Quite An Undertaking: Devon's Story

Copyright © 2009 by Barbara L. Clanton

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

About the Author

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Quite An Undertaking: Devon's Story

by

By Barbara L. Clanton

Copyright © 2009 by Barbara L. Clanton

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. The characters, incidents and dialogue herein are fictional and any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

ISBN 978-1-935053-98-9 (eBook)

eBook Conversion November 2011

Cover design by Donna Pawlowski

Published by:

Regal Crest Enterprises, LLC

4700 Hwy 365, Suite A, PMB 210

Port Arthur, Texas 7764

Find us on the World Wide Web at http://www.regalcrest.biz

Published in the United States of America

Acknowledgments

Thanks to everyone who read and commented on various drafts of Devon’s Story, in particular Sheri Milburn and Dejay from my writer’s group whose advice I cherish. Another big thanks go out to Valerie Bernardin and Susana (WildLX) my French language specialists. Thanks to my other readers Deidra Mitchell, Shirl the girl Wright, Angela Perkins, Tameca Woodall, Lori Hood, Chantal Roy, Diana Schnitzer, Joan Nelson, and Yvonne Vassel. Thanks again Mary Phillips and J. Robin Whitley at Regal Crest for another enlightening editing experience and to Donna Pawlowski for her wonderful cover designs. Again, I must thank my ever-supportive family, my parents Paul and JoAnne Clanton, my older brother Paul Clanton, Jr. and his wife Kim Thuon and their two children Ian Clanton-Thuon and Adria Clanton-Thuon, my younger brother John Clanton and his wife Melissa McCurley, my “in-laws” Joe and Mamie Weathers and their son Joey Weathers. You all know that you are with me no matter how far apart we are. And thanks, finally, to my anchor, Jackie Weathers, who continues to help me learn to chill out and “worry as needs be.”

For my brothers, Paul and John. With you two strong guys on either end, it was easy being the middle child. Thanks for being so supportive when I confided in you about the “phase shift” that life dealt me. Your support way back then helped me gain solid footing as I began my life’s journey. You’re the best goober brothers a sister could have.

Quite An Undertaking: Devon's Story

by

Barbra L. Clanton

Chapter One

The Funeral

I COULDN’T FIGURE out how Missy still looked so good. I think my big sister cried as much as I did, but she still looked fresh and fabulous like the models in her Seventeen magazines that she left lying around our room.

My face did that scrunched up thing which meant I was about to cry again. Through a haze of tears, I saw Mrs. Bordeaux barreling right for me. Damn. I must have stayed in one place for too long.

“Devon, my dear,” her jiggly arm slid around my waist, “I’m so sorry for your loss. Mildred, er, your grandmother was such a wonderful person. I know how close the two of you were.”

I nodded, but held my breath hoping she’d go away. Why couldn’t everybody stop trying to console me and leave me alone?

Mrs. Bordeaux held on. “Mildred always talked about you at bridge. She was so proud of you and Missy, her two favorite grandchildren. Missy off at college, and you doing so well in high school. In fact, just last week she was saying...”

I couldn’t listen anymore. I didn’t want to hear what my grandmother was doing just last week because three days ago she was alive and breathing. I focused all my energy on holding it together while Mrs. Bordeaux rambled on. Thank God Missy, my favoritest sister in the whole world, rescued me. Sometimes I couldn’t believe that we were sisters because she was so pretty, and I was so, I don’t know, boring. Missy’s long hair— she would call it chestnut—was clasped behind her head with a barrette that Grandma had given her forever ago. My hair—I would call it wet cardboard—hung lifelessly just below my shoulders. I never would have been able to pull off wearing a little black dress like the one Missy wore. I was boring and plain with my black pants, button-up white shirt like Dad wore to work, and black dress shoes that pinched my toes.

“Devon,” Missy grabbed my hand, “I need you in the other room to look over some papers.” To Mrs. Bordeaux she said, “I hope you don’t mind if I steal Devon away for a minute.”

“Of course not, dear.” Mrs. Bordeaux released me and moved on to another victim. I almost laughed out loud when she zeroed in on my dad. I’d have to tease him about that later, if I could ever figure out how to breathe without crying.

Missy led me to the front hallway where they kept donation envelopes for places like the ambulance corp. They took Grandma away last Sunday in an ambulance. If I had any money I would have made a donation, but I didn’t.

“Hey, Squirt.” Missy’s voice was heavy with concern. “Mrs. Bordeaux had you cornered, didn’t she?”

“Yeah.” I would have said more, but my voice wasn’t working too well. The only thing I could add was, “Thanks.”

“No problem. Listen, if you need to get away from all of this, go down that hallway.” She pointed to a narrow dark hallway I hadn’t seen before. “I saw a private bathroom and a water fountain down there. I don’t think anybody knows about it, and you can be alone for a few minutes.”

I nodded again. Missy could read me like a book. We were both juniors, but she was a junior at Plattsburgh State, while I was a junior at Grasse River High School. She had to drive home from college for the wake, but I got to stay home from school. Any other time I would have loved a break from the grind of school, but a wake wasn’t my idea of fun.

Missy didn’t dare hug me because she knew I’d break down into a quivering mass of sobs if she did. She knew how sensitive I got about things. She just patted my arm and went back into the crowd of people. I stood alone in the hallway for several minutes, glad to be off Mrs. Bordeaux’s radar. I pretended to be fascinated with the donation envelopes and pulled them out one by one, barely seeing them. When I pulled out an envelope for the Grasse River Animal Shelter, my face scrunched up again. Grandma loved the animal shelter. We went there all the time. Just the two of us. We brought food and old towels for the cats and dogs, and we even walked the dogs sometimes. That was our special place. Grandpa always said we were two peas in a pod when it came to loving animals. Grandma and I wanted to adopt one or two or twelve dogs and bring them home, but my mom had bad allergies, so we had to be content with seeing the dogs at the shelter.

Now, Grandma and I couldn’t go to the shelter together anymore. That simple thought made the sobs start from deep inside. Deep inside my heart, I think. Through the sheen of tears distorting my vision, I found the shadowy hallway Missy had shown me. I shuffled down the hall, barely picking my feet off the plush red carpet. When I found the blessedly empty bathroom, I went in and locked the door behind me. I hoped no one heard me because the weirdest sounds started coming up from the depths of my soul. Every time I tried to catch my breath, I couldn’t. I buried my face in my hands and tried to muffle the awful noises. When I finally caught my breath, I grabbed for a paper towel to wipe the tears off my face. Thank God I didn’t wear makeup because it would have been smeared all over the place. That’s why I had no idea how Missy still looked so good.

I took a deep breath and splashed some water on my face in an attempt to look presentable. I was certain that my hysterical episode qualified me to proclaim that wakes sucked. What was the point? Just to make you cry? I can do that on my own, thank you. I’d rather not cry in front of a bunch of people, most of whom I didn’t know.

The bathroom door squeaked open, and I prayed the hallway would be empty. Luck was with me. I stopped at the water fountain and, before getting a drink, took another deep breath to make sure I wasn’t going to melt down again. So far so good. I pressed the round button and watched the water make a high parabolic arc. My math teacher taught us about parabolic arcs in eighth grade. My mind went to the weirdest places to distract me from my grief. Too bad it didn’t work, though, because, as I leaned down to get a drink, I realized that my grandmother would never get another drink of water again. The water I had in my mouth refused to go down the right pipe, and I started choking. I doubled over coughing trying to get air back into my lungs.

I felt a hand on my back. “Keep coughing,” the mystery voice said. “You’re okay. Just keep coughing.”

I kept coughing, but at the same time looked at the mystery woman’s shoes. Black heels. At least it wasn’t Mrs. Bordeaux. When I caught my breath, I stood up only to peer right into the most perfect pair of dark brown eyes I’d ever seen. They were the color of the inside of M&M’s. Her dark eyes matched the color of her skin, too. She was the most beautiful black girl I’d ever seen. She was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen, period, but I’d seen her before. We were in the same French class. She sat in the front, and I sat in the back. I passed by her seat every day. Why hadn’t I ever noticed her before?

“Devon, right?” she asked me.

I nodded because I still didn’t have my voice on account of the fact that I’d just tried to inhale water and the fact that she stood way too close to me.

“I think we’re in the same French class. I’m Rebecca. Rebecca Washington.” She flipped her ponytail behind her shoulder and stuck out her hand.

I shook it and choked out, “Devon Raines,” which started another coughing fit.

Rebecca rubbed my back again. “Breathe, Devon, just breathe.”

Her hand felt so good on my back. Comforting. I couldn’t believe this amazing girl was paying attention to me. That was when I remembered she was just doing her job. Her family, duh, owned the Washington Funeral Home. It made sense. Rebecca probably helped out after school when someone’s grandmother died on them.

I started crying again, I couldn’t help it. I was such a ticking time bomb that the randomest things set me off.

”Oh...” Rebecca panicked. “Okay, okay, Devon. Look, here’s what I do when I can’t hold it together. Take a slow and steady breath. Hold it. Good, that’s good. Now exhale slowly. That’s it.”

I took another deep breath and held it. After a few breaths, I didn’t feel like I was going to lose it again. I’d melt down later, but at least I had myself temporarily under control.

She smiled at me and looked right into my red-rimmed and swollen eyes as I wiped the tears away. She said, “I have to breathe like that before every dance performance. I get so nervous.”

I gave her as much of a smile as I could muster under the circumstances.

“Atta girl.” Rebecca smiled at me. Her teeth shined white and bright against her dark skin.

Her glowing smile captured me like a willing prisoner. What would this amazing girl think if she knew I was gay? What would she think if she knew I thought she was gorgeous?

What would my grandmother think? I apologized to my grandmother because this was, after all, a gathering for her benefit, not a place for me to check out girls. Not that I ever checked out girls. Not really. I figured out I was gay about three and a half years ago at the end of eighth grade when I fell head over heels in love with Marcy Berger, but I never told her. I never told anyone. Part of trying to keep my two and a half-year secret included not overtly checking out girls.

“Thanks,” I said when I finally found my voice. “I should get back. My mom’s probably wondering where I am.”

“Okay.” Rebecca’s expression softened. “I, uh, I’m sorry for your loss.”

She said it so sincerely with just the right amount of sympathy in her voice that I truly believed she was sorry for my loss. She’d probably spoken that phrase a thousand times in her life, but I think she truly meant it when she said it to me.

“Thanks.”

I turned and went back up the dark and narrow hallway. By the time I reappeared into the well-lit room with the casket, I felt ready to tell my grandmother goodbye.

AFTER WHAT SEEMED like forever, we finally got to go home. I ran upstairs and kicked off my dress shoes before flinging myself on the bed. My head sank deliciously into the pillow. Yeah, wakes sucked, and this whole thing wasn’t even over. In less than twelve hours, I’d be back at Washington’s funeral home trying to keep it together again for the actual funeral. What fun. At least I would get out of school for another day, and being absent would give me an excuse to ask Rebecca for the French notes I missed.

As I lay on my bed, I figured I should at least get out of my dress pants and shirt, but I couldn’t make myself move. Missy had ironed my clothes for me before the wake, and I knew I should get changed, so they wouldn’t wrinkle again. I’m generally okay with wrinkles any time, but she insisted. She didn’t even give me a hard time about it, either. She just took the shirt and pants and ironed them. That’s how I knew she wasn’t her usual self. She always lectured me about stuff like that.

Missy and I shared a room, so it was a little cramped. On her side of the room, the bed had a flowery bedspread, ruffled trim and never looked slept in. My bed stayed in a perpetual state of undress with my clothes on the floor. We didn’t always share a room. She had to give hers up when Grandma moved in five years ago, after Grandpa died. Grandpa’s passing was kind of hard, too, but I think I was too young to really get it. I mean, I cried and all, but back then my eleven year old self was devastated at how sad my mom and dad and Missy were. And Grandma, too. She cried all the time. She tried to live on her own for a while, but my dad went to get her after a couple of months, and she moved into Missy’s old room.

I didn’t mind. Not really. I liked my big sister. With four years between us, sibling rivalry hadn’t bothered us too much, and, besides, she was off at college now. Missy came from a different planet than me, anyway. She loved to fuss with her long hair, while I just threw a rubber band around mine to keep it out of my face. She loved to go to the gym. She’d do all those fitness classes twenty-four seven if she could. I liked running, but not in front of people. Not in a gym on a treadmill or on a sports team. I liked to be outside, so I could breathe the air and see the trees, even when it was snowing.

Missy’s side of the room had pictures of hunky guys. She even had the New York City firemen’s calendar on the wall. God, there was no question Missy was into guys, but my side of the room screamed gay, gay, gay because my pictures were girls, girls, girls. I had pictures of Serena Williams with her sister Venus, Pink, Melissa Etheridge, Beyoncé, and Ellen Degeneres with her wife Portia de Rossi. Jessica Alba hung on my wall, too. Okay, to the untrained eye, they were magazine pictures of the Fantastic Four from those movies, but as far as I was concerned, they were pictures of Jessica Alba.

Even though Missy and I were as different as night and day, we did have one major thing in common—journalism. Missy wanted to be one of those talking heads, one of those pretty news anchors who read from a teleprompter. I thought she was wasting her talent, though, because she was such a good writer, but as a junior at Plattsburgh State, more than halfway to her Bachelor’s degree, she should know what she wanted to do by now. I wanted to write, and I’d probably end up at Plattsburgh, too because Missy told me about some cool courses in environmental and nature writing they offered there. That was right up my alley. Save the planet and all that. By the time I got to Plattsburgh, though, Missy would have graduated. I think Sunnybrook Elementary was the last school we attended at the same time, but I couldn’t remember it.

I looked at the bright red numbers on my alarm clock. Nine thirty. Too late to go for a run. I sighed and made myself get up. I needed to hang up my clothes, so Missy wouldn’t yell at me and, more importantly, so I could wear them again for the funeral.

I pulled on a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt. My mother hated the fact that I wore sweat pants and a t-shirt as pajamas, but there was no way in heck I was going to wear some girly nightgown. No way. She used to buy me one for Christmas every year, but that stopped a couple of years ago when I got to high school.

I turned out the overhead light and crawled into bed even though it was still kind of early. I pulled my plain boring blue comforter all the way up to my neck and wriggled down into my nest of flannel sheets. What else could I do? Sit around and talk with them downstairs about Grandma? No, I’d had enough of that at the wake. I decided that I wasn’t going to have a wake when I died. I’d have to let someone know that, though, wouldn’t I? How did you go about doing something like that? Did you sit down with your children and tell them how you wanted to be buried and stuff? Did you tell them what you wanted to wear in the coffin?

I felt my chest tighten up again. Did Grandma sit down with Dad at some point and tell him how she wanted to be dressed? Did she know we were going to have the wake at Washington’s Funeral Home? Did she see me crying in the bathroom? Did she see Rebecca help me? Does she know I’m gay now? Now that she’s in heaven, can she see everything?

This time last week, Grandma was alive and here in the house. She died on Sunday. Would the twenty-fifth of October become one of those dates that would make me cry out of control every year?

I wondered about the last thing Grandma had to eat. I couldn’t remember what we had for dinner that night. Spaghetti maybe? I couldn’t remember much except the sudden commotion downstairs that jarred me from the newspaper article I’d been writing about global warming. I leaped out of my chair at the shrillness in my mother’s voice asking Grandma over and over, “Are you all right, Mildred? Are you all right?”

I knew Grandma wasn’t all right because I heard Dad call 911. Missy wasn’t home. She was in Plattsburgh. I crept down the stairs and saw my grandmother on the floor of the living room with her eyes closed and her hands clutching her chest. I couldn’t make sense of it. I watched my mom kneel down as if in slow motion and lean her ear over Grandma’s mouth. Reality came crashing in when I recognized this from those films they made us watch in Health class in ninth grade. Horror filled my veins as Mom tilted Grandma’s head back to give her CPR. I found myself on the bottom stair, even though I didn’t remember moving. Dad took over the CPR while Mom leaned back and clutched both hands to her chest. At first, I thought she was having a heart attack, but then I realized she was just panicked.

When I heard the sirens, I found a purpose. I rushed over and opened up the front door. Flinging on the outside light, I called back, “Mom, I’ll tell them where to come.”

Mom nodded her head, and I fled out the front door. I couldn’t watch anymore. I knew my mom and dad were doing all they could for her. Later, after the ambulance took her and Dad away, Mom told me that Grandma probably had a heart attack. The doctor down at Grasse River Hospital said the same thing later, that my grandmother died of a sudden heart attack.

I got jittery and tense all over again as I remembered that awful night, so I clenched my jaw tight and willed myself not to cry. When I heard Missy’s steps in the hallway, I rolled onto my side and faced the wall.

HIGH COTTON CANDY clouds drifted across the brilliant blue sky. Funeral weather should be cold and rainy not bright and sunny. Sunny skies made you want to fly kites or go swimming in the Grasse River, except for the fact that it was forty degrees. It definitely didn’t feel like a funeral day as we walked into Washington’s Funeral Home.

Rebecca was probably at school, but that didn’t stop me from looking for her during the service. Her parents, along with Rebecca’s older brother Reggie, kept events running smoothly. Reggie had the same regal look of authority as his dad, and would probably take over the family business when Mr. and Mrs. Washington retired. It looked that way, anyway. Mr. Washington was a distinguished looking man with a touch of gray in his sideburns and temples. Mrs. Washington was as beautiful as Rebecca. Her skin was a bit darker then her husband’s and she kept her hair pulled back into a tight bun low on her neck. She even had a chopstick in it to hold everything in place. Missy would know what that hair style was called, but to me she looked elegant. I could see where Rebecca got her amazing looks.

During the service, I barely listened to the minister. We weren’t a church kind of family, and none of us knew him, so I felt okay not listening. When I did listen, it only made me cry, and since I was trapped in the front row, I couldn’t sneak out if I lost control. To take my mind elsewhere, I thought about Rebecca and her family. Did they live upstairs? That would be creepy. I’d have to ask Rebecca some time. I almost smiled when a warehouse of things to ask Rebecca filled my mind.

Occasionally, the minister’s words penetrated my tough outer shell, and I felt myself getting weepy again. I didn’t want a repeat performance of my hysterics from the night before, so I scratched myself raw on the inside of my forearm. My head almost believed that the physical pain was more important than the emotional pain. Almost.

This time I didn’t mind so much when all those people told me that my grandma was “in a better place,” or they were “sorry for my loss.” I didn’t mind because that meant the service was o-v-e-r. I didn’t even mind when Mrs. Bordeaux gave me another one of her smothering hugs.

The pallbearers surrounded the casket, lifted it gently, and then inched toward the hearse. Missy was one of the pallbearers, but I was glad I didn’t have to be one because I probably would’ve started crying again and dropped my side on Dad’s foot or something.

Mr. Washington’s cousin, a policeman, turned on the flashing red lights and sirens on his motorcycle and led the hearse and the whole procession through town to the cemetery. All the cars turned on their headlights, and we got to run the red lights. That was kind of cool—a little parade for Grandma.

I had been to the Greystone cemetery once before when we went there for Grandpa’s funeral. He had died in January, and they stored him in this outdoor mausoleum place because they couldn’t put him in the frozen ground yet. They buried him in the spring, but never told us when, so thank goodness I didn’t have to witness that. The ground wasn’t frozen today, though, and as we pulled up to the burial site, the first thing I saw was the deep dark hole waiting to be filled.

I got out of the backseat of the car and waited for my mom to get out of the front passenger side. We didn’t talk. I wouldn’t have been able to because tears choked my throat closed again. I looked everywhere except at the deep hole in the ground waiting for Grandma.

Missy walked toward the hearse with my dad. Uncle Joe, my dad’s younger brother, began pulling out the bright blue casket. My dad went to the other side. Missy grabbed the gold handle next to Dad, while the other pallbearers grabbed their respective handles. I could tell the casket was heavy by the way they carefully picked their way over the grass. Mr. Washington gave them soft but precise instructions for placing the casket on the metal structure over the open grave. Mrs. Washington directed the rest of us to the rows of white chairs. I wanted to stand in the back, so no one could see me cry, but Mrs. Washington ushered me to the front row, the family row, next to my mom.

The metal structure had this big turn crank with gears used to lower Grandma into the ground. I tried to think of the whole thing with a journalist’s eye, but reality kept crashing in because this was way too personal. My grandmother was in that stupid wooden box, and they were going to turn that stupid crank and lower her into the ground. There was no way I was going to throw dirt on her casket. No way. I didn’t care if it was tradition or something. My mouth turned into a frown all on its own. My eyes filled with tears, and I couldn’t breathe. I looked down at my uncomfortable shoes and ignored my sister when she sat next to me. I squeezed my eyes shut as the tears spilled over. I didn’t wipe at them because then everyone would know I was crying. Missy knew because she grabbed my hand. I couldn’t look at her.

The minister addressed the crowd. I thought we were done with him, but apparently, we weren’t. He started talking again about Sister Mildred and her return to God. I might have lost it if Rebecca hadn’t suddenly appeared behind him out of nowhere. She stood with her family off to the side. Her look of compassion would have tipped me over into hysterical land if not for the fact that she mouthed the word “breathe” to me. She took a deep breath of her own as if to show me what to do. I took a breath and held it for a second. The mud in my brain receded a little. I wasn’t going to blow at that moment.

The look of relief on Rebecca’s face sent my heart soaring. Through my bleary eyes, I could still tell that she was beautiful. She wore black pants—Missy would have called them slacks, I guess—and an orange shirt. Okay, blouse. Her brown sweater matched her dark skin, too. She had such smooth skin. At least it looked smooth from here. The urge to touch Rebecca’s cheek became overwhelming. My heart began beating faster, and my hands got sweaty. I hoped Missy wouldn’t notice, but she’d think it was from the funeral, anyway.

I took another deep breath and apologized to my grandma again. Missy squeezed my hand. She must have thought I was crying. Actually, I was just trying to get my priorities straight.

After an eternity, the minister finished his speech, sermon, or whatever, and then Mr. Washington thanked us all for coming and informed the crowd that they would lower the casket once everyone had gone home. I loved Mr. Washington at that moment.

As Missy and I walked back to the car, I tried to find Rebecca without making it look obvious. I stopped and mumbled something to Missy about having to tie my shoe. Missy kept walking toward the car when I knelt down. I picked my head up and gulped when I saw Rebecca heading right for me with a bouquet of carnations in her arms. I jumped up leaving my shoelace undone. I smoothed my hair back and then felt like an idiot.

Rebecca handed the flower arrangement to me. “These are the last of them.”

I took the colorful flowers. “Carnations were my grandma’s favorite.”

“Really?"

I nodded.

She smiled at me in that sympathetic way that made my stomach clench. I knew I should say something, but I couldn’t get my brain in gear, so I looked at my shoes while the silence between us grew to awkward proportions.

Rebecca spoke first. “Well, I guess I’ll see you at school.” She turned to go.

“Okay.” I choked out, but then my brain finally engaged, and I called after her, “Rebecca?”

She turned. “Yeah?”

“Can I get the French notes from you tomorrow?”

“Oui, naturellement.”

“Merci beaucoup. Oh, and thanks for the breathing lessons, too.”

Her eyes lit up like the fourth of July. “No problem, Devon. I’ve had a little experience.” She gestured toward the hearse.

“Yeah, I guess you have.”

“I have to finish up here, but I’ll see you in French tomorrow, okay?”

The rest of the world disappeared at that moment and through my grief, I allowed myself a moment of selfishness to drink in her soft brown eyes. They were smiling at me—okay, maybe from sympathy, but still—her eyes were smiling at me.

I swallowed hard. “Oui, oui, mademoiselle. À demain.” See you tomorrow, for sure. French had just become my favorite class. There was no way I was going to ask my mom if I could stay home because out of the shadow of my Grandma’s death a tiny flame had ignited in my heart.

Chapter Two

Back At School

THE WORDS ON the computer screen swam in front of my eyes. Even though I had gone to bed right after the funeral, I didn’t sleep much, and now I could hardly keep my eyes open. I looked out the classroom window over the top of my computer onto the drizzly cold October Friday.

In the reflection of the window, I watched Mrs. Gibson, my journalism teacher, lean over Mike Reynolds’ shoulder and point at something on his computer screen. Apparently, Mike didn’t know how to structure a newspaper article. The long chain from Mrs. Gibson’s bifocals rested on his shoulder as she reminded him patiently, in her impatient way, about putting the attention grabbing details right in the first paragraph. She told him not to give away the whole farm in the first paragraph, but just enough to hook the reader. Evidently, Mrs. Gibson was in another one of her moods where her students couldn’t do anything right.

Both Mike and I had taken Journalism I the year before as sophomores, and we knew how to structure an article. As boys’ sports editor how could Mike not know how to put a story together? I smiled to myself because with his short blonde crew cut, he looked like a little boy getting scolded.

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

I liked Mike, but not in that way. I think he liked me, too, but in that way. A lot of girls would probably go for his lean runner’s body, but not me. After all, I hadn’t been straight since eighth grade, and I probably wasn’t even straight then, I just hadn’t figured it out yet.

All the journalism courses were geared toward producing the bimonthly student newspaper—the Grasse River High School Gazette. The September/October issue had just come out, and we were currently working on the November/ December issue. Of course, my article on the environment was late since it had been due two days ago, the day of Grandma’s wake.

I tried, once again, to focus on the words on my computer screen. My dad’s company, Alum Castings, was one of the biggest employers in this part of northern New York, and they had begun a series of environmental projects. One of the projects—the one I was trying to write about—proposed to replant thousands of black ash trees in the wetlands. This was the same article I’d been working on the Sunday Grandma died. No wonder I couldn’t finish it. I closed my eyes and gave up with a sigh.

I opened my eyes when I heard Mrs. Gibson approaching. My fingers hit the keyboard, and I started typing about the benefits of the Black Ash tree on the Northern New York environment. I’d go back and fix it later, but I had to look busy. Mrs. Gibson stood right behind me as my fingers typed away furiously.

“Devon,” she said in her shrill voice, “I see you’re busy, but let me interrupt you for a second.”

“Okay.” I kept my eyes on the screen for a moment more and finished my made up sentence. I hit the period on the keyboard hard as if to finish an important thought and then swiveled in my chair to give her my full attention.

“I know you’ve been out for a few days—sorry for your loss—and I’ll let you settle in today, but on Monday we need to talk about your future with the newspaper. Okay?”

My future? What did she mean by that? I simply said, “Okay.”

“Okay,” she repeated and headed to her next victim.

I had never been late with an article before. In fact, I usually turned them in early. How could she question my future with the newspaper? Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mike watching me. His closed-lipped smile and sympathetic puppy dog eyes were more than I could take at that moment, so I turned away and rubbed the bridge of my nose. I wanted to go home, but knew I couldn’t because I had to survive long enough to make it to my eighth period French class. That’s where Rebecca would be.

THE DRIZZLING RAIN had pretty much stopped by lunchtime, so Gail and I commandeered one of the six round lunch tables under the overhang outside. Seniors were allowed to leave campus for lunch, so by default the cafeteria courtyard became the juniors’ unofficial domain. The fenced in area constantly reminded us of our lower status, but I didn’t care. Hanging out there made us feel like the top dogs of the school for a while.

I had already tackled the semi-long line and gotten my usual turkey sandwich and fruit cup. Most of the other kids got french fries or chips, but greasy food never sat well on my stomach, so I always tried for something healthier. Missy would have approved because ditching the greasy stuff helped keep my acne under control.

Gail sat down next to me and opened her brown bag lunch. Gail Marsters had been my best friend ever since the fourth grade when we were in Mrs. Johnson’s class together. Old Mrs. Johnson assigned us as reading partners and ever since then we’d been as thick as thieves. At least that’s how my mom referred to us. In middle school, Gail weighed all of ninety pounds, so I used to think I was fat at a hundred and ten. Missy helped me understand that Gail and I had different body types, but I took up jogging just to be sure. Running always made me feel good. Gail and I practically shared the same kind of hair, too. Plain old brown and shoulder length, but Gail managed to make her hair look good with barrettes and clips and bands and curling irons. I couldn’t be bothered with that stuff, except when I went running. That’s when I’d throw a rubber band around my hair or put on my Plattsburgh Cardinals baseball hat.

Gail pulled out a sandwich from her paper bag and sighed.

I looked over. Peanut butter and jelly. “Did your brother make the lunches again?”

“Pfft,” she spat. “I can’t wait until it’s my turn. Oh well. Trade?”

“No way. Maybe when you have tuna fish or roast beef.” I smiled at her, and she smiled back in that best friend sort of way. The smile that said we were in this together, through thick and thin.

Gail held my gaze a bit longer than usual. Uh oh, something was up. Before I could ask where her boyfriend Travis was, she asked me softly, “So how’d it go yesterday?”

Yesterday. The funeral. It came flooding back so fast that my heart broke all over again before I could stop it. I closed my eyes and looked away. Before I let myself get too choked up, I muttered, “It went okay, as far as those things go.”

“Yeah, I know.” She rubbed my back over my jean jacket. “I’m sorry I couldn’t go. I wanted to be there, you know that, right? My mom wanted me in school.” She continued to rub my jean jacket.

“I know.” I did know. I pushed my lunch toward her. Food was kind of turning my stomach at that point, anyway. She put her PB & J in front of me without a word. We’d been trading lunches since fourth grade, so words weren’t necessary.

Travis, Gail’s boyfriend of about three months, came bounding up to the table out of breath. He was a definite hottie. He kept his short black hair neat and trimmed, unlike most of the other guys around school that had never seen a comb.

Gail’s face lit up when she saw him. He threw his backpack on the gravel and sat down. It wasn’t hard to tell that they really liked each other. He leaned over for a kiss that she gave freely. I felt a little nosy watching them, so I looked away.

I looked out past the maple trees in the courtyard, past the cars in the senior parking lot, and past the tall pine trees separating the school’s property from the neighborhood behind. Storm clouds hurried past us in the dark sky on their way toward Canada.

An elbow jammed into my side and jolted me out of my cloud gazing. “Hey.” I scowled at Gail. She pointed to Travis.

Travis said, “Hey, Devon, sorry about your grandma. Funerals suck, don’t they?”

I laughed. “Yeah, they do.” Bless Travis for knowing the right thing to say. “Thanks,” I added.

I looked back to the changing sky and inhaled the scent of the damp maple leaves carpeting the courtyard. The faint whiff of pine made me wonder if my grandma was up there in that tumultuous sky. Was she with Grandpa and Great Aunt Bertie? I felt the now-familiar sting of tears in my eyes and was amazed that I had any more to give. My chest tightened, and I knew this could go one of two ways. I might be able to sit here crying quietly, or I might have another complete meltdown like the one I’d had at the funeral home.

I used the clean napkin from Gail’s lunch to wipe at my nose when all of a sudden loud voices interrupted my misery. To my amazement, Rebecca burst into the courtyard with her friends. One of her friends, Jessie something-or-other, had hundreds of tiny braids in her hair. I would have to ask Missy, but I think they were called cornrows or something. The braids hung down almost to her shoulders and looked nice against her white shirt and dark skin. I didn’t know a lot about Jessie, but I did know two things. She played on the girls’ basketball team, and I’d never seen her smile. I was pretty sure that Rebecca’s other friend, whose name I couldn’t remember, played on the basketball team, too.

Watching Rebecca with her friends lifted me out of my funk a little. As I thought about it, I realized that those three hung out together all the time at lunch like me and Gail and Travis. I never realized it, but all the black kids seemed to hang out in one big group. Jessie’s story must have been mesmerizing because Rebecca didn’t see me at all, so I took that opportunity to watch her. I tried not to make it obvious, like I was a stalker-chick or something. Her skin was silky smooth and her eyes were bright and playful. She wore her hair pulled back in that cool-looking bun that her mother had worn at the wake, but Rebecca had a pencil in it in instead of a chopstick. The exposed curve of her neck definitely had my attention. Yeah, maybe I was a stalker. She had on black capri pants and tiny shoes that looked like dancer’s shoes or something. I didn’t think Rebecca played on the basketball team, but the purple and white Grasse River girls’ basketball sweatshirt she wore made me wonder.

I took a deep breath when reality came waltzing in again uninvited. We buried Grandma yesterday. I looked down at the uneaten PB & J sandwich in front of me and tried to swallow the enormous lump growing in my throat. I wished the stupid bell would ring, so I could go to class and have something else to think about. I looked up hoping to catch another glimpse of Rebecca, and to my surprise, she was staring right at me. I gulped. Her smile brightened my heart while a tremor traveled down to my toes and back up again. I smiled back. I couldn’t help it.

