My Only (7 page)

His eyes widened, as if I’d just admitted that she was my girlfriend. “Hannah never says ‘hi’ to me and I’ve known her forever. Maybe I should offer to tutor her in something. Hey, Adam, what’s my best subject?”

“What’s your best subject?” I repeated. “Easy. Hannah Newsome.”

Casey rol ed his eyes. “Wel , I can’t tutor her in that, now can I? No, seriously, what am I good at? I’d say Calculus, but she’s pretty damn good at that herself. How about art?”

“You don’t even take art,” I said.

“Right,” he responded, obviously distracted and lost in thought. “But I do take psychology.”

“Does she?”

“Damn, you’re right.” Casey sighed and bent down to put his trombone in its case. “Hey, do you think she’d want to learn a brass instrument?

How about guitar?”

It was going to be a long evening.

Tuesday night I found myself in the food court around seven at night, watching Olivia devour the same dish she’d eaten before. As luck could have it, we both ended up taking a break at the same time. Just like the time before, she didn’t ask to sit with me, she just did. I wasn’t very hungry, so I was eating french fries with cheese sauce on them.

To my surprise, the conversation between us flowed natural y. At first, I asked about how she liked Lakeside and how her classes were going. Then we talked about where she’d grown up. It turned out that Olivia Cartwright was something of a gypsy. She’d lived in Lakeside as a baby for three months then moved to New York City. From there, she and her mother traveled south to Key West. By the time she was nine, she was living in California, and by thirteen, she was in the Pacific Northwest.

“Portland was the best, by far,” she said as she speared an eggplant with her spork. “It’s beautiful. It’s old, yet modern, and the people are so awesome. There’re al these produce stands and farmer’s markets. A bunch of organic stuff. Much cheaper than here. And the restaurants! I could eat
so
much there.”

I raised an eyebrow. She was tiny. I doubted she could eat
that
much.

“No, seriously!” she said. “I can eat. I’m not one of those girls who pretend two nibbles of lettuce are enough. I like to eat, and I do it a lot.”

“Eating is good,” I said and picked up a curly fry and brought it to my lips. Just as I opened my mouth to enjoy the greasy junk food, a big glob of cheese dripped off, slid down my chin, and landed on my khaki pants. “Damn,” I muttered.

“That’s disgusting,” she said. “I can’t believe you eat that crap. It’s better off on your clothes than in your stomach.” I made a face then glanced at her food. “Sorry, Ms. Healthy. I don’t like tofu, so I’ve got to eat something.”

“Have you even tried tofu?” I shook my head. “Then how do you know you don’t like it?” Popping a cheese-less fry into my mouth, I shrugged then nodded toward her nearly empty paper plate of food. “Look at it. It’s—”

“It’s what?” she said with a laugh. “Cholesterol free, high in calcium, and good for you?”

“It’s squishy and looks like a science experiment.”

Olivia shook her head. “One day you should try it, only then wil your opinion of bean curd count.” I screwed up my face into a mask of disgust. “
Bean curd
? Who wants to eat something cal ed bean curd?”

“I do,” she said, her voice soft, but confident.

Silence lingered between us as we finished eating. Glancing at my watch, I realized I only had another five minutes until I had to get back. I’d enjoyed spending time with her. Being her tutor, I knew I’d get to do it again, but everything seemed so easy tonight. I didn’t want to end it with silence.

“So you moved here after Portland?”

Her smile slipped a bit. It didn’t vanish, but it wasn’t entirely there either. “No. After Portland was Vegas.” I wondered what it was about Las Vegas that made her eyes grow a bit distant. It wasn’t the time to ask, but I hoped that I’d find out one day. “So after Vegas, you came here.”

Olivia cleared her throat and then blinked. With a little shake of her head, the distance and sadness were gone. The happy expression was back, and her sparkling eyes were again connected with mine. “After Vegas was Boulder. Wel . . . ,” she said after a little pause, “ . . . a little place near Boulder.”

“So why did you leave Boulder?”

She tossed the spork onto the tray and stood. I fol owed her lead and together we went and threw our trash away. “I didn’t want to be at that school anymore, and my grandparents said it was okay for me to move in with them.” That little bit of information caused a flurry of thoughts to assault my brain. This whole time she’d only spoken of her mother, never her father.

Now she was saying that after going to some kind of “therapeutic” boarding school, her grandparents took her in. I didn’t know if it was a reform school and she’d been a bad kid. I didn’t know if her mother had grown tired of her or if her mom had become incapable of caring for her. I didn’t know anything, but it was clear that her mother was no longer in the picture.

That was probably what caused the look on her face when talking about Vegas. It was cal ed “Sin City,” so perhaps her mother had gotten into drugs or worse. Maybe it was painful for Olivia to think about Las Vegas since it was probably the last place she and her mother had been together.

I hadn’t realized we’d walked al the way back to the bookstore in silence, but we were standing outside of Barnes & Noble.

“Work ’til close?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Me, too.” She craned her neck behind her and looked at the perfume girl behind her. When she looked back at me, she said, “We should see what days we both work and carpool. Doing something green wil make me feel like I’m back in Portland.” I loved the idea of spending more time with her, but unfortunately it couldn’t happen. “You’d be the only one driving.”

“What?”

I shrugged. “I don’t drive.”

“Seriously?” Her voice and expression showed her surprise. I nodded. “Why?”

“I’ve just never been interested in learning. I have enough friends to get where I need to go, and my dad and brother take me wherever I want to go, too.”

“Huh.”

“ ‘Huh’ what?” Not liking the way her expression shifted into amused curiosity.

“Nothing,” she answered, tone light.

“What?” I asked more seriously.

