Just Friends Page 23

  I rang the bell, and a minute later, a guy entered from the back, wiping his greasy hands on an even greasier rag. “Hey, brother,” he said in an easy manner.

  “Hey,” I said. “I’m Mitch Houser. I talked—”

  “Oh yeah. Roskelley’s kid.” The man stuck out his hand. “I’m James. Come on back.”

  I grinned as I shook his hand and he led me into the bays. Three of them were occupied by cars, but I couldn’t see another mechanic.

  “These two are oil changes,” he said, indicating the two closest cars. “Clients in the waiting room, and my guy out sick with bronchitis.” He looked at me. “You know how to change oil?”

  “Yes, sir,” I said, surprised I was actually going to start this afternoon—in my school clothes.

  “No ‘sir’ here,” James said. “I ain’t my dad. Now—” He pointed to the second car—“I got that one drained. Needs a new filter and four quarts of 30/5.” He scanned my clothes. “Got some coveralls in the back there.” He nodded toward another door, an office by the looks of the desk. “We get these done, and we can get back to work on the cooling system in the Dodge.”

  My heart pulsed against my ribs for a beat or two. A cooling system! I hurried to switch clothes and finish the oil change. By the time James shut down the shop at six o’clock, I’d done another oil change—solo—replaced a windshield wiper, and fixed a flat tire. I’d spent an hour leaned over the engine of the Dodge, listening to James talk and absorbing every word about different belts and filters and fans.

  We worked out my schedule so I could work two nights during the week and all day Saturday, and I left the shop feeling the happiest I had since Jade broke up with me. This time, when I thought about her on the way home, I didn’t turn down her street and stalk past her house. As I turned into my driveway and bounded into the kitchen, I thought maybe I was starting to get over her.

  Omar sat at the dinner table tonight, answering my father’s questions.

  “I have to shower,” I said to Mom when she gestured toward my seat at the table. I held up my hands to show how awesomely dirty they were, and she nodded.

  Ten minutes later, I had a plate full of meatloaf and mashed potatoes, and my dad asked, “So how was it?”

  “Great,” I said, smiling.

  “That’s it?” Mom asked. “Great?”

  “Really great,” I said.

  “Some details would be nice,” she said.

  “All right.” So I told them all about the shop, and how perfect it was, and how James let me do simple things by myself without checking over my shoulder every five seconds.

  Dad smiled, and it looked genuine. Mom followed suit, but the tension lines never completely disappeared around her eyes. I didn’t care. In three months I’d be eighteen. In six months, I could move out and do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted.

  That night, when my mom hugged me before she went to bed, I thought that might be the problem. She knew how close I was to leaving.

  On Saturday morning, I stood in the bathroom brushing my teeth when I realized it was January eighth. Jade’s birthday. I was working at the shop from ten o’clock until six o’clock, and I didn’t have a gift for her.

  Holly had started to text me again, and though we hadn’t exchanged phones, I knew we would eventually. I hadn’t been able to give her up for Jade. I didn’t want to throw Holly to the wolves and never speak to her again. As I examined myself in the mirror, I wished I could figure out how to feel about her.

  “Maybe you like her,” I said to my reflection.

  I turned my face to the right. “And maybe it’s just convenient that she likes you.”

  I couldn’t be with her just because she wanted to be with me. I didn’t even know if we could be together.

  “Maybe it’s just like everything else,” I said, thinking of the half blank college applications and how long it had taken me to kiss Jade. “Maybe it’ll just take time.”

  “Maybe you should go get dressed and stop talking to yourself,” Drew said. “Some of us would like to use this bathroom.”

  By the time six o’clock hit, my muscles hurt. I was used to running mile after mile in a controlled manner. My feet could find a rhythm and never vary from it. I knew when I hit one mile, two, three, five.

  Working on cars wasn’t anything like running. Sometimes the bolts wouldn’t come off until I’d exerted all my strength, and then bam! They’d release. I was up and down, down and up, and bending over and crawling under, and leaning or scooting in.