Rebecca mouthed to me, “Are you okay?”

I shrugged my shoulders and rolled my eyes.

She nodded in sympathy and mouthed the word, “Breathe.”

I nodded and couldn’t help grinning. I mouthed, “Thank you” to her across the courtyard and this time her smile got bigger.

I wanted to get up and talk to her, but Rebecca looked away just as Jessie turned back toward her. I got the distinct feeling that she didn’t want Jessie to see her talking to me. As their conversation continued, I realized I must have been staring at them because Jessie challenged me with her eyes as if warning me to mind my own business. I looked away quickly, sure she had been able to read my thoughts.

Gail nudged me in the side again. We were going to have to talk about all this side-nudging soon.

“Who’s that?” She nodded her head toward Rebecca.

“Oh, she’s—her family owns the funeral home, and she helped me get through it yesterday.”

“That was nice of her.”

Gail and I were as close as you could get, except when it came to certain things. Certain things like the fact that Gail would rather go out with somebody named Travis or Joe or Bob while I would rather go out with somebody named Rebecca or Marcy or Susan, but Gail did not know this, and I wasn’t sure I was ever going to tell her.

I LAY ON my bed throwing Seymour, my stuffed teddy bear, into the air and catching him. I’m sure he didn’t appreciate it, but throwing him around helped me chill out after the longest day of school ever. It had taken forever for eighth period French to arrive, but the wait was worth it the second Rebecca made her way to my desk in the back of the room and handed me the notes from the two days I’d missed. The class started, so I couldn’t talk to her, but I practically held my breath until the class ended. When the bell rang to end the period, I jammed my books into my backpack and looked up. My heart froze when I saw that she was already on her way out the door. At least she turned around when she got to the door and said, “See ya later, Devon.”

I said, “See ya,” right back. See ya. Yeah, I wanted to see her. I wanted to go out with her. What was the difference between seeing someone and going out with someone? I’d have to ask Missy.

I threw Seymour in the air again and then held him tight when I remembered about Jessie. Rebecca’s friend Jessie had been waiting for her right outside the door to our French classroom. How she had gotten there so fast was beyond me.

I threw Seymour in the air again just as Missy walked into our room.

“Hey, Squirt,” she said smiling. “Why are you torturing Seymour?” I moved over, so she could sit on the edge of my bed.

“He’s okay with it. Really.” I grinned at her, but hugged Seymour to my chest instead of throwing him.

“How was school today?”

I sighed. “Long.”

“I’m sure, but you have the whole weekend to regroup.”

“That’s true. When are you going back to Plattsburgh?”

“Sunday. After dinner.” Missy usually went back right after lunch, but I think this time she didn’t want to leave the family. We all had a lot of “regrouping” to do.

“Cool.” We sat in silence for a moment. I wanted to ask her so many things, but I didn’t know where to start. Then I remembered Mrs. Gibson in first period Journalism. “Mrs. Gibson was on my case today.”

“Uh, oh. Was she in one of her moods?”

“Yeah.” I laughed. “She had those moods when you were in her class?”

“Oh, yeah. No one was safe. Not even Missy Raines, editorin-chief.”

“Really?” That I could not believe. Mrs. Gibson thought the sun rose and set around Missy.

“Yeah, even me, but whatever she’s on your case about probably isn’t too earth shattering. What did she say?”

“My environment article was due Wednesday—”

“The one about Dad’s company?”

“Yeah, and I still hadn’t finished it. You know because...” I gestured toward Grandma’s room.

Missy’s eyes softened. “Um hmm.”

“Mrs. Gibson came over to me during class while I was working on it and said something like ‘Let’s talk about your future with the newspaper.’” I used air quotes around the word future. “Can you believe it? I’ve never been late with an article before. In fact—” I poked the air with my finger, “I’ve even rewritten articles that other people have messed up. It’s not fair.”

“She sounded serious? Never mind, I’m sure she was. I know how she is when she gets something in her head. Well, you should finish your article and make sure it’s absolutely pristine. Make a point of uploading it right at the beginning of the period on Monday.”

“Yeah, I will. I have no life anyway. I’m home on a Friday night, aren’t I?”

“What’s Gail doing?”

“Oh, she has Travis now, so she doesn’t need me tagging along all the time. Fifth wheel and all.”

“Oh, Devon. There’s somebody out there for you.”

“Pfft.” I rolled my eyes. “Sure there is.”

“Devon!” She smacked my leg playfully. “Stop that. With that attitude, no one will ever be interested. Is there anybody on your mind?”

How could she ask me that question? She had radar better than Mom’s. She couldn’t know, could she? I felt myself blush.

When I didn’t answer she said quietly, “Devon, look, whoever they are would have to be crazy not to want to go out with you.”

“Thanks, but you’re my sister. You’re not qualified to judge.” I stuck my tongue out at her in a most mature manner.

She didn’t go for the bait. “Listen, you’re a beautiful girl. Smart and funny. Have you called them?”

That was the second time Missy used the plural pronoun. They. Them. As a journalist, Missy knew the difference between the words “them” and “him.” Missy knew grammar. My eyes got wider when I realized that Missy knew. Missy knew I was gay. Somehow, she had figured it out.

I stammered, “Uh, no. It’s just a new thing.”

Missy pulled the scrunchie out of her hair and shook her head to let her hair flow free. We had the same parents, but Missy got the great hair, the great looks, the great everything. I got nothing. I didn’t mean to, but I sighed.

“What’s the matter, Squirt?”

“My hair sucks.”

She reached over and looked at the ends. “Your hair looks great. No split ends. Nice and shiny.”

I laughed. “You mean I have a nice coat?”

“No!” She smacked my leg playfully again. “You take care of yourself, and it shows, dufous.”

I hadn’t thought about this in a long time, but I mustered up the courage and asked, “Missy, can you put those highlights in my hair again?”

“The auburn tint? Oh, like we did last summer?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure, I think I still have a box around here. C’mon.” She got up and practically ran to the bathroom.

When I got into the bathroom, Missy looked at me with a hand on her hip. She narrowed her eyes, shook the box of hair color, and asked, “Does this have anything to do with your new thing?”

I know I turned red because I felt my cheeks getting hot. “Shut up, Missy.”

She laughed and opened the box of hair color.

Chapter Three

Girls' Sports

I HATED WALKING to school in the dark, but since I only lived a half mile away, the walk wasn’t too bad. I pulled my hood up against the morning cold and didn’t want to think about having to walk to school once winter hit for real. If I ever got a car I’d pick up Gail on the other side of town, and then we’d go get Travis. We’d get to school warm and dry every single day, but, then again, Travis already had his license which made me wonder why he and Gail didn’t come pick me up every morning. I’d have to talk to Gail about this oversight.

The sky lightened up as I walked through the main doors of the high school. Mother Nature had great timing. I didn’t stop at my locker, which I usually do, but went straight to my journalism class with the environment article ready to upload into the November/December folder. Missy helped me edit the final copy over the weekend before she went back to Plattsburgh, so at least Mrs. Gibson wouldn’t be able to give me grief about bad copy. If she wanted me to drop the course for second semester then at least I had tried my best.

I held my head up high, yanked off my hood, and readied myself for Mrs. Gibson’s assessment of my future with the newspaper. I dropped my backpack on the table next to my assigned computer and got out the flash drive that held my article. Mike sat at his computer logging in. At least he had a future. As the boys’ sports editor, Mrs. Gibson was probably grooming him for editor-in-chief for next year. She rarely appointed juniors as department editors, so she must have had a lot of faith in him. Too bad she had it out for me. I sighed and turned on my computer.

I copied the article to the school’s network just as the bell rang to start the class. Mrs. Gibson clapped her hands twice for attention. I swiveled my seat around for our weekly Monday morning staff meeting.

“Okay, let’s get started.” Mrs. Gibson waited until the twenty or so students turned in their chairs to face her. Her gray hair was pulled back into a power bun, and she was all business.

She held the clipboard in front of her and peered down through her bifocals. “Your articles that were due last Wednesday will be edited, as usual, by the Journalism III class this week. On Thursday, you can start your rewrites. In the meantime you each need to pick out another topic from the list posted on the bulletin board.”

I didn’t know if it was my imagination, but I could have sworn that Mrs. Gibson glared at me over her glasses when she mentioned the Wednesday deadline. The deadline I had missed.

Mrs. Gibson put her clipboard down and continued. “Our upcoming issue will be jammed packed. The sports reports will take up a lot of space because not only do we have the fall sports wrap-ups, but the winter sports previews as well.” She looked at Mike. “Mike, I assume you’ve received the fall wrap-ups from your boys’ sports reporters?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ve already started editing.”

She shot him an approving glance. “Now on to a more serious matter.” She turned to look at me. “Devon—” She looked down at her clipboard as if trying to find her place. Maybe she didn’t want to make direct eye contact with me when she kicked me out of the class. I felt the other students looking at me. I swallowed hard to dislodge the sudden lump in my throat and held my breath waiting for the axe to fall.

“Oh, here it is. Devon, I hinted on Friday that we needed to discuss your future.”

I waited.

“Melissa Cox is moving, uh...” she looked back down at her clipboard. “...oh, at the end of the week. I didn’t realize it was so soon.”

I had no idea what Melissa Cox had to do with me, but I kept my eyes on Mrs. Gibson and had to remember to breathe in and out.

She peered at me over her glasses. “I want you to take her place as girls’ sports editor.”

My eyes flew wide open. Editor? I wasn’t getting dropped from the class? I’m sure the relief showed on my face, but before I could answer, Mrs. Gibson held up her hand to stop my response.

“Devon, I don’t want your answer yet. Talk it over with Mike. He can tell you what the job entails, but I would like your answer first thing tomorrow morning. Fair enough?”

Fair? Absolutely. I nodded and said, “Yes, ma’am,” way too enthusiastically. How could I not take an editor position? So what if I had never played a single sport at Grasse River High School, that wouldn’t stop me. Three minutes earlier, I thought I would need to find another class to take during first period, but all she wanted to do was promote me. Why didn’t she just say that on Friday?

When she ended the staff meeting, I slumped back in my chair with a sigh of relief. I didn’t have a moment to let my promotion sink in because Mike whipped his chair next to mine, so close, in fact, that our arms touched.

“Congrats, Devon.” He held out his hand. “You’ll make a great editor.”

I shook his hand and hoped he couldn’t feel mine trembling. “Thanks. I had no idea.” I let go of his hand, but he held onto mine longer than necessary. I pretended to scoot my chair a little closer to my computer, but all I really wanted to do was move my arm away from his.

“You’ll be fine. Do you want a rundown on what you have to do? If you take the job that is.”

I knew in my heart of hearts that I’d accept the position, but I would take the day to weigh the pros and cons. Cons? What cons?

“Sure, tell me what I’m in for, but don’t scare me off, okay?”

He winked at me and then smiled in such way that was supposed to melt my heart or something. How could I tell him that somebody had already beaten him to it? What sucked big time was that I couldn’t tell her how I felt. And now Mike seemed to be turning into another problem for me. Why was life getting so complicated all of a sudden?

He outlined the many and varied duties of a sports editor. First, I had to find out who the girls’ sports reporters were and what sport they covered. Most would come from the Journalism I class—the sophomores—not our class. Next, I had to get their fall wrap-up articles, which were probably in Melissa’s network folder, and then edit, edit, edit. Mike told me that fixing bad writing was a tough gig, but he also told me to ask him if I needed help being diplomatic. Apparently, I had more articles to edit than he did. The girls had seven sports in the fall— volleyball, soccer, tennis, golf, cheerleading, cross-country running, and field hockey while the guys only had five— football, golf, soccer, volleyball, and cross-country running. Just when I thought the editor’s job wouldn’t be too taxing, Mike complicated matters by pointing out that each sport had a junior varsity team, too. He moved his seat closer to mine again, and then reminded me that all varsity winter sports teams needed previews for the upcoming issue.

I took a deep breath and subtly moved my chair away. The girls’ sports editing job sounded colossal, and with the boys’ sports editor coming on to me big time, I wondered what I was getting myself into.

I OPENED THE door to the cafeteria courtyard, but shut it fast when a gust of cold air made me shiver. We’d probably have to eat inside from now on until the earth thawed out again in April, so I claimed a table inside.

I bit into my turkey sandwich while I kept an eye out for Gail and Travis. I stood up and waved my arms when they walked into the cafeteria holding hands. Gail waved back when she saw me. Travis headed to the food line while Gail made her way to me with her brown bag lunch.

“Too cold?” Gail gestured to the courtyard.

“Yeah.” I pushed my backpack closer to the wall, so she could pull out the chair next to me.

“Devon, your hair! I love it!”

At first, I didn’t know what she was talking about, but then I remembered the auburn highlights. I reached up and brushed the hair out of my eyes. “Missy helped me.”

“Oh, Missy came home?”

I tried not to let my heart react. Gail had forgotten that my grandma died eight days ago.

“Oh, God. Devon,” she put her hand on my forearm, “I’m sorry. I forgot. I didn’t mean...”

I watched her face turn scarlet. “It’s cool. Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay, but I’m sorry.”

And she was sorry. I knew it. I felt the familiar knotting of my stomach again. No, I thought to myself, there will be no more crying in public. At home in my room, that’s where any and all crying would happen.

I sighed and unwrapped my sandwich. Gail sighed, too when she opened yet another peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I pushed half of my sandwich toward her. “Halvsies?”

The smile on her face told me she knew she was forgiven. “Yeah, thanks.” She picked up the half sandwich and took a bite.

She slid half her PB and J over. I gulped down a sugary peacemaking bite and then took a long drink from my water bottle.

When Travis showed up at the table, Gail grabbed his arm, relief clearly showing on her face.

I looked away from them and scanned the cafeteria for Rebecca. The black kids usually sat together on the same side we were, but closer to the front doors about four tables away. I saw Jessie first. Well, the back of Jessie, that is. Her solid frame and dark braids were hard to miss. She stood up and looked my way for an excruciatingly long time before heading toward the food line. It was as if she knew that I was looking at her. I shook off my paranoia and looked at Rebecca. Now that Jessie was gone, I had a clear view of her. The noisy cafeteria held no distractions for me as I drank in her smile, her high cheekbones, her soft eyes, her dancer’s grace. Her hair fell in wisps in front of her shoulders. She usually wore her hair tied back, but seeing her hair down made my insides twist around in a tickly sort of way.

Rebecca must have felt my eyes on her because she turned from her conversation and caught my gaze. I had a quick moment of panic because I felt like a peeping Tom, peeping Mary, whatever, but, thank goodness, her smile never wavered. I automatically smiled back hoping she couldn’t see my face turning red across the lunch tables. She gestured to her hair, and that confused me for a second until she mouthed the words, “I like it.” The highlights. She had noticed.

“Thanks,” I mouthed back.

We continued to smile at each other across the tables until Jessie came back. Rebecca didn’t look my way again, and it felt like somebody had turned the lights out.

“Hey,” Gail said, “what happened with Mrs. Gibson this morning?”

Her voice startled me back to my own table. I hoped she hadn’t seen me smiling at Rebecca, but why should that bother her? Rebecca was just another kid at school. Except for the fact that I melted down completely whenever I looked at her.

I cleared my throat. “I wasn’t tossed off the paper, if that’s why you’re asking.” I grinned wide.

“Excellent, excellent. So what did happen?”

“She promoted me to girls’ sports editor.”

“Get out!” Gail dropped her sandwich on her lunch bag and whirled to face me. “That’s awesome.” She leaned over and hugged me. I hugged her back, but hoped Rebecca wasn’t watching. I didn’t want her to think that Gail was my girlfriend or anything. I almost laughed out loud. The chance that Rebecca was family, a member of the church, a card-carrying gay girl was microscopic. I shook my head to get out the cobwebs.

“Um, Devon?”

“Yeah?”

“What do you know about sports?”

I laughed. “Not a thing.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Except I sometimes watch tennis on TV,” I offered.

“Oh, that makes you qualified, I’m sure.” Gail rolled her eyes and turned to Travis. “Can you believe that? Sports editor?”

Travis smiled. “That’s cool. When do you start?”

“Tomorrow, I guess. I have to tell Mrs. Gibson tomorrow morning that I’m going to do it.”

Travis asked me why Mrs. Gibson promoted me in the middle of the year, so I told them about Melissa Cox moving and how Mike Reynolds offered to help me get started.

“You should ask him out,” Gail blurted.

I almost choked on my sandwich “What?”

“Mike Reynolds. You should ask him out. He’s cute, and he’s so nice. I have English with him.”

I raised my eyebrows at her in disbelief, but she just shrugged. “You need to be in a relationship. It’s about time you had somebody.”

I couldn’t think of a single thing to say, except, Yeah, and she’s sitting about four tables that way.

THE LESSON ON conjugating the subjunctive was apparently finished for the class period because Madame Depardieu put the dry erase marker onto the white board tray and walked to her desk. When she picked up a stack of papers, I groaned. Worksheets. I hated worksheets.

Mme Depardieu was a short stout woman with long black hair sprinkled with gray. She tied her hair back every day, but by the time eighth period rolled around, loose sprigs sprang everywhere. I saw her once at the beginning of the school day and almost didn’t recognize her because her hair was so neat and tidy.

“Votre attention, s'il vous plaît.” Mme Depardieu started counting out enough papers for each row. “Please get zis pehrmission slip signed right away. Euh, we are going to zee power dam on zeh St. Lawrence River zeh day before Zhanksgiving vacation.”

I sighed in relief. They weren’t worksheets.

Rebecca sat in the front row of the classroom while I sat in the back. She took the stack of permission slips from Mme Depardieu and turned all the way around in her seat to pass them to the girl behind her. I didn’t want to seem stalkerish, so I kept my gaze on Mme Depardieu, but I smirked in triumph when Rebecca looked my way. At least I think she looked my way. It might have been wishful thinking, but I couldn’t help the perma-grin creeping onto my face. My grin screamed so loudly that I barely heard Mme Depardieu gushing about her favorite Frenchmen Jacques Cartier and André Masséna.

Mme Depardieu called for our attention again. “Please get zee, euh, pahrent signature right away.” Her Québec accent was thick, but at this point, I pretty much understood everything she said in English. “You’ll miss pehriods one through four, and, euh, we’ll be back sometime during pehriod five. You should bring your lunch wiz you in case we get back late.” This elicited a few groans from my classmates, but as long as Gail’s brother didn’t make my lunch I’d be okay.

I wondered slyly if I could get my mom or dad to write me a note excusing me from the trip, so I could work on the newspaper instead. I had a feeling girls’ sports at Grasse River High School were going to take over my life. As soon as the thought came, though, I almost smacked myself in the head. Rebecca would be on the field trip, so forget it. A field trip with Rebecca was way better than editing copy.

I tucked the permission slip into my assignment book and wrote in the little Monday square allocated for French, “Get Permission Slip Signed Tonight!!!!” I put four exclamation points and a little smiley face in the square.

With only a couple of minutes left to the period, Mme Depardieu let us pack up and walk around the classroom. We weren’t allowed to leave until the bell rang, so I put my assignment book in my backpack and dared to look toward Rebecca. She zipped up her own backpack, stood up, and headed right for me. I found myself leaning back in my chair almost trying to get away.

Rebecca smiled when she reached me. “Your hair looks great, Devon. It brings out your pretty brown eyes.”

I gulped, but hoped she hadn’t seen. I knew my cheeks were turning red because my face got hot all of a sudden. “Thanks, my sister did it for me.”

“Oh, I saw your sister at the...”

She didn’t finish her sentence, but I knew she was going to say “funeral.” I nodded and then dropped my head. “Yeah...” I wanted to say something more, but I got that choked up feeling again.

She sat in the empty seat next to me and put a hand on my shoulder. “You’re okay, Devon. Just breathe, okay?”

I almost melted at the compassion in her eyes. My pulse raced so fast I thought I would pass out. Rebecca Washington’s hand was on my shoulder—I almost couldn’t deal, but I took a deep breath and nodded to her that I was okay.

The bell was going to ring in a matter of seconds, but I couldn’t think of a single thing to say, and I desperately didn’t want to leave our conversation hanging on my grandmother’s funeral.

Her look of sympathy when she said, “Are you okay?” almost tipped me over.

I took a deep breath. “Yeah. I’m doing a lot of breathing these days.”

She laughed. My heart melted inside my chest. I had just made Rebecca laugh.

She said, “It works, doesn’t it?” She took her hand off my shoulder, and the spot felt distractingly cold.

Without much thought I blurted, “I’m the new girls’ sports editor for the Gazette.” Okay, it wasn’t a smooth transition, but at least my brain had come up with something to say.

“Wow! Congratulations. You could use a distraction about now, couldn’t you?” I nodded. What she didn’t know, and what no one else knew either, was that she was becoming my main distraction.

“You know, Devon, I’m good friends with Jessie Crowler. She’s the captain of the basketball team, and I could ask her to talk to you if you want. I don’t know, like an interview or something?”

“Absolutely. That would be great. I have to set up a winter sports preview for basketball, so that’d be cool.”

“Okay. I’ll ask her.” She patted my shoulder again.

When the bell rang, she stood up and headed back up the aisle. I watched Rebecca’s back as she left the classroom. She moved so gracefully. She opened the classroom door, and I was surprised to see Jessie leaning against the wall waiting for her. They started to walk off together, but then Jessie turned her head and sneered at me. My fists clenched. For a second, I couldn’t place the reason for my instant anger until I realized what it was. Jealousy. And I had it bad.

Chapter Four

Frenglish

BY THURSDAY MORNING, I felt like I’d been the girls’ sports editor for two weeks instead of two days. My training with Melissa Cox after school on Tuesday and again on Wednesday had been rapid and intense. She had only been the sports editor for two months, but she showed me so much in those two afternoons that I knew I could do the job. Of course, I could always call Missy for advice. She was connected to her cell phone. I also had Mike, four computers away. In fact, I already had a question for him. I just hoped he didn’t take my attention the wrong way.

I scooted my chair toward him.

“Hang on.” He put one finger in the air and finished typing a sentence about the wrestling team. “Okay, what’s up?” He looked at me as if my question was the most important thing in the world to him at that moment. That, of course, made me feel like a jerk for not liking him as more than a friend.

I cleared my throat. “I emailed all the girls’ sports reporters about their fall wrap-ups. So that’s done. Do you think I should go to the fall sports banquet on the Monday before Thanksgiving?”

“Yes, yes, yes. Mrs. Gibson told me that the reporters are usually on the team, like I’m the boys’ cross-country reporter. She said the reporters tend to get caught up with the dinner and forget details like what place they came in, or who made the all-county team.”

“Pretty major.” “No kidding. So, yeah, you should go. The boys’ banquet is the next night, and I’ll be going to that.” “Cool. You know I’ll have more questions, don’t you?” “Anytime. I’m glad to help.” As I scooted back to my station, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that he continued to watch me. I pretended not to notice and made a mental note to try to get answers from other people, even if I had to ask Mrs. Gibson, because I didn’t want to give him false hope. I pulled out my assignment book. In the Thursday square under Journalism I wrote, “Go to Gym Today. Sign up for Girls Banquet.” I’d probably go to the P.E. office right after school.

Mrs. Gibson began her daily patrol, so I jammed my assignment book in my backpack and clicked open the girls’ sports folder. The varsity and junior varsity wrap-ups for four sports—cheerleading, volleyball, cross-country, and soccer— were complete. The junior varsity golf article was finished, but the varsity article was on hold because the team had to make up a match against Tupper Lake on Saturday. Joey Pitone, the golf reporter, promised to get the article in the folder on Monday. I had plenty of articles to read over the weekend, so I told him that Monday would be soon enough. I hoped that I wouldn’t have to get all mean and bossy if his article was late.

Mrs. Gibson hovered behind me. “Devon, are the editor passwords working?”

“Yes, thank you. I only need two more articles. Varsity golf and varsity field hockey.”

“Oh, field hockey,” she said with an exasperated sigh. “That team is never done by the deadline. I assume they made the playoffs again?”

“Yes, the playoffs start next week.” The field hockey team probably had as many trophies down in the gym as Mrs. Gibson had journalism trophies in her classroom. Mrs. Gibson even had trophies dating as far back as 1980.

“Well, if they’re not done by press time you’ll have to finish the article with an editor’s note.”

I felt powerful all of a sudden. “What should it say?”

“Oh, something along the lines of ‘The field hockey team had not completed its season by press time.’”

I hoped the team’s season would be done, though, not that I wanted them to lose in the playoffs or anything, but I wanted my first issue to be complete.

“Oh, and Melissa Cox said you caught on rather quickly.”

I nodded. “She showed me everything. I didn’t realize how much an editor did.”

“A lot of hard work goes into putting out a newspaper, Devon. It’s not all glamour and glitz.”

Glamour and glitz? I held back a smile. “I’m learning that.”

I turned back to my computer, and Mrs. Gibson continued her patrolling.

I had only been editor for two days, but I wanted my first issue as sports editor to be perfect. I guess I caught that disease from Missy. When she was editor, she always stayed up late working on the computer in our room. I used to complain about it, but eventually I just turned toward the wall and put a pillow over my head, so I could sleep. Now it would be me at the computer late at night.

In our session on Wednesday afternoon, Melissa suggested I highlight the girls’ basketball team for the winter sports preview because they were supposed to go all the way to the state tournament. Of course, thinking about the basketball team made me think about Rebecca which, unfortunately, made me think about how stupidly jealous I had gotten over Jessie on Monday. They were probably friends like me and Gail. No big deal, right? I had to be careful because I didn’t want to scare Rebecca off by being frosty to her friends, even though Jessie, for whatever reason, didn’t seem to like me very much. I think Rebecca liked me though. Maybe not in that way, but at least she smiled at me and asked me if I was okay. Later on in French class, I wasn’t sure how I’d answer if she asked me how I was because we buried my grandmother exactly one week before.

Wallowing in the one-week anniversary of my grandmother’s burial would have to wait. I had articles to edit. I clicked open the varsity volleyball article and started reading. After two paragraphs of run-on sentences, misspelled words, missing commas, and dangling prepositions I sighed and realized editing might be tougher than I thought. The reporters had to fix their own text, but it was my job to find a way to help them do that. Somehow, I’d have to find a subtle way to convey the finer points of grammar to the girl who had written the article. I was glad for the distraction.

IT TOOK ABOUT a year, but my eighth period French class finally arrived. When Rebecca walked in the classroom, she hesitated by her desk, but then kept walking. She stood beside the open desk next to me. “Is this seat taken?”

“Be my guest.” I put my hand out in welcome as my permagrin sprang up instantly. What had started out as kind of a sad Thursday got way better when Mme Depardieu announced a partnered exercise.

“Partners?” Rebecca asked me.

“Oui!” I said with way too much enthusiasm and flung my desk next to hers. I looked back at the girl I usually worked with, but she seemed okay with my sudden defection. In fact, she moved her desk next to the boy she liked. I laughed. Maybe changing partners would work out for both of us. In my dreams, I thought.

Mme Depardieu wanted us to interview each other in French and then write down the responses. For homework we were supposed to write an essay, in French of course, about our partner.

Rebecca asked me the first question on the worksheet. “Quel pays aimerais-tu visiter le plus et pourquoi?”

What country would I want to visit? Her soft brown eyes waited for my answer as her pen hovered over her paper. How could I think with her staring at me? I guess I was supposed to answer France or something, but I said, “England. Wales, I mean.”

Mme Depardieu must have had supersonic hearing because she yelled at me, “En français seulement, Devón.”

In the light of Rebecca’s eyes, I had forgotten the French-only rule. How could I explain to my teacher that I couldn’t think because Rebecca made my insides all jittery, and that she smelled like roses which completely fogged up my brain?

“Pourquoi l'Angleterre? Le Pays de Galles?” Rebecca asked as if she didn’t notice my complete meltdown.

“Oh, uh, je suis en partie galloise.” I hoped Mme Depardieu didn’t yell at me again for my “Oh, uh,” because for a second I forgot the French equivalent, “euh.”

“I didn’t know you were part Welch,” Rebecca whispered in English. “My family is mostly from dee Islands, mon.”

I giggled at her new Jamaican accent.

“My mother’s mother was from Jamaica, mon.” She dropped the Jamaican accent and switched to a French one. “J'aimerais vraiment y aller un jour. Now you don’t have to ask me that question, do you?”

I laughed and wrote down, “Jamaica” on my own worksheet.

She read the second question from the sheet, “À quelle fac veux-tu aller?”

What university? That was an interesting question because only about sixty percent of the kids going to Grasse River High School actually went to college. I planned to be part of that sixty percent, so I said, “Plattsburgh State.” I didn’t know how to say Plattsburgh State in French, so I said it with a French accent.

Rebecca laughed. “I want to go to NYU. L’Université de New York.”

“You do? I mean, vraiment?”

“They have an amazing dance program at NYU.”

“You can major en danse?”

“Bien sûr,” she said as if everybody knew that. “I want to get une licence in Fine Arts.” We had lapsed into a mixture of French and English—Frenglish I guess—side-stepping the French-only rule because Mme Depardieu had unknowingly handed me a way to get to know Rebecca faster than smiles and waves across the noisy cafeteria.

“C'est super, ça! You’re in the dance troupe here, right?”

“Oui, mademoiselle Devón. Oui. Are you coming to my concert?”

Of course. Every single performance. “Quand est-ce?”

“In about a month. The week before Noël.”

“Christmas, cool.” Even the thought of watching Rebecca dance on stage wasn’t enough to stop the realization that this would be the first Christmas without Grandma. Rebecca and I had been leaning close together, so Mme Depardieu wouldn’t hear our Frenglish, but my sudden heartache made me sit back and pull away.

“Devon, what’s wrong?”

“Christmas.”

She seemed to understand because she grabbed my hand. A perverse side of me actually enjoyed having her console me in my pain, but then my pain overtook even that. As she held my one hand, I cried behind the other. Images of Christmases past came pouring into my mind. Grandma always gave me and Missy an extra fifty dollars each that we weren’t supposed to tell our parents about, and we never did because it was our secret with Grandma. Grandma and I had lots of fun secrets. Like how she always wanted to be my partner on Sundays when we played bridge after dinner because she and I could cheat really well and not get caught. If I hadn’t been so choked up I might have laughed at the memory.

Rebecca’s squeezed my hand while she murmured in French, “Oui, je sais, c’est difficile! Courage, Devón, courage.”

Listening to her whisper sympathy to me in French brought me back to the present. I did that breathing thing she’d taught me and got myself under better control.

“That’s it,” she encouraged. “You’re okay, now.” She squeezed my hand one last time.

“Merci.” I cleared my throat and, even though I didn’t want to, I said, “I think we’d better finish our questions.”

“Only if you’re okay.”

I looked into her deep brown eyes. “I’m okay with you here.” Something softened in her eyes, and I would have gotten lost in them if the other students weren’t in the room. She continued to hold my gaze for an overlong moment, but then pulled away and looked down at her desk.

Crap. I had overstepped. I got too pushy and scared her. What an idiot.

I felt the tension spread around us like an early-morning fog, but we managed to finish the worksheet just as the bell rang. Rebecca stood up. “Jessie said okay to a basketball interview, by the way. Do you still want to do it?”

Not really, I thought, but if I can be closer to you, then yeah, I want to do it. “Okay, sure.” My inner voice screamed at me to run as far away from Jessie as possible.

“How’s lunch tomorrow?”

“Cool.” It was a date, but with the wrong girl.

I STUDIED THE list of questions for my interview with Jessie as I ate half of Gail’s tuna fish sandwich. She and Travis sat as close together as two people reasonably could, although I think she would have been in his lap if she could have gotten away with it.

Gail leaned toward me. “So which one are you interviewing?”

“Oh, Jessie Crowler.” I pointed to Jessie’s back four tables away. “She’s the captain of the girls’ basketball team.”

“Senior?”

“Yeah.” I took the last bite of her sandwich. “Good sandwich today.”

“Amazing things happen when I make lunch.”

Jessie turned around and looked toward me and Gail. I caught a quick glimpse of Rebecca pointing at me and saying something to Jessie. When Rebecca noticed me looking, she smiled and waved. I waved back and tried not to let my permagrin take over my face.

