Interim

“Cryptic,” Jeremy said patiently.

 

“All right, all right.” Hannah hesitated. “I kissed her.”

 

Jeremy’s eyebrows shot up. They finally arrived at Hannah’s car on the far side of the massive parking lot, and she opened her door.

 

“What the hell? You don’t think you’re leaving, do you?” he asked.

 

She laughed. “No, dummy. Get in. I’ll drive you to work.”

 

Hannah recounted the story on the short drive to Roy’s.

 

“Ninth grade. I was crying in the bathroom because I didn’t understand why all these girls weren’t talking to me anymore. They talked to me in eighth grade. What the hell changed? And then Regan comes in and asks me what’s wrong, and I really didn’t want to tell her because she was one of them—”

 

“She was mean to you?” Jeremy asked.

 

“No, she wasn’t mean. But she hung out with them, so she just stopped talking to me. I mean, every now and then she’d say hi, but we weren’t, like, friends or anything.”

 

Jeremy nodded.

 

“So anyway, I’m crying and she’s asking me what’s wrong, and before I know it, she’s hugging me. It felt . . . good. And then she pulled away and wiped my tears, and I took it as an invitation.”

 

“Is that usually how it goes with girls?” Jeremy asked. “I mean, if they’re interested in each other? They wipe each other’s tears?”

 

Hannah snorted. “You’re an idiot.”

 

“Well, how should I know?” Jeremy cried defensively.

 

“No, that’s not how it goes between lesbians. I misread the signs. I kissed her, and she just froze for a second, and then she pulled away and told me I had the wrong idea.”

 

Jeremy said nothing.

 

“Don’t pretend you didn’t know I was gay,” she said, pulling into an empty parking space.

 

“I never thought about it,” Jeremy admitted. “And it wouldn’t have mattered, anyway.”

 

“Well, that’s because you’re a nice guy and because you’re wrapped up in your own shittastic life,” Hannah replied.

 

Jeremy chuckled.

 

“Well, I’ll amend that. What used to be your shittastic life,” Hannah said. “You’ve got the girl now, so . . .”

 

“My whole world doesn’t revolve around her,” Jeremy pointed out.

 

Hannah burst out laughing. “You’re such a bad liar, Jer.”

 

He said nothing.

 

“Anyway, she told Casey what happened, and that’s when the bullying really ramped up. I don’t think she meant for that to happen, but it did. And I’ve had a suck ass life ever since. Well, if you don’t count the shit with my parents.”

 

“Mine started in sixth grade,” Jeremy said.

 

“I remember,” Hannah replied. “You wanna talk about it?”

 

“No.”

 

She grinned. “So Regan and I had a huge argument a few weeks ago and sort of cleared the air. I guess she’s all right now, but I still don’t know how I feel about hanging out with her. It’s weird.”

 

He nodded.

 

“I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’m not jealous of you or anything. I’m so over Regan Walters. But I guess I just feel like you two have your own thing going, and I don’t really fit into it.”

 

“You and I were friends first,” Jeremy reminded her.

 

“Jeremy, what the fuck are you talking about? Sure, we talked to each other at school, but that’s because we really didn’t have any other options. Bullshit circumstances are the only things that brought us together. I mean, how can we really be friends? We don’t know anything about each other except that we’re victims. And we rarely even talk about that!”

 

“Okay, then, what do you wanna know?” Jeremy asked. “I’ll tell you anything.”

 

“That’s just it, loser. I don’t wanna know. I liked it the way it was. We talked when we needed to. We didn’t talk when we didn’t need to.”

 

“So then why can’t we still do that?” Jeremy asked.

 

“Because we can’t, okay? It wouldn’t work. You’ve got your thing going on—”

 

“Stop saying that!” he cried.

 

Silence. Hannah traced the steering wheel with her finger, clockwise all the way around. Then counterclockwise. Clockwise again. Jeremy slapped his hand over hers, forcing her to stop.

 

“No,” he said.

 

“No, what?”

 

“You were and still are my friend,” he said.

 

“It’s weird.”

 

“I don’t care.”

 

“I do.”

 

“Well, too bad. We’re making this work.”

 

“How?”

 

“I don’t know. But we’ll think of something.” He pulled his hand away and turned his face. “You were always there,” he whispered. “You were my friend.” He swallowed. “Just . . . don’t go anywhere, okay? Is that so hard?”

 

Hannah swallowed, too.

 

He didn’t wait for a reply. He climbed out of the car and slammed the door. No goodbye. No second glance her way. He walked into the garage, chin tucked into his jacket, thinking hard about a way to make Hannah feel less like an outsider. He wouldn’t give up his girlfriend. That’s for damn sure. But there had to be a way to make it work among the three of them. They were his girls, after all, and he wouldn’t lose either.

 

***

 

“There’s no way your parents let you come over here,” Jeremy said, moving aside to let Regan through the front door.

 

“I’m practicing at the park,” she replied, kissing his cheek.

 

She carried four grocery bags to the kitchen and dumped them on the counter.

 

“But the season’s over,” Jeremy pointed out.

 

“And? I have an official visit at Berkshire in a month,” Regan said.

 

“An official visit? What the hell’s that?”

 

“Sort of like an interview but not really,” Regan replied. “Anyway, I’ve gotta keep my skills fresh. They may invite me to scrimmage with some of their girls—” She grinned, eyes sparkling. “—which would be completely insane and awesome, by the way.”

 

“Completely,” Jeremy agreed. “But it’s so damn cold.”

 

“Eh. These are the things you’ve gotta do when you need a scholarship.”

 

S. Walden's books