What If (5 page)

*     *     *

Because I’m pretty sure she’s sitting across from me pretending to be someone else.

“Where’d you go?” Nyelle asks, pulling me out of the memory. I want to ask her the same question.

“Just thinking,” I answer dismissively.

Nyelle suddenly shoots her arm in the air and waves frantically. I turn to see whose attention she’s trying to get as Tess pushes through the double glass doors. She smiles when she sees us.

“She likes you, you know,” Nyelle says quietly, leaning across the table.

“I know,” I respond, watching Tess weave her way through the Union.

“Don’t let her be another of your victims,” she warns. “I’ll hurt you.”

I turn around, and Nyelle’s eyes steady on mine. She’s serious.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” I assure her, not backing down from her stare.

“Hey, guys,” Tess greets us, breaking our silent showdown. “What’s going on?”

“I’m here to help you study!” Nyelle exclaims, jumping up from the bench. “Wanna go to the library?”

“Uh, sure,” Tess replies slowly, obviously surprised by this. “Thanks. I didn’t think you had time.”

“Change of plans,” Nyelle tells her. “See you later, Cal. Thanks for the ride.”

I nod. Tess waves bye as they head toward the stairs that lead to the library.

I pull out my accounting assignment, but I can’t concentrate. I keep thinking back to the little information Nyelle shared about herself this morning, wondering if she really was traveling last year. And what would bring
her
to Crenshaw? There were only so many coincidences I could accept before I didn’t believe in them anymore.

August—Before Fourth Grade

“Cal and Rae are meeting us at the tree house,” I yell back to Nicole as I race across the street. I’m starting to wonder if she knows how to run. I stop on the sidewalk and wait for her to catch up. “Let’s pick some flowers first to make it pretty.”

“Okay,” she answers, tugging at the pair of my shorts she’s wearing. She does that a lot too. I think she’s never worn shorts in her life. She also borrowed a T-shirt and my mom bought her a pair of sneakers—although she doesn’t know that. She thinks the sneakers are mine too. My mom didn’t want her to feel bad.

I don’t know how she’s going to run around in gym without sneakers. Maybe she really doesn’t run. It’s weird. But she’s my friend, so I don’t care.

I skip through Cal’s yard, toward the woods, and start picking the wildflowers. I really like the white daisies the best, so I get as many of those as I can. Nicole picks some pink and purple flowers. It’s not easy to break the stems. Some come right out of the dirt by their roots. I shrug. They still look pretty.

“I love flowers,” I tell Nicole, sniffing them—except they don’t really smell.

“My mom lets me help with her flowers,” she tells me. “She belonged to a garden club where we used to live, and I’d go sometimes. There were so many beautiful flowers there.”

“I think I like wildflowers best,” I explain. “They just grow wherever they want. No one has to plant them. And then their seeds blow in the wind, and they find a new place to grow.”

Nicole stops to think about it and nods. “I think I like wildflowers best too.”

I take the flowers from her hand and run into the woods, stopping a couple times for her to catch up. It’s hard waiting, so sometimes I just run back and catch up with her before running ahead again. She’s definitely not in a rush to get anywhere.

When we finally get to the tree house, Rae is sitting on the ground, leaning against the tree, with Cal standing beside her.

“Finally,” Rae huffs, standing up. “Cal, can we go up
now
?” Then she sees the flowers I’m holding. “No way. You are not putting
flowers
in the tree house. It’s a
fort,
not a dollhouse.”

I ignore her and start for the ladder. She steps in front of me, crossing her arms.

“Come on, Rae. Get out of the way!” I demand. She doesn’t move. “Cal, tell her that I can put flowers in the tree house.”

I turn toward Cal. He looks to Nicole. “What do you think?”

Nicole looks from me to Rae. I’m afraid she won’t say anything because she doesn’t talk much… ever. “Richelle was excited to pick them for the tree house. I think it will make her sad if she can’t.”

I smile.

“Rae, let her put the flowers in the tree house,” Cal says. He’s used to being the tiebreaker, and usually whatever he decides is what happens. Otherwise, he doesn’t really care what we do—as long as we’re not playing house or dolls.

“Come on, Nicole,” he says to her. She walks in front of him, and he waits for her to start climbing before following.

“Fine,” Rae grumbles. “They’re going to die anyway.”

