Slow Twitch - Реинхардт Лиз. Страница 52

“If you beat me fair and square, I’d take silver like a man. But I expect you to kickback a percentage to your trainer.” He winked, and I tickled his ribs, then we ran back to my house, panting with exhaustion by the time we got there. He slid against the outside and closed his eyes for a few seconds too long. I patted his cheek and he opened one eye sleepily.

“Go home. It’s…early. You’re beat. Be careful.” I kissed him, soft and light as dandelion fluff floating on the summer wind.

He picked me up around the waist and let the kiss seep in and take root. “Thank you for last night. And you tell Evan I said ‘thank you.’ I like that friend of yours.” He nuzzled my neck. “I love you so much, babe.”

“I love you.” I stood with my back to the wall until Jake’s body was swallowed into the woods.

Evan’s voice drifted down from above me. “‘It is the lark that sings so out of tune, straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps.’”

I reached a hand up, and she helped hoist me in. We fell into a heap on the floor and giggled until our sides ached. “He wants me to thank you.” I swooped my arms around her neck and pulled her onto the bed. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you…”

Her laugh came out through her teeth, like the sound of waves on the beach. “Cut that all out, or I’ll recite Shakespeare to you all day long.”

“You’re dreamy. It was such a cool date.” I pulled a long, thick piece of her hair out and braided it loosely. “It felt so good. I didn’t expect it. Jake and I always have fun, but this was like another level.”

She turned to look at me, her plush lips parted in surprise. “Well, of course. That boy is searching for a reason to shine for you. So let him shine.”

“He does. He shines just by being who he is.” I undid the brain and ran my fingers through Evan’s hair.

That day sped by in a bleary run, and the next few days tossed and jumbled so fast, it was like dipping your hand into a stream of cool water on a hot day. By the time you reached your palm to your lips, all that cool water had gone warm and nearly disappeared. Before I knew it, it was my last day with Evan. She was getting ready to leave, and I was in an uncharacteristically mopey mood.

“Sweets, we beat this week to death.” She ticked off our adventures on her fingers. “We went to the city with your Mom. She took us to that fantastic steak place. We had all that cheesecake.” She rolled another dress and threw it sloppily into her bag. “Then we did that whole museum day, and Fa was so damn cute and gentlemanly. The drive-in with Jake. The diner run with Devon. Going on that godawful hike with Kelsie. I love that girl, but who hikes for fun?”

I took the dress back out of her bag and folded it, then rolled it neatly. “I know. She’s super sweet, but nuts. And I loved everything too. But you justgot here. Can’t you spend another week?” I wrinkled my brow, pouted my lips, blinked my eyes. “Jake would be so excited to have you at his race. Please?”

“You know I would. Stop making that pathetic face at me! But school starts early in Georgia, darling. ‘Cause of all the heat.” She tossed a lacy pink bra back and forth in her hands absently. “Well, I think it does for me, anyway.”

“You haven’t asked your father about school yet?” I pressed my lips together as I tucked her beaded flats, soles aligned, into the corner of her bag. “Evan? Evan, look at me. You need to know for sure where you’re starting school. Ask him.”

She shook her head and threw a bunch of earrings in on top of this perfect silk top.

I plucked all the hole-making earrings up and asked, “Why not?”

“Because I’m afraid of what he’ll say.” Her voice stretched and grated against the tears she was trying to hold back.

“But you’ve gone to the same school since kindergarten. I know your parents are going through a tough time, but they’ll get that you need to be there, with your friends. Right?” I slid her earrings into a baggie and ran my fingers down her arm. “Right?”

“It’s a really exclusive school. They won’t hold a place for me. And I was on academic probation last quarter. The house is gone, and Gramma isn’t close enough to count as in-district. Plus, she wants me to go to her alma mater, so I’ll probably start there in a few days.” When she punched down at more clothes in her bag, I didn’t even make a move to stop her.

The ringing phone broke our silent reverie. “Hello?”

“Hey, Bren.” It was Devon, and he sounded distracted. “I was wondering if you got anything in the mail from Dublin? Did Evan? Is she still around?”

“She is.” Evan shrugged at me and I held up one finger and made my way to the kitchen. “Did you get it today?” There was a little pile of mail on the table. I sifted through it, and there was a large airmail envelope postmarked Dublin. “I got something.”

“Open it and read.” Devon’s voice was tight.

“‘ Dear Ms. Blixen, The paper you wrote for the Language and Literature of the British Isles Seminar this summer was beyond well done; it was remarkable. Your work was selected for publication in the collection Wisdom From the Mouths of Youths . You and two guests of your choice are invited to a reading of selections at Vorhees Hall, Rutgers University, New Brunswick August 20 ^th , 12 PM. Congratulations on a job well done. Sincerely, Dr. Gorman, PhD.’Holy shit! Devon, holy shit!”

“I know. I knew you’d get it, too. It was that night, that crazy night and the revisions after Evan said our essays were crap. What did we write? What did you write?” he demanded.

And I felt like the blood was draining out of my body. “Oh shit.”

“Brenna? What did you write? Because I’m freaking the hell out! I wrote about being gay! I deleted the damn essay about the birds and the ocean. What the fuck was I thinking? My mother already saw the letter. What the hell am I going to do?” His voice was cagey with panic.

“You didn’t come out to your parents yet?” I couldn’t stop looking at the letters on the paper in front of me, leapfrogging and cart-wheeling around in dizzying circles.

“No! I guess I can tell them it’s fiction. Oh my God, I don’t even remember what the hell I wrote! Goddamn Evan and her fucking crazy Araby!” He took a deep breath. “Are you still on the line?”

I forced the words out of my mouth. “I wrote…I wrote about Jake and Saxon. I wrote about how it’s possible to love more than one person. How I expect to love so many people in my life. Oh no. Oh God.” A queasy lurch of my stomach made a wash of acid hit right in the back of my throat. “Oh shit. This is really not good. This is really, reallyshitty timing. Jake is…this is notgood. He won’t understand that I didn’t mean I don’t love him. It was just art.It was just poetry! This is not good.” I wandered around the kitchen quietly, flapping the paper in my hands like it was on fire and needed to be put out. Though it did occur to me that if the paper was on fire, I’d just be fanning the flames.

“It doesn’t mean that we all have toread, right? It doesn’t mean that every person will be asked to read the entire paper? Brenna, answer me! Am I right?” Devon’s old, panicked self cracked out and bubbled to the surface.

“I don’t know,” I muttered, my eyes flicking over the words again and again without managing to read anything. “I really don’t know! Maybe they’ll send more information. Maybe they told certain people that they’re reading. I’ll ask Evan and see if she knows anything about it. Maybe it’s by district? Maybe she got more info?”

“Right. Good. That all makes sense.” Devon’s voice slowed as he calmed down.

“But I bet we all get a copy of the book or pamphlet or whatever it is,” I chattered nervously.

Why had we written such honest, gut-wrenching final papers?

Why hadn’t I kept mine about true academic integrity?