  “See you Tuesday,” James said. “Nice work today.”

  “Thanks!” I called as I grabbed my coat and keys from the office. I drove across town without really thinking, and before I knew it, I’d arrived at Jade’s. Sudden nervousness struck me. It was Saturday night. Her birthday. Maybe her parents had flown her to Paris, the way I’d imagined when I first found out how rich they were. Maybe she was having a party with her girl friends. Or maybe she was out on a date at a fancy schmancy restaurant with a new boyfriend.

  Maybe I shouldn’t be here at all.

  The thought ran through my head for a full minute before the porch light clicked on and Mr. Montgomery came out the front door. He stood there with his arms folded, looking so much like that time he’d caught me making out with Jade in this very car.

  He locked eyes with me, and I flipped the car into drive and slowly eased onto the road. When the snow started, I flipped on the windshield wipers. I drove aimlessly for a long time. Even the radio couldn’t drown out the implied message in Mr. Montgomery’s eyes. Go home, Mitch. Give up this fight.

  I finally pointed the car toward home when my mom texted, wondering if I’d driven into a ditch. I pulled over and texted her quickly that I was on my way home. I passed Holly’s house, noticing the low light gurgling within. I parked my car in my driveway and ran inside to wash my hands.

  “I’ll be back in a sec,” I yelled to my parents in the living room and headed back out. I ran next door and pounded on Holly’s door.

  It took her a minute to answer and when she did, she was wearing sweats—though I knew what secrets about her body they hid—and licking frosting from her fingers. “Mitch,” she said, surprise coloring her voice.

  I didn’t speak because my throat was too dry. I looked at her until she dropped her hand and cocked her head to the side, a smile on her face. “What—?”

  I kissed her. I needed to know how it felt when it was done properly, when I wasn’t trying to get away, when I wanted to do it.

  Her body melted into mine and she slid her hands under my jacket and around my back. Her lips were once again cool, and she tasted like sugar and cream cheese. My insides felt really hot, and fire raced across my skin. Somewhere buried deep, another fissure inside of me closed, sealed shut by the pressure of Holly’s mouth against mine.

  By the time I pulled away, my heart pounded in my throat and the cold that had been kept at bay by my adrenaline was starting to creep back in.

  She kept her eyes closed for several seconds, licked her lips, and said, “What the hell was that?”

  I thought she was angry, then I remembered that I’d said that after she’d kissed me.

  “That was me figuring some things out,” I murmured, still holding on to her. My hands fit nicely along her hips and dang, if she didn’t feel like coming home.

  “Are you going to do that again?” she asked, her auburn hair falling into her eyes. “Or have you got everything all figured out now?”

  “I think I’d like to do that again.” So I did.

  33

  I left Holly standing on her porch, claiming my mom would be coming out any second if I didn’t get home. I told Holly I’d call her later—and she knew how much I hated talking on the phone.

  It was later, and I didn’t want to call. Not because I didn’t want to talk to her, but because I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t very well tell her that I thought I liked her, and despite kissing her and really enjoyin
g it, I still couldn’t figure out how I felt.

  So I stayed in the living room with Omar and Drew, watching whatever movie they’d put on before I’d finished showering. They sat close together on the couch, a pillow covering their hands like they were fooling someone. Mom had disappeared somewhere, so I sat next to Omar while Dad reclined in the armchair.

  He wasn’t exactly watching Drew and Omar, but he wasn’t exactly watching the movie either. I actually felt a pang of I didn’t know what—empathy? Sorrow?—for Omar. I’d been in his position with Jade. Watchful parents, zero time alone. Which made me realize that if he felt anything like I had, then he couldn’t be alone with Drew.

  I sat up straight. “You’re not sneaking over here in the middle of the night, are you?”

