Catching Jordan (24 page)

What’s his favorite color? Favorite band? Favorite vacation? Mustard or mayo? Both? When the hel is his birthday?

In some ways, I do know him. Does he like my hair up or down? Down. Boxers or briefs? Boxer briefs. Does he like it when I dress up? He prefers my jeans and Tshirts. Joe Montana or John Elway? Elway. (Blasphemy.) Henry? Favorite color? Silver. Favorite band? Led Zeppelin. Favorite vacation? A cross-country trip with his dad to the Grand Canyon. Mustard or mayo? Ketchup. Birthday? December 1.

Ty picks me up and we’re off to some undisclosed location. Wearing jeans and a sweater, he’s borrowed his grandfather’s car for the occasion, and he brings me a bouquet of red roses. It’s 5:30, which is early for a date, so we’re driving into a lilac-and-bubblegum-colored sunset when he reaches over and rubs my thigh.

He smiles and it reminds me of the first day I saw him, how just seeing him made my body crazy. Practical y catatonic. Even if he’s not perfect for me, perfect like Henry is, it’s easy to like Ty.

Soon I notice we’re heading away from town and out into the country, aka nowhere. “Ty, where are we going? There’s nothing out here.”

“That’s what you think,” he says with a wicked grin stretched across his face.

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I hate surprises. And how can you like surprises? You like being in control.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, but I’m in control if I’m the one doing the surprising.”

He parks the car and we get out and walk across a vast green field, overrun with hay and weeds, until we come to a path that leads down to a little waterfal , where Ty has set up a picnic. I bet 99.9 percent of al women would absolutely swoon if they saw this setup, and I’m in the majority.

Gaping, I grab his elbow. “How did you find this place?”

He smiles, gesturing for me to take a seat on the blanket he’s spread out. “My grandfather told me about it.” He lights a couple of lanterns.

Water is lapping over rocks and crickets are chirping as Ty reaches into a backpack and pul s out sub sandwiches, potato salad, and chocolate-chip cookies, my favorite.

“You real y know the way to a girl’s heart.”

He piles some potato salad on a paper plate and passes it to me. “Wel , not every girl’s heart. Just yours.” My face heats up. If I had never heard that Henry loved me, would I stil be completely crazy over Ty? Probably.

“So,” I say, biting into my meatbal sub, “what do you like to do when you’re not playing footbal or washing dishes or control ing Vanessa’s social life?”

Ty wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Wel , control ing Vanessa’s social life is my whole reason for being, but when I’m not doing that, I like reading.”

“Reading? What do you like to read?”

Ty laughs. “Books…they’re these things with paper and words.”

I flick a forkful of potato salad at him, which he dodges. “I know that, asshole. What kinds of books?”

“I like reading about history, you know, the Civil and Revolutionary Wars. I’m thinking about being a history major.”

“Cool,” I say. Hel , I know nothing about wars, and I barely pul a B in history class. How smart
is
he?

“What do you like to do when you’re not playing footbal , Woods?”

I’m shoveling potato salad in my mouth as I think about my journal. But if I don’t even feel comfortable tel ing my best friends about it, how could I tel Ty? “Um, I like to play games. Like cards and foosbal . I like running, and I like chal enges and races too.”

“I can see that.”

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Clear.”

“Clear?”

“Yes, as in women’s bathing suits.”

“Hardy har har,” I say, giggling. “For real y though, what is it?”

“Blue. And you?”

My first reaction is to say blue too, but then thoughts of Henry’s green eyes pop into my head. Ugh. I mean, here I am, sitting in my own personal Eden with Ty as tempting as Eve’s apple, and I’m thinking about a guy who I thought was my best friend. A best friend who ditched me the moment things got rough.

“I like blue too,” I say, rebel ing against green. I don’t care how much my heart wanted me to pick that color.

“Cool.”

I focus on my sub sandwich, demolishing it, then I move on to the cookies.

“It’s a beautiful night…” Ty says.

“Yup. I love fal …”

“Me too. It’s my favorite season…”

“Mine too…” I eat another cookie.

Do we have
anything
to talk about?

When we’re hooking up, it seems like we have lots to talk about, but maybe that’s because we’re too busy kissing. This lack of conversation, this isn’t what love is supposed to be like, right? But what happens when you don’t find that right person? Do you just spend the rest of your life in a relationship where the conversation isn’t great, everything isn’t perfect, but
it
is
nice and sweet?

