Still Point (34 page)

I glared at him. He was being more obnoxious than usual. “What are you talking about? Replace him?”

He held up his phone and I stared at a picture of me and Jax. Kissing. It had been taken at the protest. It brought back a swarm of feelings I was hoping to keep repressed.

I grabbed the phone out of his hand and gawked at the picture. My pink hair was flying back in the wind, like a flame, and our eyes were closed tight. Jax leaned into me, his fingers cupping my face, pushing everything into the kiss. My stomach flipped when I felt it all over again.

“Where did you get this?” I demanded.

“You haven't seen it?”

“I haven't checked my messages,” I said.

“Maddie, it's all people are talking about. ‘The kiss felt around the world'?”

“Gross,” I said, and threw the phone back at him.

He looked at me with surprise. “This is what destroyed digital school. It's all over the news. All the kids dropped out not because of Dad's fancy speech. And not because of the votes. It's because of this.” He held out the screen. “It went viral. This is what people want.”

I smothered my cheeks in my hands to cover the blush spreading over my face. “This is so embarrassing,” I said. “It was just a joke.”

“Was it?” he asked. “Have you looked at the picture? I'm pretty sure your tongue is in this guy's mouth.”

“Delete that, Joe!” I demanded.

“No!” he yelled back.

“Now, or I'll break your other arm.”

My mom walked in and cut us off. “It's so great to see you two bonding again,” she said. “Package for you,” she said to me, and I raised my eyebrows. My stomach cramped. I grabbed it and looked at the label.
J. Solvi.

I tore through the yellow plastic bubble wrapping and pulled out my red leather journal. I must have left it in his tent at the protest. There was a yellow note stuck to the front. I peeled it off and looked at the messy black handwritten words.

Thought you might want this. It's a good, loyal companion. Hope you like how it ends.—J

I stared at his brief note. I reread it. Then I reread it again. I analyzed it. I hated that I analyzed it, but I did. I even examined his writing, messier than usual, like he was rushed, like he'd hardly had a second to think of me. I shook my journal out, as if there was more inside, like a note or letter or at least more than three busily scribbled sentences.

I looked at that single initial, J, so informal. What was this? This was Justin's way of trying to win me back?

I crumpled up the note.

“You okay?” Joe asked me, but his voice sounded far away, down a hallway or in another room.

“I hate men,” I announced.

“Hey,” Joe said, looking insulted. “That's a pretty broad claim.”

“You all suck.”

“Um, I'm still sitting here.”

“You're all soul-sucking, life-draining, mind-wrenching walking disasters, strategically masked in beautiful bodies with gorgeous smiles. And great hair. And then, just when we're hooked,
poof,
you all disappear back to planet Asshole, where you all come from.”

Joe stared at me. “I'm assuming it wasn't good news?”

I opened my mouth to answer him but then shut it because that was the point. It wasn't anything.

Joe shook his head. “Just when you show promising signs of maturity, your inner drama queen breaks through and you're twelve again.”

“Thanks a lot.” I showed Joe the note. “This is all I got,” I said.

Joe used his good hand to smooth out the crumpled piece of paper. He read it and looked at me like I was a relationship hypochondriac. Maybe I was.

“So? He sent you your journal. I would call this thoughtful.”

“Don't you get what this means?” I asked.

“No. I don't overanalyze things. I'm not a girl. Thank God.”

“He told me he was coming back for me, that he wanted another chance, and this is all I get,” I said, and held up the sticky note. “
Poof
. Asshole.”

Joe smirked. “Welcome to the real world. It kind of sucks sometimes. Broken bones,” he said, and pointed to his arm. “Broken heart,” he said, and pointed at me. “Are you sure the digital life isn't the way to go?”

I stared at Joe. It was strange to hear it that way.

 

I went upstairs and threw the journal down on my bed. I flopped onto the mattress, hugged a pillow over my chest, and stared up at the ceiling canvas. Justin's words came back to me.
Thought you might want this. It's a good, loyal companion. Hope you like how it ends.