  Omar startled and looked at me. “I’m not you, Mitch.” He laughed a little, but it sounded strained. I was satisfied though, because Omar never could mask his guilt well. If he’d been sneaking over to kiss Drew in the backyard, I’d be able to see it in his eyes.

  Dad patted my shoulder as he got up. “Therapy on Monday morning,” he reminded me before heading into his office.

  I didn’t want to tell anyone about kissing Holly, especially Dr. Perez. Lance would just whoop and ask me to compare notes. He’d probably critique my technique or something. Maybe I could tell Drew, and maybe much later.

  I stared at the TV, wondering what it meant that I wanted to keep Holly close, keep our kiss private. Too little time had passed since Jade’s scream-fest-break-up in the hall, and if I showed up a month later attached to Holly, everyone would think Jade’s accusations were true. Was I embarrassed? Or did I just need more time to process? Maybe Holly was special to me in a way no one else had been before, even Jade.

  Before the movie ended, I went upstairs and dialed Holly. “Hey,” I said when she answered.

  “Hey,” she said, and then she waited.

  “So, I think I need more time,” I said, clenching my eyes closed. “I don’t want to screw anything up if there’s going to be something between us, you know?”

  She laughed, the sound entering my ears in a way it never had before. Before, she laughed because I was her silly best friend. Now she was laughing because… Well, I didn’t know why she was laughing, but it sounded different.

  “Mitch, I didn’t think for one second this would go fast,” she said. “I mean, it took you eight years to kiss me.”

  “Shut up,” I said, but I smiled despite myself. At least she hadn’t said molasses—yet. “I just like to be careful. You’re important to me.” I couldn’t believe those words had come out of my mouth, but I meant them.

  “Thanks, Mitch,” Holly said. “You’re important to me too.”

  On Monday, Holly rode shotgun next to me as I drove to school. Drew had opted for a ride with Omar, and I’d texted him a warning while I’d waited for Holly.

  Be nice to her. I’ll find out if u aren’t.

  He’d texted back. Chill out, man. We’re nice to each other. Reeeally nice.

  That’s what I’m afraid of, I’d sent back. I was, but I wasn’t. Omar’s tactic for covering up how he really felt usually came through in what he perceived to be humor. I knew he liked Drew. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t still be with her five months later.

  I pulled into a spot next to Lance’s red Mustang, hesitant to leave the warmth of my car. I didn’t even flinch when Lance knocked on the window and unzipped his fly in my face before jogging to the front doors.

  Holly shook her head, her auburn ponytail swinging and her hazel eyes sparkling. “He really makes it hard to love him.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “But I still do.”

  “Mitch,” she teased. “I didn’t know you were into guys.” We laughed together, and it felt like everything could go back to normal between us despite the fact that I wanted to kiss her again. I hadn’t told Dr. Perez anything except what she asked me about, and she hadn’t brought up Holly.

  “So,” I said.

  “So,” she said.

  “My history essay sucks.” I pulled my backpack from the backseat. “Will you come over and help me next weekend? Maybe then I’ll get a good score.”

  She looked at me, grinned, and leaned toward me, her gaze flickering from my mouth to my eyes. She stopped halfway and blushed, which made her freckles stand out. “Yeah, I’ll come over on the weekend.”

  “Great,” I said, suddenly nervous to be in the car alone with her. Students were walking by; anyone could see us.

  I’d worked out that I liked Holly. As a best friend, and as something more. I still didn’t feel like sharing her with the world. So I got out of the car, hitched my backpack up, and bent my shoulders against the wind as I hurried to my locker.

  34

  Part five: I was going to tell you about the kiss in your backyard one night. Then you started talking about Durango, and that just made me mad. I didn’t think I could tell you then. I realize a lot of things made me mad, and I’m getting help for that now.

  Jade still hadn’t answered a single one of my texts. By now, I wasn’t expecting her to, and Dr. Perez said she thought it was actually better this way. There was no argument, because she wasn’t engaging.

