Leah on the Offbeat
Page 24
“Pshh.”
“Seriously, she, like, super respects you. Though she’s sort of intimidated by you.”
I narrow my eyes. “Why?”
“I don’t know. Because you’re intimidating?” I shove him, and he smiles. “For real, though. She just thinks you’re really cool, like with the band and everything. So I think she’d listen to you.”
“That’s not . . .” I trail off, blushing.
“Just talk to her, okay?” Simon leans back in his seat, rolling his head toward me. “Just—maybe you could remind her how awesome Nick is, and how great they are together. And then I’ll work on Nick, and we can keep each other posted?”
“Yeah, I really don’t think we should be meddling in this.”
“This isn’t meddling! We’re just looking out for our friends. You want them to be together, right?”
The question hits me like a punch—I feel my whole body clench around it. I mean, obviously I want them to be together. I want them to be happy. I don’t want any tables flipped at prom. But the thought of bringing the topic up with Abby makes me gag.
“Please. Just talk to her.”
“I’ll try,” I say softly. I look everywhere but his eyes.
16
“AND YOU’RE SURE YOU’VE GOT your phone charger?”
“Yup.”
“And the car charger?”
“Yes.”
“And you’ll call me when you get there?”
“Mom. Yes.”
She’s pacing the length of the kitchen, hands scraping against her hairline. I don’t know why she’s being like this. It’s like all of a sudden, she thinks I’m going to the moon.
“Mom, it’s an hour and a half. That’s like driving down the block at rush hour.”
“I know. It’s just weird. This is your college tour. I feel like I should be there.” She sinks into a chair, resting her chin on her purse. “I don’t like missing this stuff.”
“But I’ll be fine. I’ll be with Abby.”
“This better not be Girls Gone Wild,” Mom says sternly. “No hooking up with college kids.”
“Mom.”
“I’m just looking out for you.” She tweaks my nose. “And for Garrett.”
“Oh my God. I’m never telling you anything again, ever.”
“Okay, but call me at the office.” She stands, smoothing down her skirt. “I mean it. As soon as you get there. And have fun, okay?”
I lean back in my chair, head tilted toward the ceiling. Two hours until Abby gets here, and I don’t have a clue what to expect. I don’t know whether she’ll be crying over Nick or wanting to hook up with every guy in sight. And of course, Simon’s counting on me to find the magic words that will fix everything. Like I’m somehow going to be able to talk her into reversing the breakup and living happily ever after. With Nick.
I’m starting to think this is the worst idea in the history of bad ideas.
I don’t know. I just feel so amped up and wired, and I can’t pinpoint why. It’s like when a song changes key, or starts on the offbeat, or shifts its meter halfway through. It’s that hiccup you get in your chest. That tiny huh moment. Like maybe something’s kind of wrong.
Or maybe something’s about to change.
Abby’s fifteen minutes early. And she doesn’t text from the driveway. She knocks on the door.
I knew she would do that.
Which is why I spent all weekend clearing piles of clothes and papers out of the living room, piling everything into my closet in one giant, precarious stack. From the doorway, the living room looks almost normal, even though the couch is kind of patchy and faded, and the wallpaper is from the nineties. At least you can see the floor now.
I sneak a glance at her through the window—and she’s definitely not crying. She actually looks pretty cheerful. To the point where I’d think she and Nick were back together if I hadn’t gotten a mopey update from Simon just this morning. But I guess Abby’s the smile-through-anything type. For all I know, she’s secretly heartbroken.
I slip out through the door before she can step inside. It’s cloudy and cool out, cold enough for my Hogwarts cardigan. “I’m finally reading that,” Abby says, pointing to the Slytherin crest. “I was bullied into it.”
“By Simon?”
“And my cousin Molly. She spammed me with quotes for a week straight.”
“My hero.”
Abby smiles. “I like it so far. I’m halfway through the third one.”
“You like it?” I almost sputter. Abby likes Harry Potter. That’s like saying Mr. Rogers was nice. Reece King is decent-looking. You can’t just like Harry Potter. You have to be balls-out obsessed with it.
The breeze catches her hair as she roots for her car keys. She’s Casual Abby today—curls and skinny jeans and a loose blue sweater. She pops open the trunk, and I set my duffel bag next to her little rolling suitcase. Her mom’s car is kind of old, and the trunk is filled with books and stacks of papers. It’s strangely reassuring, seeing the clutter. I always expect everyone else’s lives to be immaculate.
