Jack Kerouac is Dead to Me - Gae Polisner Page 0,16

I know there’s no way he’s interested.

Except, I feel like he is. I’ve noticed him watching me lately, calling me over when I walk in a room. Being over-friendly and squeezing my shoulders, or bumping my arm. Last week, he offered me a ride home, when I’ve been walking to and from your house alone for the past four years.

“I’ll take you; it’s raining,” he said, though it was barely sprinkling. He just got his license, I told myself. He wants an excuse to drive.

“Markham,” he demands, making me realize I’ve stopped halfway there. “Quick, you have to see this, before he’s done.”

I nod, my cheeks burning as I weave through his friends who have spilled off the couch and onto the floor. A girl I recognize from chorus is perched on the lap of a boy from tennis team.

I move to the orange chair where Ethan is and hand his plate to him.

“Here.” He pats the arm of the chair.

There’s nowhere else. That’s all.

I sit, and he takes a bite of pizza, propping the plate on his legs. Our arms are practically touching. “Watch this,” he says mouth full, and nods to the television where a Ninja Warrior episode or something is blasting. “It’s unbelievable. Dude has one leg.”

On the screen, a good-looking black man is making his way across obstacles in camouflage pants, no shirt, and ripped six-pack abs. Like Ethan said, he’s on only one leg. Still, I have to fight to pay attention. I can feel my arm hairs stand when they brush against his.

“It’s amazing,” I finally twist to tell him. But, when I do, he’s already looking at me, our faces too close, his expression an intense question that makes it hard for me to breathe.

The room erupts with a collective gasp as the guy falls from an obstacle into the water.

“That was freaking crazy!” the girl sitting on the arm of the couch says. “I don’t care that he didn’t finish. They should still give him the money or trophy, or whatever.” She gets up and walks over to where we are and lifts Ethan’s plate, collapsing down backward onto his lap. “What do you think, Ethan? Finish or not, don’t you think he should get the money?”

She reaches her arm up and wraps it behind Ethan’s neck, as if I’m not here, as if I’m a no-one, as if I don’t matter, which I don’t. I feel like I’m going to puke.

I unwedge myself, and get up, and walk back to the bar, but I’m really not hungry anymore, and a few minutes later, you’re downstairs, and someone turns on the movie, and we eat room temp pizza together while I try my hardest not to think about how awful I am, or, worse, make one single wish I’m not supposed to have.

SPRING

SEVENTH GRADE

1.??Always be friends.

2.?? Never fight. If we fight, always make up.

3.??Never date a boy the other person likes. Siblings included, because Janee Freese is gross.

4.??Never leave the other person alone in the cafeteria.

5.??Always keep each other’s secrets no matter what.

6.??Never keep secrets from each other.

You hand the pen to me, but I shake my head.

“I’m sure you thought of everything,” I say.

LATE APRIL

TENTH GRADE

“Come back here, Jailbait. Don’t be upset.”

Max has moved to my bed, but I move to the habitat and watch the butterflies.

How is he only telling me about California now, with less than six weeks left of school?

Is this how much I matter to him?

Why didn’t he tell me in February, when we first started dating, when I had time to protect myself, or at least earlier today—or yesterday—when we had all the time in the world? Now my mother is home and all I want to do is get him out of here.

“You have to go, Max,” I say, trying not to sound mad or, worse, let the tears that want to come, fall. “I have a ton of homework.”

“Jailbait—”

“Max, please.” The tears break through and, for a second, I can barely hold on to myself. He gets up and walks over, and wraps his arms tightly around me, burying his face in my neck.

I shake him off. I’m not doing this. But he holds on tighter.

“I care about you. A lot. I swear.”

“Max, don’t.” I squirm free from his hug and swipe at my eyes. I’m dumb for crying, and even more dumb for being so needy and na?ve. What did I think was going to happen once he graduated? Did I think he’d