Lucas
Page 49
“Costumes,” I cut in. “It’s the costumes that bring it all together.”
She smiles at that. “I did pretty good, huh?”
“No, Lane. You did great.”
Her features soften as she continues to watch the play; Romeo’s hiding in the bushes, watching Juliet on the balcony and he says, “But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.”
“I have absolutely no idea what they’re saying,” I whisper to her.
She glances at me quickly, then goes back to the play, her hand squeezing the key pendant on the necklace my mom left her. “He’s describing Juliet, saying that she is the sun. That she can bring light to darkness, that the stars in the sky pale in comparison, that her eyes…” She sniffs back a sob. “He’s just talking about love, Lucas. About deep, irreversible love…”
In freshman year, Laney tried to start a knitting club that would meet at lunch one day a week and knit and talk about knitting. She was so excited about it, she posted flyers throughout the school. One time, she saw a bunch of girls making fun of the flyer and ripping it off the wall. In her bedroom that night, she told me she didn’t care, but she did. And when no one showed up to her club, she tried so hard not to let it affect her. She kept telling me it was fine, but the cries and the tears were there, just under the surface. She’d hold her breath, not risking that they might force their way out of her. I told her I’d get us soda and went upstairs to her kitchen. When I came back down, she was sitting in her bed, looking ahead, tears streaking down her cheeks. There were no cries, no other sounds that matched those tears. Just tears. I gave her the soda and she wiped her cheeks, said thanks, and continued to stare ahead with silent tears.
That’s how Laney spent the rest of the play, with silent tears and silent cries.
We don’t talk about what happened even though she knows I watched her cry, and when the play’s over, I take her home. Her house is quiet, dark, and the only car in the driveway is hers. She looks to the house, then back to me. “Dad must be at Misty’s,” she says, then sighs. “I’ve never slept at the house by myself before.”
“But your dad’s been staying at Misty’s for a while, right? And during winter break…”
“Yeah, but Cooper…” But Cooper’s not around, and I am, Lane.
Her phone vibrates in her pocket for the third time since we got in the car and she ignores it, just like the other times. She says, “I hate to ask—”
“Do you want me to stay with you?”
She shakes her head. “Can you just come in while I get my things and maybe I can stay at yours again? I’ll sleep on the couch this time, and I’ll get up early and help in the morning and do your laundry and—”
“Laney, you don’t have to do that. You know my house is your house. It always will be.”
I sit on her bed while she shuffles around her room, filling a bag with more than enough clothes for just one night. She gathers stuff for school, her laptop, her toiletries, and I watch, confused, and her phone vibrates again, and again she ignores it, and I finally ask, “If there were something going on, you’d tell me, right?”
Her hands freeze midway through zipping up her bag. She looks up, meets my gaze. “I just don’t want to be alone right now, Lucas. That’s all.”
I insist she takes the bed and this time, I don’t wait for her to fall asleep. I don’t watch her. Instead, I lie on the couch, count the seconds, minutes, hours, and I listen to her cry. It doesn’t matter that I want to go to her, that I want to wrap my arms around her and comfort her, because it isn’t about me, or us. If there even is an us anymore.
Chapter Twenty-Five
LUCAS
Same play, different day. Garray slaps my shoulder backstage and whispers, “Is it true, bruh?”
“Is what true?” I ask, watching Lane fix the hem on Lady Capulet’s dress.
“About Cooper and The Lo-meister?”
I face him. “The what?”
“Cooper and Lois. Did they break up?”
“Rumors are flying, dude,” Logan says, standing next to him.
“What rumors?”
“She cheated on him,” Leo joins in. “With you.”
“That’s fucking bullshit!” I almost shout, earning me a round of hushes plus a confused glare from Laney. I lower my voice, add, “It’s not true.”
Garray says, “But you’re driving her to and from school?”
“Yeah, so?”
“That’s because she’s slept in Luke’s bed the past two nights,” Logan says.
