decent to me, so instead I snapped the top down and let the cell drop onto my bed somewhere in the covers.
“Jack,” I said. “I’m not trying to be mean or anything.” I took a sip of ginger ale. He waited. “But … why do you think Cameron went out with you, in the first place?”
He sighed and looked out the newly opened window. I knew what he was seeing: a telephone wire, that big maple tree, and the streetlight. He started humming.
“What?” I wasn’t trying to be rude. I was really wondering about it.
Jack stopped humming. “Nothing.” He shrugged. “But you are really superficial.”
I felt my face get hot. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Listen,” he said. “You just implied that there’s something about me that is lesser than Cameron.” I opened my mouth to argue, but he kept talking. “That’s what I mean. You think about things that aren’t important. Like who’s got more status than the other person.” I started feeling nauseous again. “And you make your decisions about that based on things like clothes and friends and where people sit in the lunchroom and who people hang out with. And if people aren’t just like you, you think they’re not worthy and that nobody else who matters to you thinks they’re worthy. And so you write those people off” I thought I might throw up. “I remember when you weren’t like that. I remember when you cared about things that matteredand when you weren’t always sizing everything and everyone up all the time. And I liked you a lot then.” He stayed where he was, leaning against my dresser, butt on the floor, knees up.
He wasn’t giving me that disgusted look. He didn’t have that disgusted tone of voice. He was really talking to me. Trying to tell me something. I sat there a long time, feeling smelly and nauseous and awful. I didn’t know what to say. I just sat there. And so did Jack. We sat there and sat there. My phone rang again. I rummaged around in my sheets and flipped up the top. It was Ellen again. I didn’t answer it. We sat there some more.
“So, how old is Cameron’s brother?” I finally said.
“Nine on Thursday.”
“Does Cameron like him?” I asked.
“A lot,” Jack said.
“Do you like him?”
“He’s a cute kid,” Jack said.
We got quiet again.
“What are her parents like?” I asked.
“Her mother’s really hyper all the time,” Jack told me. “But not like Dad. She doesn’t have to have everything be a certain way, and she doesn’t yell at the drop of a hat. She just hovers a lot.”
“Hovers?”
“Yeah. Hovers.”
“Maybe because she knows you two are in love,” I said. “Parents worry about that, right?”
Jack smiled. That big, wide smile. The one I used to know really well, which looked totally the same on his face now as it did when we were little.
“Yeah,” he said.
8
“I’M CALLING ELLEN,” I TELL JASON AND SETH AND LISA. WE’RE in the lunchroom.
“Again?” Lisa asks. “She’s going to have about fifty messages from you the first time she checks her cell.” It’s Tuesday. Ten days since the accident.
“I don’t think anybody would mind fifty phone calls from their best friend after they’ve almost died,” Jason goes. He stares at Lisa with this look of his. It’s not exactly a nasty look, just one that commands respect. Lisa blushes and bites into her pizza slice.
I dial the hospital number first. I’ve never gotten Ellen on that phone, but a couple of times a nurse answered and told me Ellen was too doped up to talk. This time it rings forever again, so I hang up and dial her cell. Call number seventy-three or something.
“It’s Ellen. Leave a message. If this is Anna, try me back in five minutes.”
“Hi, Ellen. I’m sitting here with Lisa and Seth and Jason at school. We’re missing you and we want you to call as soon as you’re feeling up to it. I snuck in—sorry, sneaked in—to see you the other day, and you were in your new room with
“Jack,” I said. “I’m not trying to be mean or anything.” I took a sip of ginger ale. He waited. “But … why do you think Cameron went out with you, in the first place?”
He sighed and looked out the newly opened window. I knew what he was seeing: a telephone wire, that big maple tree, and the streetlight. He started humming.
“What?” I wasn’t trying to be rude. I was really wondering about it.
Jack stopped humming. “Nothing.” He shrugged. “But you are really superficial.”
I felt my face get hot. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Listen,” he said. “You just implied that there’s something about me that is lesser than Cameron.” I opened my mouth to argue, but he kept talking. “That’s what I mean. You think about things that aren’t important. Like who’s got more status than the other person.” I started feeling nauseous again. “And you make your decisions about that based on things like clothes and friends and where people sit in the lunchroom and who people hang out with. And if people aren’t just like you, you think they’re not worthy and that nobody else who matters to you thinks they’re worthy. And so you write those people off” I thought I might throw up. “I remember when you weren’t like that. I remember when you cared about things that matteredand when you weren’t always sizing everything and everyone up all the time. And I liked you a lot then.” He stayed where he was, leaning against my dresser, butt on the floor, knees up.
He wasn’t giving me that disgusted look. He didn’t have that disgusted tone of voice. He was really talking to me. Trying to tell me something. I sat there a long time, feeling smelly and nauseous and awful. I didn’t know what to say. I just sat there. And so did Jack. We sat there and sat there. My phone rang again. I rummaged around in my sheets and flipped up the top. It was Ellen again. I didn’t answer it. We sat there some more.
“So, how old is Cameron’s brother?” I finally said.
“Nine on Thursday.”
“Does Cameron like him?” I asked.
“A lot,” Jack said.
“Do you like him?”
“He’s a cute kid,” Jack said.
We got quiet again.
“What are her parents like?” I asked.
“Her mother’s really hyper all the time,” Jack told me. “But not like Dad. She doesn’t have to have everything be a certain way, and she doesn’t yell at the drop of a hat. She just hovers a lot.”
“Hovers?”
“Yeah. Hovers.”
“Maybe because she knows you two are in love,” I said. “Parents worry about that, right?”
Jack smiled. That big, wide smile. The one I used to know really well, which looked totally the same on his face now as it did when we were little.
“Yeah,” he said.
8
“I’M CALLING ELLEN,” I TELL JASON AND SETH AND LISA. WE’RE in the lunchroom.
“Again?” Lisa asks. “She’s going to have about fifty messages from you the first time she checks her cell.” It’s Tuesday. Ten days since the accident.
“I don’t think anybody would mind fifty phone calls from their best friend after they’ve almost died,” Jason goes. He stares at Lisa with this look of his. It’s not exactly a nasty look, just one that commands respect. Lisa blushes and bites into her pizza slice.
I dial the hospital number first. I’ve never gotten Ellen on that phone, but a couple of times a nurse answered and told me Ellen was too doped up to talk. This time it rings forever again, so I hang up and dial her cell. Call number seventy-three or something.
“It’s Ellen. Leave a message. If this is Anna, try me back in five minutes.”
“Hi, Ellen. I’m sitting here with Lisa and Seth and Jason at school. We’re missing you and we want you to call as soon as you’re feeling up to it. I snuck in—sorry, sneaked in—to see you the other day, and you were in your new room with
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