Jessie and Rebecca stood up from their table and headed my way. I shoved Gail’s plastic sandwich bag and my used napkin into her empty paper lunch bag and stood up to meet them. I’d eat my little bag of carrots later.

Gail leaned toward me. “She looks like a guy.”

“Who?”

“Jessie. Look at her.” She whispered, “She’s probably a lezzie.”

Gail’s words were an invisible slap. I stood up and said tersely, “I’ll be back later.”

“Okay, later.” Gail was oblivious to my coldness and went back to hanging all over Travis.

I rolled my eyes behind Gail because she had completely missed my subtle departure. We used to talk to each other every day on the phone, but now that she had Travis we only talked once in a while, and she usually ended our calls with something like, “Oh, I’ve got another call. It’s Travis,” or “Travis is picking me up, so I have to get ready.” At first that kind of stuff hurt my feelings, but I got used to it. I mean, I had no choice. On top of all that, I didn’t know if my best friend could accept me for who I was.

I met Jessie and Rebecca in the aisle. “Hey,” I said to Rebecca and nodded to Jessie.

Rebecca introduced us. “Devon, this is Jessie. Jessie— Devon.”

Jessie stuck out her hand, so I shook it. She had on tight black jeans and a white long-sleeved t-shirt. Her t-shirt did nothing to hide her strong muscular body. The gold chain around her neck held a colorful pendant in the shape of Africa. The red, green, and yellow stood out against the white shirt. Gail was wrong. Jessie didn’t look like a guy. She looked like an athlete.

“Should we go outside?” I gestured toward the door. “This shouldn’t take too long.”

“Sure.” Jessie led the way. She shoved the door open with so much force that I didn’t know if she was trying to impress me or Rebecca.

Jessie sat down at the table closest to the door. Rebecca sat next to her, and I grabbed a seat across from them. I couldn’t tell if my hands shook from the cold or from nerves.

Before any interview I tell my subject that anything said was fair game to be quoted, and if they didn’t want to be quoted, they should say, “off the record,” and I’d put my pen down.

Having given Jessie my disclaimer, I opened my notebook to the list of questions. “The team is supposed to do really well this year. What are your biggest challenges?”

I thought she might say something cocky, but to my relief she thought about my question for a second and answered, “Well, Stone Lake always gives us trouble. We split with them last year, so we’ve learned never to take any team lightly. You know? On any given day...”

She had such a tough exterior that her thoughtful and honest answer surprised me. Maybe I shouldn’t have judged her so quickly. I mean, I didn’t even know her.

“There must be a lot of pressure on you in particular. Senior, captain.”

“I guess so.”

I don’t think she expected this question, but I waited for her to elaborate. A good interviewer knows when to stay quiet and let the subject keep talking.

She continued, “Everybody relies on me, ‘cuz I’m the point guard.” She hesitated again, and I could sense the pressure she must have felt. I hoped she’d elaborate because I had no idea what a point guard did. She added, “But once I get scoring, I’m pretty unstoppable.”

Ah, there was the ego I knew she had. I nodded and happily quoted her exact words. “Anything else?” I asked.

“Well, off the record...” She paused while I put my pen down. “There’s pressure on me to represent.” Without smiling, she struck a hip-hop pose with one hand on her chin.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m black, and I play basketball.”

Again, I waited.

She continued. “It’s such a cliché, you know? Being black and playing hoops.”

She was baiting me. I just knew it, but I didn’t know what she wanted from me. Did she want me to make some kind of comment about her being black? I decided not to say anything. When I didn’t answer her, she looked at Rebecca. “What are you gonna do? Right, babe?”

My mind screamed, Babe? Did I hear that right? Jessie called Rebecca babe, and Rebecca had simply shrugged her shoulders.

“Becca,” Jessie pulled a five-dollar bill out of her jeans pocket, “go get me a creamsicle.”

“Now?”

“Yeah, now.”

Rebecca hesitated for a second, but then got up and left the table. She didn’t look at me which made me even more uncomfortable.

I cleared my throat. “I imagine, uh, all those things would create a lot of pressure on you.” I swallowed hard. “Let’s go back on the record.” Are you going out with Rebecca?

As if to answer my unspoken question, Jessie snapped, “On the record, Raines. Be careful.” Her eyes burned a hole in my face as she poked the metal table with each word. “Be real careful with Rebecca.”

I swallowed hard and eked out, “What do you mean?”

Jessie stood up abruptly. “I’m warning you, Raines. Don’t play with fire. Interview over.” She stomped back across the gravel and slammed the cafeteria door open. It was only when the door shut again that I realized I’d been holding my breath.

Chapter Five

The Maplewoods Mall

ON THE WAY to Wednesday’s French class, I smiled when I heard Jessie call Rebecca babe again in my mind. I thought about coming out to Rebecca, but then again, maybe Rebecca wasn’t gay, and she and Jessie weren’t really together. Maybe my mind had made up those things. Part of me—well, most of me—didn’t buy the “just friends” things, though. Gail and I had been close friends since fourth grade, and we didn’t call each other babe. More like dork or nimrod, but not babe. Jessie slipped, or maybe she said it on purpose to let me know they were together.

I shook my head as I walked down the hall to French because my troubles were small compared to the rest of the world. It was Veteran’s Day and a lot of kids, both guys and girls, joined the military right out of Grasse River High School, so it was one of the town’s biggest holidays. We had a moment of silence during homeroom for some former students killed in the war in the Middle East. The announcement bummed everybody out, but it made me wish I could have gone to the parade that morning. Maybe Rebecca would have wanted to go, too, but the parade kicked off at 11:00 in the morning when we were stuck at school. My dad told me they always had the parade on November 11 at 11:00 because that was the date and time they signed the treaty ending World War I. Rebecca and I would have had to cut school to go to the parade anyway, but I didn’t think Rebecca was into cutting school.

I settled into my usual seat and waited for her to walk in. I tried to hide my excitement when she smiled at me and headed to her new seat in the back of the room.

“Bonjour, Ms. Journalist. Comment va le journal?”

“Bonjour, Ms. Dancer. The newspaper’s fine. I finally got the varsity golf article from Joey Pitone, so now I have all of them. I’ll tell you what, being an editor ain’t easy. Some of these people can’t place a comma if their lives depended on it.”

When she laughed, the sweet sound yanked my perma-grin from the depths where I had stuffed it. I could dedicate my life to making her laugh.

She said, “That must be a tough job, but promise me one thing.”

Anything. Everything. “What?”

“If I ever misplace a comma, be gentle. Okay?”

I burst out laughing. Several kids looked at me, but I didn’t care. I know my smile took over my whole face. “I will always be gentle with you.” Whoa, did I just say that? I hadn’t meant to flirt. It just came out.

Rebecca seemed to take my flirting in stride, though. “Toi, oui, Devon Raines, I’m sure you would.”

Mme Depardieu called the class to order. We were going to read some kind of short story in the textbook, all in French, of course, and then answer questions on a worksheet.

As Mme Depardieu handed out the dreaded worksheets, Rebecca learned over and whispered, “I got my application.”

“What application?”

“The Karen Swanson School of Dance in New York. It’s a summer program.”

“Cool. When will you find out?”

“Well, I just got the application yesterday, but I have to send it back right away. If they like how I look on paper, my dance teacher, Ms. Adams, says they’ll ask for my audition DVD. She told me that if they ask for a DVD it means you’re ninety percent in.”

“Cool. I hope they ask for your DVD.” I reached for my worksheet from the kid in front of me.

“Me, too.”

We read in silence and then answered the questions on the worksheet. I didn’t know all the words in the story, but I was pretty good at winging it. I hoped I could find a way to wing it with Rebecca because I desperately wanted to find out if she was gay like me.

Mme Depardieu collected our worksheets with about five minutes left to the period. The way she tossed them into her “papers to be graded” basket told me we wouldn’t be getting them back anytime soon. When she sat at her desk and started typing on her keyboard, I knew the lesson was over for the day.

“That was fun,” I said to Rebecca sarcastically.

“Yeah, a real blast.” She rolled her eyes. “Actually, speaking of fun, we’re going to the mall on Saturday. Do you want to go?”

I never realized how such a simple question could turn me inside out. Yes, yes, yes, I screamed inside my head. Omigod, Omigod, Omigod. I didn’t even care who the “we” referred to.

“Sure,” I said with as much cool and calm as I could muster with my heart beating a thousand miles an hour. I tried to ask her what time, but the question caught in my throat. I coughed and tried again, “What time?”

“Oh, I don’t know. We’ve got a couple of days to decide, but Jessie usually likes to eat at the food court first, and Natalie, well, she doesn’t care when we go.”

Jessie. Bummer. Of course, the “we” included her. She wouldn’t do anything to me with Rebecca right there, would she?

“Okay,” I said, “let me know on Friday.” Most of me knew I shouldn’t go to the mall with them because of Jessie, but the prospect of hanging out with Rebecca made the stupid part of me take over.

“Great.” She reached down into the front pocket of her backpack and pulled out her cell phone. Keeping it low under her desk, she asked me for my cell number. My insides started shaking as she punched the numbers in. She saved it and said she’d text me later with the details. She snuck her cell phone back into her backpack and then looked up at me with a grin as if we had just gotten away with something grand in Mme Depardieu’s class.

The bell rang to end the period, and Rebecca stood up. I got up to walk out with her, but when I saw Jessie waiting in the hallway I sat back down and pretended to fuss with my backpack. I didn’t want to see if Jessie would shoot daggers at me again. I’d better get some thicker armor, I thought to myself, because in order to hang out with Rebecca, I’d probably have to hang out with Jessie, too.

AS WE STROLLED into the food court at the Maplewoods Mall that Saturday, Natalie and I walked a step behind Jessie and Rebecca. They had picked me up at my house at around

11:30 and by 12:15 we were in the food court trying to figure out what to eat. Jessie and Natalie went for Chinese, but I decided on the wrap place. Rebecca, seeming torn, opted to go with me. Ha! Devon 1, Jessie 0. I knew that was childish, especially since Jessie hadn’t sent me a single dirty look, but still, it felt good for a moment.

When we regrouped at a table near the Chinese food counter, Jessie shoved a big spoonful of fried rice into her mouth and said, “Hey, we can’t always eat fried chicken and watermelon. Right, Devon?”

Fried chicken and watermelon? What did that mean?

Rebecca threw Jessie an exasperated look—one that said, “Behave.” That’s when I understood. Fried chicken and watermelon were supposed to be black foods or whatever, and I was white. I was the only white girl sitting at the table with three black girls. Maybe this was why Jessie hated me because I was white. That didn’t make any sense, though. She had white friends. I mean, her teammates on the basketball team were white. I decided to stay mute and not go for the bait.

When Rebecca smiled at me in apology, I felt better. She did this, of course, when Jessie wasn’t looking. I smiled back and shrugged as if to say, “I’m not sure what I did to provoke that.”

After lunch, we walked the mall. Early November seemed too soon for Christmas stuff, but every store was decorated for the December holiday. We passed an electronics store with some of those mechanical puppies out front that barked and did flips. They were cute, but we didn’t stop to look, even though I kind of wanted to.

I think I gained a few points at the food court, but that didn’t seem to matter since Natalie and I were relegated to second-class status behind Jessie and Rebecca. We’d tried to walk four across, but a lot of Canadians had come across the Seaway International Bridge to shop in the United States forcing us to walk two and two. I didn’t really mind walking with Natalie because she loved to talk about basketball, and I was learning a lot about the sport. She was a sophomore, a little overweight, not to the point of obesity, she was just a big girl. She wore her hair down, like Rebecca, but Natalie’s hair was shorter, falling just below her collar.

“So what exactly does a power forward do?” I asked her.

“Oh, uh, I’m kind of a cross between a center and a regular forward.”

I laughed. “Okay, that’s as clear as mud.”

Jessie must have been listening because she said over her shoulder, “Her job is to rebound the ball and then find me, so I can dribble up the court, do a behind the back move around the defense, and lay it up as soft as a baby’s behind.”

I only understood about half of it, but I said, “Oh,” as if impressed with her skills.

Rebecca decided she wanted to look at earrings at one of those free-standing carts in the middle of the mall walkway. I think she was trying to change the subject. “Hey, Devon,” she beckoned me over and held up a small pair of hoop earrings, “I think you’d look great in these.”

She held the earrings up to my ears, and as I looked in the mirror, I tried hard to focus, but Rebecca’s smile reflected in the mirror overtook me. Her rose-scented perfume wrapped itself around me making it hard to think straight. I even imagined that I felt her body heat as she stood behind me. I took a quick breath and looked away.

I dug out the ten-dollar bill I had in my jeans pocket to pay for the $6.99 pair of earrings. I never spent money on jewelry because Mom, Missy, or Grandma took care of that for me at Christmas or on my birthday. In fact, my grandmother had given me the pair of gold ball earrings I usually wore. My stomach clenched when I thought of her. I forced it away. There was no way I was going to cry in front of Jessie. No way.

Rebecca seemed pleased when I took them to the cashier at the far end of the cart and stood with me while I paid. Jessie and Natalie stood together in the walkway where we’d left them. They didn’t even pretend to be interested in the jewelry. Instead, they made fun of people in the mall, including this really fat lady who walked by them. Jessie, without saying a word, waddled after her. That cracked up Natalie who in turn waddled in a circle. I pretended to be oblivious to them, but out of the corner of my eye I saw an almost sad look take over Rebecca’s face.

Change and bag in hand, I turned toward Rebecca. “Ready?” My heart leaped when I saw the troubled look in her eyes. Her cheeks flushed, and I could tell that Jessie had embarrassed her. Thank God the fat lady didn’t notice them making fun of her.

“C’mon.” Rebecca put a hand on my back and nudged me toward her friends.

We resumed our original pecking order and walked the full length of the mall. When we hit the Sears at the end, we turned around and walked up the other side. Natalie continued to talk about basketball and the Connecticut Sun, her favorite WNBA basketball team. I’d pretty much had my fill of basketball by that point, but I asked her questions anyway just to keep the conversation going. What I really wanted to do was vaporize Jessie, so I could walk next to Rebecca. I’d take Rebecca’s hand, and we wouldn’t even care if people stared at us—two girls holding hands in the mall. Unfortunately, Jessie still existed. Technically, I was spending the afternoon with Rebecca, but at that point I just wanted to go home. Editing bad copy was beginning to sound much more appealing than playing second fiddle to Jessie.

As we walked back up the other side of the long stretch of mall, an interracial couple walked toward us. A tall black man held hands with a noticeably pregnant white woman. Once we passed them, Jessie shook her head. “They’re dilutin’ the blood, man.” She turned toward Rebecca. “Don’t they see that?”

Rebecca glared at Jessie.

Jessie shrugged. “What? I was kidding.”

I didn’t sound like she was kidding, though, and I realized that all day I’d felt self-conscious about the color of my skin.

I SAT IN my room after they dropped me off and tried to edit the girls’ soccer article, but my mind kept wandering back to my wonderful trip to the mall that afternoon. Even though I stole a few smiles from Rebecca, I didn’t have much fun. I was hoping Rebecca would text me or call, but so far nothing.

I tried one last time to focus on the soccer article, but finally closed the file in frustration and shut down the computer. I got up, took my new earrings out of their small plastic bag, and then took off my gold ball earrings. I lifted the lid to my jewelry box and laughed. I’d have to ask Mom for a grown up jewelry box for Christmas this year. The cheesy Howe Caverns stamp on the top of my current one reminded me of the car trip Missy and I took with Grandma and Grandpa to the Finger Lakes when I was ten. Amazingly, I didn’t choke up at the memory. Maybe I was making progress.

I carefully put on my new hoops. They were only about a half inch in diameter, but still, I’d never worn any kind of hoops before. I felt grown up all of a sudden. With my new earrings and new highlights, maybe Rebecca would look at me the way I wanted her to. Not just as a friend, but something more.

I sighed and gently placed the earrings that Grandma had given me in the cedar box and then shut the lid. There was no way I could have told Grandma that I was gay. She had been old-fashioned, but maybe she knew now. Maybe she looked down from heaven and was okay with me. Grandpa, too. Maybe they’d both know that being gay wasn’t a choice or something I randomly decided to be. Maybe they would understand that I wasn’t some evil horrible person, and that it was something I figured out about myself in eighth grade. My crush on Marcy Berger didn’t last long, but the deep attraction I had for her back then woke up something inside me. When Missy wasn’t around, I secretly searched the Internet for anything gay-related and discovered a whole world of gay people. They called it “the gay community” on a few websites. I didn’t know if Grasse River had a “gay community,” but I hoped someday I’d find one somewhere if it existed. Those websites were right. I wasn’t gay because I chose to be. I just was.

I found myself in Grandma’s room, not quite sure how I got there. I took a deep breath. I hadn’t gone into her room since she died. I sat down on the edge of her bed and wondered if and when Missy would take her room back. I smoothed out the comforter with my hand. The softness reminded me of all the times I sat on Grandma’s bed and we’d talk about stuff. Stuff like the animal shelter or her bridge club or my school. I choked up, so I stood up and went to Grandma’s bookshelf. Darn, Mom took the butterscotches out of the jar, but that made sense because Grandma wasn’t there anymore.

I picked up my favorite glass snow globe from Grandma’s collection. I shook it and watched the snow swirl around the skyline of Manhattan. Missy brought it back from New York City when she went to a journalism conference last summer. Once all the snow settled on the bottom, I put the snow globe back and picked up a picture of Grandma and Grandpa standing in front of their Christmas tree. They looked young and confident, but there was a better word to describe them. Peaceful. I hoped they were at peace up in heaven. I wiped the dust off the top of the picture of my dad and Uncle Joe as young boys. They looked so dorky in their old-fashioned clothes. Grandma even had an old elementary school picture of me and one of Missy. I hated my picture. Mom had gotten tired of brushing the knots out of my long hair and cut it short into a page boy. The bangs were the biggest reason I hated the picture. Once I got into middle school, I informed my mother I was going to grow out my hair. When she didn’t protest at my first real rebellious act, it knocked the wind out of my sails. After that, Missy helped me find a good style that I liked, one that framed my face nicely, as she put it.

I put my school picture back on the dusty shelf, and before my sorrow overtook me, I fled to my room. I didn’t want my mom to see me crying in Grandma’s room. I plopped onto my bed and faced the wall. I pulled my knees up into a fetal position and pulled Seymour tight to my chest. I cried mostly about Grandma, but I think I also cried about the frustrating afternoon I’d spent with Rebecca and her friends. I made a promise to myself that I’d never be in a situation where I’d have to hang out with Jessie ever again. Of course, as soon as I made that promise, I knew that if Rebecca asked me to hang out with them again, I’d do it. Who was I kidding?

I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how to find out if Rebecca was gay like me. How in the world did you find out something like that? It’s not like I could come right out and ask her. Could I? What if I did find out she was gay? How could I tell her I liked her? How could I tell her that I loved French now because I got to see her every day? How could I tell her that what I felt for her was six-thousand times more intense than what I’d felt for Marcy Berger? I had no idea.

A WEEK AFTER that stupid trip to the mall with Rebecca and Jessie, I waited in the backseat of Travis’s car as he and Gail went into the P & C food store to get beer. Travis had his older brother’s ID and since they looked alike, most people didn’t look at him twice. We were going to go to Bruster Park to hang out with the regular Friday night crowd because that’s where everybody went on Friday. In fact, I was going back there on Saturday night with Rebecca. Well, I was going there to hang out with Rebecca, Jessie, and Natalie. I never should have made that ridiculous vow about not hanging out with Jessie because I broke it immediately.

Last Sunday when I talked to Missy on the phone, I asked her how you told somebody you liked them.

She asked, “You mean like like?”

I felt myself blush and was glad she couldn’t see me over the phone. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” she said, “do you have any classes with them?”

“French.”

Them. Again, Missy didn’t say “him.” I knew she was leaving it up to me to come out to her, but I didn’t know how. The only person I had ever come out to was myself, and even though I wanted desperately to tell my secret to at least one other person in the world, I didn’t know if I could handle the rejection or hostility that could happen when you come out. I’d read horror stories on the Internet about people getting beaten up or thrown out of their houses. At sixteen, I didn’t want to get thrown out of my house. Where would I go?

“Okay,” Missy said, “do you sit near them? If not, you should try to move closer. If you can do it without making it obvious that is.”

“Yeah, sh—” I stopped myself just in time. I almost said, “she.” Talking in code like this was tricky. “Actually,” I tried again, “they moved their seat next to me last week.”

“No kidding, Squirt. I think you’re already in. I think they already like you if they moved seats.”

Missy had my attention. “You think so? But what do I do now?”

“Well, have you invited them to hang out with you and Gail? You know, do something in a group of friends? That way it won’t seem like a date.”

A date? The word scared me to death. “Um, I went out with some of her friends to the mall last weekend.” Oh shit, shit, shit. I just said, “her.” I held my breath hoping Missy hadn’t heard it.

Maybe she hadn’t heard my slip because she said, “Squirt, that’s awesome. Keep doing stuff like that, and if it’s meant to happen then it’ll happen.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“But don’t push it. You could always...”

“What? Always what?”

“You could always wait for them to make the first move, you know.”

Oh, God. Maybe Rebecca had already made the first move when she changed her seat. Maybe she made the second move by asking me to go to the mall. I rubbed my forehead when I realized she had probably already made the third move by asking me to go to Bruster with her. How many more hints did I need?

I guess I hadn’t said anything while these thoughts sloshed through my brain because Missy said, “Hey, Squirt, you still there?”

“Yeah, sorry. I’m just...I don’t know. I’m new at this.”

Missy laughed. “It’s scary, liking somebody when you don’t know if they feel the same way.”

Missy then started to tell me about a new guy she was seeing, but she used definite pronouns this time. “His name is Brandon. He’s a chemistry major. He’s a junior, too.”

Travis and Gail came back to the car knocking me out of my thoughts. Travis lifted the grocery bag. “We scored,” he said triumphantly. He put the brown grocery bag filled with what looked like two six packs of beer on the seat next to me.

“Cool,” I said. I hated beer, but everybody went to Bruster to drink beer, so that’s what we were going to do, too.

From the passenger seat, Gail said, “The cashier hardly looked at Travis. She just glanced at the ID.” She gazed at Travis with such admiration that once again I felt like a voyeur, a spy, a fifth wheel. When Travis got in, closed the driver’s side door, and looked back at Gail the same way, I decided that, yeah, I was intruding. Gail only asked me to tag along because she felt guilty about spending so much time with Travis and not with me.

“Hey, guys,” I called from the backseat. “You know what? I don’t feel so hot all of a sudden. Maybe I should go home.”

“Oh, Devon.” Gail turned full around to look at me. “Are you sure? Do you want us to go back in and get you something? Aspirin?”

“No, I’ll be okay. I need to go home, I think.” I didn’t like lying to her, but I would have been uncomfortable hanging out in the backseat knowing they wanted to be alone together.

“Okay,” Gail said. “If you’re sure. We’ll try again another time.”

Travis drove the couple of miles back to my house and dropped me off. Before he backed out of the driveway, watched Gail lean over and give him a long kiss. Yup, I’d definitely read the signs right. Was I reading Rebecca’s signs right?

Chapter Six

Stranded

I BRUSHED MY hair in front of the bathroom mirror debating whether to wear it up or down. Down, I decided. Rebecca wouldn’t see much of me in Jessie’s dark car anyway, so why bother.

I looked at myself for an extra second in the mirror. Grandma always said I was pretty. I wasn’t so sure, but at least I had a good nose—kind of straight, not too big and not too small. Okay, so maybe I had one good feature, but you couldn’t just walk around telling people to look only at your nose, that would be weird. I wondered if Rebecca liked my nose.

Gail called earlier in the day and told me she was sorry I had to go home the night before. I think she missed the closeness we used to have. I did. I missed hanging out with her like we used to, but I guess things were changing for both of us. When she asked me what I was doing that evening, I lied. I don’t know why I lied, but I told her I was going to stay home and work on newspaper stuff. For some reason I didn’t want to tell her I was going to hang out at Bruster with Rebecca.

I didn’t know how to tell Gail I was gay. I’d have to tell her eventually, and maybe after she got over the shock, she could give me advice about Rebecca. I’d probably tell Missy first, though, and see how that went. I wasn’t sure now if Rebecca’s signs were signs at all, and I didn’t want to scare her away.

I put the hairbrush down and stood back. So far so good, but I only had a half hour before they came to pick me up, and I still had to figure out what to wear. I wish we didn’t have to hang out in a car in November, but we had nowhere else to go. We’d already done the mall thing, so Bruster was next.

I went into my room and pulled out a pair of black jeans, my black cowboy boots that pinched my toes a little, and a green turtleneck sweater. Actually, the sweater was Missy’s but she hadn’t taken it to Plattsburgh, so I figured she wouldn’t mind if I borrowed it this once.

I scurried out of my robe and dressed in record time. Dad was on a thermostat kick again, so the house was arctic. I couldn’t risk frostbite before my date with Rebecca, or I’d never know if she liked me. I scolded myself. This wasn’t a date. This was just hanging out with some new friends from school.

I checked myself one last time in the mirror and put my wallet in my back pocket. I didn’t think I’d need money, but I had ten bucks—next week’s lunch money. I was headed out my bedroom door when I noticed my robe on the floor. I turned on my heels, picked up the robe, and hung it in the closet, which was weird because I usually left my clothes on the floor and then Missy or Mom would yell at me. For some reason I felt like picking it up. I guess I was thinking that Rebecca probably would have picked up her robe, so I should, too.

I made one quick stop in Grandma’s room and picked up my favorite snow globe. I shook it hard, and watched the snow settle over the Empire State Building. “Wish me luck tonight, Grandma. I want Rebecca to give me a sign.” I put the snow globe back on the shelf in exactly the same spot I’d taken it from.

I practically skipped out of Grandma’s room, down the hall, and down the steps to the window by the front door. I breathed a sigh of relief. They weren’t here yet.

I jumped when my mom spoke.

“Are your new friends here?”

“You scared me, Mom.” I sat on the couch next to her armchair. “No, they’re not here. Rebecca said they’d be here at seven.”

“Now, who are these girls again?” She took her reading glasses off and put down her book.

“They’re the same girls I went to the mall with last weekend. Rebecca is Mr. Washington’s daughter. You know— the funeral director?” I whispered the last out of respect. I didn’t want to remind my mom about our recent sadness. “A couple of Rebecca’s friends are going, too.”

“Okay, but don’t stay out too late. With your dad working overtime, I don’t want to have to worry about both of you.”

“I won’t be late. Don’t worry, Mom.”

A car horn blared from the driveway, and my heart thumped into my throat.

“Oh, that’s them,” I squeaked and hoped my Mom didn’t pick up on my nerves.

I grabbed my hooded sweatshirt out of the closet, threw it on, and then put my jean jacket on over that. I yanked open the front door and was about to bolt outside when my mom said, “Do you have your keys?”

I smacked the front pocket of my jeans. “Yup.”

“Cell phone?”

I reached into the inner pocket of my jean jacket and felt the familiar rectangular shape. “Yup.”

“Do you need money?”

“Nope. Thanks.” I smiled. “I’ll see you later, Mom”

I bolted out the front door before she could ask me any more questions and slammed the door harder than I meant to. I heard her call, “Have a good time.”

Oh, I would. I would if Rebecca gave me another sign. One that I knew was real. Jessie’s dark blue Ford Focus idled in the driveway. I melted when I saw Rebecca’s bright smile in the front passenger seat. She had her hair pulled back into a ponytail, but flipped up with a barrette to keep it off her neck.

I opened the back door behind Rebecca, and as I got in, Natalie slid over behind Jessie. I shut the door quickly to keep out the cold.

Rebecca turned all the way around to face me. “Hey, Devon.”

“Hey.” I smiled back at her, but then I let my smile include Jessie and Natalie, too. “Thanks for picking me up.”

“It’s cool.” Jessie put the car in reverse. She backed the car out of the driveway and then headed down my street in the direction of Bruster Park.

I wasn’t sure what was going to happen that night, but I found out soon enough it involved some kind of light beer from Milwaukee because Jessie handed me a bottle from the front seat, and Natalie handed me an opener.

“Oh, okay.” I took both the beer and the opener. I wasn’t a beer drinker, but I was hanging out with Rebecca and her friends and whatever they did, I’d do.

Jessie looked at me for a second. “Just keep it down, so the cops won’t see.”

“Oh, yeah. Okay.” I popped the top and took a sip. Nope, I still didn’t like the taste. I’d probably nurse this one all night if I could get away with it.

The car got quiet at that point, and I sensed that maybe they weren’t sure what to talk to me about. I cleared my throat. “So, you guys had a game today, right?”

“Scrimmage,” Jessie said as if I should know the difference between a game and a scrimmage. Which, honestly, I should have known since I was a sports editor.

“What’s the difference?”

Natalie said, “A scrimmage doesn’t really count. Coach tries out all kinds of lineups to see which ones work best. But,” she clapped Jessie on the shoulder, “we won!”

Jessie punched the air with her beer. “That’s right! Get used to it.”

“We’re unstoppable,” Natalie added.

I decided to stay on the basketball topic. “Your first real game is Friday?”

“Yeah.” Jessie took a swig of beer. “The day after Thanksgiving.”

“I’ll have to check it out.” I probably said it with too much enthusiasm, but I was trying to make peace with Jessie.

Rebecca turned to face me. “We’re hosting the Grasse River Turkey Tournament, and we’re supposed to win the whole thing.”

“S’right.” Jessie saluted Rebecca with her beer. So much for keeping the beer out of sight from the cops.

“A tournament?” I asked. “How many teams?”

Natalie said, “Just four. Us included. It’s a preseason double-elimination tourney, and we play teams we won’t ever see again. These games’ll count in our overall record, but not in the St. Lawrence League. We should be,” she clapped Jessie on the shoulder again, “at least three and oh on Saturday.”

“Damn straight.” Another beer salute from Jessie. That rule about keeping the beer out of sight must have been for everybody else.

I felt stupid because I didn’t know a lot about sports, so right there in the backseat of Jessie’s car, I decided that I needed to become a major fan of every girls’ sports team at school and go to as many games as I could. I didn’t want Mrs. Gibson to think she’d made a mistake promoting me to girls’ sports editor. Friday night’s basketball game seemed like a good place to start. Oh yeah, Rebecca would be there, too.

The tires crunched the gravel as Jessie pulled into Bruster Park. She found an empty parking spot near the softball backstop. One time last summer when Mom, Dad, and I drove past Bruster, I saw a whole bunch of women in softball t-shirts hanging out in the parking lot. At the time, I thought those women could be like me. Some had short hair, and I remember wanting desperately to go back. I wasn’t into softball at all and couldn’t figure out how to get back to the field without raising suspicion. I didn’t have a driver’s license, so I couldn’t just borrow the car. I couldn’t ask my mom to drop me off because what was I going to say? “Mom, I want to go to Bruster Park, so I can check out some gay girls.” Yeah, right. I guess I could have asked Missy to drop me off, but I wasn’t ready to come out to her then, either. I could have jogged there, but Bruster was about five miles away from home and a ten-mile run wasn’t that appealing. The biggest thing stopping me, though, was that I didn’t know what I would do once I got there. I mean, there was no way I’d ever get up enough nerve to talk to anybody.

I heard myself sigh as if from another life and hoped nobody heard me because I didn’t want them to think I was nervous or anything.

Jessie turned off the engine and the heater went off with it. Even though the car was still nice and warm, the cold would seep in pretty quickly.

“Hey, Devon.” Jessie leaned back against the driver’s side door and faced me.

“Yeah?”

“How’s that beer going down?”

I had forgotten about it, actually. “Oh, good.” I tipped the bottle and took a sip.

“Cheers.” Natalie clinked her bottle against mine.

“Tchine!” I said back.

“À ta santé, aussi.” Rebecca said to Natalie and me in the backseat and tipped her bottle in salute.

“Toi aussi, à ta santé,” I said back at her. Good health was a nice toast to make.

“Oh, don’t start that French shit,” Jessie said. “You know I don’t understand it.”

“Me, neither,” Natalie added.

“Excuse-moi,” Rebecca said in French, but then laughed.

“Yeah, we’re sorry.” I suppressed a grin.

“Whatever,” Jessie said sounding dismissive. “I asked how you liked your beer because everybody has to chip in.”

I felt like such an idiot because I hadn’t offered to give her any money. “Oh, I’m sorry. Of course, I’ll chip in. How much?”

