Never Always Sometimes - Adi Alsaid Page 0,62

Dave had walked around a few days before, looking at the

lawn, trying to remember exactly where it had happened, and Julia

had felt like screaming that she didn’t want to know, begging to be

spared the details. Now she tied the string to the stem of the rose and

stuck it in the grass. Inside the mailbox, she left Dave’s note. Hopefully it would take Gretchen long enough to find so Julia could get the

cupcake to the next location.

THE SIXTH ROSE

Julia made it back to school, where Gretchen’s car was one of

the only ones still in the lot. Marroney’s car was still there, and for

a crazy moment she considered leaving him a note, just for fun, just

to let him know she wasn’t completely over him. Instead, she left the cupcake on the hood of Gretchen’s car, with the next clue tucked into

the windshield wiper. It’d be so easy to leave it a little too close to the edge of the rubber, where the wind would blow it away and put a stop

to the whole thing. Then her phone chimed. In position. Again. Have I mentioned this is ridiculous? You are a mastermind.

Julia smiled. We*, she wrote back.

THE SEVENTH ROSE

The rose hanging from the top post of the goal felt too cheesy even

for the promposal, but Julia made sure it was centered and that the

knot was nice and tight. Attached to it was a treasure map that would

208 NEVER ALWAYS SOMETIMES

lead Gretchen on a very specific route to the next rose. It was a gorgeous day, the breeze just as Julia liked it, the sun just as she liked it, the sky so blue it was as if someone had gathered a week’s worth of skies

and jammed them all together. Love was people creating memories for

each other, and Julia knew that today would be memorable not just for

Dave and Gretchen.

THE EIGHTH ROSE

Courtesy of one of Brett’s friends, a beautiful rose was graffitied

on the side of the abandoned warehouse near the highway. Black

and white and every imaginable shade of gray, the clue in Dave’s

handwriting beside it. Too nervous to do it during the day, Dave

had done it at two in the morning, and Julia could picture the stain

of black paint on his index finger, Brett making fun of Dave for

being nervous. She could almost picture Dave starting and stopping,

looking over his shoulder. She wished she had gone with them. She

drove past the warehouse just to take a look at it again when another

phone call came through.

THE NINTH ROSE

It’d been strangely easy to find an a cappella group on such

short notice. The Internet did wonderful things. “La Vie en Rose”

was even in their repertoire, and they were open to the idea of

performing just one song, at a stoplight in the middle of town, for

an audience of one.

JULIA 209

THE TENTH ROSE

Julia had really pushed for skywriting or fireworks on this one. Dave

could argue all he wanted, Julia couldn’t see anything else that would

match the over-the-top glory of roses in the sky. In the end, logistics

had put a stop to the discussion. The alternative wasn’t half-bad: Evan

Royster, a junior, had recently been written up in the local newspaper

for his “fire art,” elaborate drawings of lighter fluid that blazed for a few minutes before disappearing forever.

He was dressed in the bear suit, waiting with his lighter in the far

corner of the mall’s parking lot where Dave and Gretchen had gone

GPS-drawing.

THE ELEVENTH ROSE

Julia could not believe their luck when they went to the costume

shop to find the bear suit and they’d found a giant rose costume.

“You know that’s going to be you inside, right?”

“Absolutely,” Dave said, already grabbing it off the rack. “I can’t

believe rose costumes exist.”

“Never underestimate people’s cheesiness,” Julia said, poking Dave

in the stomach, wishing it would elicit his usual head-shaking response.

THE TWELFTH ROSE

Julia arrived at the harbor right as Dave texted her that he was

about to meet up with Gretchen at the mall. Julia’s Mazda was parked

in the harbor’s lot. The orchestra kids were set up in a semicircle

210 NEVER ALWAYS SOMETIMES

around the car. They were in their little band tuxedos, practicing their sections. The sun had already dipped behind the ocean, and twilight

was growing darker.

“They’re on their way!” Julia cried out, and the orchestra fell quiet.

“Remember, start playing once she sees the car, and crescendo right

before they kiss.”

“How will we know when they’re going to kiss?” one of the violinists

called out.

“Seriously? Have you never seen two people kissing?”

“I don’t know . . .” the shy voice said, trailing off in a way that made Julia feel