the reasons I should say no,
but all the reasons I wanted to say yes outweighed them. I turned back for a moment,
and caught him looking at me like he did that day in his room. My stomach flipped,
same as it did that day. “No,” I said, as the door slammed shut behind me.
Because I remembered the next part too.
After he told me not to come in, and after I went in anyway, I sat beside him on the
floor, our backs resting against the side of his bed. He threw a rubber ball against
his wall and caught the rebound. I reached my hand across and intercepted the next
bounce. Then I threw it against his wall, back to him. We did that for minutes, or
hours, with nothing but the rhythm of the ball hitting the wall, then the floor, then
our palms, filling the room.
Until Reid pulled his feet closer and flung the ball against the wall. He meant it
to go nowhere. Anywhere. Straight through the wall, maybe. But it bounced back and
smacked me in my upper cheek.
“Oh, shit,” Reid said. He was on his knees in front of me, pulling my hand away from
my face. It hurt, but the tears were from the surprise, and I swiped at them with
the back of my other hand. “I didn’t mean — ”
I started to laugh, or I pretended to laugh, so he wouldn’t think I was crying. “Girl,
fourteen,” I said in an official voice, “injured by rubber ball at funeral.”
The side of Reid’s mouth quirked up, just a bit. “The accused asserts that the victim
had slow reflexes. He said he’d never seen such pathetic reflexes in his life.” And
then I laughed for real.
“On the contrary, the victim had amazing reflexes. In fact, she dove in front of the
accused to protect him. That’s how fast she is.”
Reid was smiling. Smiling and laughing. “The accused would like to point out, for
the record, that he told her not to come into his room in the first place.”
Reid’s hand was still on mine, from when he had pulled my arm away from my face. We
seemed to notice it at the same time, because he looked at his hand. But he didn’t
move it away.
“Don’t blame her. The victim only wanted to make him smile.”
And then he stopped smiling. And he took his other hand and brushed the hair away
from my cheek. Ran his thumb across the spot where I’d been hit. Then moved his hand
back to my hair, moved his face closer to mine, and I held my breath, thinking, He’s going to kiss me. I remembered Colleen telling me to close my eyes, so I did.
“What the hell am I doing?” he said, and the air around me felt empty. I opened my
eyes and Reid was backing away from me. “I’m sorry,” he said.
He walked out of his room. I stayed there until my heart rate returned to normal,
until my face wasn’t red from embarrassment. Then I walked down the stairs and waved
to my parents.
We left a half hour later, and that was the last I’d seen of Reid. Dad stopped going
to events after that — like the absence of his closest childhood friend, his high school roommate, was too
much to endure.
Funny how two years can feel like nothing. How one moment can feel like eternity.
Two years, like they never even existed.
One moment, like there had never been anything else, would never be anything more.
Boom, boom, boom.
Someone was knocking. A dull thud, like someone was using the side of a closed fist
instead of knuckles. I pictured Reid on the other side. Being bold, like I had been.
“I told you no,” I said, but this stupid grin was spreading across my face.
I opened the door to nothing. No, not nothing, no one. Because there was definitely something. Red and globbed and smeared across my door.
Drops sliding downward, like tears. A small puddle on the linoleum floor, spreading
like blood.
Everything inside of me froze, until I felt the hallway fill up — felt it practically vibrate with his presence. My eyes darted around the empty hallway
until it seemed to constrict. And the entire
but all the reasons I wanted to say yes outweighed them. I turned back for a moment,
and caught him looking at me like he did that day in his room. My stomach flipped,
same as it did that day. “No,” I said, as the door slammed shut behind me.
Because I remembered the next part too.
After he told me not to come in, and after I went in anyway, I sat beside him on the
floor, our backs resting against the side of his bed. He threw a rubber ball against
his wall and caught the rebound. I reached my hand across and intercepted the next
bounce. Then I threw it against his wall, back to him. We did that for minutes, or
hours, with nothing but the rhythm of the ball hitting the wall, then the floor, then
our palms, filling the room.
Until Reid pulled his feet closer and flung the ball against the wall. He meant it
to go nowhere. Anywhere. Straight through the wall, maybe. But it bounced back and
smacked me in my upper cheek.
“Oh, shit,” Reid said. He was on his knees in front of me, pulling my hand away from
my face. It hurt, but the tears were from the surprise, and I swiped at them with
the back of my other hand. “I didn’t mean — ”
I started to laugh, or I pretended to laugh, so he wouldn’t think I was crying. “Girl,
fourteen,” I said in an official voice, “injured by rubber ball at funeral.”
The side of Reid’s mouth quirked up, just a bit. “The accused asserts that the victim
had slow reflexes. He said he’d never seen such pathetic reflexes in his life.” And
then I laughed for real.
“On the contrary, the victim had amazing reflexes. In fact, she dove in front of the
accused to protect him. That’s how fast she is.”
Reid was smiling. Smiling and laughing. “The accused would like to point out, for
the record, that he told her not to come into his room in the first place.”
Reid’s hand was still on mine, from when he had pulled my arm away from my face. We
seemed to notice it at the same time, because he looked at his hand. But he didn’t
move it away.
“Don’t blame her. The victim only wanted to make him smile.”
And then he stopped smiling. And he took his other hand and brushed the hair away
from my cheek. Ran his thumb across the spot where I’d been hit. Then moved his hand
back to my hair, moved his face closer to mine, and I held my breath, thinking, He’s going to kiss me. I remembered Colleen telling me to close my eyes, so I did.
“What the hell am I doing?” he said, and the air around me felt empty. I opened my
eyes and Reid was backing away from me. “I’m sorry,” he said.
He walked out of his room. I stayed there until my heart rate returned to normal,
until my face wasn’t red from embarrassment. Then I walked down the stairs and waved
to my parents.
We left a half hour later, and that was the last I’d seen of Reid. Dad stopped going
to events after that — like the absence of his closest childhood friend, his high school roommate, was too
much to endure.
Funny how two years can feel like nothing. How one moment can feel like eternity.
Two years, like they never even existed.
One moment, like there had never been anything else, would never be anything more.
Boom, boom, boom.
Someone was knocking. A dull thud, like someone was using the side of a closed fist
instead of knuckles. I pictured Reid on the other side. Being bold, like I had been.
“I told you no,” I said, but this stupid grin was spreading across my face.
I opened the door to nothing. No, not nothing, no one. Because there was definitely something. Red and globbed and smeared across my door.
Drops sliding downward, like tears. A small puddle on the linoleum floor, spreading
like blood.
Everything inside of me froze, until I felt the hallway fill up — felt it practically vibrate with his presence. My eyes darted around the empty hallway
until it seemed to constrict. And the entire
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