The Queen of Bright and Shiny Things (26 page)

In answer, I raise up on tiptoe for a kiss. His arms go around me, and he holds me as if it’s hard for him to let me go. He’s warm against the night chill; for a few seconds, I relax in his arms, relishing Shane’s familiar scent. I give him another kiss, then step back. He grimaces, but we put on the stupid reflective tape together.

“When we met a few months ago, I never would’ve believed you’d get me doing this, too.”

“You probably thought I was a total weirdo.”

He thinks about that. “No. Just … cautious, I guess. And I had no reason to be.”

“You do now. So be careful.”

“I will,” he promises.

The canned food drive goes surprisingly well. People at school are actually taking notice of Green World, and we acquire a few new members. I’m not sure if the interest will last into the new year, but it’s helping now. We wind up collecting nearly a thousand cans for a local aid program, and Principal Warick commends us at an assembly, where Gwen gives a speech and accepts the certificate on behalf of the whole club.

But a week later, the universe slams on the brakes. Apparently we’re spending winter break with Gabby’s aunt Helen. It’s a five-hour trip, and I’m not technically related to this old woman since she’s connected to my aunt’s mom. I protest at first, until Aunt Gabby gives me a reproachful look.

“She’s been asking us to visit for two years, and I’ve been putting her off…” She doesn’t say it, but I hear it.
Because of you.
“Anyway, this year, I don’t want her to be alone on Christmas, Sage. It could be her last.”

But what about Shane,
I want to say, but my aunt doesn’t know his circumstances; she doesn’t realize that his dad hasn’t been to the trailer since he bought it. She can’t know. Which means there’s no point in arguing. As far as she’s concerned, he’ll be spending the holidays with his dad. And he would be, if his father wasn’t such a coward. Besides, Shane’s loneliness isn’t more pressing than Aunt Helen’s. I resign myself to the inevitable.

“When are we leaving?” I ask.

“You get out of school on the twenty-second?”

“I think so.”

“Then we’ll head out the twenty-third.”

“When are we coming back?”

“January second. It will be safer to avoid the New Year’s traffic.”

Though I don’t say anything, I’m quietly crushed. I’ve always wanted to kiss somebody on New Year’s Eve, and this time, I want to start the New Year with Shane. But there’s one more tactic I can try.

“Won’t you miss Joe?” I ask her.

She sighs. “Of course. But I haven’t seen Aunt Helen in years. Hopefully he’ll be around for a while. She may not be.”

There’s that old superstition about whatever you’re doing on New Year’s Day, that’s how it’ll be all year. So people try to avoid conflict and spend time with their loved ones. In my case, it looks like I’ll be sad, lonely, and wishing I was somewhere else.

I’m not looking forward to this trip, but when the time comes, I pack my bag and trudge out of the house with my aunt. She pauses at her car with a faint sigh.

“It’d be a lot easier if you would road trip,” she tells me with a flicker of impatience.

I brighten immediately. “I’m happy to stay home.”

“I don’t care if it’s more work, that’s not happening.”

I sigh and follow her down the driveway. Greyhound stops at the gas station, and from there, we ride to the train station an hour away. I don’t object to public transportation since the system moves a lot of people; it’s less wasteful. My idiosyncrasies stretch a five-hour trip to eight, by the time you factor our trip on the local bus that carries us relatively near Great Aunt Helen’s apartment. Gabby is rumpled and grouchy when we arrive.

I wish I could say the holidays are awesome and that Great Aunt Helen’s delightful, but in truth, she’s old and irascible, and she has too many cats. There’s a lumpy sofa with my name on it, and I live for texts from Shane, and What’sApp messages from Lila and Ryan. I’m reading one now, three days after Christmas, and trying not to laugh.

Lila:
did she ask you to rub peppermint lotion on her feet yet?

Ryan:
please tell me she knitted you something

Lila:
was there a cheese log? Please let there be cheese log!

Despite my bad mood, I’m smiling when I curl up on the couch much later. It’s so lame, but I actually go to bed with my phone, just in case Shane sends me something when he gets off work; he’s pulling overtime during the break, giving other stockers a chance to be with their families. I hate that he spent Christmas alone. What was it like? Did he make some real food or just open a can of soup?