“And then I’ll just pick more,” I snap back. I start up the ladder. Cal looks down at me and I smile back up at him.

“Excuse me.”

I look up and realize there’s a line of people trying to get out of the row and I’m still sitting. The screen of my MacBook is dark. I have no idea what happened during class because I spent the entire time wondering when I’d see Nyelle again. And now… it’s over. I’ll have to borrow notes from the guy who sits next to me.

“Sorry,” I say to the girl shuffling by.

I snap my computer shut and grab my bag. I’m still thinking about Nyelle as I follow the drove of backpacks through the exit. I get anxious each time she walks away. I hate not being able to get ahold of her. I’m at the mercy of her random appearances, and it sucks. Last time, it was a week before I saw her again. I wonder how long it’ll be this time.

I push through the double doors into the blinding sunlight. Now that we’re nearing December, the temperatures can fluctuate between arctic and a crisp fall day. The weather’s cooperating today, and I only need a sweatshirt. It actually feels like Renfield’s weather, which reminds me, I should probably check on Rae to see how she’s dealing back home. I know she feels trapped there. But she’ll be here soon enough.

I pull out my phone but hesitate when I notice the wavy brown hair bouncing next to me. Nyelle’s walking alongside me. Where’d she come from?

“Hi.”

“Hey,” she responds casually.

“Two days in a row. That’s… unexpected,” I say.

“Are you keeping track of when you see me? Aw, Cal. I’m flattered.” She’s teasing me, and now I wish I hadn’t mentioned it.

I’m about to cross the street when she takes a left. “Where are you going?” I know she would’ve kept going if I hadn’t said something.

Nyelle pauses and turns around. People continue to pass between us, making it difficult to see her. “The Frosting Tree. Wanna come?”

“Sure,” I answer warily. I’ve never heard of it.

I cut through the steady stream of pedestrians and continue walking with Nyelle as she leads us away from campus. She’s wearing the big brown jacket again, despite the warm day.

“Aren’t you hot in that jacket?”

“I’m not wearing anything underneath it,” she replies flatly.

My eyes widen. She laughs.

“Wow, Cal. Relax. I was only kidding. I need this jacket, and I’m wearing a tank top underneath. But thanks for your concern.”

I press my lips together and nod.

We cross a street that takes us off campus and into a residential neighborhood. I don’t spot anything that resembles a store or a restaurant.

“Where is this place?” I ask when we cut down another street.

“Not too much farther,” she explains. “When’s your next class?”

“In about an hour.”

I follow her down another street. “Here we are.”

Across from us is a large park with a baseball diamond, basketball court and playground. I’m trying to figure out where the Frosting Tree is when she walks in the direction of a bench. Maybe she changed her mind. I’m about to sit on the bench when she approaches the tree behind it.

She sticks her foot into a deep V where the main branches split and grabs ahold of the branch above her head to hoist herself up. My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Nyelle continues to climb up another five feet before looking down. “Are you coming?”

“You want me to climb a tree?”

“You don’t have to, but I am. Besides, when was the last time you climbed a tree?”

“Uh, not since I was a kid. And where we… I’m from, they’re mostly huge evergreens. Not too climbable.”

“C’mon,” she encourages one more time. “Climb a tree with me.”

I look around to see if anyone’s watching. This is crazy. But I follow after her anyway, up the tree.

Nyelle picks a thick branch toward the top to sit on, and I choose a sturdy-looking one across from her, keeping hold of the limb above me. I never thought I had an issue with heights, but the fact that I can’t see the ground through the crisscross of branches and that we’re higher than the power lines is making my palms a little sweaty.

“I like it up here,” Nyelle says with a deep breath, like she’s at the peak of a mountain, taking in the view. She has her back against the bark, with one leg resting on the branch and the other dangling. “This is a great place to think.”

“How often do you do this?” I ask, eyeing a group of kids approaching the tree, dribbling a basketball. They continue to the court without noticing we’re above them.

“Think? Only when I need to,” she replies sarcastically.

“Nice,” I respond. “No, how often do you climb this tree?”

“This is my first time.”

“You’ve never been here before? But you seemed to know where you were going.” This girl continues to confuse me.

“I knew there was a park over here,” she explains. “So I figured there would be a frosting tree too. The perfect tree to sit and… reflect on life.”