Knowing how much I’m missing Henry, should I even be with this guy?

Maybe I could deal with unrequited love, but since I know Henry does love me, it’s not real y unrequited. It’s…unaccepted love? Avoided love?

Abandoned love?

When the cookies are al gone, I lie back on the blanket and stare up at the emerging stars, trying to think about nothing but Ty and waterfal s and blue eyes.

prepping for the

the count? 45 days since the fight with henry
The day before the state championship, I’m feeling down. Isn’t senior year of high school supposed to be the best year of my life? What a bust.

“Woods?” JJ says, knocking me out of this pity trance I’ve been drowning in for a week. We’re sitting at Joe’s. “You gonna eat that?” JJ points at my untouched plate of spaghetti, then leans across the table and feels my forehead with the back of his hand.

“Stop it, man. I’m fine,” I say, batting his hand away.

“Eat. You need your carbs for the game.”

I salute JJ, then dig in, forking up some saucy noodles and lifting them to my mouth. “You nervous about the game?” I say through a mouthful.

“Hel yeah.” Using his non-fork hand, JJ clicks his pen incessantly. “But as long as you’re the one playing, I’l be fine.”

I sigh. Sure, Ty’s a tad control ing, but he’s a quarterback! “What’s your problem with Ty?”

JJ shrugs. “I’ve told you. He’s picky. You don’t see what he’s like in the locker room, looking down on al of us, nagging us about how we don’t tuck our jerseys in right, or how Carter made a block using the wrong part of his shoulder. I mean, what’s that about? I honestly don’t know what you see in him.”

I focus on my pasta. “He’s sweet, he’s nice to me, he’s hot. Let’s be honest, there aren’t a lot of options around here.” I use my fork to point at him.

“Like you said, Lacey’s a good lay, right?”

JJ bows his head toward me, obviously conceding. “Hey, if the sex is good, what else do you need, eh?”

“Wel , um, I bet sex might be better if you’re actual y in love, you know?”

He shrugs. “Pass the Parmesan, wil you?”

I pick up the cheese and pass it to JJ, feeling deflated. With Henry gone, I have no one to talk to except my journal, and it can’t ever talk back.

“Look, Carter and I don’t care if you date Ty. But Henry…”

This surprises me, because this is the first time JJ has brought up Henry since this stupid feud started. “Why? What did he say?”

JJ clicks his pen, hesitating. “Just that he can’t stand being around you while you’re dating Ty and he thinks you’ve chosen Ty over us.”

I drop my fork. “Oh, that’s total bul shit, JJ.”

“I know.”

“Did you tel Henry that?”

“Sure…but I think he’s gotta work this out for himself. And that’s al I’m gonna say.”

“Al I’m gonna say is that first, Henry told me to date Ty. Then he got mad about it. Then I gave Henry the choice of whether I would keep dating Ty or not…and his response was to give Ty a black eye and ignore me for a month and a half.”

“I never said this was your fault, Woods. But when did you become the Angel of Drama?” Smiling, he stares at his crossword book. “What’s a five-letter word for
polo
participant
?”

“I dunno, man…a shirt? Like a polo shirt?”

•••

After dropping JJ off at home, I drive. Drive, with no real destination. But then I realize where I want to go.

Soon I find myself standing beside the Cumberland River, the spot of my last real conversation with Henry. I open my journal and pul a pen from my pocket.

The dull ache still infests my body like cancer Henry cancer

Only rather than killing me, this cancer lets me live, in a reduced sort of way Without Henry, I’m living 75 percent of my life And maybe some people accept that, settle for that, but I don’t want to.

I find the log where Henry and I sat over a month ago. I root around beneath the rotting wood, groping for flat stones. I pul out several, stand, and take aim at the river. First I manage two skips. Then three. Wil I ever get up to four? I search for more stones, discovering some brick-like rocks, which I launch into the river, creating big splashes.

I skip stones and throw rocks until the sun starts to set. Just as I’m getting ready to leave, I see a large splash in the river, so I jerk around to find the thrower of the rock. And there he is. Henry. Standing there with a handful of rocks, launching them into the river. No one knew I was coming here, so he must’ve just shown up, just like me.