Sure enough, my phone vibrates just past midnight.
You up?

I text back,
Waiting for you. How was work?

Sucked. Miss you.

Me too.
I wish I could hear his voice, but then I might wake up the aunts. Or Great Aunt Helen might yell at me for being a rowdy miscreant; she’s always saying that about her upstairs neighbors, and that’s an ordeal best avoided. So texting it is.

Seems like you’ve been gone longer than 5 days.

Tell me about it. There’s nothing to do and I haven’t seen anyone younger than 65, besides my aunt Gabby, since we got here.

Only 5 more days. We’re halfway there.

It makes me absurdly happy to know he’s counting the days, too.
Yep.

He texts a little longer, telling me about this guy who came in with nine dollars in his pocket and then he had to put stuff back, which mean Shane had to restock it all. He was apparently an old man, who thought his money should go further than that, so he insisted they call the manager. I decide working at the Curly Q isn’t so bad.

How’s the song coming?
I type. He’s been working on a new one since Thanksgiving but he won’t play it for me yet. I’ve only caught strains and snippets.

Almost done. Trying to have it ready by Valentine’s Day.

God, I hope that means he’s writing it for me.
Sweet. Bed now. Talk tomorrow?

Definitely. Dream of me.

This is possibly the most romantic text ever. I push out a happy breath and fight the urge to hug my phone. If I was watching my own behavior, I’d probably find it ridiculous. But when I fall asleep, I
do
dream of Shane, and he keeps the monsters away.

Before we leave, I go shopping. It’s cheating to buy Shane’s present after the holidays, but this isn’t a marked-down item. The one benefit to Aunt Helen’s apartment is that she lives a lot closer to shopping. Though this isn’t a city by New York standards, compared to Farmburg, it’s a bustling metropolis. And it doesn’t take me long to find the perfect gift for Shane. Well, it’s a complement, actually, to something I already have.

By the time the visit ends, I don’t hate Great Aunt Helen, but I’m tired of her cats and relieved to head home. We pack our things, say good-bye, and take the bus to the train station. It’s a lengthy trip, which ends in us walking almost two miles from the bus stop to our house. Joe offered to pick us up, but Gabby knows I won’t go.

“Sometimes your principles are a pain in my ass,” she mutters.

That’s annoying. She can go with Joe; it’s not like I mind. “Call your boyfriend. I can go home alone.”

“It’s fine.” But her tone says maybe it’s not.

And I’m afraid of making her mad, but I’m also unwilling to change. This is one thing I
can
control. So I’m scared and trying not to get upset, as we drag our suitcases up the sidewalk. “You should get a ride. Seriously, it’s not a big deal.”

“If it wasn’t, we wouldn’t both be walking.” She sounds a little snappish, tired from traveling, probably, and so am I.

Hunching my shoulders, I get my phone out.

Aunt Gabby makes an effort to smooth things over. “Texting Shane?”

“And Lila and Ryan,” I mumble, though I was, in fact, telling Shane I’m home.

“Is he working tonight?”

“Yeah. I probably won’t get to see him until tomorrow.”

“I admit, I was a little worried about how fast you two got together, but you handled the separation well.”

My prior irritation flares stronger. “Is that why we left?” I demand.

Does she think that I can’t function without Shane? I miss him. I might even … Do I
love
him? I have no idea. There’s no precedent. But … he matters a lot.

“No, it was so my aunt wouldn’t be alone. She can’t travel anymore, and she’s lonely.”

“Your good deed just happened to test how well I cope?” I’m tempted to get mad, but I back off the feeling. I can’t get angry. It’s Hulk-ish, and bad things happen when I do. So I wrestle the feeling into submission and summon a teasing smile. “Anyway, she seemed to enjoy having us.”

“Definitely. And she loves meat, so it was a sacrifice for her to agree to a meal without it on Christmas Day.”

The first thing I do when we get home is get on the Internet. I didn’t bring my laptop with me, so I haven’t checked e-mail and Facebook for a while, and I’m behind on my YouTube channels and Web comics. This is why I don’t miss cable TV. We had it at the group home, where I had no computer and no privacy, but I much prefer controlling what I watch and read. Since my friends talk to me on my phone, I don’t really have any e-mail but I catch up their status updates. Ryan in particular is great about posting funny, stupid things. I take a picture of myself making a weird face and then just type
cheese log,
and tag Lila with it.

