If I Tell

CHAPTER two



My back pressed against the brick wall of the school as I huddled over my guitar, blocking out the rest of the world and lost in the lyrics to a new song. My cell rang, interrupting my thoughts, and my stomach swooped like a seagull diving for a fish.

Oh, God, please don’t let it be Lacey.

Of course, chances weren’t great since hardly anyone called instead of texting. Even Grandma texted. But for some reason, Lacey hated it.

I put down my guitar and scooted across the cool grass. Reaching inside my backpack, I grabbed the phone and checked call display. Just as I’d suspected. Lacey. I switched the ringer off and tossed the phone back in my bag.

“Jaz.”

I lifted my hand to shield out the sun and peered into the shredded knees on a pair of jeans. “Hey, Ashley. Nice tips.” Ashley’s short blond hair had pink ends today. She rotated the color of her hair tips in a random pattern. Pink, green, blue. She said the colors had to do with her moods, but I hadn’t figured out which color meant what frame of mind.

“Not all of us have your awesome spiral curls. I do what I can with what I’ve got,” Ashley said in her high-pitched voice. When we first met, she’d confessed to hating that she sounded like Minnie Mouse. Her observation made me laugh, but I didn’t admit it was kind of true because it obviously bugged her. After she’d told me that, I’d suspected we’d be friends.

“So I thought we were going to meet in the Cave to study before class.” Her voice dipped a little lower, the way it did when she wasn’t happy. The Cave was an old teachers’ lounge converted into a study hall for students. In theory, teachers patrolled it, but mostly they left us alone in there as long as nothing illegal or too noisy went on.

“Oh, shoot. I forgot. I’m so sorry.” I dropped my gaze to the grass. I’d totally blanked out on our study date. Stupid of me, especially since our friendship was still pretty new and I didn’t want to lose her, the only person my age I wanted to hang out with. She’d just transferred to Westwind for senior year.

“You forgot about studying?” Ashley held out her slim hand to help me up. “Miss ‘I like to study more than a normal person my age should ever want to’? Is everything all right?”

“I guess.” I grabbed her hand and pulled, and she stumbled since she’s shorter than me.

We both laughed as she got her balance. I put my guitar in its case and then bent to pick up my backpack and slung it over my shoulder. “I’ve got a lot on my mind. I really am sorry.”

Ashley tilted her chin, watching me. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

Ashley turned toward the front doors. “Okay.” Her body language said “slighted,” but I couldn’t do anything about it.

“So you’ve probably been up since six to swim this morning?” I said to change the subject.

“Quarter to five. We swam at five-thirty.”

I groaned but admired her discipline. Ashley swam competitively at the pool next to her old high school, and though she didn’t talk about how good she was, I’d checked her out online and found she held a bunch of records. When I’d asked her about it, she’d shrugged. She’d been much more reactive when I told her I hated to swim. It wasn’t entirely true. I just never really got over the time I almost drowned in fourth grade.

“You want to come to the pool after school? I have a lane to myself for two hours. I could spend some time teaching you the front crawl. I have extra suits.” She’d become determined to get me in the water, positive she could teach me to swim.

“I have to work tonight.”

“Well, another night then. I’m not giving up. No one should be afraid of the water. You have a natural swimmer’s build. I bet you’d be really good once you got going.”

“Always optimistic, aren’t you, Ashley?”

“I can’t believe you don’t swim,” she mumbled.

I shrugged, but in my head I pictured the kids surrounding me in the YMCA pool when I’d been eleven. Swimming around me, blocking me from reaching the ledge, laughing while I panicked and forgot what I’d learned about staying afloat in water and dog-paddled in circles. Terror banged in my chest as I’d struggled to breathe. My head started bobbing up and down while I heard distant gleeful shouts that my color was rubbing off and making the water dirty. I’d thrashed around, trying to keep my head above the water. The faces of my classmates flashed in and out in front of me, laughing and screeching as I struggled.

And then, the surreal panic fled and turned into an absolute certainty that I was going to die. The realization had calmed me, and I’d stopped fighting against the pull of the water taking me under. My lungs stopped burning, and an exquisite sensation of peace took over. I could remember the tangible feeling even now. Six years later. Death welcoming me.

