Cross My Heart (19 page)

Something catches
in my throat, and
I swallow
hard.
“You should at least appl
y to Northwestern State,” I say
,
grappling against the
silence hovering
between us,
desperate to find the footing that will take us back to the way things were.
“It’s not too far away, and they’ve got
awesome
programs.”

He shrugs
. “Yeah
.
Whatever
.”

“Friday’s game, right? We’re still on to s
et up our table?” Savannah asks when I si
t down at lunch on Monday.

“Yeah. I’ve already confirmed everything with the athletics director. He said we could set up by the snack bar.”

Blake put
s
his a
rm around me, pulling me closer.
My eyes drift
toward the window
out of sheer habit. And there’s Parker. He
smiled at me earlier,
when
I
tossed him a bag of Sun Chips and a soda. Bu
t even this i
s unlike me. I’m
always nagging Blake and Savannah about their su
gar-drink consumption. I give them to Parker like they’
re nothing.
It’s what he likes
, I rationalize. I doubt
Parker ge
t
s what he wants
very o
ften. Now, watching him as he si
t
s
outside
in the
cold, eating what little I can
offer, and going over
notes for classes
which do
n’t even
matter, technically, since he isn’t going to college, I feel
a pang of sadness for him
. I
’
m
getting the
se a lot
,
lately.

He’d freak
if he knew thi
s
. Parker thrives
on the whole “I’m
fine” vibe. To know someone feels
sorry for him, well, he’d
probably go ballistic. It’s why I’m
bringing sodas and an extra bag of chips to school every day now, and
why I always act like it’
s no big deal.

“Hello
? Earth to Jaden!” Savannah says
, waving her han
d in front of my face. I snap
back to attention.

“What? Sorry.”

“Wow, you really spaced t
here for a minute,” she says
.

“Yeah.” I
dunk
a cold carrot into
ranch dressing. It crunches
loudly as I bit
e into it. I apologize
again, wiping a drip of dressing off my lip with my finger. “There’s a lot going on.”

Out o
f the corner of my eye I notice
Ashley mouthing something t
o Blake, “heard from Harvard?” is the only thing I can make out. Beside me, Blake sha
k
es
his head.

I roll my eyes,
cringing,
and pull
my ha
ir back from my face. I’d put it in a ponytail, but I do
n’t have an elasti
c with me.
I picked a great day to forget it.
I let my
hair fall
past my shoulders
. “Jesus
,
you guys, I’m right
here
.”

“Sorry,” Blake mumbles
.

“It’s fine. No, Ashley, I haven’t heard from Harvard. But it’s not a big deal. You can ask. Or better yet, when I find out, you all will be the first to know, I swear.”

“It’s just that we know how important
it is to you,” Ashley explains
. “We’re worried.”

I let out a tiny laugh, reaching for another carrot. “Please, don’t waste your time.”

“You’re not acting like y
ourself, lately,” Savannah adds
.

I scoff. “Maybe
because I’m waiting for the most important letter of my entire life. Forgi
ve me for being a bit anxious, k
?”

Blake shifts
u
ncomfortably beside me. I close my eyes and inhale
deeply, tr
ying my best to remain centered. T
o not lose it.
B
ecause Jaden
McEntyre
never loses
it. Ever.

“
Look, g
uys,” I continue
, plastering
a smile on my face. “It’s okay, I swear. Yes, I’m nervous, but it’s no big deal. I’m the same Jaden . . . just a little on the apprehensi
ve side, that’s all.” I muster
as much optimism as I
possibly
can
,
making the words sound cheerful
. “Plus there’s the
library fundraiser and the
w
alk for the Food Bank
. Once our raffle is over
I have to start thinking about
that
. . . .”
I trail off,
lightheaded,
overwhelmed by the sheer number of demands on my to-do list.

“Always making sure
the world is fed,” Blake teases
, leaning in to kiss me
. The stubb
le on his chin scratches
against my cheek
. I wince
,
a wave
of guilt washing over me. He has
no id
e
a, at that moment, how true this
i
s.

Across the table Savannah smiles
.

