They got out of the car and walked up the driveway to the front door, Dave crinkling the foil on the cupcakes because crinkling foil was something small and simple to focus on as opposed to the turmoil of his contradicting desires. Julia had a bounce to her step as they reached the door, and she took a deep breath before ringing the bell. “You think I should have attached some sort of letter? Something cute?”
Dave shrugged. “I think if he doesn’t get the picture by now, a love letter won’t help.” He thought about the love letter he’d written Julia sophomore year, how he’d thought that he couldn’t handle it anymore. The fever with which he’d written the letter. How he didn’t have the heart to reread it for fear he’d never be happy enough with the words and what they conveyed. He’d carried it around in his backpack for weeks, each day convinced that this was it, this was the day he finally came clean, so nervous he couldn’t eat all day, his palms actually sweating, his hands shaking when taking notes in class. Every day he decided against it, or rather wasn’t able to reach into the pocket in his backpack and hand it over to her, unable to imagine standing there as she read it, equally unable to imagine walking away before she could. The fear that it would irrevocably change things overruled anything else. He’d moved it to a drawer in his bedroom, then hidden it in the pocket of a jacket he never wore, then finally torn it into unreadable bits and let them flutter into the trash can thinking, Let that be the end of it.
Julia walked over to the window and put her face up to the glass, cupping her hands to block out the reflection. “I don’t see any lights on,” she said, then rang the doorbell again. About a minute later, when they were still standing outside and Dave was about to suggest heading back to the car, Julia started walking around the house.
“I don’t like where this is going,” Dave said when Julia tried to push open the window she’d glanced into.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to break a window. I’ll only enter if there’s one open.” She crept past some rosemary bushes and turned the corner of the house.
“Jules—” Dave started to call out to her that this was not okay, but thought better of attracting attention by being loud. He followed behind her, just as she was lifting the kitchen window open.
“Success!” she whisper-yelled.
“Julia, don’t you think you’re overdoing the crazy? Just a bit?”
“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” she said, hoisting herself up on the windowsill, the blinds that were half-drawn bumping into her head. “We’re just delivering these, and we’re exceptionally committed to that task. If UPS did the same thing people would be thrilled.”
“Thrilled to call the cops, maybe.”
Julia stopped halfway through her climb and shot Dave a look over her shoulder that was at once challenging and kind, and so cute it might just haunt him for the rest of his life. “David Foster Wallace. If you’re feeling nervous about getting arrested, all you have to do is stand by the window and pass me the cupcakes. I promise I will still love you as only a best friend can.”
Dave crinkled the tinfoil, then walked over to the window as she continued to climb into Marroney’s kitchen. “That’s never been in question,” he said, managing a smile.
CHEMISTRY
THE NEXT DAY, having miraculously avoided getting caught and/or arrested, Dave was sitting in AP Chem class, sneaking glances at Gretchen. She was sitting across the room, since Mr. Kahn had split them up into groups for the last lab of the year before they focused entirely on studying for the final. Dave had been grouped together with Doh Young, the smartest kid in class, who would have a much higher GPA than a 4.0 if only the administration was smart enough to figure out how to give him the grade he deserved, and so Dave allowed his mind to wander, knowing that an A was pretty much guaranteed. He allowed his eyes to wander, too, not just to Gretchen’s pretty face, but to her little in-class habits that he’d only recently started paying attention to.