Catching Jordan
Page 32

I focus on my pasta. “He’s sweet, he’s nice to me, he’s hot. Let’s be honest, there aren’t a lot of options around here.” I use my fork to point at him. “Like you said, Lacey’s a good lay, right?”
JJ bows his head toward me, obviously conceding.
“Hey, if the sex is good, what else do you need, eh?”
“Well , um, I bet sex might be better if you’re actual y in love, you know?”
He shrugs. “Pass the Parmesan, wil you?”
I pick up the cheese and pass it to JJ, feeling deflated. With Henry gone, I have no one to talk to except my journal, and it can’t ever talk back.
“Look, Carter and I don’t care if you date Ty. But Henry…”
This surprises me, because this is the first time JJ
has brought up Henry since this stupid feud started.
“Why? What did he say?”
JJ clicks his pen, hesitating. “Just that he can’t stand being around you while you’re dating Ty and he thinks you’ve chosen Ty over us.”
I drop my fork. “Oh, that’s total bul shit, JJ.”
“I know.”
“Did you tel Henry that?”
“Sure…but I think he’s gotta work this out for himself. And that’s al I’m gonna say.”
“Al I’m gonna say is that first, Henry told me to date Ty. Then he got mad about it. Then I gave Henry the choice of whether I would keep dating Ty or not…and his response was to give Ty a black eye and ignore me for a month and a half.”
“I never said this was your fault, Woods. But when did you become the Angel of Drama?” Smiling, he stares at his crossword book. “What’s a five-letter word for polo participant?”
“I dunno, man…a shirt? Like a polo shirt?”
After dropping JJ off at home, I drive. Drive, with no real destination. But then I realize where I want to go. Soon I find myself standing beside the Cumberland River, the spot of my last real conversation with Henry. I open my journal and pul a pen from my pocket.
The dull ache still infests my body like cancer Henry cancer
Only rather than killing me, this cancer lets me live, in a reduced sort of way
Without Henry, I’m living 75 percent of my life And maybe some people accept that, settle for that, but I don’t want to.
I find the log where Henry and I sat over a month ago. I root around beneath the rotting wood, groping for flat stones. I pul out several, stand, and take aim at the river. First I manage two skips. Then three. Wil I ever get up to four? I search for more stones, discovering some brick-like rocks, which I launch into the river, creating big splashes.
I skip stones and throw rocks until the sun starts to set. Just as I’m getting ready to leave, I see a large splash in the river, so I jerk around to find the thrower of the rock. And there he is. Henry. Standing there with a handful of rocks, launching them into the river. No one knew I was coming here, so he must’ve just shown up, just like me.
He stares at the journal in my hand, and then looks away as he picks up more rocks and starts throwing them in the river.
I drop my journal onto the ground, reach down, and grab a huge stone, almost as big as a cinder block, and hurl it at the water. Then I pick a few flat stones and skip them each three times.
He picks up a tiny rock, probably no bigger than a golf bal , and flicks it into the river, creating the measliest splash ever. I glance at him, scared to say or do anything. I watch as he reaches down and picks some wildflowers. Sunflowers. Goldenrod. Queen Anne’s lace. He slowly shuffles over and hands me the bouquet.
My tears are everywhere. I sop them up using my sweatshirt, and when I look at his face, he reaches around his neck and pul s off the silver chain that holds the plastic footbal charm, fingering it. He stares down at the charm, then finds my eyes and puts the chain around my neck.
“I’m sorry I fucked everything up, Jordan,” he says, and then he’s gone.
Later that evening, I’m huddled in the potting shed with my flashlight, writing in my journal.
My fears have come true:
I’m that girl who’s lost all control and perspective because of a guy
What do I say to Henry?
Is there anything I could say to make things better?
I finally have the charm I’ve wanted forever
But it’s just a shitty piece of plastic if it’s not attached to Henry Al of a sudden the door to the potting shed creaks open and Mom crawls inside with me.
“How did you know where I was?”
“Sweetie, you’ve been coming here for years. Ever since that first time you and Henry played house.”
“Oh.” Mom real y does know al .
“Your friends are here.”
I furiously wipe my wet eyes on my sleeve. “Carter? JJ?”
Light from the porch il uminates the inside of the shed, so I can see Mom smiling. “Carrie and Marie.”
What the hell? “Why are they here?”
“Carrie wants to talk to you.”
“Oh.”
Mom hesitates. “Look, sweetie, I wish you’d talk to someone. I hate watching you keep everything bottled up.”
“I’m not! I’ve been writing in the stupid journal you gave me.”
Mom puts an arm around my waist and drops her forehead onto my shoulder. “And I’m so glad you’ve found another outlet besides footbal . But talking to Carrie might be more helpful than writing in your journal.”
