Infinite in Between (18 page)

MIA FLIPPED ON
her headlights, turned on the windshield wipers to clean the dew, and backed out of her driveway. Her dad said she could borrow his car instead of taking the bus. At six forty-five in the morning, the world was quiet and gray, like driving through a fallen cloud.

Mia had a mission. She was going to school early to get out the envelope that her group hid during freshman orientation. She'd gotten her SAT scores the night before. They were high enough to have her pick of colleges. Mia had just read
Love Story
, which made her want to apply to Harvard. But for real, Swarthmore was her ultimate choice. As she was brushing her teeth last night, she decided she wanted to print the SAT scores and put them in that envelope. She'd stuck a few other things in there over the years, like that stolen photo of Brock Sawyer, a perfect report card, her completion certificate from IMLI. It was Mia's lucky charm, her version of a penny tossed into a fountain.

On the way into school Mia shivered in her lime-green hoodie. She waved at the librarian and then hurried through the door and down the stairwell. She opened up the fire extinguisher cabinet,
pulled out the envelope, and slid onto the floor.

“Hey, what's up?” a guy's voice asked.

Mia sucked in her breath. There, standing above her, was Brock Sawyer.

“You're Maya, right?” he said, grinning. “What are you doing down here?”

“Mia,” she managed. Her pulse was so jumpy, she could feel it in her throat. She tucked the orientation envelope into her backpack.

“Mia. Sorry, I knew that. Are you new here? You started last fall, right?”

Mia had lusted after Brock since middle school. For all of seventh grade she recorded what kind of sandwich he brought to lunch and what color shirt he was wearing. Her obsession had eased a bit in high school, but he
was
incredibly hot. His reddish-brown hair crested in front, like a cartoon superhero. His eyes were copper and he had a sexy dimple in his cheek. Mia would give anything to touch that dimple.

“No,” Mia said. “I've been in Hankinson all along. We actually went to middle school together.”

“You must think I'm an idiot. That's cool. I probably am.” Brock slid next to Mia and cupped his hand over her knee. “Can we start over? What's up? I'm Brock.”

“Mia,” she said. Generally, Mia would be paralyzed by the fact that
Brock Sawyer
had his hand on her knee, but the whole thing was so bizarre that Mia was forgetting to die.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Brock asked. “I came in early for a varsity club meeting, and I'm just not feeling school. I was thinking about going for a hike. I know this great waterfall.”

Mia pressed her lips together. They had fifteen minutes until the first bell rang. “Can we?”

“I have a car,” Brock said, pushing himself up. “Come on, before the hall monitors mobilize their troops.”

Mia didn't know what to say. Hours and weeks and months and years of Brock Sawyer fantasies, and now . . . this.

“You know you want to,” Brock said, extending his hand. “I'll call the office and pretend I'm your dad. I'll say you're sick.”

“What about you?”

“I'll figure something out. I'm an idiot only sometimes.” Brock hoisted Mia to her feet. “You know you can't resist.”

It was true. Mia couldn't.

Two hours later, deep in a ravine south of Hankinson, Mia and Brock were making out in front of a waterfall in the pouring rain. Talk about surreal. But what was even more surreal was that they actually got along.

On the drive down, Brock told her he used to hike here with his dad and brother, but now his brother was in college and his dad lived in Albany and he only saw him twice a month. That was the kind of stuff they talked about. Mia told him about growing apart from Sophie and how her parents were workaholics and how she was obsessed with college applications.

“I can't believe this,” Mia said when they came up for air. She was pointing to the waterfall, but really she was talking about today. This kiss. The whole thing.

Mia touched her tingly lips. Brock's mouth was warm and soft and inviting.

“I know,” Brock said.

He pressed his hand against her back and pulled her close to him.

“You seem different than the other girls at Hankinson,” he said the next time they broke for air. “I can really talk to you. It's not all shallow stuff.”

Mia's hair was soaking and her jeans were so waterlogged, she could barely bend her legs. The rain wasn't bothering her though. She couldn't believe it was fourth period at school right now.

“You're also hot, by the way. I've been seeing you around.” Brock grinned at Mia. “Don't get me wrong. This isn't all about talking.”

Mia stroked Brock's cheek, pausing at his dimple.

On the hike back, Brock dragged a stick in one hand. He seemed quieter now, deep in thought. “Do you think people can reinvent themselves?”

“What do you mean?” Mia asked.

“I've been the same person for so long. It's getting old.”