I reached into my back pocket knowing I only had the ten.

Hopefully, she’d have some change.

“Ten,” Jessie said with a definite challenge in her voice.

“Ten? For what?” I blurted before I could stop my mouth from engaging. That was my lunch money for the next week. “I don’t think—”

“You special or something?” Jessie interrupted. “We all pitched in ten bucks. You don’t think you have to put in the same?”

“Here.” I handed her the last of my money. What I was going to say was that I didn’t think I’d have more than one beer, but I decided to enjoy my ten dollar beer, so I wouldn’t appear confrontational in front of Rebecca, and I vowed for real that this would be the absolute last time I would hang out with Jessie. Period. Even if it meant I couldn’t hang out with Rebecca anymore.

Jessie put my money in her pocket. “Everybody’s equal here,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. I think she was trying to tell me that everything was going to work out between us as long as I understood that she was in charge.

I tried to keep my voice even as I responded, “Hey, no problem. I should have offered to pay my share right away.” Which was probably about fifty cents not ten freakin’ bucks! I shouted in my head.

Jessie saluted me with her beer and then drained it. She handed the empty bottle to Natalie who put it in a P&C grocery bag on the floor. Jessie popped open a new one and held it out toward me. “Ready for another?”

“No, I’m good.”

Natalie put her own empty bottle in the bag, and Jessie handed her a full one from the stash in the front seat.

Rebecca turned to me and asked, “So, how’s the newspaper going?”

Thank God somebody changed the subject. At least I had one ally in the car. “Great,” I said. “The field hockey team’s undefeated, and they’ll probably make it to states.”

“Just like we will.” Jessie clinked bottles with Natalie.

“Oh, yeah,” Natalie agreed. She turned to me. “Do you write all the articles?”

“Oh, God, no. I’m just the editor. I mean, I might write one or two, but I check all the articles for grammar, length, and content. I’m writing the winter sports previews, though, which includes your basketball team.” So you guys should treat me better!

Rebecca said, “Sounds like a lot of work.” She gulped down her last swig of beer and handed the empty bottle to Natalie. Jessie popped open another one for her in an instant. Rebecca smiled at Jessie and said, “Thanks,” which stabbed me right in the heart. I didn’t want Rebecca to smile at Jessie that way. Only me.

We spent the next hour or so talking about school and college plans. I got the distinct feeling that Natalie was Jessie’s number one fan because she agreed with everything Jessie said and was a master at stroking Jessie’s already over-inflated ego.

Jessie started up the car and put the heater back on. Thank God because my hands were starting to become icicles. I almost wished I’d worn a scarf and brought gloves, but no way was I going to look like a dork in front of Jessie.

I was amazed at how many beers Jessie, Natalie, and even Rebecca drank. I still had the first one Jessie gave me over an hour ago. Although I had managed to choke down about three-quarters of it, each swallow was a struggle.

Jessie was in the middle of about her nineteenth story about her basketball prowess when Rebecca announced, “I have to go to the bathroom.”

Jessie seemed annoyed at having her story interrupted and gestured toward the woods. “You know where to go, babe.” The irritation in her voice was clear.

“Come with me?” Rebecca pleaded.

“Nah. It’s too cold, and I’m not done with my beer.” Jessie turned up the car heater to full blast.

Rebecca turned to me with pleading eyes. I offered before I could stop myself. “I’ll go with you.”

“Okay.” She opened her door.

I didn’t dare look at Jessie because I was afraid she’d flash me one of those evil looks or something. I flung open the back door and jumped out of the car in a flash. I held onto my beer, so I could dump out the rest of it in the woods somewhere.

Rebecca said to Jessie, “We’ll be right back.”

As she shut the passenger door, Jessie barked, “Just hurry up.”

I got white hot angry with Jessie at that moment. I couldn’t believe how badly she treated Rebecca. If I were best friends with Rebecca, I’d never yell at her or brag about how great I was or steal ten dollars from her friends. I’d throw rose petals at her feet and go wherever she wanted to go.

“This way.” Rebecca beckoned and headed toward the stand of pine trees behind the softball field. “I hate coming out here in the dark by myself.”

I fell in step with her. “Yeah, it’s kind of creepy out here.” She picked her way down the trail as if she’d done it a few hundred times before.

“Thanks for coming with me.”

“No problem. I needed to walk around, anyway.” That was a big fat lie, but I had to say something, and I couldn’t tell her that I just wanted to be alone with her.

“Thanks.” She was about to say something else, but she stumbled on the pathway. “Whooey,” she laughed. “Some graceful dancer I am. Too many beers, I think.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Hey, stop here. I’m going over...” She swayed as she pointed farther up the path to a dark stand of trees. “...there. Just give me one little second while...you know.”

“Okay.” I turned away and moved behind some trees, so Jessie couldn’t see me from the car. I poured my flat beer out on one side of the path, but put the bottle in my coat pocket. Once we got back in the car, I’d throw the empty bottle into the bag at Natalie’s feet.

After a couple of minutes, Rebecca made her way back. When I heard her behind me, I turned. Good thing I did because she stumbled and fell against me. I caught her, so she wouldn’t fall.

“Whoops.” She leaned heavily on me. Her head came to rest against my shoulder but her arms hung loosely by her sides as if she didn’t want to go too far and actually hug me.

“Are you okay?” I had to put my arms around her waist, so we both wouldn’t fall. I leaned my head back to look at her face, but her eyes were closed. My heart was pounding so hard, I was sure she could hear it. “Rebecca?” I should have been ecstatic that I had her in my arms, but I was afraid she had passed out or something.

Her eyes opened up one at a time. She picked her head up off my shoulder, but she didn’t pull away. She flashed me that smile, the one that made me melt. She reached up and put the palm of her hand flat against my cheek. Her hand was cold, but it made me oh so warm. I couldn’t decipher the look in her eyes, but the sadness in them was unmistakable.

She said, “Tu es si belle, Devón. Si belle.”

I almost forgot to breathe. She thought I was beautiful. I swallowed hard and couldn’t think of a single thing to say. I wanted to kiss her so bad, and I would have if she hadn’t pulled way.

“C’mon,” she said. “Jessie the great is waiting.” She walked up the path in front of me, but I couldn’t get my feet to move. I was dizzy with confusion. What did it mean? Maybe Rebecca had just given me that sign I wanted. I tried to hide my returning perma-grin because I couldn’t get back in Jessie’s car with this smile plastered on my face. She’d know in a second.

I finally got my feet moving, but I stopped at the edge of the trees and watched as Rebecca got in the car. I took a few deep breaths and made my way toward them, but before I got to the lot, Jessie slammed the car into reverse and tore out of the parking spot.

“Wait! Jessie!” I yelled and ran toward the car, but as Jessie put the car in drive, she jabbed her finger at me and shook her head slowly as if to say there was no way I was getting back in her car. She gunned the engine causing gravel to fly everywhere. The car screamed out of the parking lot, and I stood helpless as it disappeared from view.

What just happened? Was this a joke? I had faith that Rebecca wouldn’t let Jessie leave me stranded in the cold, so I walked back to the edge of the parking lot and sat on the guardrail. When the cold started to penetrate my bones, I got seriously pissed. How could Rebecca let Jessie leave me stranded like that? Or maybe, and I could barely bring myself to think it, maybe Rebecca had a part in it.

I bolted off the guardrail feeling like an idiot for waiting. I threw the empty beer bottle from my pocket into the trash barrel and started the five-mile trek home in tight boots trying to figure out what had just happened.

Chapter Seven

Lone Wolf

FOR SOME STRANGE reason, I didn’t have any lunch money on Monday. Maybe because I had to pay ten bucks for one horrible beer on Saturday. I pulled out my ham sandwich and baby carrots and laid them on top of my brown paper bag. I couldn’t trade with Gail because she and Travis snuck off school property to go to Subway. I said, “No, thanks,” when Gail asked if I wanted to go with them. I told her I didn’t want to get in trouble, but I really just wanted to see Rebecca. On one hand, I was happy that we only had school on Monday and Tuesday that week because of Thanksgiving break, but on the other hand I wouldn’t be able to see Rebecca for two whole days until I saw her on Friday at the girls’ basketball game.

I sat alone at my cafeteria table trying to look comfortable by myself like a lone wolf or something, secure and confident with my solitary status. I’m not so sure I was pulling if off because I felt like a loser sitting there without friends. I snuck peeks at Rebecca every now and then, but couldn’t make eye contact with her. I was pretty sure she was avoiding me on purpose, even though we had already cleared up the misunderstanding about Bruster.

On Sunday morning, Rebecca texted me around 10:00 asking me to call her when I got a chance. I wanted to call her back right away, but decided to make her wait. Those five minutes were agony for me, but I finally relented and called her back. She apologized over and over for leaving me. I still had a heavy heart about what happened, but she reassured me she had no part in it. She thought I was with them when Jessie pulled out of Bruster. She told me she’d closed her eyes and fallen asleep as soon as she’d gotten in the car. She said she didn’t usually drink that much beer and felt kind of dizzy, so she had to close her eyes. She didn’t even wake up when Jessie dropped off Natalie. When she woke up later, as Jessie pulled back into Bruster, she was confused that Natalie and I were gone. Jessie told her she’d dropped us both off while Rebecca slept.

I took another bite of my sandwich and tried to spy on Rebecca at her table, but all I could see was Jessie’s back. Jessie hated me, I just knew it. I mean, the Bruster Park disaster was proof enough, but then it was written in stone after Rebecca told me what Jessie said.

“What did she say?” I had asked Rebecca on the phone on Sunday.

“Well...” Rebecca hesitated as if she regretted bringing it up.

“You can tell me,” I said to her. “I won’t be mad. At least not for too long.”

Rebecca laughed. “Well, just before Jessie and I left Bruster for the second time, she said she didn’t know why we were hanging out with some white girl.”

“Some white girl?” Did Rebecca see me this way, too? As just some white girl?

“I’m sorry, Devon. She can be a jerk sometimes. The mall last weekend? That was just a bad idea.”

Since Jessie was the one who abandoned me at the park, not Rebecca, I decided to forgive her. “I’m just glad I could hang out with you last night.” Even though she couldn’t see me turning red, I hoped she knew I was giving her a sign.

She didn’t say anything for the longest time, so I thought maybe my cell phone had dropped the call. I held the phone out and looked at the display. The seconds were ticking up, so I knew we were still connected. “Rebecca?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

She sighed into the phone and said, “Yeah,” with such resignation in her voice that my heart lurched. I wanted so badly to crawl through the cell phone tower and hug her. I wanted to make everything okay for her. She continued. “When Jessie said something about leaving the white girl to fend for herself, I badgered her until she confessed about ditching you at Bruster. I was so mad at her that I think she kind of felt bad about leaving you.”

Just kind of? I thought sarcastically.

“When I couldn’t get you on your cell phone—”

“I never turned it on last night.”

“Oh, that’s why I couldn’t get you. I made Jessie get out of the car and help me look for you.”

“You looked for me?” My heart smiled. I’m sure she felt it all the way to her house.

“Of course. Did you think I’d just leave you there?” She didn’t wait for me to answer and added, “You were already gone.”

“I walked five miles.” I wasn’t going to let her off the hook that easily.

“I know, Devon, I know. I’m sorry. I made Jessie drive slowly to your house. I looked for you the whole way. When I saw the light on in your room, I...” she hesitated, and I couldn’t help wondering how she knew which room was mine. I was about to ask, when she said, “I was so relieved when I saw you come to the window and look out. I would have killed Jessie if something had happened to you.”

I remembered looking out the window. I was looking toward Bruster Park totally defeated that she had abandoned me. I had no idea she had been down below in Jessie’s car. “I ran some of the way home. That was hard with tight boots.” I paused for a minute to let that sink in, but then I felt bad, so I added, “I could have called my parents if I needed to.”

“Are you in trouble?”

“With my parents? No, I wasn’t close to being late or anything.”

“I’m glad you’re okay. I’m sorry about Jessie. She’s just...”

“Just what?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Possessive, I guess.”

Possessive? They had to be going out. I was sure of it now.

She said she had to go, but I think she wanted to hang up because she was kind of embarrassed by what happened. I told her I’d see her at school the next day.

As I sat alone in the cafeteria, I couldn’t help feeling as if everyone had abandoned me. Grandma died, Gail ditched me for Travis, and now, even before Rebecca and I had a chance to become friends, that stupid Bruster thing happened. How could Rebecca be friends with a jerk like Jessie, anyway? I snapped my baby carrot in half and almost laughed out loud at the violence of it. I could see the headline. “Lone Wolf Tortures Carrot: Vegetarians Outraged.” At least there was no one around to watch as I wallowed in self-pity.

I SAT IN the back of the French class hoping Rebecca would sit next to me. To my relief, she didn’t hesitate and plopped down in the desk next to mine.

“Bonjour, Devón.”

“Bonjour,” I said back.

She looked at me with apology in her eyes and then smiled in a way that told me she was still sorry about the disastrous event at Bruster Park on Saturday.

Mme Depardieu started the class. “Get out your vocabulary, please.”

I looked away and got out my French homework hoping Rebecca and I could still be friends.

Mme Depardieu called on students one at a time. Half of me paid attention to the vocabulary lesson while the other half went back to Bruster. I wondered if Rebecca falling into my arms was the life-changing moment I hoped it was. Life-changing moments should be remembered. The warmth created by Rebecca’s hand on my cheek was one of those moments. Wasn’t it?

Mme Depardieu brought me back from Bruster by asking me a question. “Devón, donnez une définition du mot ‘cottage’ s'il vous plaî.”

Since I hadn’t really been paying attention, I got lucky that Mme Depardieu gave me an easy one. “Cottage obviously means cottage or small house. My sentence would be—Un jour, j'aimerais vivre dans un ‘cottage’ au bord d'un lac, entouré par des pins, dans les Montagnes Adirondack.”

“Zat sounds nice, Devón. C’était merveilleux. Okay, Rebecca, please define bateaux à rames.”

“Okay,” Rebecca said. “Bateaux à rames means rowboat. Um, let’s see...oh, okay, I’ve got one. J’irais dans mon bateau à rames jusqu’au cottage de Devón qui donne sur le lac et je l’emmènerai pêcher.”

Mme Depardieu laughed “Très bien, Rebecca. I’m sure Devón would love to go fishing wiz you in your rowboat.” She laughed again and turned her back to the class to get something from behind her desk.

I whipped my head around toward Rebecca. “Fishing? You?” I’d been fishing lots of times with my Grandpa, but that was so long ago I barely remembered it.

“I love fishing. I’ll take you next summer if you want.”

“Sure.” Of course I’d go. I’d do anything if I could do it with her. Playfully I asked, “Lures or worms?”

“Pfft,” she said with mock disdain. “Worms, bien sûr. Fish want real food.”

I nodded my head in agreement. Grandpa and Rebecca would have gotten along just fine. “Okay, you’re on.”

She stuck her hand out. “It’s a date then.”

I reached across the aisle and slid my hand slowly into hers. Her hand was warm this time. Soft. I held on longer than I should have. I even held her gaze longer than I should have. She smiled that sad smile I had seen too often lately and slowly pulled her hand from mine.

“Votre attention, mesdames et messieurs,” Mme Depardieu directed. “Before you get to your reading, I wanted to tell you zat we are set for, euh, zeh power dam trip tomorrow. The buses will be ready to board at 7:40 in the front of zee school. Don’t be late. We should be back for fifth pehriod, but remember to bring your lunches in case we get back late.”

Mme Depardieu then instructed us to get out our textbooks and turn to a short story on page 120. A sketch of a cottage on a harbor in what looked like a fishing village took up about half the page. Apparently, the short story we were about to read would have all the vocabulary words we’d just gone over.

“Continuez à lire en silence. Merci,” Mme Depardieu said. With those final instructions, she sat down at her computer and started typing.

Since we had to maintain reading quiet, I couldn’t talk to Rebecca, but I couldn’t concentrate on the story, either. I’d read it later, after the girls’ sports banquet. Right then I had to come up with something to say to Rebecca in the ten seconds I’d have after the bell rang, and she bolted to meet Jessie at the classroom door.

Luckily, I’d get to see her all day Tuesday during the field trip to the power dam. That was a real plus. Jessie wouldn’t be there, either. Big double plus. I’d have to be miserable on Wednesday and Thursday, though, but I was sure I’d see Rebecca again on Friday night at the basketball game. Maybe I could sit with her. That would really grate Jessie’s cheese for sure because she wouldn’t be able to do a single thing about it.

As I pretended to read, I still couldn’t think of a single thing to say to Rebecca except maybe, “See you tomorrow,” or “Save me a seat on the bus.” I could write seventy million articles for the newspaper, but I couldn’t think of a single thing to say to the gorgeous girl sitting next to me.

To distract myself, I thought about the preview piece I had yet to write about the girls’ basketball team. After the interesting developments at Bruster Park on Saturday, I figured the basketball preview would end up as a sideline. Yeah, and the rifle team would need at least a two-page spread with a full history of the sport along with a bio of each athlete. I hid an evil grin under my hand as I imagined the girls’ basketball preview reduced to postage-stamp size hidden away with the paid advertisements that nobody ever read. I doubted that I’d actually do it, but it sure was tempting.

I sighed, probably a little too loudly, because I felt Rebecca watching me. I looked over, and the smile in her eyes grew as we made eye contact. She wrote in her notebook, “r u ok?” and turned it toward me, so I could see.

I turned to a fresh page in my own notebook and wrote, “Yes.”

“Sorry about Saturday,” she wrote, but then hesitated as if she wanted to write something else. She pulled the pen away with a sigh and turned the page toward me.

“Me 2,” I wrote. “I’m not mad @ u.” Of course that implied that I was mad at Jessie and Natalie. I thought Natalie and I had been getting along great, but even Natalie hadn’t stopped Jessie from leaving me at Bruster.

“U sure?” she wrote.

I decided then and there to whole-heartedly believe that Rebecca had been asleep and had no part in it. If I kept even a sliver of doubt in my heart then I’d never be able to trust her. I wrote, “I’m sure!” And, I meant it.

She put her pen down, sat back, and mouthed the words, “Thank you.” She looked so relieved that it made me feel good to make her feel better.

I mouthed back, “You’re welcome.”

She picked her pen back up and wrote, “Did I fall on u in the woods?”

Her question surprised me. I wasn’t going to bring it up. “Yes,” I wrote, but couldn’t think of anything else to add.

“2 much beer,” she wrote in apology.

“That’s OK.”

“Clumsy,” she wrote and pointed to herself.

I pointed again to what I had just written, so she’d know that I really meant it. In fact, it was more than okay, but I didn’t know how to tell her that. I wondered why she kept apologizing. Another epiphany exploded in my brain. She had really asked me a bigger question, hadn’t she? Oh, my God, she wanted to know how I felt about her falling into me and touching me on the cheek and leaning on me way longer than necessary. That had to be her real question, so I answered honestly and wrote, “I’ll catch u every time!” I pointed to myself. God, I hoped she really meant for me to read between the lines.

MY MOM DROPPED me off at the Best Western Inn, but since the girls’ sports banquet didn’t start for another twenty minutes I decided to call Missy from my cell phone. I walked to a remote area of the lobby and sat in one of those uncomfortable overstuffed chairs. I faced the front door of the hotel, so I could keep my eye on the people coming in. I was glad I was going to sit with the soccer team, so I could find out how they did in their last game and get their final record since the soccer article didn’t have their final results.

I said, “Missy,” into the phone, and it connected to my big sister in Plattsburgh. She picked up on the second ring. I knew she’d have her phone on her. She always did.

“Hey, Squirt,” she said. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I just...” Now that I had her on the phone I didn’t know what to say.

Missy seemed to pick up on my hesitancy. “Does this have anything to do with that person you like?”

She knew me too well. “Yeah,” I said with resignation, “of course.”

“Okay, okay. Listen before you hit me with that, I think I’ve got an answer to that question you asked me a while ago.”

“What question?”

“The difference between seeing someone and going out with someone.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Well, it’s not exactly black and white.”

What an interesting choice of words on Missy’s part. “Kind of gray?” I suggested.

“Yeah, kind of gray. I polled everybody in the dorm, and the consensus is that ‘going out’ with someone is a little more serious than ‘seeing someone.’ Seeing somebody isn’t as intense.

It’s kind of the beginning stages of a relationship, like when you meet for coffee, but not dinner. Or when you text more than talk on the phone.”

“Okay, I get it.”

“So,” she singsonged, “is my baby sister seeing anyone?”

I took a deep breath. “Well, not really. I mean we went out with a bunch of friends like you said, but we’ve never been, like, alone. And...”

“And you’re still not sure if they like you. Is that it?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, okay. You guys are in the same French class, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you have anything else in common?”

“I don’t know.” I heard the uneasiness in my voice, and I’m sure Missy heard it, too.

“Okay, okay, Squirt. What grade is sh—What grade are they in?”

Oh, my God. Missy almost said, “she.” Oh…my…God. Missy knew. Missy really did know about me. I weighed my options for a split-second and figured since I was planning on telling her at some point it may as well be on the phone, so I didn’t have to see her reaction. “You know, don’t you?”

“I wasn’t sure.”

“How long have you known?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a year. I mean, c’mon, Squirt, look at your side of the room. All your posters. You never have any boys calling or coming over.”

“Pretty obvious?”

“No, not really. I don’t think Mom and Dad know.”

“That’s good.”

“And I won’t tell them.”

I gasped. It felt like Missy had just punched me in the stomach. I hadn’t once thought about Missy telling Mom and Dad on me. I didn’t want them to know right now. Or ever. “I’ve got to figure all this out first before I tell them. You know?”

“Yeah, I understand. Look, I didn’t tell them when I first started going out with Kyle. Remember Kyle?”

“Yeah.” I did remember him. Missy was in ninth grade. I was in fifth. Kyle was cute, but I didn’t like him because he never wanted me along when they went to the movies or ice skating. I celebrated when she broke up with him over the summer, but I couldn’t dwell on Missy’s love life because I had to get to my problem before the sports banquet started.

“Missy, how do I know if...if she likes me?” Saying the words to Missy felt weird, but I guess my need for help with Rebecca was stronger than my fear of coming out to my sister. I should have been scared to death, but for some reason I wasn’t.

“Well, first of all, if you don’t mind telling me, who is she? Do I know her?”

“Kind of. Her name’s Rebecca. She’s a junior.” I wasn’t sure if I wanted to tell Missy who she was. I mean, I had just come out to my sister, and now it felt like I was revealing my soul.

“Rebecca...hmm. No, I don’t think I know her. I’m glad you trust me with this. Okay, so do you and Rebecca have anything in common besides French?”

I thought about it for a second and realized that Rebecca and I did have something else in common. “Grandma.”

“Grandma?”

“Yeah, she’s...” I guess I had to tell Missy who she was after all. “She’s Mr. Washington’s daughter.”

“The funeral director?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, oh, oh! I know who you’re talking about. She’s gorgeous,” Missy said as if she were impressed with me. “Her mom is gorgeous, too. Remember the Chinese bun she wore? You could wear your hair up like that, Squirt. I remember Rebecca from the wake. Beautiful skin, amazing hair. So pretty. Way to go, Squirt!”

I was blushing furiously. “Missy, cut it out.”

“Sorry, but, wow! So she’s a lesbian, too?”

Lesbian. Missy had called me and Rebecca lesbians. I wasn’t sure I liked the label. I’d have to give that one a lot more thought, but not right now. I cleared my throat. “I don’t know. I think, maybe. She seems to be pretty tight with this other girl, Jessie.”

“Uh, oh. Be careful. It sounds like she’s already in a relationship. Maybe you should walk away from this one for now.”

“No!” I said way too loudly in the hotel lobby. One of the hotel people looked at me, so I turned toward the wall and said low into the phone, “Missy, I can’t. They don’t have a good relationship. Jessie’s not good enough for her. She doesn’t treat Rebecca right.” I knew I was pleading, but it wasn’t like Missy could make Jessie go away or anything.

“You’re head over heels, aren’t you, Squirt?”

“Yeah,” I said quietly.

“Rebecca has to be the one who decides who is and who isn’t good enough for her. You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” I said with resignation, “I know, but...”

“Hey, nothing says you still can’t hang out with her.”

“I guess.”

“To get to know her better.”

“Right.” I perked up. Now I knew why I had called my sister. She always said the right things.

“So, let’s see. If Rebecca’s family did Grandma’s funeral, maybe you can ask her about that.”

“Ask her what?”

“I don’t know. It does seem kind of weird using Grandma this way.”

I felt instant regret. “Yeah. Maybe we should find something else.”

“No, no. I have an idea. You haven’t been back to the cemetery, have you?”

“No.”

“Does Rebecca drive?”

“I don’t know. Jessie drives her around, so maybe not.”

“Hmm, that could throw a monkey wrench into my idea.”

I was getting impatient. “What idea?”

“With your learner’s permit you can’t drive yourself, but maybe you can find out if she has her license. If she does, and this is the only way this is going to work, ask her if she’ll take you there.”

“To the cemetery?” It could work. Rebecca wouldn’t invite Jessie along on something so obviously personal and private. I looked toward the front doors of the hotel and noticed that the steady stream of athletes had disappeared. “Missy, I’ve got to go, but thanks for your help. Thanks for being cool about, you know, my news.”

“Well, thanks for including me, dork, but now you’re required to give me regular updates.”

“Like after tomorrow’s field trip?” I knew Missy could hear my smile as I stood up and headed toward the ballroom.

“Oh, my God! You’ll be with her all day?”

“Yeah, I know. I can’t stand it, but I’ll fill you in tomorrow.” I took my smile and headed toward the Akwesasne Ballroom of the Best Western Inn.

Chapter Eight

The Field Trip

MY ALARM CLOCK picked Tuesday, of all days, to screw up. Breakfast and lunch would have to be the banana I grabbed off the counter as I ran by. I flung my backpack over both shoulders and ran the entire way to school. I know I must have looked pretty stupid running with my backpack bouncing around, but I couldn’t miss the field trip. Rebecca would be there.

I almost leaped in ecstasy when I saw the two yellow school buses still parked in front of the school. Mme Depardieu stood on the curb looking at her clipboard. I don’t know how I did it, but I picked up speed and sprinted. She looked up and saw me. “Ah, Devón, here you are. We were about to leave wizout you.”

I blew out a breathless, “Sorry,” and leaned over with my hands on my knees trying to catch my breath.

She checked her clipboard. “Pehriod eight is on bus two. Right here.” She pointed to the second bus.

I stood up and took a deep breath. I didn’t realize how out of shape I was. I vowed to run every single day from now on, unless it was like ten below or blizzarding or something.

I stepped up into the bus and knew the chance of being able to sit with Rebecca was miniscule at that point. I just hoped I wouldn’t have to sit in the front seat with Mme Depardieu. I reached the top step of the bus and said, “Sorry,” to the bus driver. The older man reminded me of my grandfather with his snow-white hair and white mustache. He nodded as if he could care less and looked away. As I turned to survey the seating situation somebody yelled, “Way to go, Devon,” and the entire busload of French language students started clapping. I shook my head and took an exaggerated bow. As I did so, I saw Rebecca wave at me. I couldn’t believe my luck. The seat next to her was open.

I high-fived about ten kids on my fashionably late arrival as I made my way down the aisle. I whipped the hood of my sweat jacket off my head and threw my backpack on the floor. Just as I plopped down nonchalantly next to Rebecca, the bus started moving.

I smiled at her. “I can’t believe I made it.”

“Yeah, I was getting worried.”

My heart warmed at the thought of Rebecca worrying about me. “My alarm clock didn’t go off. I had to run all the way here.”

“You ran?”

“Yeah.”

“All the way?”

I nodded. “I’m way out of shape.”

“Not you,” Rebecca said with a look of disbelief.

“I haven’t been on a regular running schedule since...” I paused not wanting to bring up the funeral again, but Rebecca finished my thought.

“Since your grandma?”

“Yeah.”

“It takes time to get your normal routine back after something like that.”

“Yeah, I know.”

She smiled at me sympathetically.

I needed to change the subject fast before I got teary-eyed. “Did you save this seat for me?”

“Kind of. Well, I would have if anybody wanted to sit with me.”

I couldn’t fathom anyone not wanting to sit with Rebecca. God, she was so pretty. She even managed to make her bulky ski jacket look fashionable. Her fuzzy scarf looked so soft I wanted to reach out and touch it. How could the guys on this bus not have a crush on her like I did? “What do you mean?”

“No one ever wants to sit with me.”

“What are you talking about? I want to sit with you.” Now and forever.

Her eyes softened. “I know you do, but...”

“But what?” My stomach fluttered. She knew I wanted to sit with her.

“I don’t know.” She looked out the window at the passing cows.

I was confused, but at the same time I was also pissed that my classmates had hurt Rebecca’s feelings somehow. I leaned in more closely and asked softly, “Why do you think no one wants to sit with you?”

“You don’t know?”

I furiously scanned my brain, but came up empty. “No.”

“Devon, look around this bus.”

I stretched in my seat and looked around at my classmates. They were the same kids I’d been going to school with since forever. A lot of them since kindergarten, but practically all of them since middle school.

“I don’t—”

“You’re looking, but you’re not seeing.” She looked at me with such a serious expression that I felt stupid for missing something that was apparently uber obvious. She pulled up the sleeve to her ski jacket and revealed her forearm. She gestured for me to do the same. She placed her chocolaty velvet skin next to my winter pale skin. She touched her forearm and then touched mine. My heart almost stopped when she touched me, but I tried to ignore it as meaning flooded my brain cells. Her skin was darker than everybody else’s. Including mine. She was the only black kid on the bus.

I looked into her eyes and saw such a deep sadness in them that I felt guilty being white, and that once upon a time I had probably ignored her like my classmates did. I reached over, grabbed her bare forearm, and gave it a reassuring squeeze. I hoped she understood my gesture to mean that I didn’t condone my classmates’ actions and that I was in her corner.

She pulled her sleeve back down, and I did the same. I had no idea what to say, so we both looked at the once green cornfields tucked away for winter as we paralleled the Grasse River on our way to Massena.

I had told Missy there were two main obstacles in reaching Rebecca. First of all, I didn’t know if Rebecca was gay, and second, I didn’t know if she was with Jessie. Maybe I had a third obstacle, too. Maybe Rebecca thought I would be prejudiced against her or something, just because I was white like the rest of the kids on the bus.

The bus passed the entrance to the Eisenhower Lock and headed into the short tunnel toward the power dam. I decided to ignore all my worries and focus on spending the day with Rebecca.

Once through the tunnel, the bus made a right turn onto the narrow two-lane road toward the power dam. Without looking at me, Rebecca tapped me on the arm. “Look! Look! See the bird?” She pointed to a bright red woodpecker on an old dead tree.

“That’s cool.” I smiled at her and was happy she wanted to share the woodpecker with me. I didn’t tell her that the bird was a pileated woodpecker because I didn’t want to seem like some kind of birdbrain nerd. She liked fishing, so maybe sometime I’d talk to her about birds and other nature stuff—like my ideas about the environment. That’s why I was kind of psyched about going to the dam. Maybe we could talk about hydroelectric power and other ways to be green, but I really didn’t care what we talked about, actually, I was just happy to be spending the day with her.

When the bus pulled to a stop in front of the Robert Moses-Robert H. Saunders Dam, I stood up first, but let Rebecca walk out ahead of me. My pulse soared when she looked back at me with a grateful expression on her face. Oh, yeah, I had just scored another point. Go me.

My stomach growled as soon as I walked in the lobby of the visitors’ center because the smell of popcorn was overwhelming. The two busloads of students filled the small lobby. The guides introduced themselves and divided our mass into four groups. Our group was assigned to the far end of the hands-on exhibit room. I was bummed because you could only eat the popcorn in the lobby, and my stomach protested loudly.

We gathered around the picture window overlooking the dam, and Rebecca stayed glued to my side, or maybe I stayed glued to her side. Either way, I was proud to have Rebecca as my friend, and I was sorry that it took the death of my grandmother for me to realize what a great person she was.

Our guide introduced himself as John. He looked like a college guy probably about Missy’s age. I felt bad for him. He probably hated giving tours to high school kids.

John pointed toward the St. Lawrence River outside the window. “This, as you know, is the St. Lawrence. To get to the visitors’ center today you went through the tunnel under the Eisenhower Lock. The reason the ships go through the lock is because the power dam blocks off the only other potential route in this area.”