I think back to when I told Carrie I slept with Ty, and I felt so scared, because she could’ve told everyone. But no one found out. And Marie didn’t make a big deal of being my partner in music appreciation class. I like that she’s kinda low-key, at least compared to the other cheerleaders. Hel , she knows what a flea flicker is.
“That’s not a bad idea, Mom.”
“Good. Want to go inside?”
I stand up, and together, we go out of the potting shed. Mom holds my hand as we walk through the garden and up to the porch.
Back in the house, after glancing at my red face in the bathroom mirror, I go to the foyer, where Carrie and Marie are waiting for me. “What’s up?” I say.
When the girls see me, they glance at one another. Carrie clears her throat. “You okay, Jordan?”
I wipe my eyes again and force a smile. “Oh yeah—
I’m fine. What are y’al up to?”
“Carrie needs your advice,” Marie says, patting Carrie’s back.
My advice? “Is this some kind of a joke? Did JJ put you up to this?”
Marie laughs. “No—for real. Is there someplace we can talk?”
“Sure—let’s go to the basement.” Carrie and Marie fol ow me down the stairs and we plop down on the couches. So now what? Should I offer them a drink?
What would Henry want?
“You guys want to order pizza?” I say.
“Awesome,” Carrie says.
“Can we get wings too?” Marie asks.
“Hel yeah,” I say.
Marie likes wings?
I grab a menu from the desk, pul out my cel phone, and order the pizza and wings, then sit back down on the couch. “So what kind of advice do you need? Need my opinion on buying a new pair of cleats?”
“No,” Marie says. “Guy advice.”
I laugh loudly. “You must be joking.”
“Nope,” Marie says. “The issue is that Carrie total y likes Carter, but he doesn’t want to date her.”
“Real y?” I exclaim, focusing on Carrie, whose face is al red. “I thought he liked you a lot.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Marie replies.
“Look, guys,” Carrie says, “I know he likes me. But he doesn’t want to get involved because he thinks Henry is stil hung up on me.”
I laugh. “Carter is so dense.”
Carrie pauses for a beat. “I know, right?”
“Have you told Carter why you dumped Henry?” I ask.
“No…”
“So tel him.”
“You don’t care if I tel him about Henry?” Carrie says, raising an eyebrow.
“Of course not. Or if you’d rather, I can send Carter a text tel ing him to stop being a bonehead.”
Carrie smiles. “Nah, I can do it. Thanks, Jordan.”
“Now that that’s settled, can we play some foosbal ?”
Marie asks, eyeing the table in the corner.
“Let’s do it,” I say. The three of us head over to the table and start a tournament. Since they’re guests, I let Marie and Carrie play the first game while I go upstairs and raid the kitchen for sodas.
When I get downstairs, only three minutes later, Marie says, “Your turn to play me, Jordan. I just slaughtered Carrie.”
“Cool,” I say, popping a Diet Coke open and setting it on the table. I grab the knobs and start moving my wooden men to hit the bal . One of Marie’s wooden men steals the bal from me and slams it into the goal.
“Damn,” I say. “Carrie, you could’ve warned me that Marie’s a foosbal prodigy.”
“Champion of Cedar Creek Camp, three years running,” Marie replies.
“So how are things going with Ty?” Carrie asks, taking a seat on a bar stool and opening her Diet Coke. When I look up from the foosbal table, she’s staring into my eyes.
“Fine.” Lie.
“Just fine?” Marie exclaims. She swal ows before asking, “Are you guys, you know, fooling around?”
I nod.
“What’s he like in bed?”
I freeze—I can’t believe she asked that, but he is hot, so I can understand why she’s curious.
“Unfrickinbelievable.”
Not a lie.
“But?” Marie asks.
“Hooking up isn’t everything,” I say, trying not to think about how much I love Henry. Henry, who’s probably gone forever. Friend or otherwise.
“You don’t love Ty?” Carrie asks quietly.
I shrug and focus on the foosbal game. “With Ty, it’s like I have this amazing guy, and he’s sweet and nice, and yeah, unbelievable in bed, but it’s not al there, you know?”
“There are plenty of other guys out there,” Marie says as she twirls the knob, knocking the bal into my goal again. “So if you want to dump Ty, everything wil be fine.”
“It won’t be fine,” I blurt out before realizing I’m speaking.
“’Cause Henry’s not around?” Carrie asks, a frown spreading across her face.
“Yeah, and if he’s not around, I might as wel be with someone like Ty, right?”
Marie and Carrie exchange a look again and then Marie says, “If Henry doesn’t know what an ass he’s being and what he’s missing, then screw him.”
“That doesn’t help,” Carrie says, coming over and resting a hand on my back. “We’re here if you want to talk about it.”
“I just miss him, that’s al .” I feel tears wel ing again. “I hate that we don’t play cards anymore. I hate waking up alone.”
“That sucks,” Marie replies. She digs the bal out of the goal and drops it back down in the middle of the table, and we start playing again.