The last sentence played in my head. I took long, slow breaths. Maybe Justin's message was hinting at something else. I was so quick to jump to conclusions—Joe was right. I was being ridiculous. People had let me down so many times, I was always anticipating it.

I grabbed the journal and opened it up to the last page. I flipped it over to find a written message.

 

I'm sorry, Maddie. I'm sorry for all the things I can't be for you. I just want you to be happy. You deserve it more than anyone.

I have a field trip for you. Come on, you know you love these.

This Saturday. 119 Hawthorne, SE Portland. Noon.

This is my attempt to give you all the things you want. I hope I get it right.

Love always,

Justin

I rode the train to southeast Portland. I tapped my feet against the plastic floor and watched a family sitting across from me: a mom and dad and their teenage daughter and her boyfriend. The girl was messaging the entire time and never looked at the boy, who was resting his hand on her leg.

The father took her phone away, and she shrieked and grabbed for it, but he held it out of reach.

“Why don't you
talk
to your friend,” he suggested.

She blushed and pouted for a couple of minutes. But then something remarkable happened. She came into the now. She focused on the boy sitting next to her, and they started to talk. When they jumped off the train, the two of them walked away, holding hands, pointing things out. They were paying attention. Their eyes were on each other. They were both in the now, and there was something so refreshing about it. So natural.

I realized what Justin was talking about in his speech. Sometimes it's rare to see that, two people who aren't distracted by something, who are together, sharing one moment.

I looked out the window, and emotions pulled me in every direction. I tried to imagine what Justin was planning, if he was going to surprise me and show up. I leaned my head back and hated that I wanted something else more. Justin put too many obstacles in my path to hurdle and climb and crawl through. I just wanted somebody to widen my path and help me flow.

The train slowed down at my stop, and my stomach flipped when I noticed someone standing outside. I stepped down from the train ledge and jumped onto the sidewalk. I caught my breath. He was tall and had short, dark hair, but my face fell as the stranger turned around and I didn't recognize him. He walked past me and boarded the train.

I looked up and down the sidewalk and was met with an empty street. The train wheezed away, and when it passed I searched the other side of the tracks. Fake maple trees were spaced twenty feet away along the sidewalk, their trunks anchored in the concrete. The sky was clouding up. I followed the addresses to the one I had memorized: 119 Hawthorne Street. I blinked up at a brick building, about six stories high. Its windows were covered in steel bars, and the ground-floor doors were covered with metal sheets.

I looked around and tried to understand what Justin was showing me, but all I saw was desolation. I pressed my hand over one of the plastic white boards. I wondered what this building had been when it had breathed, when it was full of life. I wondered who had put up these boards and what they'd been thinking while they were doing it, if they felt guilty or strange to be shutting up a place built for life. I kept walking down the sidewalk, and at the end of the intersection, where two doors stood at the main entrance, was a freshly painted sign:
UNIVERSITY OF PORTLAND EXTENSION CLASSES—ENROLLMENT STARTING NOW.

I read the smaller print underneath:

IN AN ATTEMPT TO OFFER ALTERNATIVES TO DIGITAL SCHOOL, WE WILL BE OFFERING LIVE CLASSES THIS FALL. WE HOPE TO HAVE A FULL COLLEGE PROGRAM OFFERED BY 2063. GET UNPLUGGED AND JOIN US.

I looked at some of the fall classes offered: Computer Ethics, Computer Law, Technology Trends.

I stared at the schedule and ran my fingers across the cold glass. They were all classes Justin knew I wanted to take. It was all happening. We'd made it possible. I felt tears prickle my eyes, and I didn't try to fight them. I wished my dad could see this. My heart was breaking and splintering and swelling all at once.

I heard hammering and looked across the street. There were construction workers taking metal sheets off the door of a red brick office building. I watched as one of the metal slats was ripped free, sweeping up a cloud of dust and flecks of paint.

