Robin Constantine - The Promise of Amazing

Ava. Her mouth formed a small, surprised O. Had she seen?

“The guy from the paper is here,” she said, her voice small, echoing through the quiet kitchen. “He wants to take a group picture.” The last sentence trailed off as she calculated the scene.

“We were just talking about Grayson,” Luke said, sauntering over to her. He threw an arm around her shoulder. “How we should all hang out.”

Ava closed her eyes and shivered. “Whatever. Let’s just take this effing picture and get out of here. I’ve filled my community-service quota for the decade.”

The two of them disappeared through the swinging doors, and I crumpled. There was no way I was going to take a group picture—the thought of this event being commemorated in any way made my skin crawl—but then Mrs. Fiore poked her head into the kitchen.

“Come on, Miss Co-chair. You’re needed!” she said. She was wearing the hat with the dancing Christmas tree and looked just this side of crazy. Before I could protest, she hurried me out to the group huddled in front of the tree and placed me right next to Luke.

When the photos were done, and the spots in my eyes from the flash evaporated, I was the first to pull away from the group.

“Wren,” Luke said, putting his hand on my shoulder.

I swatted it off. “I’ll talk to Grayson; just get away from me.”

“You closed your eyes,” he said as I walked away.

I stopped, a stream of students and residents continued flowing around me.

“What?”

“When we kissed,” he said, coming closer to me. “You closed your eyes.”

My jaw dropped. I jerked my head from side to side to see if anyone had heard what he’d just said. Someone plunked a few keys on the piano, and Mrs. Fiore told the students to form a line to get their coats.

“We,” I said as low as I could, “didn’t kiss. You kissed me. And I pushed you away, and—”

“And you closed your eyes, and for a second you just went with it,” he finished. “All I’m saying is I thought we kind of rocked it, and I think you’d be lying if you said different.”

How could I answer that? Closing my eyes had been a reflex, pure and simple. I had been curious, but it was the same sort of curiosity that drew me to the edge of the second floor of the mall, wondering what it would be like to toss myself off. I’d never do that, never go over the railing because I knew it would hurt and I’d break something or die right in front of Old Navy. Still, I’d kissed Luke. So there I was. Splat.

“You’re deluded,” I answered, walking away to get my coat. He easily kept up with me, and we stood at the back of the line, inching up as each person retrieved his or her belongings.

“When you have that conversation with Grayson, and you’re feeling really awful about that hot chick from the mall,” he said, “just, you know, keep me in mind, if you want a revenge hookup.”

“How can you talk like that? You’re with Ava. I thought you were Grayson’s best friend.”

For a moment I could see that I’d hit a nerve. On some level his friendship with Grayson mattered to him. Whatever he was playing at now had nothing to do with friendship. Ava came by and shoved his jacket into his chest. He raked his teeth across his lower lip. The glimpse was gone. He stood up straight and put one arm through the sleeve of his jacket.

“All’s fair, Wren,” he said, walking away, jogging to catch up with Ava, who glared over her shoulder at me. So much for rekindling our BFF status.

I grabbed my coat, avoiding further contact with anyone, and scored a window seat on the bus ride back to Sacred Heart. Mrs. Fiore returned my phone. I had five texts from Grayson. Normally I would have torn right through them, but I rested my head against the window, trying to make sense of all that had happened.

Luke’s knowledge of the mall chick . . . Allegra . . . burrowed under my skin, giving new life to the fears that I’d squelched about Grayson. There was something he wasn’t telling me. He’d hooked up with her? That thought alone made every nerve in my body sizzle with jealousy. I’d had a gut feeling he’d been doing more than a favor for Luke, but ignorance was bliss. I swiped a few tears away before the bus steered into the Sacred Heart lot, where I saw him perched on the Chrysler. Completely oblivious to the hell I was about to give him.

I STARED DOWN THE STREET, SHIVERING MY ASS off as I sat on the rear bumper of the Chrysler. Waiting. We were due at my mother’s in about three hours. Why wasn’t Wren returning my texts?

The wheezing sound of bus brakes got my attention. The bus chugged down the street and into the Sacred Heart lot. My pulse sped up at the thought of seeing her. She’d told me just last week how she loved to walk out of school and see me there.

Me. Grayson Barrett. Boyfriend.

Go figure. Who was I to let her down?

She was the first to get off the bus. Hopping down, she walked with quick, short steps. The hood of her coat was up, the fuzzy fur trim blowing back with her movement. She pulled the hood down, shook out her hair. The corners of my mouth turned up at the sight of her, but as she got closer, I knew something was wrong. Her mouth was a tight, glossy line, and that spot between her eyebrows was creased.

“Hey, you,” I said, opening my arms to give her a squeeze, hoping that would help. She stopped about three feet away from me, arms crossed and eyeing me like coming closer would be painful. Her mouth opened and a puff of white escaped, drifted away.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Why don’t you ask your friend?” she said, her voice catching.

“Friend? Wha—” I stopped, my eyes fixing on Luke. He had his arm around Ava and was talking to a guy I recognized from St. Gabe’s. What was he doing here? You know I wouldn’t mind having that conversation with her.

“What did he say?” I asked, trying to control the rage snaking up in my chest.

Wren shook her head, lips trembling. Silent. This was bad.

My feet took off before my brain was up to speed. Luke and Ava saw me from about a foot away. She let out a yelp as he pushed her out of the way. I freight-trained into him, and we both tumbled down to the pavement, rolling over until we stopped, splayed apart from each other not far from the curb.

“Barrett, what the hell?” he yelled, and scrambled to his feet.