I remembered the few times I’d seen the humongous ships go through the locks. The water heights changed so drastically on the St. Lawrence River that the ships needed the locks to help them navigate their way west toward the Great Lakes or east toward Québec and the Atlantic Ocean.

Rebecca and I moved closer to the window. I pointed to the dam outside the window and said, “Dam.” She giggled at my joke, but covered her mouth with a hand, so no one would hear. My perma-grin sprang to life.

I remembered from my fourth grade field trip that the dam connected the U.S. with Canada and was a joint project between both countries. If more countries cooperated like that, some of the world’s problems might just get solved. I laughed at myself because I didn’t do this kind of deep thinking during my fourth grade field trip.

John leaned against the wall near the windows. “Before we move on to the exhibits behind you, I want to give you a quick history of the river. Jacques Cartier was a French navigator who had been searching for a way to navigate a western route from Europe to Asia—the elusive northwest passage—and in 1535 he found the St. Lawrence River that led into the heart of the North American continent. When he first discovered the Gulf of the St. Lawrence, he named the northern shore Canada, so Cartier is thought to have discovered Canada.”

I whispered to Rebecca, “Yeah, he discovered Canada like Columbus discovered America.”

She suppressed another giggle and nudged me in the arm with her elbow.

“Ack,” I said way too loudly. A couple of the kids in front of us turned around, and that made us laugh even more. I had to look away from her, so I wouldn’t crack up completely.

John continued. “The name Canada, or Kanata—spelled K-A-N-A-T-A—is actually a Huron-Iroquois word meaning village. The native people, the Iroquois in particular, were surprised to find the big ships as far inland as Québec.”

Rebecca nudged me again, and I shrugged as if to say, “Okay, okay, so he knew about the native Americans,” or should they be called native Canadians? John called them the native people. I decided not to embarrass myself by asking.

“Ah, Québec,” Mme Depardieu said brightly. “C'est là où se trouve le pont de Jacques Cartier, n'est-ce pas?”

When John’s eyes grew wide in obvious confusion, she laughed and said, “Pardon. Québec is zeh home of zee Jacques Cartier Bridge, oui?”

“Oh,” he said with such obvious relief that most of us laughed. “Yes, the Jacques Cartier Bridge crosses right over the St. Lawrence River in Montréal, but Canada doesn’t have the only claim on Cartier. The Cartier State Park, right here in the U.S., borders the St. Lawrence in Morrisville, just west of Ogdensburg.”

Mme Depardieu had the biggest smile on her face that I’d ever seen. John seemed to pick up on the fact that she was a Jacques Cartier fan and asked, “Is this the French class field trip?” He looked all of us over.

“Oui, of course. We’re from Grasse River High School.” Mme Depardieu beamed again, but this time her look included all of us. I took satisfaction in her smile because she was obviously proud of her students. I definitely felt a lot different on this field trip than in fourth grade.

“Oh, Grasse River. Here’s an interesting fact for you,” John continued. “The Eisenhower Lock used to be referred to as the Grasse River Lock.”

That was kind of cool. Our little river was famous. I decided to put my reporter hat on. Maybe I’d propose an article for the Gazette about Mme Depardieu’s annual mecca to the land of Jacques Cartier. I raised my hand high in the air and hoped I didn’t sound like a jerk asking my simple question.

“Yes?” John pointed at me. “In the back?”

“Do you know when the lock was built?” I knew we were at the power dam and not at the lock, but John seemed interested, so what could it hurt to ask?

“Good question. I’ll detour to that topic for a second, but then I must get us back to the power dam stuff, or they won’t let me have popcorn.”

A couple of girls in the front giggled.

“Well,” he continued, “the lock officially opened in 1959. You all remember 1959, don’t you?” The girls in the front giggled again when he looked at them. “No? Okay, well President Dwight Eisenhower and Queen Elizabeth were both on the first ceremonial ship through the lock, but it was New York Governor Roosevelt—Franklin Delano Roosevelt that is— that was the first one to push for the lock.”

I knew that Roosevelt had been the governor of New York State, but I had no idea that FDR, as my Grandma called him, had cared about the North Country.

John continued, “Roosevelt wanted the locks to protect our military ships in the Seaway in the event of war. The cost was enormous, and most people didn’t see the need for a seaway from the Atlantic to the Great Lakes. Roosevelt persevered, though, even from the White House. He died in 1945, but President Eisenhower gave the lock project in Massena the final push, and it was finished in 1959. That’s why the lock is named for him.”

I felt bad for President Roosevelt. Okay, the whole St. Lawrence-FDR Power Project was named after him, but maybe the lock should have been named for him, too or at least hyphenated to the Roosevelt-Eisenhower lock. I laughed to myself. No, that would have been too much.

John smiled at me. “Okay, the history part is finished, and now your tour turns into science.”

He asked us to stay on one side of the exhibit hall and briefly explained some of the hands on demonstrations we’d see along the way. He encouraged us to read the signs and try everything out.

“Try to understand the underlying physics behind each exhibit,” he told us just before he set us free. “Fourth graders turn the knobs and press the buttons without understanding. This is your chance to get it this time. You have about twenty minutes on this side and then once Lynn’s group is out of the way, we’ll continue up the other side.”

Rebecca and I turned toward the exhibits.

“I wish we could have gone to the lock today, too,” I said. “It’s kind of cool.”

“Yeah, it is,” Rebecca agreed and smiled at me in a way that made my knees wobble. “Hey, maybe we can go there next summer. We can watch some ships go through. Jessie hates stuff like that.”

Another point for me. Take that Jessie. Of course, I didn’t say it out loud. I just smiled and said, “That’d be fun, and then we’ll go fishing, right?”

“Absolutely.” She nudged me lightly with her elbow again. “Hey, are you coming to my dance concert?”

“Of course. Three weeks from Friday.” I knew the date of her dance concert by heart.

“Right before Christmas. Ooh, Devon, I’m sorry.”

I had no idea what she was sorry about. We were looking at an exhibit about transformers, but I couldn’t see why transformers would make her apologize. “Sorry about what?”

“I brought up Christmas.”

“Oh.” A quick wave of sadness overtook me, but I fought hard to let it go. “That’s okay.” I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Tomorrow, it’ll be one month.”

“Already?”

“Yeah, and on Christmas day it’ll be exactly two months.”

“Oh, that sucks.” She put a hand on the sleeve of my jean jacket in sympathy. “That’s going to be a hard day for you.”

I saw my opening and silently thanked Missy for the idea. “Yeah, and I haven’t been back to visit her yet.” I looked down, but watched her out of the corner of my eye.

“Oh, you haven’t?”

I almost got lost in her soft sympathetic brown eyes, but I gathered up my courage and threw out the bait. “No, I only have my permit, and I don’t have a car, so...” I held my breath and hoped she would go for it.

“Oh, Devon. You should have asked me. I can drive you. I got my license in September, and if the cemetery’s locked, I can get the key.”

“You can?” I remembered to breathe again and wished I could hug her.

“Of course I can. This Thanksgiving week is a little busy, though. My Aunt Lucinda, my mom’s sister, is coming up from Norwich and spending the whole four-day weekend with us. I’ll be lucky if I can sneak away for the basketball game on Friday.”

“I hope you can,” I said way too quickly.

“I think so. My mom knows that Jessie’s my best friend.”

Best friend. Is that all, Rebecca, or is it more than that?

“Hey,” she continued, “maybe we can go visit your Grandma next week after school sometime. Okay?”

“Okay. That’d be awesome.” I looked away, afraid my expression would betray how I really felt about her. She had to know that I liked her. How could she not? How could anybody who saw the way I looked at her not know I was falling in love with her? Well, maybe it wasn’t love because I didn’t really know what love was yet, but it was definitely stronger than anything I felt for Marcy Berger in eighth grade and all those other crushes I’d had along the way.

We walked on silently, and I pretended to be fascinated by the old photographs of the dams on the St. Lawrence River. I let Rebecca lead the way through the exhibit hall, and remembered that on the night Jessie stranded me at Bruster, I decided that I would follow Rebecca wherever she led, and here I was following her around on our field trip. I couldn’t help the smile creeping up my face.

She stopped in front of a photograph of President Nixon and Queen Elizabeth. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” I looked down at my feet.

“No, c’mon. I saw you smile.”

What was I supposed to say, that I wanted to follow her everywhere? I made up something quick. “I was thinking how Mme Depardieu drags us out here in November because she loves Jacques Cartier, and he had nothing to do with the Seaway. I mean, not really.”

“She’s funny about things like that, isn’t she?” She flashed me a mischievous smile, and the mirth in her eyes made me smile even bigger. “The French III classes used to go all the way to Québec, you know.”

“Oh, yeah?” Oh, what a conversationalist I was. My brain was mush. Couldn’t I think of anything more clever to say than Oh, yeah?

“Yeah, but I guess budget cuts forced us here.” She gestured to the exhibits. “Hey, Devon?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you sure you’re okay hanging out with me today?”

I couldn’t believe she was asking me that question. “Yeah, why?”

“Oh, well. I just…you know.” She pulled up her sleeve again and showed me her forearm.

Of course it didn’t matter to me that her skin color was darker than mine. “Rebecca, how can you ask me a question like that?”

“Well, I don’t want you getting grief from—” She waved her hand toward the other students in the exhibit hall.

“Them? Pfft. Don’t worry about them. Who cares what they think?”

“Well, it’s kind of hard being different.”

Was she trying to feel me out on the race issue? I wasn’t sure, but I tried to make her feel better by saying, “Well, I kind of know what it’s like to be different.” Not that anybody knew I was different since I wasn’t out of the closet yet, but still.

“No, I don’t think you do, Devon.”

“Yeah, actually, I do. Your difference is just a little more, uh, obvious.”

She was about to say something, but then a bunch of our classmates came by, and we couldn’t talk anymore. Even though I had just kind of come out to her, we managed to walk on for a while in what I would call a comfortable silence.

John directed our group up the other side of the exhibits and then to the movie in the big theater after that. I could hardly concentrate on the movie with Rebecca sitting so close to me in the semi-darkness. Once the movie finished, I finally got to have popcorn while watching the video in the lobby. I couldn’t believe it when Monsieur LaFrett, one of the other French teachers, announced that we had to get back on the buses to return to school. It felt like we had just gotten there.

Rebecca and I walked side by side to the bus, but I stepped aside to let her get on first. She seemed surprised by my chivalry, and I couldn’t help thinking that Jessie would have bounded on the bus leaving Rebecca trailing behind. I heard the scoreboard tick over again. Another point for me.

Rebecca headed toward the same seat we had shared earlier and slid all the way to the window. I sat next to her, but sitting this close made my palms sweat and my stomach flip. I tried to act normal, but that was nearly impossible. I felt better once the bus started moving back toward the tunnel to Massena.

Rebecca turned to me. “Did you bring lunch?”

I smiled at her, kept eye contact, and reached down for my backpack. I unzipped the front pouch and pulled out my banana. I held it up, brown spots and all, for her to see.

“That’s it? A banana?” She looked at me incredulously.

“Faulty alarm clock, remember?”

“Oh, you didn’t have time.” Her eyes were an odd mixture of sympathy and laughter.

“Pretty much. I’m lucky I’ve got this baby.” I wiggled the banana and then zipped it back into my backpack.

“I’ll share if you want. I’ve got plenty. My mom made my lunch, and she packed me a huge turkey sandwich on seven grain bread with…” She opened her lunch bag and rooted around. “Oh, a granola bar and some cucumber slices. I could split everything with you, if you want.”

“You would?”

She nodded.

“Thanks.” I got all jiggly inside thinking that Rebecca wanted to share her lunch with me. I had planned to snag half of Gail’s sandwich, but maybe Rebecca wanted me to eat lunch with her at the same table and everything. “Looks like your mom knew I’d be in a pickle today.”

Rebecca made a show of looking in her lunch bag again. “Nope. No pickles, just cucumbers.” She chuckled at her joke, and I laughed with her. It felt amazing.

“Well, that’s okay. I’m not a pickle fan anyway.”

“Me neither. I’ll take the original cucumber instead.”

“Oh, I know. Me, too.” We settled into a conversation about the foods we liked, and it turned out that we both liked to eat healthy, but she admitted a weakness for hot fudge brownie sundaes. For me it was black raspberry ice cream with chocolate sprinkles. We decided that we would pig out at Scoopalicious once they reopened in the spring.

We were almost through the tunnel when the bus swerved wildly knocking me into Rebecca. We both put a hand down on the seat to brace ourselves, and our hands touched. Rebecca started to pull hers away, but before I knew what I was doing, I reached over and linked my pinky with hers.

Chapter Nine

A Sucky Day

THANKSGIVING WITHOUT GRANDMA sucked. Uncle Joe sat in Grandma’s usual spot next to Dad, and I couldn’t help thinking that Uncle Joe had just moved up in the family pecking order. Families changed, I realized. Families shifted. Grandmas died. I squeezed my eyes shut at the dinner table, so I wouldn’t cry in front of everybody. I made myself think about Rebecca and holding her pinky on the bus. That helped me keep it together a little.

Jarrod, my cousin, pretty much ignored everybody, and after dinner he sat in the living room with his headphones blasting some kind of heavy metal music. He was in tenth grade at Grasse River, but even though he and I were related, I never hung out with him. Everybody was always amazed when they found out we were cousins. Mom used to make me hang out with him during holidays, but since he was so anti-social, she gave me permission to retreat to my room after I helped clear the table.

I went up to my room and tried not to notice Grandma’s open bedroom door. When I got to my own room, I left the lights off and flung myself on the bed. I hugged Seymour as hard as I could and cried as I remembered Dad’s grace before the meal. He’d started by saying, “Thanksgiving is a time to give thanks, and I would like to thank the Lord for the wonderful life He gave my mother—” He glanced at Uncle Joe and modified his toast. “—our mother. She lived a good life, and we were lucky to be able to call her Mom or Grandma.” When he said “Grandma” that’s when I started crying for real. I think Missy did, too because she wiped at her eyes a couple times. I bowed my head even more and hoped I wouldn’t embarrass myself by having to leave the table or something. I saw my mom rest her hand on Dad’s wrist while he spoke. I thought that was sweet and was glad that we had such a boring normal family that could comfort each other, but I was also incredibly glad when we finally got to say, “Amen.”

We tried to make Thanksgiving seem like every other Thanksgiving, but I for one had a hard time pulling it off. I kept thinking little things about Grandma like how she hated green bean casserole. She always said the mushroom soup ruined perfectly good green beans. Would my mom or dad ever have to live with me or Missy when they got older, like Grandma had to live with us? Would I say grace someday and thank the Lord for the life of my mom or my dad?

I lay on my bed in the dark and tried to convince myself that Grandma was the reason I wanted to go to the cemetery with Rebecca next week. I knew otherwise because having Rebecca to myself was the major reason. Maybe we could hold pinky fingers again, or, hey, maybe we could even go all the way and hold hands. I laughed, but stopped because I needed to make visiting Grandma my priority. I was kind of scared going to the cemetery because I wasn’t sure how emotional I would get. I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of Rebecca again.

On the bus, I had taken advantage of a good thing thanks to my grandfather-look-alike bus driver swerving to avoid what we found out later was a workman changing light bulbs in the tunnel. Grabbing her pinky was my way of giving her a sign. She was either thinking, “Finally!” or she was thinking “Gross!” I still didn’t know which because Rebecca hadn’t called or texted me since the trip. I could have texted her, but I was scared to death. When we got off the school bus after the field trip, she handed me half her lunch without saying much and then hurried into the school building leaving me behind. By the time I got to the cafeteria, she was already sitting with Jessie and her regular group of friends. I tried hard not to be disappointed as I made my way toward Gail and Travis.

I wished Rebecca would just lose Jessie once and for all and be with me. Don’t people lose their kids at the mall all the time? Why couldn’t Rebecca take her to the mall, drop her off, and lose her?

I rolled my eyes and hugged Seymour as I turned to look at Missy’s bed in the darkness. She came home Wednesday night for Thanksgiving break and told me that she would move back into her old room at Christmas. Between now and then, she and Mom had to figure out what to do with Grandma’s stuff. Mom would probably donate Grandma’s clothes to some kind of nonprofit thrift store or something. I don’t know what they were going to do with her other things. Grandma had a lot of knickknacks. I hoped Mom would let me keep the New York City snow globe, but then again Missy would probably want that back. I’d have to ask Missy before she went back to school on Sunday.

I heard my aunt and uncle and my anti-social cousin Jarrod leaving. When the front door closed, and their car engine started up, I quickly jumped into my sweats, even though it was only eight o’clock. If I went to bed early, Friday and a certain basketball game would arrive much more quickly.

THE GRASSE RIVER girls’ basketball team had a six-point lead over Reuben Rist High School. The scoreboard clock showed 1:52 left to play in the first quarter. When I got to the gym, just before game time, I looked for Rebecca in the bleachers. She was there, all right, sitting with a lot of the same kids she sat with at lunch. I didn’t know any of her friends’ names which made me feel kind of stupid because our school wasn’t that big. We only had about three hundred and fifty students in each class. I waved and tried to get her attention, but I got the distinct feeling she was deliberately ignoring me. Her indifference hurt my heart, and I took the hint and made my way toward the middle bleacher, smack in between the Rist and Grasse River fans.

Every now and then I’d sneak a peek her way, but she seemed totally riveted by the game. Maybe Rebecca didn’t count every minute until she could see me again like I did with her. She also seemed riveted by all the guys surrounding her, too. I knew there had to be somebody at this school who liked her as much as I did. Maybe she wasn’t like me. Maybe I freaked her out when I grabbed her pinky on the bus. Maybe I needed to stop thinking about her and try to make sense of this basketball game.

I tried to take notes on the game, but I wasn’t sure what to write down. The tournament program listed the rosters for each team, and I saw that Jessie was one of two seniors. Belinda Carmichael was the other. I’d interview Belinda after the game, and even though I should interview Jessie, too, it’d be a warm day in a North Country winter before that would happen.

The game was fast-paced, and it was obvious that Jessie liked to run. I hated to admit it, but she was a good player. Natalie played pretty well, too, but Jessie was undeniably the best player on the Grasse River team. I watched as the Rist team missed a shot, and Natalie jumped up and grabbed the ball after it careened off the backboard.

“Nice rebound,” I heard someone say. Oh, so that’s a rebound. I’d heard the word before, but I couldn’t remember what it was.

Natalie threw the ball to Jessie who had taken off running toward the Grasse River basket. Jessie caught the ball on the run, dribbled a couple of times, and bounced it gently off the backboard. The ball went through the net, and someone said, “Sweet lay-up.” When we were at the mall, Jessie had mentioned something about making a lay-up as soft as a baby’s butt, and I guess I had just witnessed one.

When the buzzer sounded for halftime, the Grasse River team was ahead by a score of 32-24. I stayed rooted to my spot on the hard bleachers as the other fans stood up and milled about. I eavesdropped on conversations around me trying to drink in anything and everything basketball. I learned that rebounds, steals, and assists were important statistics. I guess I should have learned those terms in P.E., but since it wasn’t that important to me then, I didn’t remember a thing. Turnovers, I learned, were not good. Someone in the stands thought Jessie had more turnovers than usual. I shook my head at my ignorance. How could Mrs. Gibson think I could be a sports editor? Sure, I knew how to put words together, but it was becoming obvious that I knew next to nothing about sports.

I stood up, stretched, and tried to find Rebecca with my peripheral vision. God, she was so pretty. No, she was beautiful. She had her hair pulled back into a ponytail that lay softly against her red mock turtleneck sweater. Her long skirt and black boots made her look elegant. Her gold earrings dangled deliciously near her neck. I had to look away. God, she made my insides gooey. I looked away for another reason, though. One of the guys sitting near her caught me staring. Maybe I was wrong about her. Maybe what I thought were signs weren’t. Maybe Rebecca was as straight as they came and had only been nice to me because of Grandma.

I sighed and opened my reporter’s notebook. I wrote Rebecca’s name in big block letters and then with a frown put a line through it. I was barking up the wrong tree, I guess. I closed my notebook and settled back to watch the little kids shoot baskets on the court. I closed my eyes against the bright lights and tried to suppress the deluge of feelings about Rebecca. It didn’t work. I couldn’t get her out of my head.

I couldn’t believe how many things I’d done in those fourteen hours since getting out of bed that were motivated by Rebecca. Since I had gone to bed so early on Thanksgiving night, I woke up at five in the morning. I tried to go back to sleep, but after rolling around for half an hour, I got up. Luckily my sweatshirt and running shoes were still on the floor by my bed, so I managed to get dressed without waking up Missy. I snuck out the front door and went for a run in the dark. My mom would have killed me if she’d known I’d gone running in the dark, but I vowed to run every day, and as I ran, I realized that Rebecca was my main motivation for running. I wanted to look good for her. When I got home from my run I turned on the kitchen light and poured myself some of my mom’s healthy cereal—some kind of bran flakes or something. I wanted to eat better because I had pigged out on Thanksgiving.

After my shower, I ironed my shirt and then I even ironed my jeans. Missy was up by then and gave me no end of grief about it. I put my hair up, and then put on my hoop earrings. I was ready to go to the game by 11 in the morning even though it didn’t start until 7 in the evening. Oh, I wanted to text Rebecca so bad, but I restrained myself and channeled my energy into doing homework. That lasted all of five minutes, though, so I switched on my computer. I googled Rebecca’s name, but the only thing I found was a newspaper article about the dance troupe’s concert from last spring. Her name was listed as one of the dancers, but that was the only mention of her. Missy walked in our room when I was doing that, and she demanded her update. When I told her about the pinky thing on the bus, she told me that I had a set of brass ones. I wasn’t so sure about that.

When the teams came back on the court for the third quarter from wherever they had disappeared to, I was relieved because I could focus on something other than Rebecca. I don’t know what the Rist team did to get motivated during half time, but they scored six points in a row while Grasse River scored nothing. I learned that the correct way to phrase this was, “Six unanswered points.” I jotted that down in my notebook along with about a thousand other basketball phrases.

When I looked back toward the game, I was shocked to see Rebecca making her way up the bleachers toward me. Like an idiot, I forgot to breathe. I only noticed it because my lungs demanded air, and then I felt like a bigger idiot for inhaling so loudly. I slid over on the wooden bleacher, so she could sit next to me.

“Hey, at least we’re still winning, right?” I gestured toward the game.

She sat down without touching me. “Yeah, but Jessie had better start playing some defense or we’re gonna get creamed.”

“I have to be honest. I don’t know what I’m looking at.” I shrugged. “I mean, as the sports editor, I should know, but…”

Rebecca laughed that cool laugh that made my insides smile. “What I usually do is find a player to watch for a while.”

And that would be Jessie, I thought sarcastically.

She continued. “Like Belinda. She’s boxing out better than usual and getting more rebounds. I think she’s got more points than Jessie.”

“Okay, you lost me at boxing out.”

She laughed again. “Watch Belinda. No, don’t watch the ball, just watch Belinda.”

Our team was on defense, and Belinda stuck like glue to the tall Rist player she defended. Another Rist player took a shot, and Belinda spun around and stuck her butt in the other girl’s stomach. I raised my eyebrows and smothered a smile, but then she jumped with perfect timing to grab the ball as it bounced off the rim.

“That,” Rebecca said, smiling at me, “was boxing out followed by an awesome rebound.”

“Wow.” I was impressed.

“Yeah, Belinda’s good.”

I opened my notebook, making sure I didn’t open to the page where I had crossed out her name, and jotted down “boxing out.” Rebecca taught me a whole bunch of basketball terms. She told me what a “fast break” was and that the painted part of the court was called the “key.” I learned more vocabulary in an hour of watching basketball than I had all semester in Mme Depardieu’s French class. “Did you play basketball?”

“Well, yeah, I played in middle school, but then the dance thing took over full time.”

“You know a lot about the game, though.”

She laughed. “I know so much because I’ve watched Jessie play since, oh I don’t know, forever.”

Since forever? I swallowed hard. “I just watch the ball go up and down the court.”

She looked at me with her soft eyes. “Yeah, well, when you go to as many games as I do, you have to find some way to keep it interesting.”

Before I could stop myself I asked, “Do you watch Jessie?”

She snorted and rolled her eyes. “I used to.”

I stayed quiet hoping she’d elaborate, but she didn’t. My reporter tricks didn’t work on her I guess. I wished she’d say something about the school bus and holding pinkies, but she didn’t and neither did I.

We watched the game in silence for a few moments, and then she stood up abruptly. “I have to get back.”

“You do?” Even I heard the disappointment in my voice.

“Yeah, my friends are probably wondering where I’ve gone.” She gestured toward her other friends, most of whom were watching the game, but then I noticed a couple of the guys look in our direction.

“Okay.” I didn’t know how to make her stay. She started down the steps when I surprised myself by blurting, “Hey, Rebecca.”

She turned around. “Yeah?”

“Can we go see my grandma? Next week?”

She nodded. “I didn’t forget. I’ll figure something out, okay? See you later.” She turned back around and made her way down the bleachers. I tried hard not to let my disappointment show.

If she had asked me to sit with her and her friends, I would have moved in an instant. It wasn’t like I owned this miniscule patch of bleacher or anything. I think she just didn’t want her friends to meet me, or she didn’t want me to meet her friends. Either way I was confused.

As miserable as I was, I decided to make myself feel worse by watching Jessie play. She dribbled the ball up the court and passed it to Natalie. Jessie then ran through the key past Belinda, and popped out on the other side. Natalie leaped up and whizzed the ball all the way over to Jessie who caught it and took a jump shot. “Jump shot” was one of the new phrases I had learned that night. The ball bounced off the backboard so hard that even a few of the Grasse River fans laughed. I felt kind of bad for her, but at the same time I had a ha-ha feeling about it.

I continued to watch Jessie play as the Rist team dribbled the ball back up toward its own basket. Jessie followed Rist player #12 around the floor, and when the Rist player’s teammate took a shot, Jessie turned to do one of those box out moves. She spun around and made contact like Belinda had done, but then unlike Belinda, she jammed her elbow into the girl’s side. I don’t know a lot about the game, but I was pretty sure that was illegal. A foul or something. It had to be, but the referees didn’t blow the whistle, so maybe jamming someone with your elbow was okay.

Things continued to go bad for Jessie as the game went on. She only scored four points during the entire second half, but lucky for us Belinda played well, and we managed to win. I don’t think I ever would have noticed what a dirty player Jessie was if Rebecca hadn’t shown me how to watch a basketball game. I wonder if Rebecca taught me that trick knowing I would watch Jessie and see how mean she was. Believe me, I already knew how mean she could be.

I walked out of the gym and saw Missy waiting in her car to pick me up. I didn’t know what kind of update I was going to give her because Rebecca had been incredibly confusing. What a sucky day.

Chapter Ten

Brown and Beige

THE KINNEY DRUG store wasn’t crowded on Sunday which was good because I wasn’t in the mood for people. My mom was at the pharmacy getting some kind of prescription filled while I wandered around the store. Missy had already gone back to Plattsburgh, and I needed a distraction from my life, so I jumped at the chance when Mom asked me to go to Kinney’s with her.

I planted myself in front of the magazines and looked at all the covers. No Jessica Alba today. Maybe she’d make another movie soon, and I could get a new magazine. I sighed. No Rebecca either. She had been so weird at the basketball game on Friday night that I wasn’t surprised when she treated me like a chore at the tournament finals on Saturday. She did come over to say hello, though, but she acted as if it was her duty or something. I think she didn’t want to be seen with me because she kept sneaking peeks at Jessie and then at her group of friends as if anxious to get away from me.

I wandered over to the perfume section and looked for anything with a rose scent. That was Rebecca’s fragrance. I picked up a body spray named “Rose Petals.” I squirted a little on my wrist and then rubbed both wrists together. The scent was a little strong at first, but as I waved my wrists around the fragrance reminded me of Rebecca.

I hoped my mom wouldn’t make fun of me because I suddenly smelled like roses. She’d probably wonder what was wrong with me, but I wouldn’t tell her even if she asked.

I wandered around the store some more and found myself in the toy aisle. I remember, once upon a time, when Missy and I played board games. We used to play Clue and Trivial Pursuit a lot. We liked cards, too, like Go Fish and War. I think the last game we were hooked on was Gin Rummy. Even Mom played with us sometimes. Of course, when Grandma moved in, the game changed to Bridge. Maybe I’d challenge Mom to a game of cards when we got home. I smiled at myself because I knew I was just looking for comfort. I’d make a great psychologist someday. Too bad I was going to be an environmental journalist.

As I rounded the corner to check out the toys on the back wall, I noticed a bin filled with tiny stuffed animals. They were cute the way puppies were cute, all fuzzy and innocent. Maybe I should get one so Seymour wouldn’t be lonely. Ah, but then again, he might get jealous. Best not to hurt his little teddy bear feelings. I picked up a panda bear from the bin. She was so cute that I gave her a quick hug and hoped nobody was watching because here I was a sixteen-year-old girl, a junior in high school, hugging a stuffed toy in the drugstore. I was about to put the cutie pie back in the overcrowded bin when something made me stop. Her colors were black and white. Like Rebecca and me. Well, I wasn’t exactly white—more like beige or something. Rebecca wasn’t exactly black, either. She was more like brown, chocolate brown. So, we weren’t actually black and white at all. We were brown and beige.

I decided to buy the little panda bear and started to walk away from the toys, but then I had my nine-thousandth epiphany since meeting Rebecca. Maybe Jessie got mad if Rebecca didn’t hang out with their usual crowd, the black kids. Maybe Jessie told her she shouldn’t hang out with me, “the white girl.” Whatever it was, it sucked because I was pretty sure Rebecca didn’t have a problem with me as a beige-American. Of course, maybe I was wearing rose-colored glasses. Maybe everyone should wear rose-colored glasses, then we’d all be the same color.

I decided I should have this exact conversation with Rebecca someday. I’d give her the panda bear to show her that black and white could coexist in harmony or something just as corny.

ON MONDAY AFTERNOON, I sat in my usual seat in French class, and Rebecca sat next to me, but we barely spoke to each other. I had the black and white panda bear in my back pack, and I desperately wanted to give it to her, but she wasn’t sending me friendly vibes. How could I go into my brown and beige theory if she wasn’t speaking to me? I felt like we were in the middle of a fight or something, but I had no clue what we were fighting about.

Mme Depardieu finished the lesson for the day and after thanking us for our “wonderful behavior” on the St. Lawrence field trip, asked us to start our sentence translation homework. I decided that I needed to talk to Rebecca instead. My French homework could wait until after the rifle match at the shooting gallery later that afternoon.

I listened to the sound of Rebecca’s pen as she did her assignment. I hated to interrupt her, but I had to. I needed some kind of contact.

“Hey, Rebecca?” I whispered.

She looked up from her work. “Yeah?”

“They played a good game against Unionville on Saturday, didn’t they?”

“Yeah. Belinda played well.”

I decided to play it cool and keep to basketball for a while, but I hoped she might bring up taking me to the cemetery. “Jessie predicted it. They’re three and oh now.”

“Yeah, they’re on a roll.”

“Kaiser?”

“What?” Rebecca looked confused.

“They’re on a roll,” I repeated. “A kaiser roll?” I grinned and waited.

“Oh.” She laughed.

I laughed with her. “I got the tournament results into the winter sports preview.”

“Oh, yeah?” She sounded surprised.

“Yeah. I was a good girl. I didn’t dis Jessie or anything.”

“Pfft. She’d deserve it,” Rebecca muttered under her breath.

“What?” I acted as if I didn’t hear her.

She snorted. “Nothing. Hey, I promised I’d take you out to Greystone. How’s Wednesday after school?”

Awesome, awesome, awesome! “Uh, yeah,” I said with as much cool as I could come up with, “that’d be great. Thanks.” Oh, my God, I was busting at the seams.

“I’ll pick you up at your house. It’ll have to be around 4:00, though, because Ms. Adams wants me to rehearse the opening number with the dance troupe beforehand.”

Oh, God, maybe I shouldn’t have pushed her into taking me to the cemetery. I had forgotten about her afternoon dance rehearsals, but I smiled inside. She had made time for me.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ve got nowhere to be.” That wasn’t true, actually. I had a girls’ swim meet to go to on Wednesday afternoon, but I’d skip that and head home to get ready. I wish I could go to the basement dance studio and watch her rehearse, but I didn’t want her to think I was some kind of stalker or something.