I kept walking and noticed an advertisement for a café opening. Next to that was a sign for a coffee shop. It was a start. Small steps, but it was making people move.

It hit me, for the first time, the difference we had all made, that I had helped make. Justin was right. We could do it. And it really does start one person at a time. It had all started with Justin. In the DC, it had started with Gabe. It had started with my father, even with Jax. Then people catch on, like fire.

Construction workers wearing hardhats met in the middle of the road and pointed at the buildings. One of them looked over at me, at first looking unbelieving to see a random person on the street. I took a few steps back, realizing that this whole time I had been staring at them like a nomad lost in the intersection.

One of the workers approached me. His eyes traveled from my hair to my face.

“Are you Maddie Freeman?” he asked, his voice low and coarse, like his words rubbed against sandpaper.

“Y-y-yee-aah,” I stammered with surprise.

“There's a car coming for you,” he told me. “Should be here any second.”

My eyebrows pulled together. “Who gave you the message?” I asked.

“The guy I'm working for,” he said. “Justin Solvi.”

With that brief exchange, he turned and focused his attention back to some notes on his flipscreen. I backed up to the sidewalk just as a ZipLimo turned the corner. I felt my face flush, and my stomach balled with nerves as the limo came to a stop. The back door slid open and I ducked inside. I sat down and looked around at an empty interior. A monitor in front of me showed a red star lit up on a map: the final destination. I sat back and looked out the tinted windows at a city waking up.

The ZipLimo skirted trains through the city and slowed down in a residential neighborhood of small, bungalow-style homes. The car stopped in front of a two-story house. A gable over the front window shaded a wide front porch. A red brick chimney crawled up its side, and there was a garden between the house and a detached garage.

I stepped out of the ZipLimo, and voices streamed through the screen door.

“It's Maddie!” Clare's familiar voice shouted, and she threw open the door, running down the steps to me. She pulled me into her arms and I hugged her tight. Becky and Riley came down the steps, and they all passed me around in hugs.

“We've been trying to get ahold of you all week, but you weren't answering your messages,” Clare said.

“Sorry,” I said. “We've been hibernating. There's a lot to adjust to.”

“Are you okay?” she asked me.

I shrugged. “As okay as I can be,” I said. “They're planning a memorial for my dad, at the spot of the protest. I think it's all going to hit me then.”

“We'll all be there,” Clare said. I looked up the steps and could see a crowd of people inside.

“What's going on?”

“It's a multi-themed party,” Clare said. “Scott was just released from the hospital; it's Gabe's open house—he just moved in here with some friends.” I followed her up the stairs and through the front door. “And you're here. We wanted to celebrate your general awesomeness,” she said.

I looked around the room for one person I wanted to see more than anyone. He would have stood out, since he was a head taller than everyone else.

Clare watched me scan the crowd. “Justin couldn't make it,” she said. “But he helped plan all of this.” Before I could respond, Riley nudged my arm.

“Hey, Maddie, check out my screen saver.”

He showed me his phone and I winced. It was the photo of me and Jax kissing at the protest.

“Great,” I said.

“Look, it's my screen saver too,” Gabe said, showing me his phone.

“Good for you,” I mumbled.

“Hey, Kissing Bandit,” Scott said from the couch. “Check out my phone cover. ‘Kiss DS Goodbye,'” he said, mocking one of the headlines.

“I get it, okay?” I said, and looked around. Where was Jax? This had all been his idea. He could at least show up to share the load of smack talk. Or, at the very least, to kiss me again.

“What happened with you and Justin?” Clare whispered. We moved back against the wall so we could talk in private.

“He took a job out east,” I told her.

“I know that,” she said. “What are you going to do?”

“I'm supporting him,” I said. “I told him he had to take it. I knew he'd get a job offer. I just didn't expect it would be three thousand miles away.”

Clare gave me a knowing smile.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Wasn't that the right thing to do?” I pressed. “I can't say, ‘Come back to Portland, Justin. Give up working for the president and helping to change the world, so we can snuggle and watch movies and have date nights.'”