“A new school for senior year?” Evan says. “That sucks.”
“Well, maybe,” Sammie says. “I’m thinking about getting my GED this fall and taking classes at the local community college in the spring.”
This is news to me. “You’re going to do what?”
“I’ve been talking to my mom about it. I don’t want to start over twice—first at a new high school, and then again when I go to college next year. She’s a little worried about me being by myself so much, but she also agrees that I’m old enough to decide for myself. She told me to take a few weeks to think about it. I mean, she hasn’t even rented a new place yet. Our lease is up in September, so I have some time to figure it out.”
I know Sammie is going through so much, like me—losing her dad last year, now moving out of the city—but I can’t help feeling a little bit jealous that she’s dealing with it all so well, that she’s figuring things out.
“That sounds very cool,” Virgo says. “I think you’ve got to do what’s right for you.”
Evan pulls out his guitar and strums a few chords. “Sometimes that’s easier said than done.”
The hail beats down harder now. The chunks are pretty substantial, the size of small pebbles. They crack and burst on the cement. Virgo shuts the office door. “This storm is crazy.”
Evan plucks at his guitar. He plays a few scales and then starts to hum. He looks up at me and smiles.
“Play something for us,” I say. “I want to hear you sing.”
I can feel the surprise in the room, from Evan especially.
“Really?” he asks.
“Yes, really.”
“What do you want me to play?”
“I don’t know. Anything. Something you wrote?”
Evan leans into his guitar and begins with a soft song. It’s so quiet, at first, that I can hardly hear it, what with the pounding of the hail above. But then his volume picks up and he begins to strum at a quick rhythm. He starts to sing. His voice is smooth and clear. I recognize the subject of the song. I recognize the time and the place. I recognize the moment. “Follow me into the water,” he sings, “away from the falling sky, where we’ll dance, maybe kiss, maybe question the world. I’ll swim into your arms. How quiet it will be.”
He finishes the song, and Virgo and Sammie explode into applause.
“Evan,” Sammie exclaims, “I had no idea! You’re amazing!”
“I don’t know about amazing,” he says. “But thanks. That means a lot to me.”
He looks up at me. “What’d you think?”
I want to cry. Here’s this person, this nice, kind, gentle person. He likes me. He asks me how I am. He writes songs about me. Back in June, when we were having real conversations about parents and life and our desires for more, he was nice and funny and kind.
And yet. It’s the wrong time. I can’t return the feeling. I’m empty. I have nothing left inside to give.
“It was beautiful,” I force myself to say. “Really beautiful.”
It’s the truth.
The hail lets up, and now it’s only rain falling down on us. Virgo stands up. “Well, pool’s closed, and we’ve got another free afternoon. We could head back up to the roof, have another game of Extreme Ping-Pong? If I remember correctly, Evan needs to redeem himself.”
“Better yet,” Evan says, “you guys want to come up to our place? Our dorm has a pool table. We could try for a game of Extreme Billiards—”
Sammie jumps up. “I love that idea!”
“I hate that idea,” I say. “Extreme Billiards sounds extremely dangerous.”
“Come on,” Sammie says. “It’s not like you have to be home—”
“I kind of just want to go to your apartment and take a nap.”
“No,” Sammie says, laughing. “No nap. You’re coming with us. End of story.”
“Ugh,” I groan. “But I’m so tired.”
Evan looks at me. “Come with us, Vivi. It’ll be fun. You can help me beat Virgo with your Extreme tournament skills.”
I think about what Sammie said. That she’s going to be gone soon. That I’m going to need a friend besides her. Someone who cares about me. “Okay,” I say. “Fine. I’ll come up for a little bit.” But no kissing, I think to myself.
No kissing, no boyfriends, no more breaking hearts.
*
We take the bus a few miles north to the campus of St. Mary’s. Their dorm is an old brick building a few blocks away from the central quad. We enter the lobby, to find it packed with people. “Crap,” Virgo says. “I forgot. It’s Sleepover Weekend.”
“What’s that?”
“A bunch of incoming freshmen stay overnight so that they can get a preview of college life,” Evan explains. “The RAs fill them with free pizza and get them drunk and then make them promise not to tell their parents. It’s why we have the highest student satisfaction rate in Illinois, particularly among underclassmen.”
We head to the basement, where the pool table is, but some of the weekend visitors are in the midst of a game. “Damn high schoolers,” Virgo says, and then he looks at Sammie and me. “No offense.”