If I Tell - By Janet Gurtler Page 0,6

I didn’t see you at Marnie’s party over the weekend. I thought you’d be there,” she said after the boys went past.

We went to my locker, and Ashley leaned against the wall while I dialed in my combination.

“I actually was there for a while,” I told her as I reached for my English books from the top shelf of my locker. “I took off early.” Gently I stood my guitar at the back of the locker.

“Fight with your boyfriend?” She grinned.

“Nathan is not my boyfriend.” I scrunched my nose as if something smelled bad, shoved my backpack onto the top shelf, and slammed the door shut.

Ashley licked her lips. They were always chapped from the pool. “Maybe not, but he likes you.”

“He likes anything that moves.”

“Well, except me. He’s not into lesbians.” She laughed.

“I’m sure he would be, given the opportunity.”

Ashley laughed again. “True.”

Nathan was Lacey’s roommate and a regular at Marnie’s parties, which is where I’d met Ashley the summer before senior year. She had lost an old pocket watch she always carried around in her back pocket and was wandering around upset. When I asked her why, she’d fought off tears and I’d helped her search for the watch. We eventually found it under the cushion of a couch and then bonded over warm, alcohol-free Cokes in the living room, surrounded by a bunch of surprisingly mellow drunks.

Ashley didn’t drink because she swam every day except Sunday and didn’t want to deal with hangovers or a pissed-off coach. I didn’t drink because losing control made me crazy, so we were the always the youngest and straightest people at Marnie’s parties, which weren’t exactly meant for the high-school crowd.

Ashley used to hang out a lot with an older girl who I’d assumed was her girlfriend, but the other girl had been off in the kitchen smoking dope or something the night Ashley lost the watch, and after that they didn’t hang out anymore. I figured they’d broken up, but Ashley didn’t talk much about her love life. That was okay, because I didn’t talk about mine. Easier, perhaps, since I didn’t have one.

Ashley and I headed down the hallway crowded with kids rushing to class.

Everyone at Westwind knew Ashley was gay and that she’d transferred over from the other high school in town because she’d had enough of bullying. I think most of the Westwind student body wanted to seem cooler, so no one bothered her. We couldn’t beat their football team but we could tolerate the first lesbian in Tadita high-school history. The first open one anyhow. Go Westwind.

Mostly everyone treated her the same way they treated me. They ignored her. This late in the game, that didn’t seem to bother Ashley.

“Lacey was really out of it at the party,” she said after a moment.

“What else is new?”

Ashley glanced sideways at me but didn’t comment. Lacey had never made an effort to get along with her, but Ashley wasn’t the type to trash talk.

“You’ll never guess who did show up,” Ashley said as we maneuvered our way around bodies going the opposite direction.

I didn’t guess.

“Your mom’s boyfriend, Simon.”

“No kidding?” I kept my voice level, my eyes straight ahead.

“He came by to pick up his younger brother. Simon was the one who ended up getting wasted, though, and Damien ended up driving him home.”

Before she said anything else, I cut her off. “What an idiot. It’s like he’s trying to recapture his youth or something.”

“Simon’s not that much older than Marnie. He’s younger than your mom, right?”

“I have no idea how old Marnie is,” I said as we slipped inside our English class. We slid into chairs in the relative safety of the middle row just as the bell rang.

“Twenty-two,” Ashley supplied.

I peeked at the back of the room where Jackson usually sat. He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head.

“Hey,” he mouthed.

I couldn’t help a slight smile but forced myself to turn away, ignoring the little solo jig my stomach performed. So, we were going to acknowledge each other now? With an effort I forced myself not to look back again. I failed, and when I peeked, he was smiling. I dropped my gaze to my desk, my cheeks blazing.

At the front of the class, Mr. Dustan began giving instructions. His favorite student came around and dropped exams on our desks. When I finished the test, I looked back at Jackson. As if he felt my eyes on him, he glanced up and raised his pencil in the