Just before the bell rang I saw Jessie standing outside the classroom door. No surprise there. Rebecca saw her, too, and sighed. It wasn’t a “good to see you” kind of sigh, either. It was more of a “can’t believe I have to deal with you” sigh. I perked up. Maybe that was good news for me.

Jessie sneered at me through the small glass window in the door as if she were proud of herself, like she had gotten the better of me or something. I couldn’t hand Rebecca the panda bear now. Not in front of Jessie.

Rebecca bolted when the bell rang without saying goodbye. I stayed in my seat and sighed. If she had any interest in me at all, she would have been friendlier. Glumly, I reopened my backpack and dug underneath my books for the somewhat flattened panda bear. On my way out of the classroom I mumbled, “It’s not gonna happen, Devon,” and threw the bear in the trashcan.

WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON ROLLED in cold and dreary, but I barely noticed the weather as I sat on the living room couch, coat in hand, trying to stay calm and breathe normally. I don’t know why I was so nervous. I guess because I couldn’t figure out how to get my feelings for Rebecca to go away. Since I had finally figured out that Rebecca didn’t want anything to do with me, I felt bad that I was making her take me to the cemetery that afternoon.

She said she’d pick me up at 4:00. At 3:58 I heard a noise outside the house and leaped off the couch to the living room window. Nope, just an old car passing by. I sat back down and watched the clock some more.

I was glad Dad was still at work, and Mom was at the grocery store because I didn’t want them to witness my jitters. They’d think I’d gotten weirder than normal.

I wondered if my mom would pass out over me being gay. What if I confided in her the way I did with Missy? Maybe she’d take it okay, but I wasn’t ready to spill those beans. Not yet. Not before I’d even had a girlfriend. I had no idea what kind of reaction my Dad would have. He would probably follow my mom’s lead. So if Mom was cool about it, he would be, too. If she hit the ceiling, he would, too, and then he’d make me replaster and paint.

I looked at the clock. 4:05. My mind went into a spin. She forgot. She was only being polite. I checked my cell phone for a text from her. Nothing. I groaned in misery, but then told myself to chill out. It wasn’t as if we were on some kind of secret spy mission with synchronized watches or something. Four o’clock at my house could be three fifty two at her house. Maybe her dance rehearsal ran over.

I got up and went into the bathroom near the front door. I looked at myself in the mirror. Yeah, I still looked okay. Hoop earrings—check. Hair up—check. Satisfied with the mirror, I went back into the living room to continue my clock-watching vigil.

At 4:10 I practically leaped off the living room couch like Belinda Carmichael leaping for a rebound when I heard a car pull into the driveway. It didn’t sound like my mom’s, so I was pretty sure it was Rebecca. I took a couple of deep breaths to get my heart out of my throat and snuck a peak out the window. To my astonishment, a hearse sat idling in the driveway. I laughed as I opened the front door.

I waved to Rebecca as she got out of the driver’s side of the hearse. She shrugged and smiled in embarrassment. “Sorry, Devon. Mom needed the other car today, but I figured since we were going to the cemetery, we’d fit right in.”

I wasn’t sure how I felt driving around in a black hearse, but if the hearse held Rebecca then I’d go along with it.

“No problem.” I opened the passenger door and got in. Rebecca got back in on her side. The scent of her rose perfume wrapped itself around me and made my insides tremble. I took a couple of deep breaths to calm my quickening pulse before I closed the door. Being alone with her was going to be way harder than I thought.

I forced myself to focus on the dashboard before I braved looking at her again. The inside of the hearse was surprisingly cozy and looked just like any other car in the front. Of course, all I had to do was turn around to see where the similarities ended. I didn’t dare look, afraid of what I might see.

“Ready to go?” Rebecca put the hearse in reverse.

“One question first.”

“Sure.”

“Is there a casket in here?”

She burst out laughing. “No. I’d never do that to you.” She backed the car out of my driveway and headed toward Greystone Cemetery. “We don’t take the hearse to the food store or anything, but Mom said I could drive it if we just went to the cemetery and back.”

I laughed. “No Scoopalicious? I owe you a hot fudge brownie sundae.”

“You don’t owe me—”

“I know, but I want to buy you one.” Now I’m really sounding like a stalker. I cringed and held my breath not sure how she would react.

I exhaled in relief when she laughed.

“Devon, I’d love for you to buy me ice cream, but maybe we should wait until summer. It’s a bit cold right now.”

“True that. I think they’re closed for the season anyway.”

“Let’s see,” she said as we turned onto Grasse River-Unionville Road. “I guess I’ll be buying you a raspberry ice cream with—Wait, don’t tell me.” She put her index finger in the air as if to stop me from speaking. “Chocolate sprinkles, right?”

“Bingo. Tu as tout bon.”

“You’re good, too, Ms. Journalist.”

I was ecstatic because she had remembered something private about me. Knowing somebody’s favorite ice cream was a very personal thing.

“Hey,” I said a way too sharply, “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“What?”

“Does your family live at the funeral home? Like upstairs or something?”

She laughed again. What an amazing sound. “No, we live in the house next door. Do you remember the brick house to the right of the funeral home as you’re looking at it from the street?”

“Vaguely.”

She smiled. “Yeah, you probably had other things on your mind, but that’s where we live.”

“That’s handy for your family, I guess.”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

We were stopped at a traffic light, and I couldn’t help remembering that the last time I saw the hearse go through this part of town we had been able to run all the lights. It was then that the real reason for my trip with Rebecca started to hit me, and my mood began to match the browns and grays of winter. I got quiet as we approached the big gates.

Rebecca must have sensed me withdraw because she looked at me. “Tu te sens bien?”

I swallowed around the lump forming in my throat. “Yeah, I’m okay, but I didn’t bring anything. I should have brought flowers or a snow globe.”

“A snow globe?”

“Grandma collected little glass snow globes. I should have at least brought flowers.” The closer we got to Grandma’s grave, the more I babbled. I hadn’t been back to the cemetery since the funeral. This time she’d actually be under the ground. I didn’t know if I was prepared for that.

“You’ll be okay, Devon. Ça va.”

She pulled the hearse down the side road leading to my grandmother’s grave. My grandfather’s grave was right next to hers, and I instantly felt bad because I had planned this whole trip to see Grandma. Not once did I think about paying my respects to Grandpa. I steeled myself as I got ready to open the door and decided to rectify my misdeed and include my grandfather in all my thoughts from now on.

I needed to hurry up since darkness fell quickly in a North Country winter. When I opened the door, I couldn’t move. The heaviness of the damp earth paralyzed me as I stared at the ohso-obviously new sod over my Grandmother’s grave. I had been an idiot trying to combine alone time with Rebecca and a trip to see my grandmother. I took a deep breath for strength and got out of the hearse without looking back.

A wooden marker with my grandmother’s name, “Mildred

B. Raines,” identified the grave. The headstone hadn’t been installed yet. I stood on the sod and then leaped off. I had been standing right on her. I was petrified. I didn’t know the right protocol. People in the movies always stood on the grass right in front of the headstone. How could they? I wasn’t sure what to do, so I stood off to the side and looked at the wooden marker. I tried to come up with some kind of prayer, but I couldn’t remember any from the couple of times Mom and Dad tried to take me and Missy to the Presbyterian Church on the corner. I don’t know why we quit going, but I could have used some good lines. I rolled my eyes. The journalist was out of words.

I decided to speak to my grandparents as if they were standing right in front of me.

“Hi, you guys,” I said in a shaky voice. “I’m sorry you had to die. Dad said everyone has their time, but I wish it wasn’t your time yet, either of you.”

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I felt a little self-conscious, so I snuck a peek at Rebecca. She was looking the other way. She stayed in the hearse, probably to give me some space or something.

“So, anyway, Missy let me have that New York City snow globe that she got you, Grandma. I hope that was okay. I promise to take good care of it.” I shuffled my feet on the grass, not sure what to say next. I blurted, “Grandma, I’m sorry you had to leave so soon. Are you with Grandpa? Are you happy? Is there a heaven, Grandma? Do you guys see me?”

If they were looking down at me from heaven, I’m sure they were shaking their heads thinking that I was full of too many questions. I took a deep breath. “I hope you’re okay with Missy taking back her room. I kind of need my own space these days. See that girl in the hearse? Oh, yeah, sorry about coming here in a hearse again, but Rebecca offered, and, well, here I am. Anyway, that’s Rebecca. And…” I wasn’t sure how to come out to my grandparents. I decided to go for it because, well, they wouldn’t be able to answer me, anyway. I sighed. “I like her. I mean, really like her. You know about me now, right? Now that you’re, uh, over there? She’s so pretty, isn’t she?”

I turned to sneak another peek at the hearse, but I still couldn’t see her face. I looked back at the grave markers and touched Grandpa’s headstone. “Hey, Grandpa, Rebecca likes fishing. Uses worms and all.” I nodded my head as if he could see me. “There’s one thing I don’t know how to do, though. I don’t know how to tell her that I like her. If you have any ideas, any ideas at all, let me know. Okay?”

I wasn’t sure what to say next, so I told them I hoped they were having a good time in heaven, but not to expect me up there any time soon. I wiped at the few remaining tears in my eyes, glad I could present a relatively tear-free face to Rebecca.

I opened the door to the hearse and was shocked to see Rebecca crying in the driver’s seat.

“What’s wrong?” I quietly slid into the passenger seat.

She didn’t answer me. She just shook her head and stared out the windshield. She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a bundle of tissues. Her voice was heavy when she said, “These were for you, but looks like I need them.” She dabbed at her nose and then looked out the window again.

“Are you okay? Did I do something?”

“No, Devon, you didn’t do anything.” She sighed and looked back at me with the saddest eyes I’d ever seen. It was a sadness I couldn’t quite describe. I wished I still had the panda bear. That would have made her smile.

“Okay.” I wasn’t sure what to do or what to say. Part of me still wondered if I’d done something to make her cry, while another part tried to wrap itself around the fact that she had brought tissues for me. She had been thinking about me.

We sat quietly in the hearse for a while until she finally broke the silence. “I’m just…Oh, I don’t know. I’m just not happy with certain friends of mine. That’s all.”

I knew instantly. “Jessie?”

She looked at me as if amazed that I figured out who she was talking about so quickly. “How’d you know?”

“I don’t know anything, really. You seemed annoyed with her the other day.”

“You noticed that?”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Rebecca flicked her hand as if knocking away something offensive. “I’m so done with her.”

Done with her? My heart lifted and sang a happy tune, but I squelched my inner rejoicing. “What happened?”

She looked out the window again as if debating whether or not to tell me.

I said, “Look, you don’t have to tell me. I’m just a nosy journalist.”

“No, you’re okay. It’s not you.” She took a deep breath and exhaled like she had taught me. “I think you know that Jessie and I were, uh, close.”

“I guess.”

“I think you know just how close.”

Here it was. Rebecca was coming out to me. I used Missy’s line. “I wasn’t sure.” I kept quiet hoping she’d elaborate.

She searched my face probably trying to gauge how much information to give me, how much she could trust me.

“Off the record,” I said with a smile.

She laughed and, as usual, that made me smile even more.

“Okay, deal. Jessie and I have been going out for over a year. Last year, September.”

“Oh,” was all I could say. I had finally met another person like me, and I was spellbound. Who else was like us? “Is Natalie...you know?”

“No, she’s not. She’s in love with Jessie’s younger brother. That’s why she hangs around Jessie so much.”

“Does she know about you guys?”

“I think so, but it didn’t seem to bother her.”

I decided to reciprocate. “Um, did you know that I was, too?”

She smiled at me, and I was glad she had stopped crying. “Yeah, Devon, I thought maybe you were. You sort of told me on the power dam field trip when we talked about being different.” She made air quotes when she said the word different.

“I remember. Does Jessie know about me?”

Rebecca nodded. “Yeah, she had you pegged before I did.”

“Oh, God,” I said under my breath. On one hand, I was mortified that Jessie knew, but on the other hand Rebecca and I had just come out to each other. Oh, the happy dance I wanted to do, but at the cemetery in a hearse didn’t seem like the right place to do it. I couldn’t help smiling.

“What are you smiling about? Are you happy that Jessie knows?”

“No, no, no.” I laughed. “I’m just glad that I found some of my own people.”

This time Rebecca smiled. “Your people?”

“Yeah, I thought I’d be alone for the rest of my life.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.” She looked at me shyly. “You’re very attractive, Devon, and I don’t think you know it.”

I felt my cheeks flush even more. I looked down at my hands. I’d never thought of myself as attractive.

She put her hand on my coat sleeve.

I gulped. I couldn’t exactly feel her touch on my winter coat, but I started shaking inside. To be alone with Rebecca, to hear her tell me that she was gay and to hear that things were rocky with Jessie—these were the things I had wished for. Now that all of these things had come true, I was scared to death.

She slid her hand down my jacket sleeve and linked my pinky with hers. “You had a lot of nerve doing this on the bus.”

I gulped again. I had trouble swallowing around the lump in my throat. I couldn’t say anything. My heart was beating so fast I thought it might leap out of my chest. This was what I wanted, but I couldn’t move. Where were my set of brass ones when I needed them?

“Rebecca?”

“Yeah?”

“Jessie’s going to kill me if she finds out you’re holding my hand.”

“Pfft. No, she’s not. First of all, I’m not holding your hand. I’m holding your pinky. And second of all, Jessie and I broke up after school today.” She let go of my pinky and started the engine to the hearse. “C’mon, we’d better go. They’re going to lock the gates.”

Chapter Eleven

Flack

THE NOVEMBER/DECEMBER issue of the Gazette had officially been put to bed and even though we pleaded to have a free day, Mrs. Gibson cracked the whip, and we got started on the January/February issue. I decided to feature the girls’ indoor track team for that issue and had a self-imposed deadline of Friday to get the outline done. That gave me two class periods. The deadline should have been an easy one to make, but at the moment, I had so many distractions running through my brain that I couldn’t remember the track coach’s name. How was I supposed to concentrate when Rebecca and I had held pinkies again? Okay, it was only for a few minutes, but it had to mean something. “Didn’t it?” I muttered out loud.

“Didn’t what?” I jumped when I realized that Mike was right behind me.

“You scared the crap out of me.”

“I called your name three times, but you were in space, so I got my passport and traveled out to Devonland.”

I rolled my eyes. “Sorry. I’m a little preoccupied.”

“Understatement.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve just got some things on my mind.”

“Me, too. That’s why I came over here. How’d your first issue go? You didn’t ask me as many questions as I thought you would.”

“I got the hang of things pretty fast. With your help and Missy’s, I was fine.”

“I forgot you could call on your sister. She’s still Mrs. Gibson’s favorite, you know. She talks about her all the time.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m trying to stay out of her shadow.”

“Good luck with that.” Mike smiled. “The paper comes out on Monday. Excited?”

“Terrified.”

“I was the same way when the first issue came out in October. I was scared stiff.”

“You? I find that hard to believe.”

Mike ran a hand through his blonde crew cut. “Oh, yeah. I bet if you ask Missy, she’d tell you she was scared when her first issue came out.”

“I hope I survive Monday.”

“Hey, listen.” He ran a hand through his hair again. “I wanted to know if…if it’d be okay if I ate lunch with you guys. With you and Travis and Gail.”

His question came straight from outer space. I wasn’t sure what to say, but eating lunch with Mike didn’t seem like a bad thing. “Yeah, sure. We sit in the corner by the outside doors.”

“I know,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “I’ll see you at lunch today, okay?”

“Okay.” I watched his retreating back and wondered what had brought that on. Gail. It had to be. She was the one who wanted me to ask him out a couple of weeks ago. I guess when I didn’t act on her command she took things into her own hands. Too bad she had no clue that I was of the gay persuasion. I looked back at my computer screen and decided that even though it might not go well with me being a lezzie and all, I had to tell Gail sooner rather than later, so she wouldn’t try to fix me up any more.

I wasn’t sure what was going to be hardest—getting Mike to back off, coming out to Gail, or asking Rebecca to go out with me. I wasn’t sure what was going on with Rebecca, though, because she hadn’t returned any of my texts. Somehow, I had to find the nerve to ask her out. I had to try, or I’d never know. Maybe I’d ask her to go to the Grasse River Christmas tree lighting ceremony with me. No pressure, just hot chocolate and Christmas carols.

Asking Rebecca out, I decided, was definitely going to be the hardest of the three.

I USUALLY GOT to the cafeteria before Gail and Travis because I came from English right down the hall, but Mr. Hurley, my English teacher, kept us after the bell, so I was later than usual. It would be the first time I’d see Rebecca since we held pinkies in the hearse.

I almost dropped my backpack when I saw Mike sitting at our usual table with Gail and Travis. I had forgotten about him.

When Gail saw me, she stood up and waved frantically. If I’d had any doubts about her trying to fix me up with Mike, they were gone now. I waved back and weaved my way through the quickly filling cafeteria.

I plopped my backpack on the table at my usual seat. “Hey, guys. Hey, Mike.”

“Hey, Devon.” Mike half stood up as I sat down across the table from him.

Oh, God. Mike was trying way too hard. How in the world was I going to tell him that I wasn’t interested, and it wasn’t because of him? How could I let him know that I wasn’t into guys?

I unzipped my backpack and pulled out the turkey wrap with sprouts I had made at home that morning. I decided to start bringing my lunch to school, so I could save up my allowance money for Christmas presents. I wasn’t sure what I was going to get for Rebecca, but I wanted it to be expensive.

Gail pulled her sandwich out from her bag.

“Wow,” I said impressed. “Roast beef?”

“Yeah, Mom went shopping.” She took a big bite. “It’s good,” she said with her mouth full.

Travis and I laughed, and when we laughed, Mike did, too.

Travis said, “Very attractive, honey, very attractive.”

Gail swallowed. “I know. Classy, ain’t I?” She made a face at me and then held my gaze a little longer than usual. I knew what she was trying to say. I let my eyes grow wide, so she would know that I understood why Mike was sitting at our table. Best friends have a way of being psychic with each other. Too bad her psychic abilities stopped just short of knowing I was gay.

Gail smiled back and turned to Mike. “So what are your hobbies?”

What are your hobbies? Oh, c’mon, Gail. I couldn’t believe how much she pushed sometimes.

Mike said, “Oh, well, I run cross-country and—”

“No kidding,” Gail butted in. “Devon runs all the time.”

He turned to me wide-eyed. “You do? I didn’t know that. You’re not on cross-country or track are you?”

“No, no. I just run for health, I guess. Running clears your head, you know?” His blonde crew cut and blue eyes made him look cute.

He smiled in such a way that made me cringe. He thought we were connecting. I had to stop this whole thing before it got too far along. I didn’t want to get stuck in an already awkward situation.

Travis picked up the thread of the conversation and talked about how he got in the zone when he worked out in the weight room. While Travis and Mike talked, I took the opportunity to look down four tables and see if I could catch a glimpse of Rebecca. I saw her usual set of friends, including the guys at the basketball game, but she wasn’t at the table. Unfortunately, Jessie scowled at me as if she’d been waiting for me to look her way. I quickly refocused my attention at my own table.

It made perfect sense, I realized, that she wouldn’t be sitting with Jessie. They had broken up, after all, so Rebecca probably sat somewhere else. I nodded a couple of times during the conversation, but I wasn’t really paying attention. I was searching the cafeteria for Rebecca, table by table by table. I couldn’t remember another group of black kids in the cafeteria, and then I felt bad for my assumption that Rebecca would only sit with black kids. I almost groaned in frustration when I couldn’t find her anywhere.

The conversation at my table turned to college and who our guidance counselors would be when we were seniors. I continued my covert search for Rebecca by searching the tables again, but when she didn’t turn up, I tried to find her with telepathy. That didn’t work, either, and my inattentiveness earned me a kick from Gail under the table.

“What?” I said.

“I said we’re going to the tree lighting tomorrow night. Do you want to go?”

“Yeah,” I said too quickly. I realized too late that Gail wanted me to go with them and them included Mike. My plan to ask Rebecca to go with me to the tree lighting had just gone up in smoke.

“Excellent,” Gail said. “Travis and I will pick you guys up.”

Maybe I could ask Rebecca to go with us since we were kind of going in a group. It was a bad idea, I knew, but I was desperate.

REBEECA SAT STONILY next to me in French. We were supposed to be working on a worksheet, but I needed to talk.

“Rebecca?” I whispered. She looked up at me. “Are you okay?”

She simply nodded, and went right back to her worksheet.

I tried again. “Thanks for driving me to Greystone.”

She looked back at me and smiled politely. “No problem.”

“I’m sorry about your, you know, with Jessie. That can’t be fun.” I didn’t want to say, “break up” in case somebody overheard me.

“Oh, well, you know how it is,” she said coldly and didn’t look at me.

“Actually, I don’t,” I admitted.

She turned her head slightly. “You’ve never broken up with anyone?”

“I’ve never gone out with anyone.” Why the heck did I just admit that? I cringed.

“Devon, I find that hard to believe.”

So, go out with me and change that. I felt my cheeks get hot, but I ignored my embarrassment and boldly asked, “Were you the one who broke up with…you know?” I had been about to say “her,” but caught myself in time.

“Yeah, I did, and it was long overdue.”

“I’m sorry things didn’t work out.” I tried to keep the glee out of my voice, but I’m pretty sure she heard.

Rebecca had been attempting to do her worksheet while we talked, but she put her pen down and finally turned toward me. She looked at me for the longest time as if wondering whether or not she could trust me. Finally, she leaned in closer and whispered, “I got tired of everything being all about her. I couldn’t have any other friends. I couldn’t walk to my own locker by myself at the end of the day. I got tired of doing everything she wanted to do. I never got to see the movies I wanted to see. We always went to some kind of shoot-em-up movie, never a chick flick like I wanted. We always talked about her basketball games, but she never asked me how my dance routines were coming or anything like that. I doubt she even knows the dates of my dance concert.”

“December 18th and 19th,” I said before I could stop myself.

“See?” She pointed at me. “She wouldn’t know that.”

I seemed to have opened up the floodgates because Rebecca went on and on about Jessie’s selfishness. She didn’t even stop venting when the bell rang to end the class. We packed up our books, and I did a quiet happy dance when I saw that Jessie wasn’t at the door. Even though Rebecca said she didn’t like the fact that Jessie escorted her to her locker, I found myself doing the exact same thing. Actually, I had no choice because Rebecca kept talking, and it would have been rude to leave her. As if I even wanted to.

On the outside, I wore my best sympathetic face, but on the inside my stomach did somersaults. Rebecca hated Jessie, and that left the door wide open for me. Didn’t it?

I knew I was getting way ahead of myself, but the first thing we’d do, after the tree lighting ceremony, would be to go to the chick flick of her choice. I wouldn’t even care how sappy it was. Then we’d talk about her dancing until our voices were sore. We wouldn’t talk about basketball or Jessie. Ever.

When we got to her locker, she laughed. “Oh, my God, Devon. I’m sorry. I talked your ear off.” She touched the sleeve of my shirt. “Thanks for being a good sport about all of this stupidness.”

“No problem.” My arm tingled underneath where she still held onto my sleeve. “I haven’t done anything, though.”

“Well, you listened. No one’s listened to a word I’ve said in over a year.”

“Well, I’ve got two good ears.” I pulled on both my earlobes and then instantly regretted my corniness.

She turned from me to work the combination on her locker.

“Hey, Rebecca?”

“Yeah?” She opened her locker and then squatted down to put some books away.

Somewhere I found the courage. “Um, the tree lighting ceremony is tomorrow night downtown. At the fire house. Do you, maybe, want to go with me?” Oh, God, why did I have to make it sound like I was asking her on a date? Why couldn’t I have said something more like, “Hey, Rebecca, want to check out the tree lighting thing tomorrow night?” That would have been so much better, but I had already cast out my line and was committed.

She was quiet for so long that my jaw started to ache from clenching my teeth. I thought maybe she hadn’t heard me. “Rebecca?”

“I heard you, Devon. I, uh…Look you’re sweet, but I can’t.”

A dagger thrust into my heart. I looked around the hallway to make sure no one was within earshot and whimpered, “Don’t you like me? At least a little? Is that why you didn’t text me back?” God, I was pathetic.

“Oh, Devon, no. You’re…amazing, but just forget about me. Okay?”

“I can’t.” Maybe it was too soon after Jessie. Maybe I wasn’t good-looking enough. Maybe I was too much of a journalism nerd. I knew she wanted to leave it at that, but she told me, just the day before, that she found me attractive. I clung to it like a life preserver.

She closed her locker so hard that I jumped at the force of it. She looked me in the eye. “Look, if Jessie—”

“I thought you guys broke up.”

She looked down. “We did.” She didn’t look at me for the longest time. When she finally lifted her head, her hard expression forced me to take an involuntary step back.

She said, “Okay, here’s the deal. I’ve taken a lot of flak for hanging out with you.”

I know my mouth dropped open, but I couldn’t close it.

“I’m sorry, Devon,” she continued. “You’re cool, but I just…can’t.”

“Why? What’s wrong with me?” It felt like someone was twisting my stomach into knots.

Her face softened. “Nothing. There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re one of the sweetest people I know. It’s obvious how much you cared for your grandmother. You’re smart and funny and cute.” She said the word, “cute” kind of shyly. “It’s, uh...Well, they’re saying that I’m not staying in the community, and I’m already condemned for liking girls, even though a lot of the guys think they can convert me back or something. Idiots.” She rolled her eyes. “Devon, I’m sorry, but I just can’t go out with a white girl right now. It’s too much. I like you, a whole lot actually...” She looked down again, and I thought for a second she was going to change her mind, but then she said firmly as if trying to convince herself, “Devon, I can’t.” She looked past me down the hallway. “I’ve got to get to my dance rehearsal. I’m sorry.”

I stared after her retreating back. I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. She couldn’t go out with me because I was white. Even though, and she’d said it herself, she thought I was cute and smart and funny. She couldn’t go out with me because my skin wasn’t as dark as hers. At that moment, I finally understood the word discrimination.

I didn’t have time to fall into a depression because as soon as Rebecca turned the corner Jessie appeared from out of nowhere behind me. I jumped and fell back against Rebecca’s locker.

“What do you—” I started to ask.

Jessie didn’t let me finish. She poked my shoulder with her rock-hard finger and growled, “If I ever catch you alone again, Raines, you’d better make peace with God, ‘cuz you’re gonna need Him when I get through with you.”

Her hot breath in my face made me grimace. I was shaking from head to toe. “Why do you hate me so much? I haven’t done anything to you.”

“As if you don’t know,” she said slowly. Her steel-hardened glare softened for a micro-second, but then her face stiffened again. “All she ever talks about is you.” She slammed her open palm against the locker right next to my head. The sound of metal denting so close to my ear made me whimper which I’m sure she thoroughly enjoyed. When I tried to move away, she put her other arm up blocking my escape. She looked me right in the eye, and I swallowed hard. I’d never been in a fight before, and I didn’t know what to do.

“Just stay away from Rebecca.” She stepped back, but poked my shoulder one last time. She pointed at me with so much fury that I wanted to crawl into the locker digging into my back. She turned on her heels and stormed down the hallway.

Chapter Twelve

Phew

MRS. GIBSON POUNDED the keys on her keyboard so loudly that I couldn’t concentrate. Hiding out in the Journalism room after school on a Friday was getting me major suck up points from Mrs. Gibson, but I didn’t care about that. It was all I could think of doing to avoid Jessie. If I hung out at school long enough, she’d get tired of waiting to beat me up, and leave me alone. Of course, I didn’t know for sure if she was waiting to beat me up or not, but I didn’t want to take that chance.

I redoubled my efforts to focus on the email in front of me. Julia Knight, one of the girls’ sports reporters from the sophomore class, had submitted an article proposal about the history of girls’ sports at Grasse River High School. I’d gotten the email from her on Wednesday, but hadn’t gotten a chance to reply yet.

Wednesday. Yeah, Wednesday had been the good day. That was the day Rebecca broke up with Jessie, told me she was gay, and held my pinky. Three amazing things in my favor. But Thursday, yesterday, that was the day that sucked. It sucked for two reasons. First, Rebecca turned me down flat when I asked her out. She was the first person I had ever asked out in my entire life, and I got rejected. All because I was white. Well, maybe there was more to it than that. Maybe she liked someone else, or maybe she just didn’t like me. That would have been easier to stomach than the fact that she didn’t want to go out with me on account of my pale skin. The second reason Thursday sucked was because Jessie Crowler almost beat the crap out of me.

Rebecca wasn’t in the cafeteria at lunch again, and she didn’t talk to me much in French class, either. Well, to be fair, I was the one doing most of the non-talking. All I kept thinking about was how white I was and wondering how I could work on my tan because maybe she’d go out with me if I wasn’t so glary white. Getting a tan in December this far north was impossible. Sunlight was a luxury we couldn’t seem to afford in the North Country, especially during the winter. God, like my dad, was probably trying to save on the galactic power bill or something, but, c’mon, the shade of my skin wasn’t really the issue. My ethnicity, my heritage, my background. Those were the issues. Rebecca didn’t want me because I was different.

I groaned and tried to shake myself out of my misery because I had to get my head back into Julia’s proposal, finish up, and run home—literally. Julia wanted to write an article about the Title IX initiative from the seventies that had changed girls’ sports in a major big way at Grasse River High School. Title IX was supposed to equalize boys’ and girls’ educations in public schools and that included sports. Julia’s mom, it seemed, played softball at Grasse River in the seventies before Title IX went into effect. Julia said her mom’s team was bused to one of the local elementary schools where they played on a neglected field with a rusty weed-infested backstop. The grass was never cut, Julia wrote in her email. The boys’ baseball team, on the other hand, played on a beautifully manicured field right on the school’s property. The photos Julia attached in the email were incredible. The difference between the miserable girls’ field and the meticulously groomed boys’ field was an absolute crime. What a shame it took a federal law to make things equal. Did people have their heads buried in the sand back then or what? Thinking about the Title IX era made me question whether someday in the future, people would look back at my time and wonder how gays could be treated so unequally. They’d think we had our heads buried in the sand, too.

I went to a lot of girls’ games in my role as sports editor, and those games made me understand why it would completely suck for girls to get the shaft in terms of crappy fields and bad equipment. Girls played just as hard as the guys and deserved fair treatment. If Julia could get people to experience the same outrage I felt after looking at the pictures, two things might happen. Maybe they’d shake their heads and wonder how unjust things were back in the seventies and, more importantly, maybe they would start to think about the inequities everybody still accepted today.

My lofty goal for Julia’s article may have been wishful thinking, but her idea was definitely a good one. I wanted her to flesh it out a bit more, though, to show how Title IX influenced other sports besides the softball team. The January/February issue might be too soon, and the February/March issue would be too crowded with winter sports wrap-ups and spring sports previews. The best issue for Julia’s Title IX article would be April/May. I felt odd making such a huge decision about what went into the newspaper, but Mike told me that editors made decisions like that all the time.

I wrote back to Julia telling her what a great idea her article was and included my suggestions. I ran the spell checker, and then sent it off. I saved both her proposal and my email response in my editor’s folder.

Mike was the one who suggested I keep track of all of my email responses. He said it would save me time later because I could quickly look up what I’d said to whom and when. He was smart. I was glad I could learn from him. I closed up my files, turned off the computer, and got ready to run home, backpack and all. If I actually did make it home alive, I had to figure out a way to break up with Mike at the tree lighting ceremony later on, even though we weren’t seeing each other.

MY MOM CALLED up the stairs to me. “Devon, I think Gail and Travis are here.”

“Okay,” I called down. I checked myself in the mirror. Regular gold posts, hair down, nothing that screamed as if I’d made an effort. I flicked off the light in my room and headed down the hallway. I paused in front of my grandmother’s dark room. “Wish me luck, Grandma. I’ve got to break up with someone before I’ve even gone out with him.”

I took the steps two at a time.

My mom looked up from her book. “Have fun.”

My dad muted the sitcom blaring from the TV. “Be back by midnight.”

“Okay, Dad. See you later.” I snatched my coat out of the closet, threw it on, and headed out the door.

I’d be home well before midnight if I could help it. I waved at Gail and hopped in the backseat behind her. “When did it get so cold? Why are we doing this?”

Gail turned around to face me. “You know as well as I do, dork, that it’s an excuse to get out of the house.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Travis backed the car out of the driveway and headed in the opposite direction of the firehouse where the tree lighting

ceremony was held.