  “You need to be heard,” Dr. Perez had said last week. “It’s important to you that people understand where you’re coming from. But Mitch, you can’t make someone understand anything.”

  I’d struggled with that. Mostly because she was right. I did want to be understood, and it frustrated me—drove me to anger—when that didn’t happen. I was learning to let some things go, and as I’d told Dad last night, I was happier. Or at least less angry.

  Holly started coming over all the time, eating dinner, and hanging out, writing history essays—and other types of essays. In fact, on Saturday with Holly sitting next to me, I started my entrance essay for KU.

  I called her a lot, more than I had any other girl. Somehow her voice smoothed the ragged nerves inside me.

  Molasses Mitch struck. Weeks went by, and I didn’t kiss Holly again. I leafed through her photo albums, laughing at pictures of us as kids and then as dorky junior high students. I read her journal entries about our childhood. I watched scary movies on her couch, and snuck over to her roof when the weather started warming up.

  With each text to Jade, I felt like something toxic was draining out of me. It took me a couple of months to tell the whole story, because I’d started way back when Holly and I first became best friends in fifth grade. I finished my story the first week of April with a text that said, So there u go. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, and I’m sorry. That’s it.

  I turned off my phone, opened my window, and climbed out onto the roof. Holly sat on hers, cross-legged and looking into the sky.

  “Can I come over?” I asked.

  “Sure,” she said. I held onto her hand after she’d steadied me across the gap between our houses. I hadn’t held her hand like this before. I replayed kissing her for probably the millionth time.

  She leaned her head on my shoulder and said, “What are you thinking?”

  “That I have to decide if I’m going to KU soon.” I thought about the acceptance letter I’d received last week. The cross-country coach had called at least five times, but my parents had left the decision completely up to me. I knew they wanted me to go to college, I just didn’t know what I wanted.

  “I’ll be there,” she said.

  “Yeah, studying history,” I said. “I hate history.”

  “We could run together,” she suggested. “You know, when you’re not breaking records and doing interviews.”

  “Shut up.” I adjusted my hand in hers. “You living with your dad, or did you decide you could afford a place?”

  “Dad wants me to live with him,” she said. “So I’m going to give it a try.”

  I nodded, my throat suddenly very tight. She was leaving, Lance was leaving, and I felt left behind.

  “What to know what I’m thinking now?�
� I asked after a few minutes of silence.

  “I can’t wait,” she said.

  “Well, if you’re going to be like that.”

  She nudged my shoulder with hers. “No, tell me.”

  I turned toward her, causing her to lift her face toward mine. “I’m thinking that I’d like to kiss you again, because you know, I like you. And I’m thinking that I’d like to hold your hand like this at school, so you know, everyone will know you’re my girlfriend.”

  I swallowed hard and waited for her to respond. When she just blinked at me, I said, “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking it’s about time, Mr. Molasses,” she said.

  “Hey,” I protested, but then she put one finger on my lips, silencing me.

  “And I’m thinking I’d like all of that.”

  “Great,” I whispered just before my mouth met hers.

  The next day, Holly and I entered AP history hand in hand. I didn’t know if anyone was watching or not. I didn’t care. Holly and I exchanged phones, turned in our essays, and promised to meet up after school.

  I checked her phone at lunch, and she’d started a new Post-It about the credibility of the Loch Ness monster. I snorted as I typed in a response, claiming that such a monster couldn’t possibly exist in such a small lake.

  Ivy took my salad at lunch; I chugged her chocolate milk. When we went to English lit together, there was Jade, sitting in the seat behind Ivy’s reading a book. Her long, black hair created a barrier between her and me, the way it always had.

  I slid into my seat and pulled out Holly’s phone. She’d see this text, and I’d have to explain myself. But I was sure I could.

  Hey, I wrote to Jade. This is Mitch.

  How r u?

  It was the same thing I’d asked her last year when she sat outside on the lawn. She’d looked up and smiled. She’d said she was fine, which I knew meant “Leave me alone, I’m reading.”