I shake my head at him.
“So what’s the game plan, bruh?”
“There is no game plan,” I tell them. “She literally just broke up with Cooper so…”
“So fucking what?” Logan whispers.
I look to Leo, hoping for a way out of the conversation, but he just shrugs. “It doesn’t really matter. Come August you’re not going to be around anyway.”
In the car after the play, Lane tells me that her dad called, said he’s at home and wants to see her. He misses her, of course, and those many phone calls she’s been dodging? She says they’re all from him. And here I thought Cooper was a creep who couldn’t let go. But then maybe not such a creep because after dropping her at her house and making sure she gets in okay, I go straight to my apartment, jump into bed, and sniff the pillow she’d slept on. I do this for way too long, but I’d probably do it for longer if Leo wasn’t knocking on my door. “Laney’s on the phone,” he says, eyeing me sideways, like he knows what I’ve been doing.
I take the phone from him, mute it. “Why is she calling your phone?”
“It’s Lane,” he says, shrugging. “She probably doesn’t know how to unblock your number.”
I unmute the phone, speak into it, “My number still blocked?”
“Can you come over,” she rushes out. “Please?”
I break every traffic violation getting to Lane’s, which in our town is speeding and ignoring one yield sign. She opens the basement door before I get a chance to knock and I can tell she’s mad and I take a step back in case I’m the one she’s mad at, but I haven’t done anything wrong. I mean, I’ve done a lot of things wrong and the majority have to do with her, but nothing recently. I think.
“Cooper went to see my dad today!” she whisper-yells.
I whisper, too, “Why are we whispering?”
“Because my dad’s upstairs and I don’t want him to hear, idiot!” Oh yay, Old Laney!
“Okay.” I take her by the shoulders, and she flinches at the touch. “Calm down,” I say, moving her to the bed. “Sit.”
She sits.
I say, “I need a moment to wrap my head around what’s happening right now because when you called, I thought something really bad was happening.”
I take the phone from her hand, unblock my number while she says, “This is really bad. Did you hear what I said?”
She smiles at that. “I did pretty good, huh?”
“No, Lane. You did great.”
Her features soften as she continues to watch the play; Romeo’s hiding in the bushes, watching Juliet on the balcony and he says, “But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.”
“I have absolutely no idea what they’re saying,” I whisper to her.
She glances at me quickly, then goes back to the play, her hand squeezing the key pendant on the necklace my mom left her. “He’s describing Juliet, saying that she is the sun. That she can bring light to darkness, that the stars in the sky pale in comparison, that her eyes…” She sniffs back a sob. “He’s just talking about love, Lucas. About deep, irreversible love…”
In freshman year, Laney tried to start a knitting club that would meet at lunch one day a week and knit and talk about knitting. She was so excited about it, she posted flyers throughout the school. One time, she saw a bunch of girls making fun of the flyer and ripping it off the wall. In her bedroom that night, she told me she didn’t care, but she did. And when no one showed up to her club, she tried so hard not to let it affect her. She kept telling me it was fine, but the cries and the tears were there, just under the surface. She’d hold her breath, not risking that they might force their way out of her. I told her I’d get us soda and went upstairs to her kitchen. When I came back down, she was sitting in her bed, looking ahead, tears streaking down her cheeks. There were no cries, no other sounds that matched those tears. Just tears. I gave her the soda and she wiped her cheeks, said thanks, and continued to stare ahead with silent tears.
That’s how Laney spent the rest of the play, with silent tears and silent cries.
We don’t talk about what happened even though she knows I watched her cry, and when the play’s over, I take her home. Her house is quiet, dark, and the only car in the driveway is hers. She looks to the house, then back to me. “Dad must be at Misty’s,” she says, then sighs. “I’ve never slept at the house by myself before.”
“But your dad’s been staying at Misty’s for a while, right? And during winter break…”
“Yeah, but Cooper…” But Cooper’s not around, and I am, Lane.
