Late to the Party - Kelly Quindlen Page 0,75
bad mood because you got in that fight with your boyfriend?”
I whipped around as if our parents might be there, even though I knew they were at work. “He’s not my boyfriend,” I growled. “And it’s none of your business.”
Grant narrowed his eyes. “I picked up that popcorn for you, remember?”
“So? What, you did me a favor and now I owe you an explanation for everything in my life?”
“No,” he huffed, his voice cracking a bit, “but I got that popcorn for you and I didn’t tell anyone about it, and I haven’t told Mom and Dad any of the times when you’ve said you were going out with Maritza and JaKory but you’re actually going out with that guy in the truck—”
“Why are you always spying on me?” I asked shrilly.
“My window looks out over the driveway!” he said, abandoning his ravioli. “I can’t help it if I see you sneaking out all the time!”
“I’m not ‘sneaking out’—”
“I haven’t ratted you out to anyone, Codi, not even one time.”
My brother had a fierce look in his eyes, but there was something deeper coming across, too: He seemed hurt, disappointed, like he was trying to keep himself from wanting something. I stood still, watching him, both of us breathing hard.
What was the harm in telling my brother, really? I’d lost everything already, so what did it matter if I confided those losses in him?
“Fine,” I said. “What do you want to know?”
He looked cautious, like I might be pulling a trick on him.
“Grant,” I said shortly. “What do you want to know?”
He leaned back on his stool, almost like we were having a casual catch-up session, but I noticed he’d crossed his arms tighter. “Who’s that guy?” he asked. “How do you know him?”
“His name is Ricky, he’s my friend and nothing more, and I met him at a party.”
Grant’s eyes widened. “You went to a party?”
I looked away, avoiding the question.
“Maritza and JaKory don’t know him, right?”
“No,” I admitted, “they don’t.”
“Why not?”
I shook my head, wondering how to answer something I was still trying to articulate for myself. “I just needed something for myself, something they weren’t a part of.”
Grant was silent for a long moment.
“What?” I asked. “You think I’m a terrible person?”
“No,” he said evenly, “I think it makes sense.”
“It does?”
“Yeah,” he said, like it was obvious. “Maritza and JaKory think they know everything about you, and sometimes about me, but they don’t.”
I watched my brother curiously. “Yeah.”
“Why did you fight with him? Ricky? You both looked pissed when he dropped you off last time. I thought you had broken up.”
“I told you, he’s not—”
“I know, I know, sorry.”
“We had a fight about … about him not trusting me. He always wants me to tell him stuff about me, but he won’t tell me anything about him.”
“That sucks,” Grant said, like he was really trying to relate to me. “And it’s not fair, ’cause you’re probably just asking because you want to know him better.”
“Exactly,” I said, and the moment I uttered the word, it hit me what Grant was saying. I wasn’t even sure he meant for me to read into it, and maybe he wouldn’t have wanted me to, but all the same, I was standing there across from my little brother and realizing I had kept him even further away than Ricky tried to keep me.
“You’ll fix the fight,” Grant said, oblivious to the guilt I was feeling. “Whenever my friends and I fight, we just walk some laps to cool off, say we’re sorry, and get back to our game.”
“Yeah,” I said, still reeling. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“But why are you mad at Maritza and JaKory? What did they do?”
“I—I don’t know.”
“Are they your best friends still? Or is Ricky your new best friend?”
“I don’t know,” I said again, feeling hollow.
“Man. I mean, Maritza and JaKory can be really annoying sometimes, but I can’t imagine them not being around anymore. They’ve been, like, a part of me growing up.”
I laughed unexpectedly. “What?”
“They have been,” Grant said earnestly. “I’ve known them since I was in third grade. Maritza helped me with my science fair project, remember?”
“Yeah. I remember.” I paused, and now my heart started drumming hard. “Grant? Don’t you think Maritza and JaKory and I are kind of—losers?”
“Losers? Who said you were losers?”
I shrugged but didn’t elaborate; my heart was still pounding and I knew I was burning red.
Grant averted his eyes. “I don’t know, Codi. When I was little it felt like everyone