“I can’t even float properly,” I said to Ashley, trying to push away the memory.

She pffted at me. “When’s the last time you tried?”

I shrugged. I vividly remembered the shame. When I didn’t come back up, the lifeguard must have finally noticed it wasn’t just fun and games in the circle of kids. Maybe their screams changed to panic. I didn’t remember him jumping in to rescue me or giving me mouth-to-mouth or anything else until I started breathing again and threw up all over myself.

I’d never gone swimming again after that day. At first I’d been certain that if I put myself in water again, I would die. Or that my color really would rub off and dirty everyone. As I got older that faded, but somehow even the thought of slipping on a bathing suit panicked me. Standing there so exposed.

“You just haven’t been taught properly. I’m a good teacher,” Ashley said.

She probably was. But I wasn’t interested.

The whole fourth grade had been in on it. The ones who didn’t actually block me in the water had turned their heads. The teachers and parent volunteers had missed it. Afterward, not one of the kids ever said a thing about their part in my “accident.”

After that day, everyone sort of stopped paying attention to me. I learned to take a book outside until we outgrew recess. I never knew if they stopped caring about me because they felt guilty they’d almost killed me, or if they were actually disappointed I hadn’t drowned.

“I will get you swimming,” Ashley said.

“You can always dream,” I said lightly.

Ashley and I stopped then to avoid being plowed over by a group of rowdy boys. They bumped past us yet managed to completely ignore us as if we weren’t even there.

“So. I didn’t see you at Marnie’s party over the weekend. I thought you’d be there,” she said after the boys went past.

We went to my locker, and Ashley leaned against the wall while I dialed in my combination.

“I actually was there for a while,” I told her as I reached for my English books from the top shelf of my locker. “I took off early.” Gently I stood my guitar at the back of the locker.

“Fight with your boyfriend?” She grinned.

“Nathan is not my boyfriend.” I scrunched my nose as if something smelled bad, shoved my backpack onto the top shelf, and slammed the door shut.

Ashley licked her lips. They were always chapped from the pool. “Maybe not, but he likes you.”

“He likes anything that moves.”

“Well, except me. He’s not into lesbians.” She laughed.

“I’m sure he would be, given the opportunity.”

Ashley laughed again. “True.”

Nathan was Lacey’s roommate and a regular at Marnie’s parties, which is where I’d met Ashley the summer before senior year. She had lost an old pocket watch she always carried around in her back pocket and was wandering around upset. When I asked her why, she’d fought off tears and I’d helped her search for the watch. We eventually found it under the cushion of a couch and then bonded over warm, alcohol-free Cokes in the living room, surrounded by a bunch of surprisingly mellow drunks.

Ashley didn’t drink because she swam every day except Sunday and didn’t want to deal with hangovers or a pissed-off coach. I didn’t drink because losing control made me crazy, so we were the always the youngest and straightest people at Marnie’s parties, which weren’t exactly meant for the high-school crowd.

Ashley used to hang out a lot with an older girl who I’d assumed was her girlfriend, but the other girl had been off in the kitchen smoking dope or something the night Ashley lost the watch, and after that they didn’t hang out anymore. I figured they’d broken up, but Ashley didn’t talk much about her love life. That was okay, because I didn’t talk about mine. Easier, perhaps, since I didn’t have one.

Ashley and I headed down the hallway crowded with kids rushing to class.

Everyone at Westwind knew Ashley was gay and that she’d transferred over from the other high school in town because she’d had enough of bullying. I think most of the Westwind student body wanted to seem cooler, so no one bothered her. We couldn’t beat their football team but we could tolerate the first lesbian in Tadita high-school history. The first open one anyhow. Go Westwind.

Mostly everyone treated her the same way they treated me. They ignored her. This late in the game, that didn’t seem to bother Ashley.

“Lacey was really out of it at the party,” she said after a moment.

“What else is new?”

Ashley glanced sideways at me but didn’t comment. Lacey had never made an effort to get along with her, but Ashley wasn’t the type to trash talk.

