It's Not Like It's a Secret

“Your—what?”


“I mean, I think my dad’s having an affair, and Caleb has a car, so he’s driving me to my dad’s office to spy on him because I think he’s going to meet her this evening after work.”

“Holy shit.”

“I know.” My throat starts to close up at the thought, and I have to stop and clear it. “So anyway,” I continue, trying to sound casual, “I’m not into Caleb. I’m just. I’m worried about my dad.” My voice breaks, and it’s as if the words have cracked something inside me on their way out, and one tear rolls down my cheek, followed by another, and I’m staring hard out the window, hoping no one notices me wiping away tear after tear after tear, thinking, Please no one see me, please stop, please stop.

“I’m sorry.” Jamie moves back toward me. “Hey, I’m sorry,” she repeats. “That sucks.”

I’m sniffling and wiping my eyes like mad, and the tears keep coming.

“It’s okay. I’m fine,” I whisper.

“Hey, Sana, what’s wrong?” Janet asks from three seats back, and suddenly I’m in a sea of concerned faces all saying, “Sana, are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“Her cousin died. She just found out,” says Jamie, without missing a beat. Then she adds, “Back off for a minute. Give her some space.”

She follows her own advice and leaves me alone for a while.

Coach Kieran gets on the bus and takes attendance, and the bus lurches out of the parking lot and heads back to school. Once we get on the highway, traffic is crawling due to an accident somewhere, and finally I stop crying. I take a few steadying breaths and turn to Jamie. “Thanks.”

“You okay? I mean, considering.”

“Yeah, I think so.” We sit in silence for a minute as the bus trundles along the road with a thousand other cars, a thousand other lives. I look out the window at them and wonder if any of the people in those cars are having affairs.

“My dad left us when I was eight,” says Jamie quietly, “for another woman.”

“Oh. God.” I imagine Jamie at eight, with sweet ringlets and big brown eyes, abandoned by her cheating father.

A horrified expression crosses Jamie’s face and she gasps. “Oh, shit. I didn’t mean that your dad was going to leave you and your mom. Crap, I’m sorry.” She leans forward onto her backpack and buries her head in her arms. “Sorry. Me and my big mouth. You probably hate me right now.”

“No, I don’t hate you. It’s okay.”

Jamie peeks at me with one eye. “Really?” She looks so contrite like that, so hopeful.

“Really.”

“I guess I meant to say that I know how it feels, you know?”

“I know.”

She sits back up and smiles at me. That secret just-for-you smile that’s been keeping me up at night, that gives me goose bumps and makes me forget about everything else. Then I feel her hand clasp my hand, and her fingers intertwine with mine, and just like that, we’re holding hands, and for the rest of the ride home, that’s all that matters.

When we get off the bus, Janet and the other girls take turns hugging me and saying, “I’m so sorry,” and “Call me if you need to talk,” and even Jimmy gives me a few awkward pats on the back. Jamie hovers in the background, and then as the crowd disperses, she comes over and puts her arms around me. I can feel her breath in my hair, feel her cheek next to mine.

“I’m feeling a little bit bad about the cousin thing,” she whispers.

“Yeah.”

“Do you even have any cousins?”

“No.” I start to giggle, and she does, too, her arms still wrapped around me.

“Can we hang out next week?” she asks, and I nod. I wish we could stay like this forever. But Jamie lets go and says, “Your boyfriend’s here. Sweet ride.” She points, and I see Caleb leaning on a battered, dark gray Honda hatchback in the parking lot. He does the chin-up nod then puts his head down and starts playing with his phone.

“Oooh, Sana, is that your ride home?” says Janet in a stage whisper. “I thought you said you weren’t into him.” Suddenly, all the girls are waving at Caleb and calling, “Hi!”

“Omigod, stop! We’re. Just. Friends,” I say, wishing I had told Caleb to meet me at six thirty instead of six. What was I thinking? On the other hand, maybe this is easier than the entire cross-country team knowing I’m into Jamie. “We have to finish a project,” I say.

“Does this project involve . . . kissing?” says Janet.

“Shut up.”

I pick up my stuff and charge grimly out into the parking lot to a rousing chorus of good-byes and “good luck on your project!”

“Nice friends,” says Caleb as I approach the car.

“They are nice,” I retort, feeling a little defensive, never mind the fact that I was wishing them all evil just a few seconds ago. I get in and sit down gingerly—the passenger seat looks like it has definitely seen better days, what with its fraying cover and what I hope is an old coffee stain right in the front.

“So your mom’s okay with this?” he says.

“I told her that I had this last-minute Spanish project to do that involved recording stuff around town, and that I’d finish the rest of my homework at the house where we’re going to edit the video.” A derisive snort escapes Caleb as he starts the car and backs out of the parking space. “Well, it’s kind of true,” I say.

“Yeah. Kinda.”

“Oh, yeah. And I, um, kinda gave her your cell number and said it was my Spanish classmate’s home phone.”

“And you want me to, what, pretend I’m your friend’s dad? You’re asking me to lie for you, is that it?”

I shrug. “Please?” Jeez, he’s not making this easy.

But then he flashes me a half grin and says in a deep voice, “Yes, Sana’s right here. She and Caleb are working very hard on their Spanish project. Would you like to speak with her?” He adds, “Hey, which way? Where are we going?” I pull up the address on my phone. He regards the map for a few seconds, then nods and pulls into traffic. His iPod is playing on a set of speakers he’s attached to the dashboard—some song about how everybody wants to live how they wanna live, and everybody wants to be closer to free. It’s a catchy tune, kind of bouncy and fun.

“Who is this? Doesn’t sound like a goth song.”

“What, you were expecting Slipknot? Don’t stereotype. It’s the BoDeans. You should know them—they’re from Wisconsin.”

“Never heard of them.”

“It’s an old song, from like, the nineties.”

We listen to the BoDeans a while, and then Caleb asks, “So, really. Like this is kinda cool and all, but seriously, what’s going on? Are you like a private eye in your free time or something? Who are we stalking and why?”

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