I said, “Hey, where are we going?”

Travis laughed and Gail said, “Did you forget? We have to pick up Mike.”

How could I forget? “Oh, yeah. I guess I don’t know where he lives.”

“Now you will,” Gail said smugly.

Gail chatted away in the front seat about the latest gossip going around school involving one of the cheerleaders and her boyfriend. The shop teacher, it seemed, caught them smoking pot in the girl’s car. I was completely uninterested, but threw in a couple of well-placed “um-hmm’s” and “oh, really’s,” so she’d think I was listening.

We pulled up the long driveway to an old farmhouse. I couldn’t tell in the dark, but I didn’t think Mike’s family worked a farm. Lots of people in the North Country lived in old farmhouses, but didn’t have farms.

Mike bounded out his front door wearing a red plaid hunter’s jacket and a matching red cap, the kind with the ear flaps. Even if I was straight, there would be no frickin’ way I’d go out with Mike if he was a hunter. I think my grandmother would have been more upset with me going out with a hunter than with a girl.

“Hey, Devon. How are ya?” A blast of cold air preceded Mike as he climbed in the backseat.

“Looks like you’re going hunting.” Nothing like getting that right out in the open.

“Oh, I’m not a hunter.” He leaned in closer to me and whispered, “I just like the look.”

“Hey,” Gail barked from the front seat. “What are you two doing back there?”

Oh, please. “Keep a lid on it Marsters.” I nudged her shoulder from the back seat.

“Well,” she said with fake indignation, “be that way, Raines.”

“Cat fight,” Travis hollered.

“Whoo hoo,” Mike joined in.

Gail meowed which made the two guys howl louder.

“Hey,” I yelled. “Get yourselves together. We’ve got a tree to light.”

Mike laughed. “Who’s got the lighter?”

“I’ve got some matches,” Gail said.

“No, no. I’ve got it,” Travis said. “We stop at Stewart’s, fill up a gas can, pour it all over the tree, and then Gail can throw her matches on it.”

“Yeah,” Mike said. “This’ll be the best tree lighting ceremony ever.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “You are all c-r-a-z-y. Certifiable, I think.” I had to admit Mike fit right in with us dorks. I was sorry I had to be cold to him all night.

Gail pointed at the crowd gathering in front of the firehouse. “Look how many people are here already. We’re never going to find a parking spot.”

A church choir began singing from the platform. I checked my watch. “Hey, we still have twenty minutes. Plenty of time.”

“Cool,” Travis said. “I’m going to go around the block and see if we can park at the Big M.”

Travis found an open spot in a dark corner near the receiving platform of the supermarket. We parked and then walked back around the block toward the firehouse. Our breath vaporized in the crisp night air. The tree lighting ceremony was kind of dumb, but here we were with everybody else who lived in Grasse River. As we fought through the throng of people, I had to laugh because once again I was relegated to second-class status. Travis and Gail held hands as they carved a path through the people while Mike and I tagged along behind. I hoped that Mike wasn’t trying to figure out a way to hold my hand. I kept my hands jammed deep into my coat pockets, just in case.

We found a not-too-crowded spot by the nativity scene. We stood around for barely a minute when Mike blurted, “Hey, do you girls want hot chocolate? I think they have some at the firehouse.”

“Sure,” I said. “Thanks.”

Mike smiled. I got the feeling that he thought he had just scored a point with me. Well, he had kind of, but in a friendship way. I’m sure that wasn’t the kind of point he wanted it to be, though.

“Cool, we’ll be right back.” He tapped Travis on the arm, and the two guys took off toward the firehouse.

I stepped in next to Gail. “Why is it so cold?”

“Because it’s December, dork. Travis keeps me warm, though.”

I groaned. “Gail…” I stopped because I wasn’t sure how to tell her that I wasn’t interested in Mike that way.

“What? You sound so serious all of a sudden.”

“I just…It’s Mike. I know you’re pushing for me to go out with him.”

“Me?” She put a hand to her chest as if to deny her involvement in any such thing.

“Yeah, you, dorkhead. I just don’t like him like that.”

“Oh, c’mon, Dev.” She looked at me as if I had two heads. “What’s not to like? He’s cute, he’s smart, and he’s into the newspaper as much as you are. He’s a runner, too, just like you. It’s perfect.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I do like him, but just as a friend.”

Gail sighed and nodded toward the guys heading toward us, holding two styrofoam cups of hot chocolate each. “Don’t make such a fast decision. Why don’t you wait until we spend time alone with the guys at Bruster after the tree lighting?”

“Oh, no you don’t. I’m not going to Bruster with him.” I didn’t finish my thought out loud, but stared at her wide-eyed and screamed in my head, ‘You and Travis are going to make out in the front seat making Mike and I uncomfortable, but then he might get bold and try something. So, no frickin’ way am I going on a double date, or whatever you call it, with you and Travis.’ I didn’t say any of it out loud, but I did think it—loudly.

“Oh, c’mon, Dev. What do you have to lose? He’s a great guy.”

I knew she wasn’t going to let up, and the guys were almost on us.

“Hey, just drop it. Okay? Can we talk? Tomorrow?” I had to tell her about me, and I had to do it soon because I couldn’t take the pressure anymore.

“Oh, but, me and Travis are—”

“Can’t you guys be apart for two minutes? God!” Maybe it was the pressure of the guys approaching, but I couldn’t help my mini explosion. I felt bad instantly, but it was already out there, and I couldn’t take it back.

She looked at me for a long time, long enough for Mike and Travis to reach us. Mike handed me my hot chocolate, and Travis handed Gail hers.

I thanked Mike and took a sip. I wished the hot chocolate was actually hot because my outburst at Gail had turned an already cold evening colder.

“Hey, honey,” Gail grabbed her boyfriend’s arm. “I hope you’re not disappointed, but me and Devon want to go to the mall tomorrow to do some Christmas shopping. Can we go to the movies another time?” Gail must have had her sixth sense radar going and understood that I needed my best friend. She gave him her best boo-boo face.

I could tell that he couldn’t resist her. She had him wrapped around her little finger. “Sure,” he said. “No problem. I wear a size large and prefer my jewelry gold.”

“Ha, ha,” Gail said with exaggerated mirth. “Don’t worry, honey, I’ve already got something special planned for you.”

I looked at Mike and grimaced. He rolled his eyes in agreement.

The Grasse River fire chief got everyone’s attention when the microphone squealed so loudly we had to cover our ears. As the chief began introducing the various Grasse River dignitaries on stage, I noticed Mike shuffle toward me until our arms touched. I wasn’t sure how to move away without making him uncomfortable, but, hey, I was already uncomfortable, so I broke contact and moved closer to Gail. I think he took the hint because he didn’t try to move closer again.

After what seemed like two hours of speeches, I looked at my watch. The actual lighting of the tree was long overdue. I shook my head. I wanted to get this stupid Christmas tree lit and go home.

“What?” Mike asked so quickly that he must have been watching my every move. Kind of the way I did with Rebecca. It was not a good feeling.

“Oh, uh, I was just thinking that these things take so long.”

“Yeah,” he said and held my gaze.

I looked away quickly. There will be no eye gazing, young man. I hoped he heard my loud thoughts.

The chief started the countdown to the tree lighting, and Gail smiled at me. She must have witnessed my awkward exchange with Mike. I smiled back and was glad she and I were still okay. At least I hoped we were still okay. I wondered what she’d do when I came out to her at the mall the next day.

MY MOM PULLED the car up to the main entrance of the Maplewoods Mall. “What time should I pick you girls up?”

I took off my seatbelt and looked at Gail as if consulting her mentally. “Uh, well, it’s eleven now, so maybe three?”

Gail nodded.

“Okay, you girls have a good time and be safe.”

“Okay, Mom. Thanks.” I got out of the car and met Gail on the sidewalk.

After the tree lighting ceremony, Gail had been smooth getting Travis to drop Mike off first and then me. I’m sure Mike was confused about the shortened evening, but Gail just acted as if that was all we had planned to do. I had less than four hours to figure out a way to come out to her. I called Missy earlier that morning for a consultation, but she advised me against telling Gail. I thought about it all morning, but decided to go against my big sister’s advice. Missy said I might lose my best friend, but I prayed that Missy was wrong, for once.

“Hey,” Gail said, “let’s hit the toy store. I want to get Travis a Corvette. He wants a real one, but a toy one’ll have to do this time.”

“Sure.” I unzipped my coat and stuffed my gloves in one pocket and my scarf in the other. I felt like an Eskimo.

We reached the toy store, and Gail headed off to the toy car section. I wandered around and found myself in front of a shelf filled with stuffed animals. The display made me think of the black and white panda bear I had thrown in the trash at school. I sifted through the miniature stuffed animals, and a devious plan sprang to mind. Rebecca told me to forget about her, but I was too far gone for that. I picked out a penguin, a dalmatian, a whale, a cow, a zebra, another panda bear, and a skunk— although I’m not so sure the skunk was a good idea. If I had the nerve I’d begin implementation of my newly developed, highly devious plan on Monday.

“You’ve got a boatload.” Gail watched me dump the stuffed animals on the checkout counter. She had a bag in her hand, so she must have found the little Corvette she’d been searching for.

“Yeah, I got lucky.” I didn’t elaborate, but was ready to lie if she asked. I was going to say that they were for Missy because she had a black and white comforter or something.

We left the toy store and started walking toward the Sears. Every store in the mall was jammed with Christmas stuff and each one blasted a different holiday song. The cacophony of sounds added to the thundering mental clock ticking down on freaking out my best friend.

A group of French-speaking Canadians walked by us. Gail nudged me in the arm. “Half of Canada is here, eh?”

“Shut up, eh?” I giggled. Ah, this was the Gail I knew. I breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard after all.

We passed by the jewelry cart where I bought my new earrings with Rebecca three weeks before. An overwhelming sense of nostalgia overtook me.

The sales woman must have sensed me staring her direction because she looked up from her customer and smiled. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.” My heart started pounding. Did the sales woman know? How could she?

“Who was that?” Gail asked as we walked on.

“Oh, I don’t know. I bought earrings there a few weeks ago. Maybe she remembered me.”

“Weird.”

“Yeah,” I agreed.

Gail wanted to look at the next cart, and my heart almost stopped. Glass snow globes filled one side of the cart. They were the same kind of snow globes that my grandmother collected. I picked up the closest one and shook it. The snow drifted around two tiny deer and pine trees. My grandmother would have loved this one. She loved the Adirondack Mountains. I felt my chest tighten, and my heart grow heavy. I shook the snow globe again mesmerized by the falling plastic flakes. Tears were in my eyes before I could stop them, and the falling snow became a blizzard in my blurred vision. I squeezed my eyes shut hoping I wouldn’t break down sobbing in the mall. Despite my best efforts, a stream of tears started falling down my cheeks. I felt a protective arm go around my shoulders which startled me into opening my eyes.

“You okay?” Gail asked.

I started to nod, but the look of compassion in her eyes sent me over the brink. I shook my head and buried my face in her shoulder. I cried. I couldn’t help it, and I didn’t care if anyone saw me.

When I caught my breath, Gail said, “C’mon. Let’s go over here.”

She took the snow globe, put it back on the cart, and shuffled me to a blessedly empty bench. I used the sleeve of my jacket to wipe at my tears.

“Sorry.” I attempted a laugh.

“It’s okay, Dev. What happened?”

I took a deep breath and held it. When I was sure I wouldn’t start crying again, I exhaled. “Grandma collected those.” Tears welled up in my eyes again as I pointed to the cart.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. This must be so hard for you. Christmas and all.” She patted my hand in consolation.

“Yeah.”

“Hey, you know what?” Gail’s voice was perky.

“What?”

“You know what always makes me feel better?”

“What?”

“Ice cream.”

I laughed and let myself be led to the busy food court. Instead of ice cream, we decided on lunch. After we got our food, we claimed a table from a couple of senior citizens who were just getting up. I took the paper off my turkey wrap and took a bite. I hadn’t had breakfast, so I was hungry, especially since I’d gone for a run that morning in the frigid temperature after calling Missy. I had been trying to clear my head, but the bitter cold made my lungs burn so much that I only went out about a half mile.

Gail opened her roast beef wrap. “Okay, so you dragged me out here to the busiest mall in the free world for some reason. What is going on with you?”

My stomach tied itself up in knots. I thought I was ready for this. Maybe Missy was right, maybe I shouldn’t tell Gail yet. Missy told me once that I had a set of brass ones. Darned if I could find them at that moment.

Gail pushed on. “Do you have big news or something? Or maybe you just missed me.” She batted her eyelashes and smiled, but the curiosity was plain on her face.

I put my wrap down and took a sip of my green iced tea. I kind of felt like throwing up, actually, but Gail had already witnessed enough of my bodily fluids for one day, so I took a deep breath to calm my nerves.

Gail obviously couldn’t stand my reticence anymore. “Dev, you’re killing me here. What is it?”

I felt my blush creep down my neck. Gail must have seen it because she said, “What? Did you murder someone?” She attempted a laugh, but it was unconvincing.

I faked a laugh. “No, dork. I just have to tell you something that’s really hard for me.” I looked around to see if anyone was listening.

Gail looked around, too and leaned in closer. She whispered, “What is it? You’re scaring me.”

My stomach clenched again, and I heard myself whisper, “I think I’m gay.”

Gail’s eyes grew wide. “Gay?” she said way too loudly. “How do you know you’re gay? I mean, you’ve never, like, been with a girl, right?” She hesitated before she said the word girl.

“No, but…I mean you knew you liked guys before you were with Travis, right?”

It was Gail’s turn to blush. “Okay, okay, I get that.” She took a sip from her iced tea bottle. “Did you just figure this out?”

“No.”

“When?”

“Eighth grade.”

Gail’s eyes grew wide. I could see her absorbing the information. She didn’t say anything for so long, that I thought maybe I had truly freaked her out. I mean I was this big lezzie sitting right next to her at the mall.

“Gail?” My voice sounded loud as I broke the increasing silence.

“I’ve known you for, what, eight years, and you’ve been gay almost half that time?”

“I guess so.” I shrugged, and my insides trembled. I hoped Gail didn’t see how much my hands were shaking as I took a sip of tea.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

I shrugged my shoulders.

She gasped. “Oh, my God. Mike!” She dropped her sandwich as if it bit her. “Oh, how awkward. I’m so sorry I did that to you.”

“I know. I didn’t know how to deal with the whole Mike thing myself. That’s why I had to tell you today. Aaah,” I faked a scream. “I couldn’t stand the pressure.”

“That’s why you didn’t want to go to Bruster. Eeks, I’m so sorry.”

“That’s okay, but I’ve got to figure out how to make Mike go away without revealing my secret. You know?”

“Yeah, and the sooner the better.” She held her sandwich out toward me. “Switch?”

I took her roast beef wrap and asked, “Why do we do this?”

“Because we’ve been friends forever, and you should have told me sooner.”

“I know.” I smiled at her and hoped we could still be best friends. “Are you okay with, you know, me?”

“Yeah, dork. It’s just going to take some getting used to. That’s all. Tell me one thing.”

“Okay.” The glint in her eye relaxed me a little.

“Did you ever have a crush on me?”

“No!” I said quickly.

“Phew.”

“Hey! Why phew?”

“Oh, I didn’t mean anything by that.” She tried unsuccessfully to suppress an embarrassed grin.

“Hey, don’t tell Travis.”

Gail didn’t say anything. She’d probably been deciding how she was going to break my news to Travis.

I said, “Not yet. Okay?”

“Oh, okay, fine. Spoil my big news. I’ll just tell him you needed consoling about your grandma with Christmas coming. Which you kind of did, right?”

“Yeah, I guess I did.”

We clinked sandwiches in salute.

“Hey,” she pointed to a blonde shopper walking by, “is she cute?”

“I don’t know.” Her question surprised me. “What am I some kind of expert now?”

“C’mon, help me out. I’m trying to figure out your type.”

I laughed and thought about Rebecca and her beautiful dark brown skin. Gail wouldn’t figure that one out in a million years. “I don’t have a type.”

“Everyone has a type.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know what that is yet, okay?”

“Am I pretty?” Gail looked at me with complete fabricated innocence in her eyes.

“Yes, you are, but I’m not attracted to you. Okay?”

“Okay, okay. Just asking. Hey, how about her? She has a nice butt.” Gail nodded toward a girl walking by, probably a college student.

“Cut it out, dork. Don’t make me regret telling you.” I rolled my eyes for her benefit, but inside I was saying my own phew in relief.

Chapter Thirteen

Operation Black - and - White

MRS. GIBSON’S VOICE at Monday morning’s staff meeting barely penetrated the thousand other thoughts running through my head. I snuck a peek at Mike. He grinned when he saw me look at him. I refocused on Mrs. Gibson and felt my face flush. Obviously, Mike still had ideas about me. About us. This was going to be a long Monday.

Mrs. Gibson dismissed us to our assigned tasks, and I powered up my computer. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Mike turn on his computer as well. The computer stations were aligned in a u-shape around the room, and Mike usually kept his back to me, but he had turned his computer slightly. He wanted see me better, I guess. As if to prove my point, he turned his head to look my direction. I had to stop this. Right away.

I needed to talk to Mike about the rifle team, anyway, because after going to what I thought was a girls’ rifle match, I found out that girls and guys competed equally on the same team. Talking to Mike about the rifle team might help break the ice for what I really needed to tell him.

I snuck another peek. He was hunched over his keyboard typing away. He was busy. Maybe I shouldn’t bother him. I started to open up the girls’ swimming file on my computer, but stopped myself. It was now or never. I sat up tall in my chair and grabbed a notepad and a pencil. I didn’t really need the props, but I wanted something to hold onto.

The squeaky wheels of my chair announced my journey to Mike’s station. “Hey, Mike, you got a minute?”

He saved his document. “Of course. Anything for you.”

I swallowed. He wasn’t making this easy. “I notice that we, uh, share a team.”

“We do?”

“Rifle.”

“Oh, yeah. They’re mixed. Okay, what do you want to do?”

I shifted slightly in my chair. “I don’t know. I guess we could share the space.”

“That sounds good. What about reporters?”

“I had Mary Schneider assigned to the team, but we can use your reporter if you want.”

“No. Jason Whitney was doing both basketball and rifle, so I’ll pull him off rifle. I don’t think he was that interested in it, anyway.” He winked at me as if including me in some kind of inside joke.

I swallowed again, not sure how to say what I needed to say. “All right. I’ll let Mary know she’s flying solo on the rifle team. I also, uh, wanted to thank you for a nice time on Friday.”

He beamed at me, and his cheeks flushed.

“I have to tell you, I…” God, this sucked. I looked into his expectant eyes and cringed. Just say it, you coward! “Mike, I just want to be friends. Okay? Gail pushes too hard sometimes. I like you, but just as a friend.” I knew I was kind of babbling, but I had to get it out.

He folded his arms, and I could see him processing what I’d just told him. After a moment, he sat up straighter in his chair and leaned away from me a bit. I felt bad for hurting him, but it was better not to lead him on.

“Okay,” he said after a long pause. “I’m down with that. I kind of had a feeling anyway.”

I grimaced for his benefit. “I’m sorry. I meant what I said about staying friends, though. You’re a great guy, and I’m sure there’s somebody out there for you. Somebody great. It’s just not me.” And maybe someday I can tell you why.

“Okay.” He nodded his head toward his computer. “I should get back to this wrestling article. Mrs. Gibson’s starting her rounds.”

I turned to see Mrs. Gibson hovering over one of the kids on the other side of the room. “Oops, yeah. I’d better get back. Thanks Mike.”

“No problem.”

I wheeled back to my computer annoyed that eleventh grade was getting so hard.

GAIL AND I had the lunch table to ourselves because Travis was making up a physics lab or something.

“Great sports section in the paper today, Editor Raines.” Gail tapped the open newspaper in front of her.

“Thanks. Everybody seems to think so.” I plopped into the chair next to her. “I’ve been nervous all day long.”

“Your first editing job is kind of a big deal.”

“I know. Hey, I talked with Mike this morning.”

“Ooh! Do tell.” She thrust the paper aside and looked at me with expectant eyes. I had her full attention. “How’d he take it?”

I hid a smile behind my hand. Gail loved drama. “He took it okay, I guess. I don’t really know because I never broke up with anyone before.”

She laughed. “You guys weren’t even going out.” Something seemed to dawn on her, and she asked hurriedly, “Hey, you haven’t gone out with anyone before, have you?”

“No.”

“Phew.”

“Why ‘phew’ again?”

“Because I don’t want to miss that. I want to see you happy. I mean you kept this secret of yours for almost three years. Three years!” Although she said it in a joking tone, I knew she was serious.

“Oh, quit. That was the only thing I ever kept from you.” Except Rebecca. “I don’t have a secret lifestyle or anything.” Not really.

“You know. I thought you liked Chris Spencer. Remember him in sixth grade? You always wanted to hang out with him.”

I had to laugh. “Chris Spencer? Oh, my God. I just wanted to ride his bike.”

Gail laughed with me. “His bike? I can’t believe we hung out with him all those times, and all you wanted to do was ride his…ride. Oh, man. I could have sworn you liked him.”

“Chris? No way.”

“You know what? I just figured something out.” She looked rather smug. “You like Jessica Alba, don’t you?”

I didn’t say a word, but I knew my grin would tell her all she needed to know.

Gail pushed me with her shoulder. “Oh, my God. I should have seen it! All those stupid magazines. I thought you liked the flame guy, and all this time you were in love with the invisible girl.”

Gail didn’t know how right she was. Rebecca was turning into the invisible girl right at Grasse River High School. Lately, I’d only seen her during French, and we barely spoke to each other then. That was going to change, though, when my devilishly clever Operation Black-and-White began later.

I looked around the cafeteria hopeful that Grasse River’s new invisible girl would actually show up. I couldn’t look too long because I didn’t want to catch Jessie’s eye. I knew exactly where Jessie was in the cafeteria because I had developed a kind of self-defense radar about her. That’s why I stayed in the crowds in the hallways and went straight to all my classes. At my locker, I was faster than a NASCAR pit crew. Constantly looking over my shoulder was getting old fast, though. I wished Rebecca would talk to me, so I could tell her about Jessie wanting to beat me up. Maybe she could get her to back off or something.

Gail interrupted my thoughts. “Hey, you like someone, don’t you?”

I couldn’t lie to her. “Yeah, I guess.” I felt myself blush.

“Who is it?” Gail grabbed my arm as she scanned the cafeteria.

“You don’t know them.” What a coward, I couldn’t even say the word ‘her’ to my best friend. I didn’t know if Gail knew Rebecca or not, but I wasn’t ready to reveal my crush yet. I mean, I wasn’t sure if I could get anywhere with Rebecca, anyway.

“C’mon, try me. Is she here? In the cafeteria?”

Talking like that with Gail felt weird, really weird, but it felt oddly freeing at the same time. “No, she hasn’t been here since…” I trailed off not sure I should tell Rebecca’s business.

Gail leaned in closer always ready for good gossip. “Ooh, drama. She hasn’t been here since what?”

I decided to tell her. “Since she broke up with her girlfriend last week.”

“Oh, my God. I can’t believe there are, like, lesbians at Grasse River. That’s so…”

“What?” I wasn’t sure if she was going to say, “gross” or “disgusting” or “creepy.”

“Cool. That’s so cool. Who knew? It’s like a covert operation or something. Oh, my God. There must be gay guys around here, too.” She looked around the cafeteria with her eyes wide. “Ooh, do you think Frank’s gay? He’s kind of effeminate.”

I had unleashed a madwoman. “I don’t know. It’s not like we have secret decoder rings or something.”

“Okay, so tell me this. We’ve eaten lunch in this cafeteria practically every day for two and a half years, and during that whole time you’ve been checking out chicks?”

I blushed furiously. “Keep your voice down. Just this year, I guess.”

“How is it I’ve never noticed you doing this?”

I tried my best to plaster a look of disbelief on my face. “One word. Travis.”

She scrunched up her face. “Yeah, I guess I am preoccupied, but I like him so much it almost hurts.”

I sighed. “I know the feeling.”

“Oh, Dev, you got it bad. C’mon, who is it?”

I looked at her with the most serious expression I could muster. “Not yet, okay? I’m still kind of new at this whole thing.”

She tried her best boo-boo face on me, but I wasn’t Travis. I, unlike Travis, was immune to the Gail Marsters boo-boo face. “Nice try.”

She shrugged. “Oh, well. It still works on Travis.”

“Speaking of Travis.” I pointed to him as he made his way toward us. I watched Gail’s face light up when she spotted him. I felt a momentary twinge of envy. Would I ever have someone in my life that would make my face light up like that? Or, better yet, would someone’s face ever brighten for me?

I PRACTICALLY HELD my breath waiting for Rebecca to come into the French class. Operation Black-and-White had begun. The new black and white panda bear sat squarely in the middle of her chair.

My heart pounded when Rebecca finally came through the door. I kept my head down as if mesmerized by my French notes, but used peripheral vision to watch her. She stopped short, and I knew she must be looking at the panda. I tilted my head slightly, so I could see her better.

“How cute.” She picked up the panda and hugged it.

Aha, the scoreboard clicked over in my favor again, but I hoped the points counted this time.

“Is this from you?” She hugged the panda again.

I was sure my voice would betray me if I tried to speak, so I just nodded.

She smiled even bigger and placed her backpack on the floor between us. “She’s adorable. Merci beaucoup, Devón.”

I cleared my throat. “Je vous en prie.” She started blushing which I think made me blush even more.

Mme Depardieu tapped on the white board with her marker. “Écoutez, s’il vous plaît.” She turned on the radio and an old pop song from the eighties played. She adjusted the volume and then stepped back.

I looked at Rebecca with questions in my eyes and mouthed, “What is she doing?”

Rebecca shrugged her shoulders and looked back down at her notebook.

Mme Depardieu stood at the white board with the black marker in her hand while the radio played on her desk. A commercial came on when the song finished, and then I understood. Mme Depardieu had the radio tuned to a French station from Québec. The song had been in English, but the commercial was in French. When the DJ got back on the air, she spoke French as well.

Mme Depardieu looked at all of us expectantly. I guess she figured we’d be as excited about French radio as she was.

When another song came on, this one in French, Mme Depardieu turned off the radio. “French radio. I want you all to leesen to it. Leesen to the language flowing over zee airwaves. Ecoutez to zee language spoken outside of zis classroom. Ecoutez, and absorb zeh sound.”

She wrote on the board, “Homework Assignment: 1. Find a French radio station.” She started to write down the numbers of a station, but shook her head. “No, you can find one on your own. Zare are several.” She continued to write on the board. “2: Listen for at least 10 minutes. 3: Write down what you heard.”

Mme Depardieu said, “Make sure zat you hear some, euh, French duhring your ten minutes. I wanted to make it twenty minutes, but I’m afraid your pahrents might not want you to leesen to zeh radio for so long.”

I had to laugh because I think Mme Depardieu gave our parents way too much power. Oh, well, I’d take it. I had a lot of other homework on top of the boys’ basketball game I had to go to later. I was going to interview Tiffany Bridges, the captain of the cheerleading squad. Funny how I assigned myself that particular interview.

I stole a glance at Rebecca. She didn’t look my way, though.

My heart filled with hope when I saw her clutching the panda bear with her left hand while she wrote down the assignment with her right.

When the bell rang to end the class, Rebecca tucked the panda carefully on top of the books in her backpack. She smiled at me. “The sports section in the paper was awesome this morning.”

“Thanks.” I smiled.

“Thanks for the panda. I hate to run out so fast, but I have rehearsal.” She smiled again.

I watched her leave the classroom, and my stomach got all googly. God, she was so beautiful. I loved everything about her. Her hands were so slim and gentle. I wished I could hold them. Her skin looked so smooth. I hoped someday I could reach out and touch her cheek. Her lips looked soft enough to kiss. And her eyes—

I stopped my thoughts with a sudden realization. I clamped my lips shut and put my head down on the desk as things became crystal clear. Who was I to think that someone as beautiful as Rebecca Washington would ever be interested in a plain Jane like me? Even if I was black, she still wouldn’t like me. My eyes welled up with tears, and I took a deep breath to keep them at bay. I was an idiot to think that Operation Black-and-White would do any good at all. As reality set in, I think my heart broke all over again.

Chapter Fourteen

Skunk Day

I STOOD IN front of my Grandparents’ new double headstone and pulled my coat tighter around me. My mom already had her turn with Grandma and Grandpa, and now she sat in the car while I had my turn. The cemetery people called my mom earlier in the day to tell her that the new headstone had been installed. I didn’t know any of this when the office aide walked into my French class and handed the note to Mme Depardieu who then handed it to me. My pulse started racing because the note told me to meet my mother at the main entrance right after school, but it didn’t say why. I thought maybe something had happened to my dad or Missy. Dad didn’t work directly with the machinery at Alum Castings because he was middle management, but, still, I didn’t know what was going on.

Although it was still afternoon, I had to hurry to get my visit in with my grandparents before it got too dark. I squatted down. “Hey, Grandma and Grandpa, they put in a nice headstone. You guys would like it.” Both my Grandparents’ names were etched ornately on the double headstone, and I traced the outline of my grandmother’s name, Mildred B. Raines, absentmindedly. “You guys, I have some news. I came out to Gail. I know, I know, Missy told me not to, but Gail’s my best friend. Do you remember her? The one who never stops talking? Well, I actually got her to shut up for once when I told her about me. She was cool about it, too. Go figure. I told her at the mall. Before I told her, I found the neatest snow globe for you, Grandma. I started crying when I saw it. I know, what a baby. Right? Gail consoled me and then I felt better. Mom said you were probably with me at the mall, Grandma, and that’s why the snow globe caught my eye in the first place. Mom thinks that you and Grandpa are around us all the time and that you guys probably rode in the car with us to come here. That sounds nice. I kind of hope it’s true, but don’t go, like, appearing as ghosts or anything. That would freak me out, okay?”

I stood up and brushed the light dusting of snow off the top of their new headstone. “Anyway, do you guys remember Rebecca? She brought me here in the hearse a couple of weeks ago? Well, on Monday I gave her a panda bear and, even though I got really depressed and thought maybe she didn’t like me, I decided to keep on giving her one stuffed animal every day. So Tuesday I gave her a penguin, Wednesday a zebra, Thursday the cow, and last Friday was a whale. That’s a lot, isn’t it? She seems to like them, but I’m still not sure how she feels about me. I should probably just leave her alone, but I’d already made up my stubborn mind to give her all of them, so today—today’s Monday in case you lost track—I gave her the Dalmatian. I have one toy left, and it’s a skunk, which I’m going to give her tomorrow. Do you think she’ll be insulted by a skunk? Do you think she’ll get a restraining order and have me arrested for harassment?” I laughed after I said it, but I was kind of serious, too.

“You guys? Rebecca’s wrapped all the way around my heart, but she doesn’t seem to want me. What do I do?”

I had tried to talk to Missy about Rebecca over the weekend, but she didn’t have much time for me with her final exams coming up. I think it was the first time Missy couldn’t help me with a problem. I wasn’t ready to confess to Gail about my brief foray into stalking Rebecca with stuffed animals, so Gail couldn’t help me either.

“You guys,” I said out loud, “Rebecca held my hand. Right over there.” I looked to the spot where my mom sat in the car. “Rebecca seems so far away, though. Oh, I found out where she goes during lunch. I just came out and asked her in French last week. She has that dance concert on Friday, and she goes down to the dance studio to rehearse or practice or whatever you call it. She told me she goes to the studio, so she won’t have to see Jessie, but maybe she doesn’t want to see me, either. I mean, she has to see me in French, but...”

I sighed and knew I had to wrap it up because the tip of my nose was starting to freeze in the mid-December cold.

“I think it was more than her kindness toward me that made me fall in love with her. Yeah, I think I’m in love.” I smiled. “It’s her smile, her laugh, her dark brown eyes. It’s the way I can’t see anybody else if we’re in the same room and the way I can’t breathe when she’s around me. All those things got into my head and trickled down to my heart. If my skunk doesn’t get through to her tomorrow, then I’m giving up on her forever.”

My head snapped up when I heard a car. Rebecca? No, just a minivan. My heart sank again.

“I have to go, Grandma and Grandpa. I love you both. Oh, and if you have any influence up there, can you get Rebecca to like me?”

I turned on my heels and hoped Mom had the heater on high.