“You’ll never guess who did show up,” Ashley said as we maneuvered our way around bodies going the opposite direction.

I didn’t guess.

“Your mom’s boyfriend, Simon.”

“No kidding?” I kept my voice level, my eyes straight ahead.

“He came by to pick up his younger brother. Simon was the one who ended up getting wasted, though, and Damien ended up driving him home.”

Before she said anything else, I cut her off. “What an idiot. It’s like he’s trying to recapture his youth or something.”

“Simon’s not that much older than Marnie. He’s younger than your mom, right?”

“I have no idea how old Marnie is,” I said as we slipped inside our English class. We slid into chairs in the relative safety of the middle row just as the bell rang.

“Twenty-two,” Ashley supplied.

I peeked at the back of the room where Jackson usually sat. He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head.

“Hey,” he mouthed.

I couldn’t help a slight smile but forced myself to turn away, ignoring the little solo jig my stomach performed. So, we were going to acknowledge each other now? With an effort I forced myself not to look back again. I failed, and when I peeked, he was smiling. I dropped my gaze to my desk, my cheeks blazing.

At the front of the class, Mr. Dustan began giving instructions. His favorite student came around and dropped exams on our desks. When I finished the test, I looked back at Jackson. As if he felt my eyes on him, he glanced up and raised his pencil in the air, saluting me. A smile turned up my lips, but I got up and took my paper to the front of the class and left.

Alone.

***

When I walked into the living room, Simon was sprawled on Grandma’s comfy leather couch. He made me sick, so I focused on Grandma and ignored him.

Not a strand of her storm-cloud-colored hair was out of place. She looked a little frail in her old-lady jeans and yellow cardigan, but under it was one tough woman. The only time I’d ever seen her cry was after Grandpa Joe died. And that was only once. Never since.

On the couch opposite Simon, Mom looked relaxed, but obviously appearances could be deceptive. I’d bet money she’d only included me in her meeting with Grandma to be a buffer, in case Grandma disapproved of her pregnancy. Grandma would play it down in front of me. To her, I was still a child.

“Hey, Jaz, my second favorite lady. How’s your song writing going?” Simon sounded on the verge of revealing the punch line to a secret joke.

“Second?” Grandma asked. “What about me?”

He threw back his head and laughed. “It’s a tie.” He held up his hands in defense.

I rolled my eyes. “Can you get on with this? I have to go to work.” Their news was not something I wanted to hear over and over again. I’d rather go back in time and erase everything. Maybe I’d start with Simon’s existence. He frowned at me but I paid no attention, fighting to keep in my anger and the desire to stand up and tell everyone what I’d seen. The low-down dirty dog.

My stomach grumbled and I glanced at the coffee table. As always, Grandma had snacks laid out on her expensive china. She didn’t like fancy things going to waste and used the china at every opportunity. She had the same metabolism as me and believed in eating carbs. I grabbed a homemade cinnamon bun off a plate and shoved a chunk in my mouth as I plunked myself in the La-Z-Boy chair off to the side of the couches.

Simon stared at me, tugging on his earlobe. “How’s it going, Jaz?” he asked, tilting his head. “Everything all right?”

I pointed to my full mouth, chewing slowly. He’d have to get used to silence and snarky answers. Our friendship was so over.

“She’s at the top of her class with most of her grades,” Grandma bragged. “And still a musical genius. Always on her guitar and writing new songs.”

I shoved more cinnamon bun in my mouth and kept chewing. I could add I was still pretty much socially inept to even things out.

“Beauty and brains,” Mom said, smiling at me a little too hard.

“Good thing she takes after her grandma,” Grandma said.

Mom snorted. “Well. On that fitting note. We have a surprise for you.” Mom leaned forward and picked her purse up off the floor. She unzipped it and pulled out a small, blue velvet box and thrust it into Grandma’s hand.

Simon leaned forward, watching them with his huge paw-like hand reaching up to cover his mouth. His lips were turned up in a smile, and I wanted to snatch it off his face. What right did he have to look excited?

“What’s this?” Grandma asked, glancing at Simon and then back at my mom.

