The next day in homeroom Jason Andrews glared at me but with the corner of his mouth flirtatiously turned upward. I blushed, and headed for my seat. I would not be able to avoid him for an entire school year. This was a situation best managed by getting ahead of it. No longer the shy boy from next door, he would definitely show up at my house unannounced, Mom would answer the door, scream, slam it and start packing. I'd have to talk to him.
How bad could it be? I'd just tell him my parents were crazy people who basically ran away from Venice Beach and kept putting as much distance between Janie, her death and the people they blamed (his family, no offense Jase) as possible and that was that. No, we couldn't be friends, because he would only remind everyone of what they were running from and too bad, so sorry, but please leave me alone so I can graduate high school without incident. Further incident, whatever. I had a plan after all and I couldn’t let this beautiful boy (shut up, I know what I said) ruin it. Nine months from now, I'd be back on the West Coast for college. Yes, of course my parents know that I'm going to college, just not the California part. But if they thought I’d stay freezing on the East Coast without a gun to my head, they're delusional.
Jason waited for me at the door after the bell.
“You didn’t call me,” he fake scolded, “and I will not be ignored. I already know where you live so say the word and I'll just come over and we can talk at your house."
“Ew Stalker! How do you know where I live?" Our banter was totally natural, a five year gap deleted.
"A - it's actually a small town and B - Beth who works the Attendance Office third period has a crush on me."
“Oh, well played. I see you became quite the charmer for the 'best years of our life' huh?” I used quote marks as I said it. “Well good for you, Loverboy! I gotta run though, literally, I have gym first period, but it was nice catching up!"
"See you second period!" He called after me. “And third,” his laugh echoed above the buzz of teenagers. Crap, that's right. Okay, back to getting ahead of it.
When Chemistry ended, and it was time for lunch, I tried to lollygag by being extra fascinated with my backpack. The army green Jansport was a perfect color and I’d graffitied the tan leather bottom with black Sharpie. I loved my backpack. Not to be extra dramatic but it had been like my only companion in every school.
Jason whistled from the doorway. “Obviously I am waiting for you,” he said lightly.
“Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
“Oh, real nice. So much for being best friends.”
I smiled at that. We had been best friends, for sure at six. And seven. Even eight. But by the time fourth grade came around, he’d drifted into a domain with G.I. Joes and Super Mario Bros. By sixth grade he was surfing every weekend with a pack of boys. Territory where I was persona non grata. I ended up in dance classes, which were cool but not surfer cool. We still spent plenty of time together and still had our special moments over the years, especially because our sisters were inseparable, but fewer and further between. It was the nature of being a boy and a girl growing up. But I’d secretly never stopped considering him my best friend and I was pretty warm and fuzzy thinking he felt the same.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” I mocked hesitation.
“I do like what you’ve done with your canvas though. Get it? See what I did there?”
“Oh my God,” I giggled, “that was worse than a dad joke.”
He stayed a little less than half a step behind me as we made our way to the library. Probably worried I’d peel off and disappear. He did actually know me very well.
Jason Andrews had this popular, yet low-key loner thing going on. Everyone knew him and liked him but also left him alone. If he'd gone to the cafeteria, he could've been at the coolest kids table, and at the same time he would never get made fun of for eating in the library with the new kid. He had respect. It was intriguing.
We sat together quietly at a small table near the back for several minutes while I avoided eye contact by looking around. The library was new compared to the rest of the school and it was much bigger than the one in my last school in Delaware (senior class size 102 so to be very honest, I was stoked to not have to graduate from there, but do not tell my parents I approved of a move). There were stacks everywhere of great magazines, not the usual Highlights or crappy Teen-Whatever but Vogue and Vanity Fair. They even had about twenty computers clustered in small pods in the middle, not something I'd seen much of in past schools.
“So, play any sports?" I finally asked, fiddling with a pen's clicker.
"Nice try, Gigi." He smiled, I melted. Oh great, I always wondered when I'd get to be one of those stupid boy-crazy girls. I had managed to stay pretty uninterested in guys so far. I wasn't ever around long enough to have a bunch of friends, although I have collected and kept a few gems along the way, but no boyfriends. I'd been kissed twice since high school started, once in a closet at a party (he was a drooler) and once after a group pizza date last year which was marginally better (pepperoni fine, onion not so fine).
And of course there was my very first kiss when I was twelve, just a warm press of innocent lips together for five solid seconds. I remember it lit me up, this unexpected discovery that your insides could move like electric waves…