“He usually wears an old green army jacket? His hands are always kind of beat-up?”
She snaps her fingers and her eyes light up. “Ah! That guy?! He is so good-looking!”
“You think so?” I say this because even though I think he is gorgeous it’s fun to hear her say it, too.
“God, yes! I know exactly who it is. He has gym the same hour as me. I think Coach Foster was trying to get him to play basketball. Did he try out?”
“I … I don’t know …” We’ve never talked about basketball. Could that be why I’ve been tutoring him?
“Okay, so. You and tall, dark, mysterious army-jacket guy are … hooking up?”
I bite my lip.
“You are! You totally are!”
“Well … just the one time.”
“And … nothing happened? You didn’t get any …”
Like my parents, she doesn’t like to name my visions out loud. As if not calling them what they are makes any difference.
I shake my head. “I didn’t. Isn’t that weird?”
“I mean, you did touch him, right? Like, with your hands?”
“Yeah. I mean, not his bare skin or anything.” I feel myself blush. “But that usually doesn’t matter.”
“But you touched his clothes?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, my God. This is huge! Like, where did you touch him?”
“At the park. On the play set.”
“No. Like where on his body.”
“Oh!” I feel myself blushing even more. What am I, twelve? “I don’t know. His chest. Maybe his shoulders ...”
“Jeez, you were all over each other! And nothing? None of your … fractals?”
I shake my head. I’ll admit it: after we kissed the other night I had the romantic idea that maybe he didn’t give me fractals because, well ... our feelings for each other are special. That he’s “the one” or something equally corny, like some Disney fairy tale. But now I wonder if there’s another explanation. Something to do with that night that changed both of our lives eighteen years ago.
“Oh, my God!” she exclaims again. “We should totally go on a double date!”
How her mind goes from my huge news that Zenn doesn’t give me fractals to double dating, I have no idea. I guess she’s been waiting for this moment since Josh first asked her out. But I try to imagine Zenn and Josh hanging out and it doesn’t compute. I can’t imagine anything moving forward after what I’ve learned.
“Maybe.” I try to change the subject. “How’s it going with you guys?”
It may be my imagination, but I think Charlotte’s excitement dies down a tiny bit. “Good!”
I study her face and her eyes dart away.
“Is this a Katie Holmes–Tom Cruise kind of thing?”
Charlotte just looks at me blankly.
“You know. Like where she fantasized about marrying him when she was a kid but then did and found out he’s a crazy Scientologist?”
“No!” Charlotte swats me and rolls her eyes.
“The shine hasn’t worn off? Even a little?”
“No. Not like that.”
“Then what?”
She picks at the skin around her fingernails. “I don’t know. I guess it’s just his friends. He acts different around them than he does around me.”
I nod. I don’t tell her that I already know this.
“I wish he would just …” Her words drift off and she looks at me hopefully.
“Hey, don’t look at me. I have absolutely zero relationship advice to give.”
“What do you think, though? Do you think he’s a good guy? Do you think I’m going to get my heart broken?”
I smile at her. “I think he’s a very good guy.”
And I realize I do. But I have no idea about the safety of her heart.
Sunday night Zenn texts me again.
Zenn: Hey!
The exclamation point tells me he is still oblivious. Of course he is. He didn’t try to stop by my house with a note on the back of a Jesus coloring sheet. He didn’t have a heart-to-heart with my mom. He had no reason to Google my name and unravel our story. He’s the smart one, the lucky one. Meanwhile, I have the unfortunate task of figuring out what to do next.
Me: Hey
Zenn: I want to see u. Can I see u?
My heart flutters and I cover my smile with my hand, though no one is around to see it. But I can’t do this. Can I? Can I do this? I think for a second and text back.
Me: I have a lot of homework. Maybe another time?
There is a pause. I stare at my phone, waiting.
Zenn: Are you avoiding me?
Me: No! No. Just … AP Lit is kicking. My. Ass.
Zenn: OK.
Zenn: That’s what you get for being an overachiever.
Me: haha
Zenn: Tomorrow?
Nothing is going to have changed by tomorrow. His dad will still have killed my parents. My heart will still be in my throat when I hear his voice. And I still won’t know what to do about any of it. But I text back: Tomorrow.
I skip our lunch together and hide out in the library instead. I know this is getting out of hand and that he is going to realize I’m blowing him off. But I still don’t know how to handle this.
I think I’ve bought myself one more day when I make it out of school without seeing him, but then I hear him calling me across the parking lot.
He’s walking toward me and I realize for real why I’ve been trying to put space between us: because I have zero willpower when it comes to him. I am pulling toward him like a magnet.
“Hey,” he says, slightly out of breath. Like the first time we met.
“Hey,” I say back.
He stands close to me now, closer than he did before we kissed. He doesn’t ask me where I was at lunch. He doesn’t give me the third degree. He just looks down at me with those eyelashes and I fold like a paper airplane. He raises an eyebrow, lifts one corner of his mouth. He tugs at the shoulder strap of my backpack lightly. Oh, screw it. I’m doomed.
He glances at his phone. “I have to go to work,” he says, and he doesn’t even try to hide the regret in his voice. I want to reach out and touch him, but he’s wearing that damn army jacket.
“Tonight?” I ask him, all resolve gone. “What time do you get off?”
“Seven.”
I pick the first place that comes to mind, a place where I know we can be alone to talk. “Meet me at my church? Around eight?”
“At your church?” I nod and he doesn’t question me further, just says, “Okay.” There is no kiss, but there is this incredible moment where he looks at me — no, scratch that. He sees me, with those stormy eyes and those fantastic eyelashes and he tugs playfully at the end of my braid and I feel like I can barely breathe. “See you tonight.”
Chapter 27
I tell my mom that Charlotte and I are working on a group project and that the only time we could get together is tonight. She tells me not to stay up too late, but I know she’ll be dead asleep by the time I get home, no matter when that might be. I head off with no idea what I’m going to say to him. I know I probably should end it. It’s just too weird and soap opera-y and my mom would freak out if she ever found out that Zenn is Michael Franklin’s son. I should end it and just focus on the task at hand: a college, a scholarship. In the long run, that’s what really matters.