I'm here. Got it. No problem.”

Before Emily could say anything more, Elizabeth snatched the note, turned on her heel, and flashed the peace sign over her shoulder as she marched back to school. She found Kevin peering through the library's glass doors.

“You can go in, you know. They don't charge you to enter.”

“Hey, Davis. I was trying to find Emily, but I didn't want to go in and scour the place and have her think I was stalking her. Plus, I owe them a way-overdue book, so I figured standing out here was my best option.”

“Whatever,” Elizabeth said and shook her head. “Listen, your girlfriend asked me to give this to you.”

“Thanks, Davis,” he said, taking the note. He ripped open the envelope and grinned because the card was from the set he gave her at Christmas. Inside, she wrote:
Remember when you said if I wanted or needed you to do something, you would? Well, I need to be alone for a while. Seriously, if you love me, you'll give me some space so that I can figure out what to do. I'm sorry.”

Kevin stood motionless. Not knowing what to say, Elizabeth turned to leave.

“Hey, Davis, I have a message for you, too,” said Kevin. “Tommy needs an answer about the poem.”

“Fine,” she said. “I'll write him a stupid poem, okay?” She stomped a few paces and turned around. “And tell him if he wants to talk to me, he can do it himself.” After several more steps, she pivoted again and shouted, “And tell your girlfriend not to use me as her carrier pigeon ever again.”

Kevin strolled to Emily's locker and taped a note to the
outside. He kissed his fingertips and pressed them on the paper before walking away:
My dearest Emily, Okay. I'll give you space, but I hope this doesn't mean we're broken up. In my head, we're on a temporary break, like you're on an unexpected vacation and I can't wait for you to get back. Send me a postcard once in a while, okay? I'll miss you
.

Emily's hands shook as she tucked the note into her coat pocket. Of course, he'd respect her wishes. But if that's what she wanted, why did her stomach plummet with that carved-out hollow feeling when she read his response? She rested her head against the locker's chilled metal until the clanging bell jolted her out of her reverie. Instead of going to her last two classes, she walked out a side door into the cold.

Elizabeth stuffed in her earbuds and cranked the volume as she got off the bus and entered the school. The music pounded in her head as she navigated the hallways to her locker, shutting out anyone's attempt to wish her a good morning.

More students than usual looked her way and mouthed something to her. Weird. She nodded at them, her way of saying, “Good morning,” but she wondered,
Why are so many people trying to talk to me? Did the principal deliver some fuzzy, love-thy-neighbor announcement? Do I have something on my face?

Elizabeth arrived at her locker and dropped her bag at her feet. She glanced suspiciously at the people around her, as she circled through her combination. Students continued to utter comments to her. She tried to lip-read, but couldn't
decipher what they said. One girl placed her hand on her heart and wore an “Awww” expression on her face. Elizabeth opened her locker and shoved her coat inside. She cautiously pulled out the earbuds, nervous about what she'd hear.

The boy with the locker next to hers said, “Cool poem,” and slammed his locker shut.

“What?” she asked, her eyes wide.

Instead of repeating himself, he said, “Deep,” and walked off.

Elizabeth stuffed the books she needed for her first two classes into her bag, slung the strap over her shoulder, and slammed her locker. She walked swiftly toward her first period English class.

“Good job,” someone said.

“Thanks,” she said automatically.
Wait. For what?

She walked faster.

“Great poem,” another person said.

“Brava,” said another.

She power walked now, her pulse throbbing at her temples. She rounded a corner and bumped into Kevin.

“Whoa,” he said. “Slow down there, Shakespeare-ette, or should I say, e.e. davis? Didn't think I knew e.e. cummings was a poet, huh? I'm full of surprises. Shock and awe, baby.”

“What are you talking about? Why are you calling me strange names?”

“Your poem was published today,” he said matter-of-factly.

“What the hell are you talking about?” she said more forcefully.

“The school newspaper. It came out today. Your poem is in it.”

Elizabeth dropped her bag to the floor and grabbed the newspaper from him. She flipped frantically through the pages. “How is that possible? I didn't hand one in.”

“He already had one, and you told me the other day it was fine,” Kevin said as he picked up her bag. “Page twenty. In the creative writing section.” Elizabeth found the page and saw it—the poem she wrote in English class after the holiday break, the one she thought was part of the wad of paper she stuffed into a shoe box later that day.