He stares at the journal in my hand, and then looks away as he picks up more rocks and starts throwing them in the river.

I drop my journal onto the ground, reach down, and grab a huge stone, almost as big as a cinder block, and hurl it at the water. Then I pick a few flat stones and skip them each three times.

He picks up a tiny rock, probably no bigger than a golf bal , and flicks it into the river, creating the measliest splash ever. I glance at him, scared to say or do anything. I watch as he reaches down and picks some wildflowers. Sunflowers. Goldenrod. Queen Anne’s lace. He slowly shuffles over and hands me the bouquet.

My tears are everywhere. I sop them up using my sweatshirt, and when I look at his face, he reaches around his neck and pul s off the silver chain that holds the plastic footbal charm, fingering it. He stares down at the charm, then finds my eyes and puts the chain around my neck.

“I’m sorry I fucked everything up, Jordan,” he says, and then he’s gone.

•••

Later that evening, I’m huddled in the potting shed with my flashlight, writing in my journal.

My fears have come true:

I’m that girl who’s lost all control and perspective because of a guy What do I say to Henry?

Is there anything I could say to make things better?

I finally have the charm I’ve wanted forever But it’s just a shitty piece of plastic if it’s not attached to Henry Al of a sudden the door to the potting shed creaks open and Mom crawls inside with me.

“How did you know where I was?”

“Sweetie, you’ve been coming here for years. Ever since that first time you and Henry played house.”

“Oh.” Mom real y does know al .

“Your friends are here.”

I furiously wipe my wet eyes on my sleeve. “Carter? JJ?”

Light from the porch il uminates the inside of the shed, so I can see Mom smiling. “Carrie and Marie.”

What
the
hell?
“Why are they here?”

“Carrie wants to talk to you.”

“Oh.”

Mom hesitates. “Look, sweetie, I wish you’d talk to someone. I hate watching you keep everything bottled up.”

“I’m not! I’ve been writing in the stupid journal you gave me.”

Mom puts an arm around my waist and drops her forehead onto my shoulder. “And I’m so glad you’ve found another outlet besides footbal . But talking to Carrie might be more helpful than writing in your journal.”

I think back to when I told Carrie I slept with Ty, and I felt so scared, because she could’ve told everyone. But no one found out. And Marie didn’t make a big deal of being my partner in music appreciation class. I like that she’s kinda low-key, at least compared to the other cheerleaders. Hel , she knows what a flea flicker is.

“That’s not a bad idea, Mom.”

“Good. Want to go inside?”

I stand up, and together, we go out of the potting shed. Mom holds my hand as we walk through the garden and up to the porch.

Back in the house, after glancing at my red face in the bathroom mirror, I go to the foyer, where Carrie and Marie are waiting for me. “What’s up?”

I say.

When the girls see me, they glance at one another. Carrie clears her throat. “You okay, Jordan?”

I wipe my eyes again and force a smile. “Oh yeah—I’m fine. What are y’al up to?”

“Carrie needs your advice,” Marie says, patting Carrie’s back.

My
advice?
“Is this some kind of a joke? Did JJ put you up to this?”

Marie laughs. “No—for real. Is there someplace we can talk?”

“Sure—let’s go to the basement.” Carrie and Marie fol ow me down the stairs and we plop down on the couches. So now what? Should I offer them a drink? What would Henry want?

“You guys want to order pizza?” I say.

“Awesome,” Carrie says.

“Can we get wings too?” Marie asks.

“Hel yeah,” I say.

Marie likes wings?

I grab a menu from the desk, pul out my cel phone, and order the pizza and wings, then sit back down on the couch. “So what kind of advice do you need? Need my opinion on buying a new pair of cleats?”

“No,” Marie says. “Guy advice.”

I laugh loudly. “You must be joking.”

“Nope,” Marie says. “The issue is that Carrie total y likes Carter, but he doesn’t want to date her.”

“Real y?” I exclaim, focusing on Carrie, whose face is al red. “I thought he liked you a lot.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Marie replies.

“Look, guys,” Carrie says, “I
know
he likes me. But he doesn’t want to get involved because he thinks Henry is stil hung up on me.”

I laugh. “Carter is so dense.”

Carrie pauses for a beat. “I know, right?”