Never Always Sometimes

“I’ve never made fun of anyone in my entire life.”

 

 

She narrowed her eyes at him over the iPod, bringing it close to her as she scrolled through. “Seriously. Almost no one knows this song is my favorite, and if I choose to trust you and you think it’s cheesy or something, then for the rest of my life, any time I listen to the song, there’ll be a tinge of shame. You might forever ruin my favorite song.”

 

Dave stole a glance at her lips, like he’d been doing all day. “I swear on the bench at the harbor that I won’t laugh. If I do, I’ll never sit on it again.”

 

Then Gretchen hit play and Dave turned his attention to the music coming softly through the speakers. Just a few guitar notes rang out, clean and unaccompanied. The singer’s voice came on sounding like Kermit the Frog mixed with a typical indie singer-songwriter.

 

Don’t let hurricanes hold you back, raging rivers or shark attack, find love, and give it all away.

 

It was a simple song, and Dave could see Gretchen moving her lips along with the words. Brett had always made fun of his taste in music, so Dave knew what it was like to resist the urge to sing out your favorite lyrics. He wanted her to sing, but settled for the fact that she was sharing the song with him. When the song faded away, Gretchen reached to turn the volume down. “If you hated it, don’t say anything.”

 

“I loved it,” Dave said, wondering if this was it, the moment when the ball of energy finally made its way up and he would lean to kiss her. She was smiling at him and their eyes held each other for long enough that Dave thought there was no way a good-bye could happen without a kiss. But he had no idea how to accomplish such a thing. When the time came for a good-bye, he leaned across the shift stick and gave Gretchen a hug, which was quick, and warm, and stayed with him as he lay in bed awake all night.

 

 

 

 

 

NUTELLA & CUPCAKES

 

DAVE UNWRAPPED THE lunch his dad had packed for him: a chicken torta, the tomatoes, lettuce, and chipotle salsa on the side to keep the bread from getting soggy. He was in the tree house, looking out at the blacktop. There’d been a test in class and he’d finished early, so he was the first one out for lunch. It was April. AP tests, finals, and graduation were within reach.

 

The bell rang and within a few seconds the doors to the building broke out into a stream of people. Everyone headed for the cafeteria, or for their usual lunch spots. A table had been set up near the blacktop to collect votes for who would go on the prom ballot, and though Dave had avoided it, a steady flow of people came by, dropping their folded ballots into a wooden box with the world’s flimsiest lock on it.

 

He spotted Julia as soon as she was outside, her pink hair acting like a beacon, in case her attractiveness wasn’t enough. It’d be convenient if he could forget his best friend was so pretty, if the attraction just kind of melted away as soon as he’d decided to see her the way she saw him, as soon as Gretchen started taking up his thoughts. But, clearly, life wasn’t so convenient. Dave took a bite from his torta and chewed slowly, struggling with the fact that an attraction to Julia and a desire to keep her as a friend could coexist. It reminded him of how grief had made his dad both more quiet and more loving. The father he remembered before his mom died sometimes seemed like a whole other person, always laughing and teasing, encouraging roughhousing between his two sons. Now he was quieter, seemingly more distant, though his affection showed through more often. Things overlapping, contradictions; Dave knew these were common, that they were everywhere and he’d have to get used to them.

 

Julia joined him in the tree house, taking the stool next to him and jolting him out of his ruminations. “Hey, goof. Sorry I missed you in homeroom today. The dads are so hungover from the weekend that I think it spread to me. I’ll tell you all about it, but first, I’ve got the best story of all time.”

 

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