Her phone vibrates in her pocket for the third time since we got in the car and she ignores it, just like the other times. She says, “I hate to ask—”
“Do you want me to stay with you?”
She shakes her head. “Can you just come in while I get my things and maybe I can stay at yours again? I’ll sleep on the couch this time, and I’ll get up early and help in the morning and do your laundry and—”
“Laney, you don’t have to do that. You know my house is your house. It always will be.”
I sit on her bed while she shuffles around her room, filling a bag with more than enough clothes for just one night. She gathers stuff for school, her laptop, her toiletries, and I watch, confused, and her phone vibrates again, and again she ignores it, and I finally ask, “If there were something going on, you’d tell me, right?”
Her hands freeze midway through zipping up her bag. She looks up, meets my gaze. “I just don’t want to be alone right now, Lucas. That’s all.”
I insist she takes the bed and this time, I don’t wait for her to fall asleep. I don’t watch her. Instead, I lie on the couch, count the seconds, minutes, hours, and I listen to her cry. It doesn’t matter that I want to go to her, that I want to wrap my arms around her and comfort her, because it isn’t about me, or us. If there even is an us anymore.
Chapter Twenty-Five
LUCAS
Same play, different day. Garray slaps my shoulder backstage and whispers, “Is it true, bruh?”
“Is what true?” I ask, watching Lane fix the hem on Lady Capulet’s dress.
“About Cooper and The Lo-meister?”
I face him. “The what?”
“Cooper and Lois. Did they break up?”
“Rumors are flying, dude,” Logan says, standing next to him.
“What rumors?”
“She cheated on him,” Leo joins in. “With you.”
“That’s fucking bullshit!” I almost shout, earning me a round of hushes plus a confused glare from Laney. I lower my voice, add, “It’s not true.”
Garray says, “But you’re driving her to and from school?”
“Yeah, so?”
“That’s because she’s slept in Luke’s bed the past two nights,” Logan says.
I shake my head at him.
“So what’s the game plan, bruh?”
“There is no game plan,” I tell them. “She literally just broke up with Cooper so…”
“So fucking what?” Logan whispers.
I look to Leo, hoping for a way out of the conversation, but he just shrugs. “It doesn’t really matter. Come August you’re not going to be around anyway.”
In the car after the play, Lane tells me that her dad called, said he’s at home and wants to see her. He misses her, of course, and those many phone calls she’s been dodging? She says they’re all from him. And here I thought Cooper was a creep who couldn’t let go. But then maybe not such a creep because after dropping her at her house and making sure she gets in okay, I go straight to my apartment, jump into bed, and sniff the pillow she’d slept on. I do this for way too long, but I’d probably do it for longer if Leo wasn’t knocking on my door. “Laney’s on the phone,” he says, eyeing me sideways, like he knows what I’ve been doing.
I take the phone from him, mute it. “Why is she calling your phone?”
“It’s Lane,” he says, shrugging. “She probably doesn’t know how to unblock your number.”
I unmute the phone, speak into it, “My number still blocked?”
“Can you come over,” she rushes out. “Please?”
I break every traffic violation getting to Lane’s, which in our town is speeding and ignoring one yield sign. She opens the basement door before I get a chance to knock and I can tell she’s mad and I take a step back in case I’m the one she’s mad at, but I haven’t done anything wrong. I mean, I’ve done a lot of things wrong and the majority have to do with her, but nothing recently. I think.
“Cooper went to see my dad today!” she whisper-yells.
I whisper, too, “Why are we whispering?”
“Because my dad’s upstairs and I don’t want him to hear, idiot!” Oh yay, Old Laney!
“Okay.” I take her by the shoulders, and she flinches at the touch. “Calm down,” I say, moving her to the bed. “Sit.”
She sits.
I say, “I need a moment to wrap my head around what’s happening right now because when you called, I thought something really bad was happening.”
I take the phone from her hand, unblock my number while she says, “This is really bad. Did you hear what I said?”
