“Inside joke. Sorry. Good to meet you, but I just got home from camp and—”
“You need a shower,” Nathan interrupted.
I punched his arm. “Thanks a lot. I was going to say nap. We were up all night pranking. But shower first, I guess.”
I left him and Frisbee Girl in the kitchen and walked through the door to the living room. I wanted to turn around and walk back out again. Amber sat on the couch, sandwiched between Braden and Gage as they watched television. Braden looked good. Happy, even. His eyes were clear. His hair was perfectly messy.
My heart gave an excited flutter at seeing him and I had to force it to calm down, remind it who was sitting closer than necessary right next to him. Gage jumped up the second he saw me and wrapped me in a hug.
“I missed you, Charles Barkley.”
I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the stinging there. “Missed you, too.”
“You stink.”
I smacked his back. “Thanks. Oh, I collected your two dollars from Fredrick . . . sort of.”
“Tell.”
“He was asleep last night and we filled his dorm floor with basketballs. It was awesome.” I tried to make my voice sound light and happy as I told him the story. Like I’d had all the fun in the world while I was gone.
It seemed to work, because Gage laughed. “You are the man . . . well, the she-man.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled. I waved to Amber and Braden. “Hi. I’ve been told I need a shower . . . twice now . . . but are you hanging out for a while?”
They both said, “Yes,” then looked at each other and laughed. My stomach clenched. I had only been gone for a week, but suddenly between Nathan’s new girl and now Braden, it felt like I’d missed out on months of developments. Missed out on my chance. I shouldn’t have left. Braden needed me and I had walked away. Maybe Amber helped him out of his funk.
“Okay. I’ll be right back.”
In the shower, the water ran down my face. My stomach hurt and my eyes hurt and my head throbbed. A weird lump had formed in my throat, and I wondered if I was getting sick. Then a sob escaped. A sob that made my heart twist and my insides want to come out. I leaned my forehead against the tile as another one came, followed by tears. It hurt to cry. I didn’t like it. But I couldn’t stop. What was my problem? It wasn’t like I’d lost anything. I knew Braden didn’t like me the way I finally admitted to liking him. But I hadn’t expected to have it thrown in my face so soon upon returning.
I turned off the shower, toweled dry, and dressed. I crept across the hall to my dad’s room and knocked. Jerom had told me my dad was working the late shift tonight, so I figured he’d be sleeping. I didn’t want to wake him, but I needed someone to talk to. He didn’t answer so I let myself in. His bed was made and empty.
I sank onto it and pulled his pillow against my chest. My hand bumped something hard. A book. I stared at the title for a long time: How to Raise a Teenage Girl. He needed a book on how to raise me? He must’ve thought I was turning out wrong. The pages of the book were dog-eared and worn, well used. And they obviously hadn’t helped. I still hadn’t turned out right. The stupid girl on the cover looked more normal than me. My eyes collided with the author’s name on the bottom of the cover: Carol Franks. This was Carol? This was who had given him advice about me for the last several years?
I needed my mom. More tears tried to gag me. It was painful to cry, but it seemed to loosen something in my chest. I pushed the book back under the pillow and checked my face in the mirror to make sure no evidence of my weakness showed. I stared at my reflection. This was me. Hopeless. I made my way back downstairs. Everyone was still in the same position as before on the couch. I glanced at the television.
“What are you guys watching?” It definitely wasn’t sports. It looked like some sort of romantic comedy. Did I walk into the twilight zone?
Amber smiled. “Something you’ll love. These boys need to let the girls have a pick once in a while, right? And it was my pick today.” Her statement implied they’d been hanging out multiple days. “Besides, they lost a bet.”
“What bet was that?”
Amber laughed and couldn’t stop. Gage joined her. I was beginning to wonder if the bet was who could be the most annoying, because I could see how Amber would easily win that.
“Amber had a party this week,” Braden said. “And she has this huge backyard, so we were driving golf balls trying to hit a . . . uh . . . target—”
They all laughed again.
“And she hit it,” Braden was finally able to finish.
They probably wanted me to ask what the target was, but that would just make them laugh harder. And I would feel even less a part of this inside joke. Knowing my brothers, the target was probably someone’s butt or someone’s car. So instead I said, “Really? She beat Gage?”
“I did!” Amber yelled, raising both arms in the air.
“And no one received a concussion as a result or anything, right?”
Gage let out a bursting laugh. “There were helmets.”
Braden scooted closer to Amber and patted the couch cushion beside him. I took a deep breath. Yes. I needed to go sit by him. To show him that we could be friends like we always were. A good friend who wouldn’t notice that he scooted closer to Amber to make room for me, instead of farther away from her. Not only would a good friend not notice that, but she would be happy that he’d found such a nice, fun girl like Amber.
I dug my nails into my palm and walked closer. He looked up and I noticed his left eye was rimmed with black. I gasped. “What happened?”
He smiled.
“I guess the helmet didn’t help?” I asked, realizing he probably took a turn as one of the golf ball targets. Sometimes they were the biggest idiots.
I sat next to him. His familiar scent washed over me and threatened to bring tears back to my eyes. I scooted as far to edge of the couch as possible, practically hugging the armrest. My effort only provided an inch of space between our bodies. Not nearly enough.
He brushed his arm against mine. “We good?” he asked.
I bit my lip and nodded.
“Good, because I was wrong about Evan. I was being a judgmental jerk.”
No, I wanted to yell. You weren’t. And now if you like him that means you weren’t really being jealous at all.
“He’s actually pretty cool,” he said when I didn’t respond.
“Really cool,” Amber butted in. “He’s been hanging out with us this week. Did you know Evan has a boat? You should see these pictures he has of himself wakeboarding. He’s even been in a tournament.”
Were Braden and I really making up in front of Amber? I felt cheated. I wanted a fence make-up, where we had the moon and the stars and nobody else but the two of us. Where we got to tell each other how stupid we’d been and what great friends we were. “Cool,” was all I could manage.
“You okay?” he asked.
I nodded again.
“I missed you.”
I focused really hard on the television, determined not to cry. I wished the sappy movie playing out in front of me was a baseball game. I gasped. “We’re not missing the A’s for this are we?”
Braden growled.
“We’re recording the game,” Amber said. “A bet is a bet.”
Since when would Braden let a bet supersede a game? I would not let this bother me. I gripped the armrest harder. One of his hands went to my knee and he started to write letters out with his finger. I tried to concentrate, but each letter sent tingles up my leg. I had no idea what he was spelling. I shrugged and he started over. This time I concentrated harder. D-O-N-T-B-E-M-A-D-I-W-A-N-T-T-O-W-A-T-C-H-T-H-E-G-A-M-E-T-O-O.
I took his hand and turned it palm up on my knee, then spelled out Y-O-U-S-U-C-K.
He laughed.
The girl in the movie was giving some sort of speech to her best friend about why she needed to fight for the guy. I had no idea what she was saying, though, because Braden’s hand remained on my knee, palm up, long after I finished my message to him. It was the only part of him that touched me, and my entire knee burned. It distracted me from any coherent thought. Why did he leave it there? Shouldn’t he move it? Was he just into the movie and didn’t realize where his hand was? We’d sat next to each other on the couch for years. He was probably just so comfortable with me that he didn’t even think twice about his hand on my knee. And yet here I was getting all obsessed about it—reading way more into it than was necessary. It was a hand. It was a knee. They happened to be touching. Big deal.