“I think you can. I think anyone can decide who they want to be and then go for it.”

Brock chucked his stick down the gorge. “Maybe you can change in college. But I don't think so. You are who you are.”

“Did you know I had purple hair last year?” Mia asked. “Green, too.”

“For real?” Brock squinted at her long blond hair. “I can't even picture that.”

“I'm just saying, you can change anytime you want.”

When they got back to the car, they turned on the heat. Mia peeled off her wet hoodie and curled into Brock's arms. Brock
slipped his hand up her shirt and unhooked her bra. Mia let him touch her breasts and even pull up her shirt to get a look at them.

“Awesome,” he said before going in for another feel.

But once they started driving, Brock checked his phone and then didn't say much. Mia didn't say much either. It was almost like they were preparing for reentry into Hankinson, where Brock Sawyer and Mia Flint didn't make out at a waterfall in the rain. But Mia was okay with that because today
did
happen and no one could take it away from her.

AT FIRST THEY
thought Laurel had sun poisoning or had eaten bad sushi on Duval Street, but then she admitted that her period was really late. It was their third day in Key West, and Whitney was counting the hours until the end of the trip. It had been a mistake to come along. At least Kyra's uncle was at work most of the time. As soon as they'd arrived at his condo, Kyra told him that Whitney thought his son, Lucas, was a dick. Ever since then he'd been icy cold to her.

“Puking and a late period,” Kyra said to Autumn. Laurel had just gone into the bathroom to throw up for the second time. Whitney was flipping through
Entertainment Weekly
on the couch. There was a picture of Zoe's mom doing publicity for her new movie, set in Paris. “She's totally pregnant.”

Autumn nodded. “She was being such an idiot with Russell, like it couldn't happen to her. With Zach, I went on the pill right away.”

Whitney still didn't like hearing about Autumn having sex with Zach. Not that she wanted him back, but it felt icky.

“But Laurel hasn't done it yet,” Whitney said, closing the magazine. Laurel had been going out with this older guy, Russell, but she
always said she was going to wait until college. Even a few months ago they'd joked about how they were the last women standing.

“Apparently, she has,” Kyra said, laughing. “How else do you get pregnant, Whit?”

“La?” Autumn called out. “You okay?”

Laurel moaned. As Autumn and Kyra clambered into the bathroom, Whitney went into the guest bedroom and lay on the rumpled comforter.

“Whit?” Autumn called in a few minutes later. “We're going to buy a pregnancy test! You coming?”

Whitney bit her lip. “I'm going to hang out here.”

“Come on,” Kyra said. “How many times in your life do you get to buy a pregnancy test?”

“That's okay,” Whitney said.

“Whatever,” Kyra said.

Seconds later the door to the condo slammed shut.

ON THE LAST
day of spring break Jake was doing sit-ups when he got a text from Ted.

Wanna chill?

Sure,
Jake wrote back.
Where?

My house. No one's home.

Jake flew into the shower. He shaved and put on new boxers and faded shorts that looked good but not like he was trying too hard. Ever since they'd driven to the SATs, he and Ted had been texting and talking at school. But so far they hadn't hung out.

Jake hopped on his mountain bike and started toward Ted's. It was a Sunday at two in the afternoon. He was sixteen and ten months. The sky was blue and the daffodils were butter yellow and he felt so much incredible promise awaiting him at that exact moment.

“What's up?” Ted asked as he opened the front door. “You can just leave your bike in the garage. It's open.”

“Cool,” Jake said, grinning. Ted smiled too. His hair was wet and his cheeks were chafed. He must have just shaved too.

“Want to go downstairs?” Ted asked after Jake rolled his bike into the garage.

Jake followed Ted through the kitchen to the basement stairs. The stairs seemed smaller than the last time he'd been there, over three years ago. He had to duck his head to clear the ceiling.

“It's exactly the same,” Jake said as he eyed the brown shag carpet and the denim beanbag and the TV with the old Wii hooked up.

Ted reached into the mini-fridge and handed him a beer. It was a Heineken, just like back in middle school.

“I know,” Ted said, popping a beer for himself. “Time warp.”

“How's your tolerance now?”

“Not bad. You?”

“Not bad either. Better than eighth grade.”

They tapped their bottles together. Ted seemed nervous the way he was perched on the edge of the couch. Jake wiped some sweat off his forehead and leaned back in the beanbag. Did Ted used to bring Marin to the basement, or that boyfriend from last fall? He couldn't picture it. This felt like his place with Ted, like no one else had ever been here.