“So let me put Caitlin’s address into the GPS,” she says, “and then we’ll cue up the second most epic, bottom-tier bullshit playlist you worked so hard half-assing.” She grins up at me.
“Wow. Shots fired, Suso.” I climb into the passenger seat.
She does this very animated shrug, palms up and everything.
I side-eye her, but I’m smiling. “Okay, well, I’ve actually got two playlists. Your choice.”
“My choice, huh.” She starts the ignition. “This feels like a test.”
“Oh, it is. I’ll be judging you.”
Abby laughs. “I knew it.”
“Upbeat music or moody music. Go.”
She scoffs. “Like that’s even a question.”
“I assume that’s code for I’m Abby Suso and I want happy.”
“As opposed to I’m Leah Burke and I want to cry all the way to Athens.”
“Pshh. I don’t cry.”
“See, now you’ve just issued a challenge.”
I grin at her. “I see.”
Wow. So, this is strange. She’s certainly not crying over Nick. She’s acting like she’s never cried in her life. And this teasing. Even when we used to be friends, we were never like this. I’ve never been able to pull my shit together enough to talk to her like a normal person, and banter wasn’t even in the realm of possibility. But it’s like a tiny door just opened inside my brain. I feel weirdly clearheaded. For once, I can keep up with her.
This is actually really fucking wonderful.
We fall into a peaceful silence on the highway. I stare out the window, and all I hear is Vampire Weekend, Ezra Koenig’s voice decrescendoing. And then the song flips to Rilo Kiley. A moment later, Abby laughs.
I look at her. “What?”
“This breakup song. Wow. The timing on that.”
“Oh shit.” There’s this feeling in my chest like an elevator dropping. “I didn’t notice. I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?”
“Because.” I swallow. “I don’t want to make things weird for you.”
“You’re not.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“About Nick?” She presses her lips together.
“We don’t have to,” I say quickly.
“No, it’s fine. I’m just . . .” She nods, staring at the road. “Okay, this stays between us, right?”
“Of course.” I smile. “Whatever happens in Athens stays in Athens.”
“We’re not in Athens yet.”
I glance up at the exit signs. “Okay, whatever happens in Lawrenceville . . .”
“Promise?” She stretches her hand toward me, pinkie extended.
I hook it with my own. “Promise.”
I don’t think I’ve pinkie sworn since I was ten years old.
“I don’t know what to do, Leah.”
“Seriously, she, like, super respects you. Though she’s sort of intimidated by you.”
I narrow my eyes. “Why?”
“I don’t know. Because you’re intimidating?” I shove him, and he smiles. “For real, though. She just thinks you’re really cool, like with the band and everything. So I think she’d listen to you.”
“That’s not . . .” I trail off, blushing.
“Just talk to her, okay?” Simon leans back in his seat, rolling his head toward me. “Just—maybe you could remind her how awesome Nick is, and how great they are together. And then I’ll work on Nick, and we can keep each other posted?”
“Yeah, I really don’t think we should be meddling in this.”
“This isn’t meddling! We’re just looking out for our friends. You want them to be together, right?”
The question hits me like a punch—I feel my whole body clench around it. I mean, obviously I want them to be together. I want them to be happy. I don’t want any tables flipped at prom. But the thought of bringing the topic up with Abby makes me gag.
“Please. Just talk to her.”
“I’ll try,” I say softly. I look everywhere but his eyes.
16
“AND YOU’RE SURE YOU’VE GOT your phone charger?”
“Yup.”
“And the car charger?”
“Yes.”
“And you’ll call me when you get there?”
“Mom. Yes.”
She’s pacing the length of the kitchen, hands scraping against her hairline. I don’t know why she’s being like this. It’s like all of a sudden, she thinks I’m going to the moon.
“Mom, it’s an hour and a half. That’s like driving down the block at rush hour.”
“I know. It’s just weird. This is your college tour. I feel like I should be there.” She sinks into a chair, resting her chin on her purse. “I don’t like missing this stuff.”
“But I’ll be fine. I’ll be with Abby.”
“This better not be Girls Gone Wild,” Mom says sternly. “No hooking up with college kids.”
“Mom.”
“I’m just looking out for you.” She tweaks my nose. “And for Garrett.”
“Oh my God. I’m never telling you anything again, ever.”
“Okay, but call me at the office.” She stands, smoothing down her skirt. “I mean it. As soon as you get there. And have fun, okay?”
I lean back in my chair, head tilted toward the ceiling. Two hours until Abby gets here, and I don’t have a clue what to expect. I don’t know whether she’ll be crying over Nick or wanting to hook up with every guy in sight. And of course, Simon’s counting on me to find the magic words that will fix everything. Like I’m somehow going to be able to talk her into reversing the breakup and living happily ever after. With Nick.