“Another first for you, huh? This on the list too?”

She nods.

“Why do you call it the
frosting
tree?” I ask.

She thrusts her arm, elbow-deep, into her jacket pocket and pulls out a tub of vanilla frosting. “I like to have something sweet while I’m thinking.”

“Of course you do. I should’ve known.” I shake my head with a laugh. “And that’s why you’re wearing the huge jacket—to carry your groceries. What else do you have in there?”

“What else do you want?” she responds with a smart-ass grin. She pops off the plastic cover and peels back the foil before dipping a finger in and removing a huge glob of white frosting that she plops into her mouth. She tilts the container toward me.

I hold up my hand. “I’m all set.”

“Try it,” she insists. “It’ll make being up in this tree so much better.” I hesitate another second before giving in, scooping out a conservative helping. When I put it in my mouth, Nyelle notices my expression. “Good, right?”

I nod. “You were right. The tree makes so much sense now.”

“I love frosting,” she says dreamily, ignoring my sarcasm. She scoops out another helping. “What could you eat every day without getting sick of it?”

After swallowing down another fingerful, I answer, “Cereal. I’m convinced I could eat it for every meal.”

“You’re such a guy.” Nyelle laughs. “I’d eat potato chips every day for the rest of my life. I’d mix it up and have a different flavor or brand each day. I love chips.”

“And frosting,” I note, watching her mindlessly consume the whipped sugar.

“Have you ever dipped potato chips in frosting?” she asks excitedly—like it’s the best idea.

“No.” I grimace. “That sounds disgusting.”

“No way. Salty and sweet is the best combination. Now that I’m thinking about it, I’ll have to try it.”

I chuckle, expecting her to reach in and pull out a bag of chips from her pocket. But she doesn’t.

Nyelle becomes distracted by a flock of birds flying overhead and watches them land on a tree across the park. A light gust sweeps a few strands of hair across her cheeks. I like it when she wears her hair down, wavy and untamed. Her eyes flicker with thought, although her face remains calm and content. “If you could have a superpower, what would it be?” She glances over at me, and I realize I haven’t taken my eyes off her. I blink and look around.

“Uh,” I stall. Not expecting the question. “Are we
reflecting
?”

“Yeah,” she answers with the smile. “Don’t worry. What’s said in the tree stays in the tree.”

I wonder just how honest we’re about to be. “Okay.” I nod, hoping I’m not going to regret this. “I think… superstrength. Probably because I was such a scrawny kid.”

“You don’t look very scrawny now,” Nyelle observes, tilting her head to look me over, causing me to shift uncomfortably.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t change my childhood. What about you?”

Her translucent blue eyes scan the sky. She’s sitting back so casually like she’s sitting on the bench below us—not at the top of a tree. “I’d fly. But more like… float. Let the wind carry me and set me down wherever it wants.” She arches up with her eyes closed, like she’s tempting the wind to take her. Her chest rises and falls dramatically, filling her lungs with the air she wants to be a part of. When she opens her eyes and looks at me, I sit up straighter and focus on the leaf above her head. I keep getting lost in her. She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever known.

“Do you ever wish you could do something over again?” she asks, her tone more serious. Her eyes are dark and troubled. I’m wondering where her thoughts took her in that quiet moment in the wind. “There are so many times I think about a decision I’ve made and wonder, ‘What if I had done it differently? Who would I be? What would my life be like? What if…?’” She takes a deep breath, leaving the thought unfinished.

Without warning, the storm passes from her eyes and a mischievous smile cuts across her face. “What if you could do something over again? What would you choose?”

I open my mouth but don’t know what to say. The irony of her question keeps the words trapped. If anyone has something to confess, it’s the girl sitting across from me.

“Don’t torture yourself,” Nyelle says with a laugh. She looks off in the distance at two little girls running down the sidewalk. “What if I had one more day?”

“For what?” I ask automatically.

She presses her lips together, not saying more. I guess these confessions are meant to be as cryptic as everything else about her.

I look around for inspiration and observe the boys playing basketball. “What if I’d practiced more?”

Nyelle follows my line of sight and grins. “You sucked at basketball?” I shrug. I wasn’t very good at basketball. I made the team—just to warm the bench. Guess that wasn’t hard to figure out. Or maybe I suck at being cryptic too.