This is the Jaden they want
: the organizer, the leader, the project manager. The
one person they can
count on to get behind a penny drive to raise funds for a Mexican orphanage, or a bracelet campaign to raise awareness abou
t glaucoma. The Jaden who jumps
from one cause to the next and the next
and the next
. They do
n’t want the une
asy Jaden. T
he one who worries
constantly about
Harvard and her future. They don’t want the Jaden who wastes
her time concerned about
a guy who, in their opinion, isn’t worth the effort. They don’t want the Jaden who wonders about Parker Whalen, keeps
s
ecrets about him, and i
s frequent
ly overtaken by thoughts of him. T
he Jaden prone to blank stares and far-off gazes.

The conversation shifts
to that weekend’s
basketball game. T
here’s no possible way they’ll
ever make it to the tournament,
but,
as al
ways, Tony and Blake just
know
they can beat this team. I’m
only half-aware of the chatter going on around me, trying my best n
ot to look out the window again, the whole time
wonder
ing
: what good i
s the Jaden who single-handedly sav
es the universe, when there a
re issue
s much closer that ar
e
just as real . . .
and just as
important
?

*
  
*
  
*

The
gymnasium
i
s packed
on Friday night. For some
strange reason the community has
always supported the basketball team, but things amped up approximately two
seconds
ago, when Tony landed a shock three-pointer and pu
t our team in the lead. I can
hardly hear myself think for all the screaming, not counting
the fact that Savannah,
sitting beside me, nearly rips
my arm out of its socket
with her
excited tugging.

During the commotion, a woman,
baby planted on her hip, stops
in front
of our raffle table. The baby i
s younger than Joshua,
his
smooth skin flushed pink
,
and
wearing a
onesie
and no shoes, even though it’
s barely above freezing outside.

She asks
what we’
re raffling. I
immediately remember taping my
poster to the front of the table
(only a spattering of glitter remaining
,
now)
, which clearly states
what we’
re giving away (a
Wi
i
), and that the proceeds a
re going to help poor ch
ildren (in Bangladesh). I smile anyway, though, and gi
ve my little spiel, keeping my voice just above the roar of the crowd.

“
I don’t have five bucks on me right now, but I’ll send Ray down in a few minut
es to buy us a ticket,” she says. I nod politely, though I have no idea who Ray is—or if I’ll
even know him
when I see him. Whoever he is, I hope he’
s holding on to socks and a jacket for that ch
ild, or my next fundraiser will
be a clothing driv
e for the poor kids of
Bedford.
The woman wanders away; the baby keeps
watching us.

“He is
on fire
!” Savannah s
ays
.

“They’re playing
really well tonight!” I agree,
yell
ing above the stomping
feet against the stands, the crowd chanting,
new tennis shoes
squeaking against the gym floor
.

She turns
to me, squinting her eyes. “What? I can’t hear a thing!”

“He’s o
n fire!” I repeat
, louder
.

She continues
cheering for Tony while I open the black money bag and start
counting five and ten dollar bill
s. In a few seconds the crowd i
s on its feet,
shouts reverberating—
magnified
—
consuming
our tiny gym
nasium
.

“What happened?” I ask
.

“Your man just scored!”

“Oh. Well.
Yay
!” I go
back to counting.

“I can’t believe we’ve
sold this many tickets,” I muse
, flipping through the bills. “We must’ve made a thousand bucks tonight alone.”

“I can’t b
elieve this many people
come out to see our basketb
all team lose,” Savannah replies
.  “Don’t they
have anything better to do
on a Friday night than show up
at
some high school ball game? I mean, I’ve seen people here who have already
graduated
. How sad is that?”

I glance to my right where
Vince
De Luca
, the most infamous of these graduates, is holding court.
“As lon
g as their faces aren’t painted,
”
I say, eyeing him carefully.

“I know, right?”

The third quarter buzzer ri
ng
s. I check the score. We’r
e tra
iling by a few points. It’s not
anythin
g we ca
n’t make up in the final qua
rter, though, and this surprises
me. Tony a
nd Blake were right: the team i
s better
. Usually by this time I’ve
eaten too much popcorn, drank my way thr
ough two bottled waters, and I’m
checking the time. At lea
st they’re
giving us something to watch.

“Oh. My. God,” Savannah mutters
.
She sits, frozen, staring across the gym.

My back stiffens.
“What?”

“You will
never
guess who’s here, and totally staring you down.”