It would be better to stop liking him for real. Then I’d be a lot happier.
—written by Meghan. Approximate date: late October, junior year.
“Wow,” I said. “I didn’t know you were still that shattered about this whole thing.”
Meghan nodded.
“Are you gonna break up with him?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It was only when I wrote that just now that I even thought I’d be happier if I didn’t love Bick.”
“Oh.”
“But the problem is, I do. I can’t break up with someone I want to be with.”
“You can’t?”
“How can I walk away from him when I want him so much? Doesn’t that seem like giving up on love?”
I felt like telling her she should dump him. He made her feel like crap and she’d be better off without him. But I knew I’d never have walked away from Jackson if he hadn’t broken up with me. Things had already been weird between us for months before the debacle. Little events (or nonevents) shattered me, like when I baked him black-bottom cupcakes and he barely even noticed. Or when he didn’t buy me a Christmas present. Or didn’t ask me to the Spring Fling until really late. Or the whole Valentine’s Day flower horror.
For pretty long, before we broke up, being with Jackson had made me feel more bad than good.
But I never would have left.
“I know what you mean,” I told Meghan.
“I’d be happier if I didn’t like him,” she said again, like she was trying out the sound of it.
I dialed Angelo’s cell twice one day, having this idea that if I told him I was thinking about him all the time,
and reminded him what it was like that night in the Honda,
and told him that I wanted him,
he’d break up with the other girl.
But he didn’t even pick up. I didn’t leave a message.
He probably looked at his cell to see who had called, and he didn’t ring me back.
Thursday night before November Week was Halloween. My parents were going to the same big party they go to each year, and they had spent the whole afternoon getting ready.
Mom was going as Frida Kahlo, the artist, and had drawn her eyebrows together, put on nearly black lipstick and found some Mexican peasant clothing. She was forcing my dad to be Salvador Dalí, my favorite painter, who had an insane mustache. She glued it on his lip and squeezed him into a red velvet coat, a yellow shirt and a long-haired wig.
There was a party at Jackson’s friend Matt’s, but I don’t need to tell you I wasn’t going. Meghan came over and we watched The Ring, The Others and half of The Exorcist before we got too scared and had to turn on all the lights and eat Popsicles to de-freak ourselves.
The Friday before November Week, Nora pulled me aside when she saw me in the refectory. “Kim is coming home,” she whispered. “Her flight gets in this morning.”
“What?” I was shocked.
“She doesn’t like the exchange program.”
“Why not?”
“Her host family is mean to her. She’s been really homesick.”
Oh.
I had figured that Kim, who had traveled all over the world with her parents on vacation, was having a great time in Japan. It had never occurred to me that she was doing anything but having glamorous, independent adventures. “How did you find out?” “E-mail. But here’s what I have to tell you. Please don’t be mad.”
“What?”3
“Like two weeks ago, before she told me she was coming home, Kim asked me what I was doing for November Week. So I told her.”
“And?”
“And I said it sounded cool, and Mr. Wallace was leading it, and there was a swimming pool and a sauna. But I didn’t tell her it was you and me and Noel.”
“You lied?” Nora never lies.
“I left that part out. About you and me being friends again. I didn’t want things to get complicated.”
“So?”
Nora twisted a curl on one of her fingers but didn’t answer.
“She’s coming with us.” My voice sounded heavy in my own ears.
“I’m so sorry,” said Nora. “I had no idea that’s why she was asking. She was in Tokyo!”
“No, there was no way you could know.”
“It turns out Jackson’s doing rafting, which is completely full. And she probably knew Cricket was doing Mount Saint Helens, but Cricket’s been so deep in Katarina-Heidi Land, I think Kim decided she’d rather pick Canoe Island.”
“Did you tell her I was going?”
Nora shook her head. “I was so shocked when I got her e-mail, I didn’t reply.”
“But Cricket might have told her.”
“Yeah, maybe. Cricket knows I’m going with you.”
The whole thing was a certain horror.
“Maybe I can get out of it,” I said. “Maybe my parents can get a refund.”
“Maybe,” she said. “But you were so cranked to go.”
“Not anymore.”
“I’m sorry.” Nora bit her thumbnail.
“I’m going to pull out and do that public school greening project.”
“Really, really sorry,” said Nora.
“Me too,” I said.
But when I told Noel I was pulling out, he said, Don’t. “You can’t let fear run you.”
And then I told Meghan, and she said, Don’t. “Kim is nothing to you. Remember?”
“We’ll miss you,” said Mr. Wallace. “Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider? No one’s going to take your spot at this late date. You can show up for the ferry tomorrow morning if you change your mind.”
I called Nora that afternoon after my zoo job. “If Kim signed up for Canoe Island knowing I was going,” I said, “that’s awful.”
“How so?”
“Because she can’t actually want to be there if I’m there. It’s obvious the whole thing will be a debacle. She’s forcing me out.”
“I don’t think Kim would do that. She probably doesn’t know.”
“I bet she does.”
“She’s not evil, Roo. You two just don’t get along anymore.”
“I feel like she’s going to come back from Tokyo and steal the only three friends I have,” I said. “I’m going to end up with no one.”
“I never stopped being friends with her,” said Nora. “You know that. And I don’t want to be in the middle. Can’t everyone just be polite?” Nora is always one for people getting along. She likes life to be orderly.
“I doubt it,” I said. “Are you going to tell her I’m going?”
“Not if you’re staying home and doing the greening project.”
“But if she’s as innocent as you think,” I said, “she’ll pull out when she hears I’ll be there.”
“Roo, please, please, please don’t get me more in the middle of this than I already am.”
I sighed. Nora was right.
“Okay,” I said. “Sorry.”
“So are you going?”
“Yes,” I answered, surprising myself. “I am.”
The Kaptain Is In
Dear Kaptain Kangaroo,
I gave a boy named Billy my number at a party after he kissed me. So why didn’t he call?
Answer: Don’t angst, he’ll call.
Dear Kaptain Kangaroo,
I think he should call three days after kissing me and getting my number. That’s only polite, plus I read it somewhere online. And now it’s been two weeks. So if he does call, what should I say?
Answer: Tell him you’re busy and you’ll call him back. And then don’t. That’s the best he deserves.
Dear Kaptain,
But I want to talk to him!
Answer: You shouldn’t, though.
But Kaptain, if he calls me, doesn’t he like me? Which means I should talk to him. Blowing him off isn’t going to get me anywhere.
Answer: Sweetie, he’s not going to call. If he was going to, he’d have called already!