Mom leaned back against the couch. “Open it.”

I shoved more cinnamon bun in my mouth.

Grandma squealed when she looked inside the box. “This isn’t jewelry.” She pulled out a pregnancy test with a bright blue positive sign in the square in the middle.

I stuck my tongue out, disgusted. “Gross. She peed on that thing.”

Grandma chuckled. “I’m going to be a grandma!” She squealed and wrapped her arms around Mom. For the first time in years I witnessed them hugging. Grandma broke away and turned to me, her eyes moist with tears. “Did you know about this? I can’t believe you kept a secret! You’re terrible at secrets.”

“I am not.” I glared at Simon, but he was grinning so I looked back at Grandma.

Grandma put the pregnancy test back in the box and brought it to her chest. “You’ll be a big sister.” She was cuddling the pee stick.

“Lucky me.” I looked down and noticed a tiny hole in the big toe of my sock.

“Jaz.” I glanced up. Grandma’s eyebrows were knit together tight. “That was rude.” She turned to Simon. “So when is the big day?”

“Hello? We’re not getting married,” Mom said.

“I meant the due date,” Grandma said and swatted at her knee. “When have you ever done things in the right order?”

Mom laughed, and the three of them all started talking at the same time.

“Hey Jaz, the baby’s due two days after my twenty-eighth birthday. How cool a present is that?” Simon called to me. “I phoned my dad with the news, and he’s flying across the pond a few months after the baby’s born.”

As if I should still care. Simon’s dad moved to England years ago when he split with Simon’s mom. I knew Simon would be pumped about seeing him again, but I hardened my heart, trying not to think about our long talks about absent fathers. I didn’t want to care about Simon or his life anymore.

I imagined myself standing up and pointing an accusing finger at Simon. Not cool at all, you two-timing freak. How far did you go after I saw you making out with Lacey? Did you get her pregnant too?

I pictured Grandma smashing her good china on Simon’s head. I swallowed the permanent wedge in my throat and added an image of my mom collapsing on the floor in a ladylike faint to my fantasy. But then I imagined her grabbing her stomach. Losing the baby.

“Jasmine?” Grandma said.

I glanced up.

“This is great news, isn’t it?” Grandma spoke in a soft voice that told me she suspected something.

“Clearly much happier than it was seventeen years ago when she made the same announcement,” I said and stood, almost knocking the plate of cinnamon buns off the table with my knee. “I have to get going.” If I stayed another moment, I’d burst into tears. Or spill the secret. And I didn’t want to do either.

“Jasmine,” Mom and Grandma said at the same time with equal unhappiness in their voices. I had the urge to yell, “Jinx. You owe me a beer,” at them.

“Where do you have to go right now?” The wrinkles on Grandma’s face deepened as she stared up at me. “This is a celebration.”

I started coughing and couldn’t stop.

When I got myself under control, I saw a look pass between Simon and Mom as if they felt sorry for me. As if I was acting like a jerk because I was jealous of their baby or something. As if I was the one doing something wrong.

“I have to work.” True. Even if it wasn’t for an hour.

I ran from the living room and raced upstairs to change into my work stuff and grab my guitar. I hurried back down with my guitar case slung over my shoulder.

“Can I use Grandpa’s car to go to work?” I called to Grandma in the living room. I didn’t drive it often because I was afraid of getting in an accident and ruining our only connection to him. Funny that Grandpa had been gone so long, but it was still his car. It always would be. It even had the faint smell of him lingering in the cloth seats.

“Why’re you taking your guitar to work?” Grandma yelled.

“I’ll be jamming after work. At Lacey’s,” I lied. That was the last place I’d go, but I’d find somewhere to play.

“Fine. Drive carefully.”

I went to the front door to grab the key off the hook where Grandma kept it.

“She’s the one acting like a baby,” I heard Grandma say as the door banged behind me. “But she’ll get used to the idea. It’ll grow on her.”

I had the urge to sit down on the front lawn and cry. Simon had gotten drunk and made out with my best friend while my pregnant mom waited at home.

But I was the one who got to be the bad guy. And keep his secret.