“Make a wish.” Pride radiates from Mom’s smile. Her joy makes me realize my acceptance into Boston College—the realization of my goals—is an accomplishment for her, too.
I wish for more of what I already have: this feeling of floating, of invincibility. I blow hard and the flame disappears.
“This is only the beginning,” Mom tells me.
And I feel that. In my bones. Stitched into my every breath.
Chapter 25
I text Lizzie to meet me at my locker before school the next day.
“You look happy.” She leans against my neighbor’s locker. “I take it you have good news?”
I shove my textbook onto the high shelf and hang my bag. “The hugest news.” I close the door, secure the latch.
“Alec asked you to marry him?”
“Hilarious, but no. I heard from Boston College.” I beam. “Class of 2020.” My excitement is a wild horse stampede, beyond my control.
“Ho. Lee. Shit!” Lizzie punches my arm. “I told you that stuffy institution would want a fresh breath of Zee.”
“Hah. Seriously though, it’s crazy.” I want to tell her so much more. About Alec. About losing my virginity. Planning a future with him. But maybe this is the way limbo works. Maybe parts of me have already moved on without her.
“I think it’s supposed to be crazy. Like, crazier than we can even imagine. That’s the shit that keeps us mortals wanting more, no? The thrill of the emotional high.” She throws her arm around me and the weight of her hug is so much more than just an embrace; it is years of holding each other up. Only now, we’re holding on.
“Doyle!” A voice booms, forcing Lizzie and me to break apart. I feel lopsided without her. Lizzie eyes Coach as she storms toward me. “Maybe I should go.” Lizzie winks. “In case she plans on reading you the riot act.” Coach’s specialty.
“Okay, I’ll catch up with you in trig.”
Coach reaches me and I take a step back, expecting her to shove her face in mine like she’s been doing on the sidelines for four years. It’s a surprise when she speaks with gathered calm. “I assume it was something important that kept you away from accepting our trophy.” Alumni Weekend. God, that seems like forever ago.
Then guilt floods. For letting her down. For letting my team down.
“Your team missed you.”
“I wish I could have been there.”
“We all do. This was your team, Doyle.” She rubs the whistle at her neck. “So this is it, huh?”
“You could come see me play in Boston if I’m lucky enough to make the team.”
“I’m a homebody, Doyle. But I think you’ve got a shot if you keep training. I’ll be here if you ever come back to visit.”
“Thanks Coach.”
“Can I give some unsolicited advice before you head off into your future?”
“Sure.”
“It’d be a waste if you missed out on things at college because of a guy.”
A protest hangs on my lips but she holds up her hand.
“Something to think about. One of many.” She turns on her heels to leave, her sneakers squeaking.
Of all the reprimands I’ve received from her, this one is the harshest, cuts most deep. I exhale a huff for her invasion into my private life. Coach could never understand what Alec and I have and I suddenly feel bad for her. I can’t imagine how bitter I’d be if I were her age and hadn’t met a guy who made me feel the way Alec does. I’d probably choose a career in yelling too.
On the walk to homeroom, I pass Gregg at Lani’s locker. He’s got his arm slung so easily around her there’s no sign he was ever interested in me at all. When Lani waves, Gregg stares at me, his face unreadable. Half of me wants to bound over to him, tell him about the letter. My future, confirmed. But the other half of me lowers my head in a secret smile. I’ve got all the time in the world to tell Gregg our dream of Boston next year has come true. I can wait for when he’s ready.
• • •
Midterms sucked. I’ve never been so underprepared for any test. I even guessed at some of the multiple choice questions Mr. Barnes gave in lit class, and trig was a disaster. But I don’t let any of that spoil the weightlessness of joy as I ready for my date with Alec, pulling on my Apology Dress the way he requested.
He picks me up and drives me to his house. When we pull up the driveway, I fantasize it is our house.
In the dining room, he pulls out my chair, gestures for me to sit. He ducks into the kitchen and then music seeps through hidden speakers, its buoyant tempo painting the air with a mellow rhythm. I recognize Joan Armatrading’s soulful voice immediately. “Down to Zero.” My favorite. Gratefulness builds inside me for the way he remembers all the details.