“Want to play Wii?” Ted asked.

Jake shook his head. “I'm okay just hanging out.”

“That's cool.”

They both sipped their beers. Maybe Jake should have said yes to Wii. Things were feeling a little too quiet.

“Okay, screw it,” Ted said. He set his can on the coffee table and slid onto the beanbag.

Jake reached for Ted's hand. They weaved their fingers together and then pressed their mouths against each other. Jake had kissed a
few other guys, but he knew instantly that this was different. This was intense.

“Wow,” Ted said.

“I know,” Jake said.

Their cheeks were close and they were still holding hands, neither of them wanting to let go. Jake could smell Ted's breath, tangy from the beer. All he could think about was kissing him again.

“I don't know how to say this,” Ted said, “but I'm sorry for being such a dick. You knew and I didn't. I didn't know for a while. That must have been shitty.”

“That's okay,” Jake said. “We're here now.”

Ted pulled Jake's shirt off and then wriggled his own over his head. Jake touched Ted's chest, muscular with a coat of golden hair. Damn, he'd wanted to do that for so long.

“Can I admit something?” Ted asked.

“Sure,” Jake said. He didn't know where this was headed.

“I knew you had to make up the SATs too,” Ted said. “I overheard you telling someone in the cafeteria. That's why I told Mr. Fritz I needed to ride with you.”

“You really didn't need a ride?” Jake asked. He'd had no idea! On the way to the SATs, Ted even said how both his parents were using their cars.

“I guess I lied,” Ted said. “Maybe I could have gotten a car. But that wouldn't have changed the fact that I
needed
a ride with
you
.”

They leaned in for another kiss. As soon as their bodies touched, skin on skin, their hands were flying all over the place. They unzipped their jeans and reached into each other's boxers.

“It was a white lie,” Ted whispered a few minutes later.

They were lying in a wilted heap on the beanbag, their arms around each other.

“Cool,” Jake managed to say, and then he fell asleep.

AFTER MONTHS OF
lusting after Dinky, Zoe couldn't believe it when he walked into Bean right before the end of her shift. It was the Sunday of Memorial Day weekend, and the place was empty. Her boss, Keni—not Kenny, it turned out—was in the back. Zoe was arranging blueberry scones on a platter. She happened to be wearing a low-cut tank top and a push-up bra. Sometimes life was awesome that way.

Keni was a lesbian anarchist with a deep voice and a mega Afro. The best thing was that, at the interview, she told Zoe, “I don't give a fuck about the Sierra Laybourne thing. I don't even watch mainstream movies.” Zoe had been working at Bean for three months now.

“What's up?” Dinky said, approaching the counter. “You're Zoe from American studies.”

“I am.” Zoe smiled. There was something so sexy about Dinky's slow speech, his broad shoulders. “Can I get something for you?”

“That's cool,” Dinky said. “Whatever.”

“You mean you don't want anything?”

Dinky shook his head. Zoe glanced at the back of the café. Keni
was still in the supply closet. Sometimes she went in there to sneak cigarettes and text with her girlfriend.

“I wanted to see if you can hang out,” Dinky said. He drummed his fingers on the countertop, lifting up the tip jar and putting it down again.

“How did you know I work here?”

“Anna said I should ask you out. I was like, ‘Her mom is a movie star, dude. She's probably stuck-up and there's no way she'll say yes,' but Anna said if I asked that you'd say yes.”

Zoe's cheeks flushed. She busied herself placing a glass top on the platter of scones and then opening a box of muffins.

“I walked over here.” Dinky grabbed a straw and twisted the wrapper at one end. “But you have that sweet Beemer parked out front. If you want, I can try driving your car.”

Zoe stared at Dinky. “You want to drive my car?”

“No,” Dinky said, shrugging. “I'm just nervous. I'm messing this up.” He blew into the straw, shooting the wrapper onto the countertop. “I should probably depart.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, depart?” Dinky brushed his brownish hair out of his eyes.

Zoe had an urge to trim his bangs. “Yes, I'll hang out,” she said quickly. “Yes, you can drive my car. I don't care. I finish in ten minutes.”

Dinky grinned. His front teeth overlapped slightly. “Dude, you're not a bitch. Awesome.”

Zoe smiled back. She liked the way Dinky said whatever he wanted. It was the opposite of her, and in a good way.