I had one knee up and one still on the ground when the bottom of his shoe made hard contact with my shoulder, shoving me back. My palms scraped the pavement, and I crab-walked backward, practically knocking over Ava, until I got my footing and stood up, ducking just in time to dodge Luke’s fist. I grabbed hold of his jacket, and we spun before I slammed him into the wrought-iron fence that surrounded the front lawn of Sacred Heart. Someone screamed.

“What did you do?” I asked, gathering up the slack of his jacket in my fists and slamming him against the fence again. It knocked the spit out of him, but he brought up both arms in between mine and broke my hold, shoving me away. I stumbled back, fists at the ready.

“I did you a fucking favor,” he said, squaring off his shoulders. We circled each other, catching our breath, until Luke lunged toward me. I sidestepped him, letting his momentum carry him past me, but he turned sharp, and his fist clipped my chin. The sting spurned me on, and I landed a punch square on his cheek, my knuckles throbbing. He rubbed the spot where my fist had made contact and laughed.

Grunting, I charged him. He braced himself, chest slamming into mine. We butted against each other, the force making us momentarily still.

“Grayson! Luke! Stop.” Faceless voices shouted our names as we spun slowly, pushing into each other, neither one of us backing down.

“What . . . did . . . you. . . tell . . . her?” I asked, stammering between shoves.

“The . . . truth,” he said, his voice rough with struggle.

Fuck.

I backed away, and Luke fell forward into Ava. She pulled on his jacket, but he batted her off, coming at me again. Adrenaline numbed me from the fight, but twinges of pain prickled through my palms, chin, and shoulder. I steeled myself for his assault. He came at me again, and our arms were around each other, each grappling for the upper hand.

“Why are you doing this?”

“That’s my property around her neck, Barrett.”

“Drop it. It’s over.”

“Who said you get to say when it’s over?”

“Enough!” a high-pitched voice squealed. We were moving apart from each other but still jabbing. A two-ton guy in a Santa hat was behind Luke, holding him by the elbows. Luke squirmed but finally relented. An older woman with frosted hair and stale coffee breath was in my face, hand up, urging me to back off. I tried to get around her, but she got in my face again with another shrill command of, “Enough!”

“Barrett, dude, calm down.”

The guy from St. Gabe’s had me by the back of my jacket. I twisted away from him.

“Who are you?” the lady asked.

I stepped back.

“You weren’t even on the bus . . . why are you here? Where did you come from?” she demanded.

“He’s with me, Mrs. Fiore,” Wren said, coming to my side and grabbing my hand before I could answer.

Ah, the Harvard-stomping guidance counselor.

“Miss Caswell, this is Sacred Heart property, and you’re still representing this school and the Spirit Club. I won’t tolerate this. What’s your name?”

“Grayson Barrett, ma’am,” I answered, standing up straight.

“I’d better not see you within a five-block radius of this school for at least a month, Grayson Barrett, or I’ll call the police, do you understand me?”

Luke stood by Ava, triumph on his flushed face.

“Don’t forget, Wren,” he said.

She flipped Luke off. He pouted and put his hands over his heart in mock hurt, finally scowling at me. My blood boiled. I started toward him again, but Wren dug her nails into my raw hand so hard, I winced.

“Grayson, please, just stop,” Wren said, keeping her grip on me. When we got closer to the Chrysler, she let go of my hand. I walked over to the passenger side, to open the door for her. She stopped in her tracks.

“Wren, I can explain,” I said, my voice unsteady. Not knowing what Luke had told her, I wasn’t sure what kind of explanation I could offer.

“Do I want to hear it?” she asked. “Whatever it is, it must be really awful for you to go at him like that.”

My brain went numb. I put my hands in my hair, tugging at my roots, closing my eyes.

“Why did he say his property was around my neck, Grayson?”

“You heard that?”

“He was looking over your shoulder at me when he said it,” she said.

“Wren, please, let’s just go somewhere and talk. I’ll explain, I promise. What did Luke mean by, Don’t forget? Don’t forget what?”

“He needs to speak to Mike Pearson. He said it would mean more coming from me. What does that even mean, Grayson? Who is that?”

I’d heard that when you die, you see your life flash before your eyes. It hadn’t happened when I’d choked, but it happened now. Only, it was Mike Pearson’s life that flashed before me. Faces of chicks I thought I’d long forgotten and houses we’d swiped stuff from all rushed before me as I stood before the only girl who mattered.

“Grayson, please, who’s Mike Pearson?”

Of course Luke would know exactly what to say to Wren to make it lethal. I jammed my eyes shut, tried to right the sensation I had of free-falling down a deep dark hole, and took a deep breath.

“Me, Wren. I’m Mike Pearson.”

Her eyes turned a brighter shade of blue when she cried.

We sat in the Chrysler, behind the A&P only a few blocks from Sacred Heart. My confession flowed easily, as if I’d only been waiting for the right time to tell her. I left out names and places, details I’d either forgotten or forced myself to forget. I didn’t tell her about Andy, Dev, or Logan specifically, just that I had other friends involved. But I told her how we’d worked, how I’d worked. There was no spin-doctoring, no not-exactly-a-lie half-truths. I felt so detached, it was like I was telling someone else’s story. I blocked out her occasional sniffles, trying not to look at her, because every time I did, my heart imploded a little more.

After I finished we sat in silence, broken only by Wren’s occasional sobs. I wanted to reassure her that I had changed, that what I had with her was all I wanted, but I sat frozen. The longer we sat, the more scared I became of what she was going to say.