Shane texts me late.
Sorry I couldn’t come over tonight. Done with overtime now. Have tomorrow off.

What time can you be here?
I send back. It will be Sunday, which means school starts the next day. I feel like a miser, hoarding this one final day of winter break. The snow is thick on the ground, so it’ll be hard for him to get here—they don’t always plow out where he lives—but he must think I’m worth it.

Ten too early?

Nope.
My dominant feeling is yay! Though I’m not sure if that qualifies as an actual emotion. So I’ll call it excitement. The prospect of seeing Shane is more thrilling than Christmas, even though I got a few cute shirts and a new pair of jeans, as well as a gift certificate for an online bookstore. I guess that means he’s better than all presents combined.

And he’s writing me a song.

I’m up by eight and in the shower, which is extreme. Usually I stay in bed, read, or watch something on my laptop. Not today. I waffle over what to wear, going back and forth between a couple of outfits, then I remember what Shane said about taking me with no top on, and that makes me laugh. Then I put on jeans, a camisole, and a white hoodie with silver writing. I leave my hair to dry naturally while I have breakfast, then I put on a little makeup, omitting the lip gloss.

Shane’s fifteen minutes early, but I’m smiling as I throw open the door. He hugs me hard, drops a kiss on my mouth, then we step into the house. My aunt’s still asleep. He’s got his backpack, and I peer at it. Surely we’re not spending the day on homework. I had plenty of that while I was gone.

“I brought your present,” he explains. “Since we weren’t together on Christmas.”

Oh, wow.
I’ve never gotten anything from a guy, unless you count the valentine I got in second grade. “Yours is in my room. I’ll be right back.”

He looks surprised, like I’d fail to get him a gift. I bring the wrapped package out and we swap them. “You first.”

Shane seems like he might argue, but in the end, he tears open the paper. It’s two things, actually: my iPod, loaded with songs that I think he’ll like … and a package of printed sheet music, so he doesn’t have to draw his own. “Whoa. This is too much.”

“It isn’t if you like it.” I can listen to music on the radio and online. He doesn’t have either option at the trailer.

He kisses me sweetly, until I forget I’m supposed to open my present, too. “Your turn.”

I feel like a little kid as I pull off the wrapping paper to reveal a little white box. When I removed the top, there’s a delicate silver chain with a finely made musical note for the pendant. I think that’s the eighth note, the one with the single flag, and I totally get this present. It’s as if he’s giving me part of him to keep with me always.

“Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” I whisper. “Put it on me?”

The odds are excellent that I’m never taking this necklace off.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

January is usually a blah month, but this year it’s kind of magical. Shane and I have become a couple that people pay attention to. They yell, “Sup, Shage,” when we walk past; we’re a smush name now. Most days this strikes me as a good thing. I’m not sure why, but they’re not calling me Princess anymore, though I’m still writing pink Post-its in purple glitter pen, and I
love
that Shane’s not embarrassed by this. Sometimes he even points people out to me who could use some cheering up, a long way from the boy who wouldn’t look anyone in the eye at the beginning of the year.

I manage to bring my grade up to a B
−
in geometry and my aunt is delighted. She cooks Shane and me a special Italian feast to celebrate. If I read her right, she likes him a lot and no longer worries that we’re too attached. But I make sure we spend an equal amount of our time with Ryan and Lila, so they don’t feel left out. It’s cool that we’ve all gotten to be friends, and I’m not the only glue holding our group together.

*   *   *

At the end of January, we all eat lunch at Mel’s house because she’s been bothering her mom to have us over. In other words, I have a social life. It’s
so
weird.

We cruise toward Valentine’s Day, and I’ve almost forgotten that Dylan Smith exists. Until he reminds me. He must think he’s safe—that I probably won’t repeat what I know about his mom—and I catch him hassling Shane. It’s early, before most other students are around. Dylan and his crew have Shane hemmed in outside. Shane looks like he wants to start swinging, but there are too many, and I can see him reminding himself,
No more trouble
. His fists uncurl.