“It’s just I wouldn’t have pegged you for someone who wanted to depend on other people like that.” At first, her statement made me angry because she didn’t know me. How could she peg me for anything? But then the realization came that in order to say something like that, she would have to feel at least somewhat comfortable with me. She would’ve had to
think
about me.

I looked down at her shoes. They were little pink and black canvas shoes with skul s and crossbones littering the fabric. When I brought my eyes back up, I asked, “What
do
you peg me as?”

I was given the sweetest smile I could ever remember getting, and she said, “You’re different from everybody else. You’re okay with being alone, but you like people enough to invite them into the private world you create for yourself. I think you’re probably pretty independent, only letting your father take care of the big expenses, while you use the money you earn at the bookstore for al the little stuff.” The insight startled me. Had she real y figured al that out from the few times we’d spoken? Or did she watch me at school? She was right about being alone. I mostly didn’t care about being around people. I could move to a deserted island and be perfectly happy so long as I had a few books and my drums. I didn’t understand how she could come up with that. I’d known her for less than two weeks! Even my twin brother had never had the inclination to figure me out like Olivia had done.

Olivia’s extended hand was right in front of my face and she was pressing her index finger against the creased spot between my eyes.

“You’re so serious, Adam.” When she withdrew her hand, I took in a deep breath. “When you want to learn how to drive, let me know.” With that, she held up her hand in a motionless wave, turned, and walked toward the toy store.

I couldn’t kick-start my brain for the rest of the night. When Aaron picked me up from the mal , we saw Olivia walking to her little Toyota. My brother drove his Wrangler right up to her and when he started outright flirting with her, my face grew hot. Half of it was embarrassment and the other half was anger.

I didn’t want him flirting with her, but there was nothing I could do to stop it.

I went straight to my room after getting home. Aaron was talking nonstop, wanting to see what I knew about Olivia. I only told him what he already knew, and lied to him about the rest.

I had homework to finish, but concentrating was difficult. The girl across the street was dancing through my mind. She was present in my thoughts when I gave up pretending to study and got ready for bed. She was there when I brushed my teeth, when I washed my face. I dreamt of her.

Her dancing form twirled behind my eyelids as I woke.

Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and swinging my legs over the edge of my bed, I sat up. It was six o’clock in the morning. I stood up, arching my back and throwing my arms up over my head. I didn’t like mornings, although I was much more of a morning person than Aaron. He was notorious for setting his alarm, but never getting up. I figured it was because he was always so fatigued. Aaron conditioned his body for sports al the time, and he focused a lot of his mental energy on girls. He rarely slept.

I went downstairs and laid out everything for breakfast. I wasn’t going to cook much. It was just toast, sausage, and juice. Once I was finished getting the kitchen set up, I made sure the laundry that ran last night was dry. It was, but I turned the knob so the dryer would run for about fifteen minutes. It would eliminate the wrinkles in the clothes, al owing me to then hang them up—or more accurately, drape them over a chair—or fold them nicely. Being the son – a responsible son – of a single father forced me to have to pay attention to these things. I helped dad out wherever I could.

At six thirty, I went back upstairs and knocked on Aaron’s door. I didn’t wait for a response before cracking open the door. It was dark in his room, but I could stil see the outlines of the figures on the posters on his wal . They were a mixture of top athletes, swimsuit models, and hot female singers and actresses. In between the pictures of celebrities were banners and pennants of his favorite teams. I understood the Chicago teams: the Bears, the Bul s, the Cubs, the Blackhawks, the Chicago Fire, but I had a harder time understanding why he liked teams that were so far away. He liked the Yankees. He liked the Colts and the 49ers, too.

“Aaron,” I whispered loudly. He didn’t budge. I entered his room and pul ed open his dark curtains. “Hey, A!” I said louder as I pul ed up the blinds. Again, he didn’t make a sound, so I went over to his bed and shook him a bit. It was like this most mornings.

He grumbled. I shook him again and said, “Aaron, it’s time to wake up.”

He nestled deeper into the fluffy pil ow and curled himself into a bal , pul ing the covers tight around him. He was mumbling something about “too early . . . stupid school . . . supposed be sleeping.”

“Aaron, seriously, dude, you have to wake up.” I pushed him onto his back, placed my hands on his shoulders, and pressed down. I released and then pressed again. I did this over and over again, making his body bounce on the bed. It was the only way I knew to get him up. “Aaron!” Final y, he took a deep breath and opened his eyes. “Okay, okay, okay!”

I withdrew and stood up straight as he sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Dammit,” he said gruffly.

“When did you get to sleep?”

A deep rumbling sound erupted from him as he stretched. “After two.”

I felt bad for him. He’d always had more trouble sleeping than I had, but in the past couple of years, it’d gotten worse for him. He was now what I would cal an insomniac. I told him over and over again that he needed to tel Dad, but he refused.

“You going to be okay?” I asked, going to the door.

He made a noncommittal noise in response. “You want coffee?”

He stood up and shook his head. “We’l get some on the way. I don’t want Dad to flip out.” Dad was pretty adamant that Aaron adhere to a proper nutritious diet and wouldn’t like Aaron using caffeine to disguise lack of sleep. He let us have coffee, but today was a practice day for Aaron, so starting it off with false energy would not be acceptable.

Downstairs, Aaron stumbled around until his body woke up. We sat down to eat, and he asked, “You gonna tutor Livia tonight?” he asked with a ful mouth.

I paused mid-bite. His question took me by surprise. I hadn’t thought about her at al this morning, but now she was back dancing through my mind. “Um, no. I don’t think so. I’ve got practice tonight.” Aaron should’ve known my schedule. It was very similar to his footbal schedule. But I wasn’t surprised that he hadn’t paid attention. Unless it directly affected him, he barely noticed some things.

“Next time you do, ask her if she has a boyfriend, and if she wants one.”