I’m starting to think this is the worst idea in the history of bad ideas.
I don’t know. I just feel so amped up and wired, and I can’t pinpoint why. It’s like when a song changes key, or starts on the offbeat, or shifts its meter halfway through. It’s that hiccup you get in your chest. That tiny huh moment. Like maybe something’s kind of wrong.
Or maybe something’s about to change.
Abby’s fifteen minutes early. And she doesn’t text from the driveway. She knocks on the door.
I knew she would do that.
Which is why I spent all weekend clearing piles of clothes and papers out of the living room, piling everything into my closet in one giant, precarious stack. From the doorway, the living room looks almost normal, even though the couch is kind of patchy and faded, and the wallpaper is from the nineties. At least you can see the floor now.
I sneak a glance at her through the window—and she’s definitely not crying. She actually looks pretty cheerful. To the point where I’d think she and Nick were back together if I hadn’t gotten a mopey update from Simon just this morning. But I guess Abby’s the smile-through-anything type. For all I know, she’s secretly heartbroken.
I slip out through the door before she can step inside. It’s cloudy and cool out, cold enough for my Hogwarts cardigan. “I’m finally reading that,” Abby says, pointing to the Slytherin crest. “I was bullied into it.”
“By Simon?”
“And my cousin Molly. She spammed me with quotes for a week straight.”
“My hero.”
Abby smiles. “I like it so far. I’m halfway through the third one.”
“You like it?” I almost sputter. Abby likes Harry Potter. That’s like saying Mr. Rogers was nice. Reece King is decent-looking. You can’t just like Harry Potter. You have to be balls-out obsessed with it.
The breeze catches her hair as she roots for her car keys. She’s Casual Abby today—curls and skinny jeans and a loose blue sweater. She pops open the trunk, and I set my duffel bag next to her little rolling suitcase. Her mom’s car is kind of old, and the trunk is filled with books and stacks of papers. It’s strangely reassuring, seeing the clutter. I always expect everyone else’s lives to be immaculate.
“So let me put Caitlin’s address into the GPS,” she says, “and then we’ll cue up the second most epic, bottom-tier bullshit playlist you worked so hard half-assing.” She grins up at me.
“Wow. Shots fired, Suso.” I climb into the passenger seat.
She does this very animated shrug, palms up and everything.
I side-eye her, but I’m smiling. “Okay, well, I’ve actually got two playlists. Your choice.”
“My choice, huh.” She starts the ignition. “This feels like a test.”
“Oh, it is. I’ll be judging you.”
Abby laughs. “I knew it.”
“Upbeat music or moody music. Go.”
She scoffs. “Like that’s even a question.”
“I assume that’s code for I’m Abby Suso and I want happy.”
“As opposed to I’m Leah Burke and I want to cry all the way to Athens.”
“Pshh. I don’t cry.”
“See, now you’ve just issued a challenge.”
I grin at her. “I see.”
Wow. So, this is strange. She’s certainly not crying over Nick. She’s acting like she’s never cried in her life. And this teasing. Even when we used to be friends, we were never like this. I’ve never been able to pull my shit together enough to talk to her like a normal person, and banter wasn’t even in the realm of possibility. But it’s like a tiny door just opened inside my brain. I feel weirdly clearheaded. For once, I can keep up with her.
This is actually really fucking wonderful.
We fall into a peaceful silence on the highway. I stare out the window, and all I hear is Vampire Weekend, Ezra Koenig’s voice decrescendoing. And then the song flips to Rilo Kiley. A moment later, Abby laughs.
I look at her. “What?”
“This breakup song. Wow. The timing on that.”
“Oh shit.” There’s this feeling in my chest like an elevator dropping. “I didn’t notice. I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?”
“Because.” I swallow. “I don’t want to make things weird for you.”
“You’re not.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“About Nick?” She presses her lips together.
“We don’t have to,” I say quickly.
“No, it’s fine. I’m just . . .” She nods, staring at the road. “Okay, this stays between us, right?”
“Of course.” I smile. “Whatever happens in Athens stays in Athens.”
“We’re not in Athens yet.”
I glance up at the exit signs. “Okay, whatever happens in Lawrenceville . . .”
“Promise?” She stretches her hand toward me, pinkie extended.
I hook it with my own. “Promise.”
I don’t think I’ve pinkie sworn since I was ten years old.
“I don’t know what to do, Leah.”