“Okay,” Nyelle says, scrunching her face in thought. “What if I had been a better liar?”

I laugh. Isn’t that what she’s doing right now? “You regret not being able to lie?”

“What can I say?” Nyelle smiles. “I can keep a promise for an eternity, but don’t ask me to lie. I will avoid having to lie to a person like you avoid your exes.”

Wow
, I mouth. “I promise to never ask you to lie for me.” I just wish she’d stop lying
to
me.

“Thanks,” she responds. “Are you a good liar?”

“I have done my share of lying,” I admit, unashamed. “But only to keep from hurting someone. Or to not get in trouble as a kid. Stupid stuff. Nothing morally corrupt or anything.” This entire conversation is causing me to break out in a sweat. I have no idea how she’s remaining so calm. Unless… she doesn’t really believe she’s lying.

“I see what’s going on, Cal. You look all nice and innocent. Then you break these poor girls’ hearts while lying to them about why.” She shakes her head in disapproval, but the teasing spark in her eye gives her away.

“I’m pretty sure they’ve all recovered,” I defend with a forced smile.

“What if you could date one of them again? Would you?”

I take a deep breath and try to consider her question seriously. I flip through the girls’ faces in my head, but don’t pause on any, except one. But we were just kids then, and now I don’t know where she is. “Nope.”

Nyelle’s mouth opens in surprise. “Really? You have no leftover feelings for any of them?”

“I don’t think I really had strong enough feelings to begin with. I liked them. Still do for the most part, but…” I shrug, feeling heat creep up my neck. “What about you? If you could give one of the guys you dated another chance, would you?” I hold my breath, anticipating some sort of reaction.

She starts laughing, hard. Not the reaction I was expecting.

I’m afraid she’s going to fall out of the tree when she grabs her stomach and shakes her head. It takes her a minute to pull herself together, wiping the corners of her eyes.

“That bad?” I’m thinking of Kyle Talbert, the guy she dated throughout most of high school. And I’m assuming she is too.

“The worst.”

I couldn’t agree with her more, except if she dated his younger brother, Neil—that would be
much
worse. But then why did they stay together for so long? This may be the strangest non-conversation I’ve ever had.

“I definitely want a do-over.” She shudders, causing me to laugh loudly. “That and my first kiss.” Nyelle’s nose scrunches with the thought of it as she sticks out her tongue in disgust. “Yuck.”

“You’re starting to make me feel sorry for you,” I tease. “You had a horrible boyfriend. And your first kiss was evidently… disgusting.”

“It was!” she says adamantly. “My first kiss was all tongue and slobbery. I really wanted to ask him if he could taste what I had for dinner, but I wasn’t bold enough. I had to find a way to wipe my face with my sleeve after. So gross.”

“Yeah, that is bad.” I cringe, having no idea who her first kiss was. “I’ve kissed girls who were… all over the place. Not my first. But still. It’s not a turn-on, so I can empathize.”

“I’m sure you can,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “Tell me this, if you
could
go back and do your firsts over again, would you?”

“My first kiss?”

“First kiss. First time having sex…” Nyelle clarifies.

I laugh awkwardly. “Okay. We’re going
there
.” She nods in encouragement. “Being honest, I don’t care who it’s with. I think everyone’s first time is kinda awful.”

Nyelle laughs. “You think so?”

“C’mon. For a guy, there’s so much pressure to perform, but there’s no way you’re going to. You have no idea what the hell you’re doing, no matter how many… Anyway, it’s not going to be good. And for a girl, it hurts. How can that be any fun?”

“I’d like to think there are a few exceptions.” Nyelle smiles thoughtfully.

“Yours didn’t suck?” I question, completely shocked. I wouldn’t expect Kyle to be very attentive. Even if he’s two years older. Unless there was someone else before him… I really don’t want to be thinking about this.

“Who was your first?” Nyelle presses.

“Um… Lily Graham,” I answer carefully, watching for a sign of recognition because I know she knows her… or did, when she remembered things. Nothing. Just an anticipatory brow raise, encouraging me to continue. “Nothing romantic. We’d been going out for a couple months our junior year. She invited me over when her parents weren’t home, so we decided to do it. There was a hot tub. Clothes came off. We ended up getting the couch soaking wet. She cared more about her parents being pissed about the couch than the fact that we’d just had sex for the first time. It was… fast.”