I just found.”
“Is it Marroney’s mole from sophomore year?”
“Our Nevers list.”
Julia turned around to face him. A couple of football players
passed between them talking about a party happening on Friday. She
was quiet, studying Dave with a raised eyebrow. “You wouldn’t lie to
me, would you, O’Flannery? I could never forgive you.”
“Gutierrez. My last name is Gutierrez.”
“Don’t change the subject. Did you really find it?” She motioned
for him to hand the paper over, which he did, making sure their
fingers would brush. The linoleum hallways were starting to empty
out, people were settling into their lunch spots. “I was actually
thinking about this the other day. I even wrote my mom about it,”
Julia said, reading over the list. A smile shaped her lips, which were
on the thin side, though Dave couldn’t imagine wishing for them to
be any different. “We did a pretty good job of sticking to this.”
“Except for that time you hooked up with Marroney,” Dave said,
moving to her side and reading the list with her.
“I wish. He’s such a dreamboat.”
Dave closed his locker and they peered into classrooms they
passed by, watching the teachers settle into their lunchtime
rituals, doing some grading as they picked at meals packed into
Tupperware. Dave and Julia wordlessly stopped in front of Mr.
Marroney’s room and watched him try to balance a pencil on the
end of a yardstick.
12 NEVER ALWAYS SOMETIMES
“This is your one regret from high school?”
“There’s a playful charm to him,” Julia said, in full volume, though
the door was open. “I’m surprised you don’t see it.”
They stared on for a while, then made their way out toward the
cafeteria. The line was at its peak, snaking all the way around the
tables and reaching almost to the door. The tables inside the cafeteria
and out on the blacktop had long since been claimed. “Kind of cool
that we never did get a permanent lunch spot,” Dave said, gesturing
with the list in hand. “I hadn’t even remembered that it was on the
list. Had you?”
“No,” Julia said. “The subconscious is weird.” She reached into her
bag and grabbed a Granny Smith apple, rubbing it halfheartedly on
the hem of her shirt. “How do you feel about the gym today?”
He shrugged and they walked across the blacktop to the basketball
gym tucked behind the soccer field. They had a handful of spots they
sometimes went to, usually agreeing on a spot wordlessly, both of
them headed in the same direction as if pulled by the same invisible
string. They entered the old building, which used to smell of mold
until a new court had been installed, so now it smelled like mold
and new wood. The walls were painted the school colors: maroon
and gold. Next to the banners hanging from the ceiling there was a
deflated soccer ball pinned to the rafters.
Julia led them up the plastic bleachers. A group of kids was
shooting around, and one of them looked at Dave and called out to
him. “Hey, man, we need one more! You wanna run?”
DAVE 13
“No, thanks,” Dave said. “I had a really bad dream about basketball
once and I haven’t been able to play since.”
The kid frowned, then looked over at his friends who shook their
heads and laughed. Dave took a seat next to Julia as the kids resumed
their shooting. “I think you’ve used that one before,” Julia said, taking a bite out of her apple.
“I’m kind of offended on your behalf that they don’t ask you to
play.”
“They did once.”
“Really?” Dave rummaged through his backpack for the
Tupperware he’d packed himself in the morning. “Why don’t I
remember that?”
“I was really good. Dunked on people. Scored more points than
I did on the SAT. Every male in the room suppressed the memory
immediately to keep their egos from disintegrating.”
Dave laughed as he scooped a plastic forkful of chicken and rice. It
was a recipe he vaguely remembered from childhood, one he’d found
in his mom’s old cookbooks and had taught himself to make. His
dad and his older brother, Brett, never said anything about it, but
the leftovers never lasted more than two days. “So, you’ve heard from
your mom recently?” Julia had been raised by her adoptive fathers, but
her biological mom had always lingered on the fringe, occasionally
keeping in touch. Julia idolized her, and Dave, who’d been yearning
for his mom for years, could never fault her for it.
“Yeah,” Julia said, unable to keep a smile from forming. “She’s even
14 NEVER ALWAYS SOMETIMES
been calling. I heard the dads tell her the other day that she’s welcome anytime, so there’s a chance that a visit is in the works.”
Dave reached over and grabbed Julia’s head, shaking it from side to
side. Long ago, in the awkward years