It's My Life - Stacie Ramey Page 0,78
had so much fun. And I wanted that girl back.” And now he’s crying, too. “And when we ended up in the same class and then the texting…” His voice keeps breaking, and I know I’ve done this, I’ve hurt him this way. “Don’t you remember before?”
And I do remember. We used to all play in the woods, me and Eric and Rena, and sometimes Julian. When we first moved in to the neighborhood, he was one of the boys on the bikes, but he soon became part of our crew. No matter what we were doing, we were always laughing, Julian and me. Right up until that day in seventh grade when he moved away.
Here, now, talking to Julian, I whisper, “I do remember. I do.”
He nods.
I realize there is one question I need answered. “Did you know it was me? The texts?”
He wipes his nose with the back of his hand. “Not at first.”
“When did you figure it out?”
“It was a few things. You didn’t text or answer when you’d been hurt. That was suspicious. Then you said some things that reminded me of how we used to be.”
“Yeah.”
“And I looked up the thirty-six saints thing. It’s Jewish mysticism.”
“Yeah.”
“So I figured that was another check in the it-could-be-Jenna column.”
I nod.
“But I wasn’t a hundred percent sure. Not until the dance.”
I take a breath. Steel myself. “Did you want it to be me?”
His eyes are red and wounded. “Yes. I always did.”
“And now?”
He blows out a breath. “I don’t know.”
I nod.
“I want the old Jenna back. The one who was texting me. The one who doesn’t give up on herself.”
My turn to breathe out heavy.
He holds out a hand. “You don’t want to do that? You don’t want to try again?”
“I don’t think you know…”
“I do. I know all about you. You’re one of the smart ones. You should be in the AP classes. You should be killing it GPA-wise, and all the colleges should be dying to offer you a free ride.”
I shake my head. “That’s not me. That’s just who you think I am.”
He stands up. Kisses me on the forehead. “You bring that Jenna back, the one I fell for in kindergarten, the one I told I was going to marry. Remember her? You bring her back, and I’m all in.” He walks to the door, and I’m terrified that he’s not going to even look back, but he does. “That Jenna is stronger than Mulan, prettier than Cinderella, and smarter than Belle.”
I think of what Julian said about me being that girl he’d had a crush on in kindergarten. It’s not like I didn’t know on some level. For Julian and me, we are now and have always been part of each other’s stories. The question is if we still can be.
The door shuts, and I’m left speechless and stunned.
Twenty-Nine
It’s nighttime and the hospital is quiet like it gets. Visitors go home, and the sick and hurt are left to heal. My door opens, and I’m assuming it’s one of my nurses. When I look up, I see Dad. He’s holding two milkshakes.
“Mocha?” I ask.
“Your favorite.”
He kisses me on the cheek, and that paired with the milkshake makes me believe he doesn’t actually hate me, even though I would totally deserve that after how I treated Mom. He sits in the chair next to my bed and drinks some of his. We stay like this for a few minutes, and eventually he says, “Rough week for you, huh?”
“Understatement.”
“We can talk about the Mom thing later, but aside from that, I think we’ve got Rena not speaking to you and Julian.”
I throw myself back against my bed. “I do not want to talk with you about that.”
“I think you’re going to have to.”
“No. I don’t.”
“Okay. Well, how about I tell you what I know and you can grunt or nod or whatever you feel like doing.”
If Mom is known for her mom-ologues, Dad is known for his directives. Awesome.
“So, from what I hear, Julian attacked a Danbury hockey player because he said something unflattering about you after the big hockey dance.”
“Hockey Homecoming.”
“I stand corrected. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that you and Julian have something going.”
I glare at him. “I really don’t think that’s a Dad kind of topic.”
“Also it seems that your sister is also infatuated with a senior hockey player. Am I close?”
“I’m not going to rat out my sister.”
Dad takes a long sip of his milkshake. “This is one