I COULDN’T BELIEVE my AP U.S. History Teacher, Mrs. Cameron, kept us after the bell, all because some stupid kids were talking. She told us that she was taking back the time we wasted. Teachers sure got cranky about that kind of thing. Unfortunately, Mrs. Cameron had no way of knowing it was skunk day and that I’d be late for French. Maybe I’d sneak him into Rebecca’s backpack when she wasn’t looking. Either way I was ready to bolt when Mrs. Cameron said the word.

“Please remember,” Mrs. Cameron said, her eyes narrowed, “we have a lot of ground to cover, and we cannot waste a moment.” She kept us hanging for a few more seconds and then said, “Go!” and pointed toward the door.

You would have thought we were in some kind of track sprint, that’s how fast everybody got up and raced toward the door. Unfortunately, everybody trying to get out at the same time created a bottleneck and almost sent me into a frenzy.

Once I got through the door, I ran down the hallway to Mme Depardieu’s class. I got in the room just as the late bell rang. Rebecca was already in her seat. Darn.

Rebecca watched me as I made my way to my seat. I almost looked behind me to see if she was looking at someone else because the expression on her face was one that I didn’t recognize. She was actually smiling. Even her eyes were smiling. She looked more relaxed than she had in weeks. I couldn’t help the smile that grew on my own face. It wasn’t quite the perma-grin of days gone by, but it was close.

I put my backpack on the floor and was about to climb into my seat when I noticed a white bag on my chair. I picked it up carefully and then sat down quickly because Mme Depardieu was starting the class.

I leaned toward Rebecca and whispered, “Is this from you?”

She nodded, but then looked at the board when Mme Depardieu turned on the overhead with the day’s lesson. We were going to conjugate more subjunctives. How much fun was that? All I wanted to do was rip open that white bag and see what was inside. I held the bag in my hands and tried to gauge the size of it. A box of some kind, a little smaller than my Rubik’s cube.

Mme Depardieu rambled on and on about I’m not sure what. I know I took notes, I always took notes, but this time I had no idea what I was writing down. My brain wasn’t engaged on French. My brain focused on only two things—the package in my left hand and the way Rebecca had smiled at me when I walked in the room. I kept looking over at her whenever Mme Depardieu turned her back to the class, and Rebecca grinned at me every single time. It was like we were sharing some kind of secret, but I had no idea what that secret was, and I didn’t care. My heart was beating so hard, I knew everybody could hear it.

I thought about the skunk in my backpack. Maybe I wouldn’t have to use the little stinker after all. After what seemed like six hundred years, Mme Depardieu finished up the notes from the overhead. She went behind her desk and picked up a plastic milk crate.

I looked at Rebecca and shrugged as if to ask, “What is she up to now?”

Rebecca raised her eyebrows and shook her head as if to say, “I have no idea.”

I tried to sneak a peek into the package in my hand, but the paper made too much noise, so I rested the bag in my lap again.

Mme Depardieu pulled out a stack of homemade CD’s. “Each one of zees is different. Let me explain what we’re going to do once everyone has a handout.”

I put my pen down and reached for the handout from the kid in front of me. I had to put my pen down because I still clutched the white bag with my other hand.

Mme Depardieu held up one of the CD’s. “On each CD eez a pop song. In French. Last week you listened to some French radio to, euh, get zeh feel for the language outside zee classroom, but zis week you are going to translate zee lyrics into English. The title of zis song is…” She turned the CD toward her, so she could read the title. “…Sans Coeur. Hmm, Je me demande de quoi celle-ci parle.”

I wondered what a song named ‘Heartless’ was about, too.

“Anyway,” Mme Depardieu continued, “I’ll give you zeh sheet with zee French lyrics for your song, and I want you to translate zem into English. We’ll start work on zees today.” She smiled at us obviously pleased with her clever assignment. Mme Depardieu always tried to find ways to make learning French interesting. The other kids might not think so, but I thought this was a cool assignment. It beat conjugating the subjunctive on a worksheet any day.

Mme Depardieu said, “C'est un travail à faire à deux.”

“Partners?” Rebecca asked with an expectant lilt to her voice. I was just about to ask her, but she beat me to it.

“Sure.” Happy dance.

Rebecca moved over until our desks touched. Mme Depardieu handed out a CD and lyrics sheet to each group and told us to begin the translations. The song Rebecca and I got was named, “Ne me laisse pas tomber.”

“Don’t give up on me,” Rebecca said.

For a split second I didn’t realize she was simply translating the song title. I thought she was telling me not to give up on her. I mentally rolled my stupid eyes at my stupid self.

Rebecca looked down at the bag in my hand. “Are you ever going to open that?”

I couldn’t believe I had forgotten. With Rebecca so close to me, nothing else had mattered. I kept the bag under my desk, so Mme Depardieu wouldn’t see and pulled the box out. The other students in the class were making enough noise so that the crinkling of the bag wasn’t that noticeable. My hands shook as I opened the top flap of the box. I held my breath and pulled out a glistening snow globe.

“How did you—”

“I wanted to get you something to remind you of your grandmother.”

“How did you know she liked snow globes?”

“You told me.”

“I did?”

She nodded. “That time I took you to see her at Greystone, you were upset because you hadn’t brought anything.”

“And I mentioned snow globes. Yeah, I remember that. Barely.” Barely because all I could think of was being alone with you.

I shook the glass ball and watched as the snow settled over a snow-covered cottage surrounded by trees. I don’t know how I did it, but I managed not to get choked up.

“Thank you.” I smiled at her.

She beamed. “I should be the one thanking you. I’ve been kind of…not here, lately, and I haven’t been a very good friend to you. Then you brought me all those stuffed animals, and I think you helped me figure some stuff out.”

“Like what?”

She pressed her lips together and looked as if she wanted to tell me something, something important, but she just shook her head and looked away. I didn’t ask again because I think she started to cry a little.

I gently placed the snow globe back in its box and into the white bag. I reached into my backpack and pulled out the skunk. Rebecca was still lost in thought and didn’t see me move the stinky little thing under my desk toward her. I placed the skunk in her hand and startled her back to the present.

“Another one? How many of these do you have?”

“That’s the last one, I swear, but I was late today.”

“Oh, Devon. Merci. Il est très mignon. You’re very sweet.”

She reached over for a hug, and I almost melted into my plastic chair. I knew I must be blushing furiously. Skunk day was turning out to be an excellent day, not stinky at all.

Rebecca sighed and cuddled the skunk. “I’ve been so out of it. I hope you don’t hate me.”

“Why would I hate you?” There was no chance in heck that I’d ever hate her. Oh, no.

She just shrugged, so I sent her my most reassuring smile.

I said, “I’ve been counting the days to your dance concert, too.” Oh, God. I actually said that out loud, didn’t I? What a dork.

“On Friday?”

“Friday and Saturday, probably.” I only had to get through two more days, and then it would finally be the Friday I’d been waiting for since forever.

Whatever had made her teary-eyed before seemed to be gone from her mind because she was smiling again. It was the same smile she’d given me when I’d walked into the classroom earlier.

The bell rang to end the period, and Rebecca got up quickly. She said she didn’t want to be rude, but she had to hurry to get to her dress rehearsal in the auditorium.

“See you tomorrow.” I shook the bag with the snow globe in it. Something had clearly turned around in Rebecca’s mind to make her talk to me again.

THE AUDITORIUM WAS absolutely packed for the Friday night dance concert. Most of the students sat in the back because parents and regular people from town took the seats in front. I had even seen a St. Lawrence County senior citizen bus in the parking lot as my mom dropped me and Gail off.

I tried to hide my excitement as we searched for seats. Gail saw some friends from school and wanted to sit with them way in the back, and normally I wouldn’t have cared, but this time I did care. I wanted to be able to see Rebecca close up, and nothing and no one was going to stop me from that goal. Gail took the hint when I suggested we sit near the front.

We found seats three rows away from the stage and the closed velvet curtains. As I sat down, I felt myself trembling. I couldn’t imagine what would happen when those mammoth curtains opened up, and Rebecca came out.

“Hey,” Gail opened her program, “if this sucks, can we leave at half-time?”

“I think it’s called intermission, and no, we’re not leaving because it’s not going to suck.”

“Why are we here?” She put the program down in her lap.

I took a deep breath to steady myself. “Because I need to show you something.”

“Show me what?” The look on her face told me she was very lost.

“I want to show you,” I leaned closer and said low, “who I like.”

Her eyes shot open wide. “Really?” She sounded as if I’d just told her she’d won a car.

I laughed. “Don’t go crazy about this, okay? Please?”

“Okay, okay.” She nodded in agreement. “This is so exciting.”

“I know.” We giggled like two little kids.

She picked up her program and turned to the page with the dancers’ names. “Which one is she?”

I pointed to Rebecca’s name at the bottom of the program. “Right there.”

“Rebecca Washington. Never heard of her,” Gail said way too loudly.

“Shhh, not so loud,” I whispered.

“What?” Gail looked around. “I just said a name. No biggie.”

I glared at her with wide eyes as if to tell her that it was a “biggie.”

“Okay, okay.” She put her hands up in defense. “I’m cool. I don’t know her, do I?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe not.”

A hush fell over the audience as Ms. Adams, Rebecca’s dance teacher, stepped onto the stage. She was only in her twenties, but she looked really sophisticated with a swirling black skirt and low-cut red top. She had her dark hair piled up on her head. It wasn’t a beehive or anything weird like that, it was just elegant. I never realized how pretty Ms. Adams was. When everybody started clapping, Gail and I did, too.

Ms. Adams tapped the cordless microphone in her hand. “Thank you all for coming tonight. The dance troupe has been working hard this semester to bring you their interpretation of A Night without Bound. Refreshments will be served at intermission, and you are welcome to enjoy them in the lobby at that time.” She looked up to the lighting booth and nodded. “Okay, it seems like we’re ready. Again, thank you all for coming, and please enjoy A Night without Bound.”

The audience clapped again, and I held my breath as the curtains opened. The first number included the entire ensemble. That’s what Rebecca called the whole group—an ensemble.

My heart almost stopped when I saw her glide across the stage to the music. She wore a salmon-colored outfit, a little revealing, but she looked like a professional dancer. I felt my cheeks get warm as I watched her lithe body move. She simply floated, there was no other way to describe it.

“Which one is she?” a voice asked in my ear.

I almost swatted Gail away like an annoying gnat, but I caught myself in time. I didn’t want to tear my eyes away from Rebecca, but I was the one who had invited Gail to come in the first place.

All the senior dancers were in the center of the stage doing some kind of ballet spins, pirouettes I think they were called, while Rebecca and the rest of the dancers stayed off to the sides of the stage and swayed to the music. I tried to be subtle as I pointed to Rebecca on the far side of the stage.

“Who?” Gail yelled.

I turned and said in her ear, “Wait ‘til she comes to this side.”

“Okay.” She fell back against her chair.

The dancers in the center finished their pirouettes and melded back in with the rest. All the dancers weaved their way in and around each other, and Rebecca ended up on our side of the stage. I pointed to her again. She was right in front of us.

“Which one? The one with the white ribbon?”

Rebecca wore some kind of dark cord around her hair, not a white ribbon. “No, over there.”

“Where?”

“Right there.” I pointed at Rebecca. I even looked up my arm and through my finger to make sure I pointed directly at her. When Rebecca moved, my finger followed, but still, Gail didn’t seem to see her.

“The short girl with the teeth?”

I dropped my arm in frustration. It was as if Gail couldn’t see Rebecca at all. Was Rebecca invisible? Then it dawned on me. Gail couldn’t see because Rebecca was black. Gail was probably looking for a white girl and got confused when I kept pointing to Rebecca.

Gail looked at me and yelled in my ear, “The black girl?” She said the words with such disbelief that it was like I had pointed to a potted plant.

“Shhh,” I hissed at her. The senior citizens in front of us turned around and asked us to keep it down. I apologized, but Gail just sat with her mouth hanging open.

I originally thought Gail would have a hard time accepting the fact that I was gay, but she seemed to be having a harder time accepting the fact that I liked a black girl. It was as if liking Rebecca wasn’t even a possibility in Gail’s mind.

I looked at her and nodded. “That’s Rebecca.”

“You’re kidding.” She acted as if I was joking.

Gail sat back in her seat and didn’t say another thing to me during the rest of the first act. Once again, I had managed to make Gail Marsters speechless. Maybe all my recent news had been too much for her to handle. Maybe now that I had put an actual girl’s face to my orientation, she freaked because it had become real. I decided that Gail would have to work this one out for herself.

Chapter Fifteen

Quite an Undertaking

I DIDN’T ASK Gail to go with me to Rebecca’s concert the second night, so I sat by myself in the third row of the auditorium. Gail didn’t text me all day, and I decided not to text her, either. I wasn’t trying to be mean or anything, I just wanted to give her the space she probably needed to figure things out. I almost asked Missy to go with me since she was home for Christmas, but decided I wanted to watch Rebecca without distraction. My mom knew Rebecca and I were friends and all, but she didn’t understand why I wanted to go to the dance concert two nights in a row, so I lied and told her I was covering the dance concerts for the newspaper. Of course, I’d probably get caught in the lie when the article came out with someone else’s byline, but I’d cross that bridge when it came to me.

After Dad dropped me off at the auditorium, I bought a dozen red roses in the lobby. I held them in my lap ready to give to Rebecca after the show. I should have brought her flowers the night before, but, I was kind of glad I hadn’t known about the flowers thing because giving her flowers might have put Gail right over the edge.

As the last dance number came to a close, the audience burst into thunderous applause. My pulse raced as the velvet curtains closed in front of the dancers. Several people started a standing ovation, so I jumped up, put the roses carefully on my seat, and clapped as loud as I could. I wished I knew how to do that loud whistle thing where you put two fingers in your mouth. Maybe I could learn before Rebecca’s next concert.

Finally, after a hundred years, the curtain opened again, and the dancers pranced their way out one by one. When Rebecca came out, I clapped louder and yelled, “Whoo hoo.” I didn’t even care who heard me.

Rebecca didn’t make eye contact with me, but I could tell the standing ovation and the enthusiastic applause pleased her. The dancers grabbed each others’ hands and took a giant group bow. I didn’t think it was possible, but the audience clapped even louder. The girls bowed again, acknowledged the people in the lighting booth, and then one of the girls, a senior I think, ran down the steps and dragged Ms. Adams back on stage. Again, the audience picked up volume. A giant bouquet of flowers emerged from somewhere, and one of the dancer’s parents presented it to the dance teacher. Ms. Adams beamed and then bowed to the audience. She turned to face her dancers and bowed to them. That must have been the signal for the dancers to break ranks and swarm their teacher. My hands were getting tired from clapping for so long, but I didn’t care because I clapped for Rebecca.

I hung back for a few minutes at my seat after the house lights came on and waited for the right moment to approach Rebecca with my roses. Like most of the other dancers’ families, Rebecca’s family gave her flowers when she stepped down off the stage.

Rebecca hugged her parents, and as they turned to go, my heart beat faster. I made my way toward her slowly. She had turned to head back up the stairs to the stage, but stopped when I tapped her on the shoulder from behind.

“You were amazing.” I clutched the flowers tightly.

She turned and smiled. “I saw you in the third row.”

“You did?”

“I did.”

I was instantly mortified. Oh, my God, I hadn’t realized the dancers could see into the audience. Rebecca must have known that I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I thrust the flowers toward her to cover my embarrassment. I hoped she didn’t feel my hands shaking.

“For me?” She leaned in for a hug as she took them. She put her hand on my shoulder and whispered, “Thanks for coming. Both nights.”

She pulled away, but I still felt the heat of her touch. My heart was pounding when I stammered, “You’re welcome. It was…you were awesome.”

“Thanks, Devon.” She juggled both sets of flowers, so she could hold them with one arm.

I smiled like an idiot and took pride in the fact that my bouquet was bigger than her parents’.

“Devon?”

“Yeah?” She had me spellbound standing so close in her low-cut dance outfit, perspiration glistening on her skin. wanted to wrap my arms around her and...and what? I wasn’t sure. Kiss her. Definitely. I definitely wanted to kiss her.

“I, uh…,” she started, but then seemed at a loss for words. “Can I take you to see your grandma again? Maybe tomorrow?”

“My grandma?” I was confused for a second, but then I realized that Rebecca wanted to take me to the cemetery. The smile that popped out on my face must have given away my answer. My perma-grin was back.

She smiled in response. “Is that a yes, then?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes.”

She tapped the tip of my nose with her finger. “Good. Is noon, okay?”

“Tomorrow?”

“The sooner the better.”

I nodded and tried to remember to breathe. Yeah, sooner was better even though I might pass out first.

RIGHT AFTER SATURDAY’S dance concert, I practically dragged Missy to our room to tell her everything. I even told her the bad parts with Gail.

“I told you not to tell Gail.”

“But—”

“I told you she wouldn’t take it well.”

“But, Missy,” I whined like I was back in elementary school and hugged Seymour tighter, “she took the gay thing okay.”

“She did?”

“Yeah, at the mall. She was cool. She said she wanted to see me happy.”

Missy shrugged her shoulders as if she wasn’t sure she believed me. “So why was she so cold to you at the dance concert last night?”

“Well,” and I hated to think this about my best friend, but I said it anyway, “I think Gail has a problem with Rebecca.”

“It can’t be because Rebecca’s ugly.”

My eyes flew wide open, and I grinned. “No, it can’t because she ain’t!” I laughed with Missy, incredulous that I could talk to my sister about a girl I liked.

“Because Rebecca’s a girl?”

“No. I think it’s the black thing.”

“Oh.” Missy clucked her tongue once in disappointment. “I’m surprised at that. I thought Gail would have trouble with the gay thing, not the black thing.”

“I know. Me, too. Actually…”

“What?”

“I think Rebecca had trouble with the black thing, too.”

Missy took Seymour from me and held him. “What do you mean?”

“Well, not so much the black thing, but the white thing.” I rubbed my finger on the back of my white hand.

“Uh, oh.”

“No, but here’s the cool part.” I got up and showed Missy the snow globe Rebecca had given me. “Rebecca gave me this on Tuesday.”

“Wow.” Missy shook the globe. “This is just like the kind Grandma collects. Oh, I mean collected.”

The tears in my sister’s eyes were instant. I sat down next to her on her bed when I realized that Missy was still grieving like I was. Maybe this was my chance to help her for a change. “Here’s the cool thing, Missy. I think maybe Grandma helped me and Rebecca find each other.”

Missy wiped at her eyes. “Oh, yeah? How’s that?”

I wasn’t sure how Missy would feel about my theory, but I gave it a shot anyway. “Okay, why did we have the wake at Washington funeral home? There’re like seventy other funeral homes in town.”

“More like two,” she said, but I could tell I had her attention.

“Okay, two, but why did we have the wake at the Washington’s?” I answered my own question. “So I could meet Rebecca.”

“Okay, keep going.”

“Remember how you told me about that secluded hallway in the funeral home?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s where I met her. I mean I knew her from French, but I hadn’t met her before. She helped me when I was crying my head off back there.”

“Oh, Squirt, Rebecca saw you crying?”

“Yeah, and I was really going at it, too. It was embarrassing, actually. You know, for a little while I thought maybe the only reason I had a crush on her was because she helped me at the wake and the funeral.”

“Obviously you changed your mind. How come?”

“She gave me that.” I pointed to the snow globe in Missy’s hand. “Grandma’s been manipulating things from…” hesitated.

“Heaven? The great beyond? The celestial bridge game in the sky?” Missy suggested.

I laughed. “Yeah.”

“Sounds farfetched, Squirt, but I have to admit those are a lot of coincidences. Rebecca’s taking you to the cemetery tomorrow?”

“Uh huh. It was her idea.”

Missy pursed her lips and nodded. “Her idea, huh? I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you. Maybe Grandma can help me with my love life, too.”

“Why? What happened to Mr. Chemistry major?”

“Oh, well. Let’s just say he was more interested in a hit and run.”

“A what?” It dawned on me what she meant, and I blushed. “Oh.”

The conversation turned at that point, but I was pleased that Missy hadn’t made fun of my idea about Grandma helping me find Rebecca.

WHEN I HEARD a car pull into the driveway, I stood up from the living room couch so fast I dropped my cell phone on the floor. Missy looked out the front window and nodded at me in affirmation. Her grin was so loud that I widened my eyes and glared at her.

“Mom,” I yelled toward the kitchen. “She’s here.” I pulled my coat on and plunked my black ski cap on my head.

“Okay, honey,” she said walking into the living room. “I’d tell you to have a good time, but I don’t think that’s appropriate in this case, is it?”

“I think it’s okay because one time I talked to Grandpa about fishing.”

My dad put the Sunday paper down and looked at me. “Fishing?”

“Yeah, Rebecca likes to go fishing, so I told Grandpa about it.”

My dad narrowed his eyes. “Lures or worms?” It was something he and Grandpa had argued about all the time.

“Um, sorry, Dad. Worms.”

He shook his head. “These kids today. Go figure.” He waved me toward the door and picked his paper back up. “Carry on.”

“Have a good time.” My mom opened the front door for me. “Tell Grandma and Grandpa we said hello.”

I smiled. “Okay.”

“Oh, honey,” my mom said sharply. “You’re going in a hearse?”

Missy burst out laughing.

I looked out the front storm door. “Apparently.” I shrugged with a smile.

“In the snow? Can Rebecca drive that thing in the snow?”

“Of course she can, Mom,” I said in the most reassuring voice I could find even though I had no idea if Rebecca could drive a hearse in the snow. All I knew was that I had to get out of the house quick.

My mom frowned for a moment as if wondering if I had lost my mind, but then shook her head. “Oh, okay. Go on, but make sure you come right back. Don’t go driving around town in that thing.” She gave me a quick hug.

“Don’t worry, Mom. We won’t.”

“Good luck, Squirt,” Missy teased.

I shot Missy another wide-eyed look and then completely ignored her as I said, “Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad.” I trotted out the door and let my mom close it behind me. I hadn’t realized that the snow was sticking. The world looked covered by a soft white blanket, peaceful and calm. I wasn’t calm, though, when I open the door to the hearse.

“Hi,” I said as I got in.

“Hi, yourself. Ready to go?”

“Yup. No caskets?”

“No caskets.”

Rebecca backed out and headed toward the cemetery.

She was oddly quiet, so I tried to fill the space. “You guys were amazing this weekend.”

“Thanks. Was that your first dance concert?”

I nodded. “I’m ashamed to say that, yeah, it was my first one.”

“Well, thanks for coming. I, for one, appreciate the support.

Did you see Jessie on Saturday?”

Hearing Jessie’s name made me feel like I’d been punched in the stomach. Why did she have to go and bring her up? “Yeah,” was all I could say.

“I saw her, too, but I’m glad she didn’t try to give me flowers or anything.”

“Me, too.” I was shocked at my boldness.

Rebecca looked at me and said softly, “I’m glad you did, though.”

“Give you flowers?”

“Yeah. My parents were relieved when I told them they weren’t from Jessie. They don’t like her, either.”

I laughed. I guess my disdain for the basketball wonder was no secret from her. “Did you tell your parents who they were from?”

“Nope. Not yet.”

“Do they know about you?”

“That I like girls?”

I nodded.

“Yes, they know.”

She didn’t elaborate as we pulled into the Greystone cemetery. Someday I’d have to ask her how to come out to people, especially how to come out to parents. That kind of scared me to death.

She maneuvered the immense hearse down the tree-lined road that brought us to my grandparents’ gravesites. I never realized how tranquil the cemetery looked covered in snow.

She pulled the hearse up to the same spot and put it in park. “I’ll keep the engine running for the heater, but please don’t think I’m rushing you.”

“Okay.” I got out of the hearse and walked through the snow to my grandparents’ side-by-side graves. I brushed the accumulated snow off the top of the headstone and took a deep breath.

“Grandma, did you see the snow globe Rebecca got me? It’s a sign, isn’t it? I know you had something to do with it. Oh, my God, I’m so freakin’ nervous. Oh, sorry. Freakin’ isn’t really a curse, though.”

I looked at Rebecca where she sat in the hearse. Like the last time, she didn’t look my way. I was glad because that would have made me more nervous than I already was. Even my hands were sweating inside my gloves.

“You guys,” I said to the headstone, “can you maybe not watch when I get back in the hearse with Rebecca? I mean, we might say some personal stuff. Maybe you could go play bridge. You play bridge in heaven, right?”

I wasn’t sure what else to say and since my nose was getting kind of cold, I decided to finish up my visit. “I love you guys. Mom and Dad say hi. Missy, too.” I looked at the headstone for another couple of seconds. “Okay, I’m going back to the hearse now, and you guys are going to play bridge, right? Right.”

The wet snow clung to my boots as I walked back. The black hearse looked like it had a layer of snow icing on top. I got back in and was glad Rebecca had the heat turned up high. She had her jacket undone and had even taken her gloves off. I took mine off, too.

Rebecca turned toward me. “Finished already?”

“Yeah, they weren’t very talkative today.”

She laughed and then smiled at me in such a way that I swear my boots melted. She made no move to put the hearse in drive. In fact, she took off her seatbelt. I took that as a cue to keep mine off as well. The snow that covered the windshield made me feel safe and snug inside our private cocoon.

An awkward silence overtook us, but then Rebecca smiled as if she suddenly remembered something. “Oh, oh, oh! I got the letter.”

“What letter?”

“They want my audition DVD.”

“Who does?”

“The Karen Swanson School of Dance in New York. The summer program.”

“Ahhh,” I squealed with her and reached my arms out for a congratulatory hug. She hugged me back, and when the squealing was done I started to pull away, but she didn’t. She kept her arms wrapped tightly around me. The smile on her face turned serious, and I almost forgot to breathe.

She leaned her face toward mine. My heart pounded as she inched forward and touched her lips to mine. They were as soft as I imagined. We kissed gently at first, tentatively, but then something deep inside of me woke up, and I kissed her back with so much passion, I almost scared myself. My arms were shaking as I put them around her thin waist. Through her jacket, I felt her uneven breathing. When she reached up and held my face with both hands, I didn’t think I could take much more.

Breathless, we dragged ourselves away from each other.

“Devon, I hope that was okay.”

I smiled as I caught my breath. “Do you hear me complaining?” I reached up and stroked her cheek like I had imagined doing in French class. “So soft.”

She blushed and kissed the palm of my hand. I couldn’t believe how amazing it felt to have the palm of your hand kissed.

“Devon,” Rebecca said in between kisses, “I want to say so much to you.” She grabbed the hand she’d been kissing and held it. “First of all, I don’t care about the black/white thing. It took a while to figure out, but I don’t have a problem with you being white. That honor goes to my stupid friends.” She made an air quote with her free hand when she said the word friends. “Jessie most of all. I always let her influence me. It’s funny,” she said with a sigh, “when I dance I put myself out there for all to see, but I can’t...”

Rebecca seemed to get choked up, so I didn’t say anything for a while. After almost ten seconds of silence, I finally asked her, “You can’t what?”

“I can’t stand up to Jessie.” She looked up at me as if searching me for strength.

I put on the bravest face I had and hoped she’d never know that I had no idea how to stand up to Jessie, either. “Oh, don’t worry about her. She’s not a problem anymore, is she?”

“No, I guess not. She was always more talk than action, anyway.” She kissed my palm again. “I was so pig-headed about you, and I’m sorry for that. That was not me, and I’m not letting you get away from me again.” She looked down at our hands and then squeezed mine. “If that’s okay with you.”

I simply nodded, speechless, and let my perma-grin speak for me.

“Devon, I’m so grateful you kept persisting. You were relentless, you know.”

“I was?”

“Yeah, you’d look at me during French with those baby brown eyes of yours, that cute little nose, and those pink cheeks. And then you’d smile and make me melt. Then you started giving me all those black and white stuffed animals. I did get it, you know, black and white. Very clever. I didn’t want to ignore you during French, but I thought it would be better for both of us if I did.”

“Why? You were sending such mixed messages.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Well, like I said, my friends gave me a lot of grief about hanging out with the white girl. And…”

“And, what?”

“And I think I stayed away because I didn’t want Jessie harassing you.”

Too late, I thought. “I can take care of myself.” I wasn’t so sure about that, but hopefully, Jessie really was all talk and no action.

“I know you can. I’m glad. It was so hard to stay away from you when all I wanted to do was hold you and kiss you and be with you.”

“You did?” I swallowed hard. I had no idea. My heart sang in triumph.

“I mean, at first I wasn’t sure if I was attracted to you out of sympathy for your grandma, but when I couldn’t get you out of my mind, Devon, I knew.”

“You did?”

She nodded. “You know what else?”

“What?”

“I hate beer.”

“Oh, my God, me, too. So why did you drink so much that night at Bruster?”

“‘Cuz you were right there so close in the car with us, and I kind of panicked. Maybe I thought I could let you know how I felt about you if I was drunk enough.”

“I knew you were sending me a sign!”

“When I stumbled against you in the woods? Oh, yeah, Ms. Devon Raines, that was a big flashing neon sign, but then I had to get back in the car with Jessie.” She flashed me that sad smile again, but continued, “I’m so glad you didn’t give up on me. Somehow you found me on the other side of my wall.”

“The black and white wall?”

“Yeah, I guess. I…I don’t know why people are such jerks. Why can’t people just be people? Not black, not white, not whatever—just people.”

“I know.” We were silent for a moment. “What about that pregnant lady in the mall?”

“Which—”

“Remember? ‘Diluting the blood, man,’” I mimicked Jessie. “The black guy and the white woman?”

“Oh, yeah. What about them?”

“Her baby. Is her baby going to be white or black? I mean, the baby’s going to be mixed.”

“Sometimes blacks can pass for white.”

“What does that mean, though? Why does a person have to pass for white? Do whites pass for black? Can’t we all just be humans? Aaah, this is so confusing.”

“I know. Now you see why I had to take some time to get it figured out in my own head.”

“You know what?”

“What?”

“We’re not that different, you and me.” I pulled up my jacket sleeve and motioned for her to do the same. I placed my white forearm against her dark one. “We’re just different shades is all.” I rubbed my arm on hers. “See, we even feel the same.”

She laughed, but then I reached down for her hand and kissed her fingertips one at a time. “I think that blacks and whites and yellows and reds and browns will only be able to overlook their differences when aliens invade Earth.”

She laughed. “Aliens?”

“Yeah, then we’ll have to become the human race and not the black race or the white race or whatever.”

“Good theory, but I don’t have as much faith in people as you do.”

I smiled at her knowing this was probably the first of many conversations we’d have on this topic. We were quiet for a moment, until she commented on the snow accumulating on the windows and suggested that she take me home.

“No, not yet!” I squeezed her hand with both of mine and blurted, “Rebecca, I think about you all the time, and I don’t even care if Jessie beats me up. I think about you every morning and all day long and before I go to sleep. I think about things to tell you during French. I think about what it would be like to touch your cheek. I just…I just…” I ran out of words and started to choke up.

“Shhh,” she said slowly and touched a finger to my lips. “I know, Devon. I’ve known for a long time.”

She slid her finger down my lips, circled my chin for a moment, and then put her arms around my neck. I put my own arms around her waist and pulled her closer until our noses touched. I tilted my head to one side, so I could kiss her. I rubbed her back over her coat. With a boldness I didn’t know I had, I reached under her coat and touched her warm back. She moaned, so I caressed her back while we kissed.

We finally broke apart. I melted when I saw the look of love reflected in her soft brown eyes.

I know my expression turned quite serious when I said, “I’ve got a tough question for you.”

“I’m pretty sure I can handle anything right now, so go ahead.”

“Who are we going to eat lunch with?”

She smiled. “I guess we’ll have to start our own table.”

I nodded in agreement. “That’ll be quite an undertaking.”

“We’ll do it together, right?”

“Yeah, we will. What about Jessie?”

“We’ll do that together, too.”

I believed her as she flashed a reassuring smile. I let her kiss me again as the snow buried us against the world.

About the Author

Barbara L. Clanton is a native New Yorker who left those "New York minutes" for the slower-paced palm-tree-filled life in Orlando, Florida. She currently teaches mathematics at a college preparatory school in the Orlando area. When she's not teaching, playing softball, tiling her floors, or evicting possums from the engine block of her RV, "Dr. Barb" plays bass guitar in a local band called The Flounders with her partner who plays the drums. Her ultimate dream is to one day snowbird between upstate New York and central Florida.

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