“What?”
“Well, you do; you always have—both of you. Now, it’s just grown into something a little bit more mature.”
“But I still can’t have him.” It was a statement, not a question.
“No, honey, no matter how many amazing, rippling muscles he has,” she laughed. “Your being with him is like a serving girl marrying a king; it’s not going to happen. Life is not a fairy tale.”
“What do I do?”
“Leave him alone, make new friends, and forget about him.”
My heart plummeted at her words. I didn’t want to do that. Forbidden romance or no, he was still my best friend. Not to mention that soon, he would be leaving me forever.
“I can’t do that, Mom. He’s leaving for Oxford in just a few months. Then… then, I’ll never see him again.”
My mom sighed at me. I could tell she didn’t approve. She wanted me to walk away from him, but she couldn’t stand to see me hurting either.
“Weren’t you telling me just a few days ago how love changes you? How wonderful love is?” I couldn’t keep the accusatory tone out of my voice, no matter how hard I tried.
“This is different.”
“How is this different, Mom? It doesn’t feel different.”
“You will be able to tell the difference when you experience the real thing... when you experience something you can keep.”
I looked at her for a long time. The way she had talked about Dad before, I could feel that same desperate longing in me now, and it kind of scared me.
“How many times have you been in love, Mom?” I asked her.
I saw her hesitate, her chest heave.
“You need to remember that he is your friend, Joclyn, not a boyfriend.” She avoided my question. “Give your heart to someone who can take it and not break it, honey; because in all honesty, I’m not sure what Edmund would do if he found out.”
And that was the real reason anything between Ryland and me could never work.
Edmund would kill me.
Five
I had been picking at the remains of my cafeteria pizza for about the last ten minutes, my eyes unfocused and looking off into space. I could hear the ebbing noise in the cafeteria, a sure sign that lunch was almost over, but I wasn’t going to move until the bell rang. I sighed as another piece of pizza crust fell away from the whole and onto the plate.
I had been lost in thought for most of the day, my mind jumping back to my roller-coaster of a weekend. No matter how many times I revisited each event, I still couldn’t make sense of it. Crazy father, awesome best friend who keeps trying to kiss me, and a mother who—although she is right—wants me to stay away from Ryland forever. I sighed again, in hopes that some of the stress would leave my tensed body.
“You must be new, too.”
I looked up from my decimated pizza as a girl plopped down across the table from me.
She was small for a high school student, her frame appearing almost delicate and breakable. However, her large, brown eyes did not seem young; instead, she almost looked like she had seen and experienced too much of life. She had shoulder length, auburn hair that gently curled around her heart-shaped face. When she moved her hand onto the table, about thirty hard plastic bracelets clinked against the melamine surface. I had to smile at her choice of clothes; the “Styx” t-shirt was obviously vintage and looked like something my mom would have worn in high school.
“What makes you say that?” I asked, recovering from my shock.
“Well, you’re sitting alone.”
“Ha,” I laughed humorlessly. “You are the new one. I always sit alone.”
“I’m Wyn.”
I took her extended hand and she shook it over-enthusiastically, plastic bangles clinking together. “Joclyn.”
She grinned as if my name had made her happy.
“I just love your name!” she squealed, her joy was either infectious or nauseating—I couldn’t decide. “It’s like something out of 17th century literature. Who were you named after?”
“I don’t think I was named after anyone.” I lied. I was actually named after my dad’s favorite aunt, but I wasn’t about to share that with the obnoxious girl I just met.
“That’s lucky. My full name is Wynifred, and my mother named me after some ancient relative who is supposed to be a queen,” she chattered.
I began to wonder how I could get rid of this girl. At first, her over-exertive happiness was fun, but now she was starting to sound like a cheerleader. I looked around, wondering if I could find a quick escape away from her.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her quiet voice losing its hyperactive quality. “I’m coming on too strong, aren’t I?”