He smiles. From then on he goes back and forth from me to the sketch pad. I still feel a little ridiculous posing this way. But Sam said he wants to give it to me as a Christmas gift, which is just weeks away.
I try to think of things other than the last time I sat on this couch. Like next week at school, when we have midterms—three half days, two exams each day—and then we go on break until the new year. I’ll need to study all weekend. Or maybe not all weekend. I mean, I’m doing great in all my classes. Plus, I’ve always aced my exams. Surely I can have some fun. Nick is probably hanging with Sarah. And Raj with Madison. I could ask Max and Ty to go to a movie. I look over at Sam, still deep in concentration. An improbable idea comes to me, but I give it a shot. “Hey, you want to come over tomorrow night?”
“Tomorrow night?” he asks, looking up again from the drawing. He’s never come inside my house. I’ve never invited him until now.
“Maybe you could sleep over. We could watch Alien, like we talked about.”
He stares at me for a second, maybe surprised, maybe trying to figure out a way to say no. “Yeah, that would be fun. I just . . . are you sure it’s okay with your folks?”
“Yeah,” I say, even though I haven’t asked them.
“I have to run it by my parents.”
“Okay.”
I haven’t had a sleepover since this past summer, with Nick. It’s like once we started high school, those things were childish. But with Sam, we have our own realm, in a way. Normal rules don’t apply.
“My mom may freak out if I am not here at night. She’s still a little overprotective,” he says.
“Well, if you don’t want to come,” I say.
“No, no, I do. It will be fun.”
“Yeah,” I say. I click my phone for the time. It’s just after five. Dad will be here soon. “You almost done?”
“Yep,” he says.
I try and lean over to sneak a peek, and he snatches it away, smiling. “Jerk,” he says.
His hands move swiftly now, like he’s just scribbling. He looks happy, concentrating on his task. And all that stuff he told me seems so far away from us now. You’d think that someone who’d been through all that would be so obviously messed up. But I look at Sam—focusing his eyes on the sketch, a slight smile forming as he looks at his own handiwork—and it’s like I can forget anything ever happened to him.
“Done.” He looks up and flashes another smile and closes the sketchbook.
===
The next day, around noon, while I’m studying, Nick texts me.
Want to go to a party tonight?
What party? I text back.
Rob Moore’s parents are away and he’s having some people over.
I’m a little surprised he’s not going with Sarah. And then I’m surprised there’s a party the weekend before exams. And then I’m confused. I text back: Who’s Rob?
He goes to TA. Remember??
Oh yeah. TA is Tuscaloosa Academy, the private school. Then I remember that Rob took some summer tennis clinics with us. I didn’t know Nick was that friendly with him.
Come over at seven.
I don’t text back right away. I can’t, I eventually type.
Why not?
I think about an easy lie. That we’re having company over. That I really need to study, which wouldn’t be that far from the truth. But I’m sick of lying. Sam’s coming over. To hang out.
No response for about five minutes. U there? I text.
Ur really hanging out w that freak?
I hold the phone for a bit, just looking at the words. Why would Nick say something like that?
Not a freak, I type back.
But before I can type anything else, I get another text from Nick: Whatever. Later.
I just sit there, holding the phone. I don’t know why Nick’s being this way. Angry and jealous and kind of mean.
I set the phone down. I don’t respond.
===
Sam comes over at seven. His mom walks him to the door. I can see her eyeing the foyer and den, checking out our house. It’s nicer than the one in Pine Forest.
“What a lovely home,” she says, sounding genuine but also kind of annoyed.
“Thanks,” Mom says. “You want some coffee, or a glass of wine?”
“No thanks, I better get going. We’re going out to dinner.” Sam’s mom hugs him so tight and for so long that it’s like she thinks this is the last time she’s ever going to see him. After the hug, Mom walks her to the car. No telling what they’re talking about.
Sam and I go upstairs and dump his duffel at the base of my bed. I’d already blown up the air mattress for him.
“Want to start the movie now?”
“Yeah, sure,” I say.
In the den, I sit at one end of the couch and Sam sits at the other. I find the movie on Netflix and we start it.
Alien is creepy, kind of like watching a haunted house movie, except everyone’s on this weird spaceship. Later, when Sigourney Weaver is in the shuttle escaping after everything has gone to hell, I say, “Don’t tell me the alien is in there with her.” But it is. I dig my hands into the cushion, but then it’s all over, she’s safe in hypersleep, until she’s rescued and has to battle a whole bunch of aliens in the next movie.
I flick on the light and it’s like we’re coming out of a bad dream. “Intense,” I say.
“It gets me every time,” Sam says, watching the credits.
We order our pizza and once it comes we just flip channels and watch stupid stuff, not really talking. Mom comes in and checks on us after a while. “You guys sleepy yet?” It’s midnight. I hadn’t realized we’d wasted so much time just vegging in front of the TV.
“Not really,” I say.
“Well, just shut out the lights when you’re done. Your father and I are hitting the hay,” she says.
A little bit later, after I let out an audible yawn, Sam says, “Let’s go to your room.”
Upstairs I sit down on my bed, and Sam starts digging around in his bag. He pulls out a paper sack and holds it up, grinning like he just opened a present.
“What is it?” I say.
He opens it and yanks out these little mini bottles of liquor. Jack Daniel’s, Bacardi, Wild Turkey, Absolut, Dewar’s.
“Wow,” I say, surprised that Sam has this stuff. “Where’d you get all that?” I feel excited and nervous all at once.
“Found them at home, a whole bunch. Might have been my dad’s. There was a whole bag in the back of the pantry. You wanna have some?”
Mom and Dad are asleep, at the other end of the hall. I’ve really only had sips of drinks and beers at parties with Nick and the guys. I can’t say I’ve ever been drunk. “Sure. Why not?”