Ka-Lide

Staring at the sky, I realize that it’s getting dark. How long have I been lying here, my back on the trampoline? Four hours? I have no way of determining. I look over and notice the scab on my wrist. Have I been here four days?

I pull my cell phone out of my pocket. Still a little charge on the battery. I’ve probably been out here a few hours. Yes, it’s 7:00. I call Mom, opening my mouth for the first time in quite a while. I sound really funny. I don’t know if it’s my hearing or my voice that has me thinking so. I know she knows. I also know she doesn’t care.

"Mom? Is the door unlocked?"

"Yeah. Get in the house, you stoner!"

I hang up, pretending those last words don’t majorly sting. At least it isn’t another of her incorrect assumptions of my life. When in the house, I pass Ma on the couch watching "Entertainment Tonight" with her ratty hair in a bun, and her frail frame is stretched out across some pillows. I wonder if she is Out.

I sit on my bed in front of my laptop just staring. I wonder if Jewel would be online. Not that it matters. We wouldn’t talk if she were. I allow myself to merely glance at my dresser. A picture of Jewel and me sits staring back. Why aren’t we friends anymore?

We had no falling-out, no turning point. We had a gradual drifting. I know it’s mostly my fault. How could I forget the days I just stopped wanting to talk to people? This thought brought back several mental pictures. Me listening and listening to Jewel talking. Standing in the hall watching her lips move and slowing fading to somewhere else. I hardly listened. It was more of a hearing thing.

It wasn’t just Jewel. I just wanted to be a fly on the wall everywhere, even in places I was actually allowed to be. When anyone tried to talk to me, or involve me in anything, I wanted to shut the door, live in solitude.

I think about the hows and whys of my current life, and I realize I’m still like that. Maybe I’ve always been this way, and I just never really realized it. I can remember times before Dad died, when I lived happily (or so we called it) in his home, and his wife, Karyll would set up a game board of some kind on the kitchen table. "Gather ‘round kids! We’re going to play ‘Clue’!" I could think of nothing more that I wanted to do besides anything.

I would rather sit on my fluffy bed and listen to the giggles of Karyll’s kids and the distinguished laugh of Karyll barrel down the hallway. I would rather turn on my radio and hear the DJ complain about the world or listen to someone sing about the pain they have that’s the same as the pain I have.

No one listens to music like I do. No one feels the same about music as me. At least, if they do, they aren’t very open about it. Maybe they think it’s uncool to talk about feelings or depression. I’m never afraid to tell someone why I like a song: someone put heart-felt, emotional pain into it.

I don’t like rap. Mostly because I can’t identify. I can’t identify with being richer than everyone else in the world, sex until dawn, trying to get booty, nine millimeters, Escalades, hoes all around, and a love for Tupac. I can’t even really identify with having self-esteem.

I get up from my bed and look into the mirror. My eyes are red and puffy. I look like I’ve been crying or beaten up. Or cried after being beaten up. I grab some mascara that I stole from Karyll’s daughter, Krista, and apply it to my colorless lashes. That does wonders, even though it doesn’t exactly make me look good. My shoulder-length hair is a frizzy mess. I grab a comb and try brushing the tangles and knots away. No such luck. I grab my phone and flash to my recent calls. The last phone call that wasn’t my mom was a week ago? Surely not.

It was Jewel and she had called to see why I wasn’t at school. I don’t know why she cared. We don’t talk to each other at school anymore. I call my voicemail, knowing full well I have no messages, but it says that I have saved a message to the archives two weeks ago and that it is going to be deleted. I listen carefully.

"Hey, Ben. This is Jewel. You looked kind of distracted today." A flood of memories washes over me. I remember the day I saved this message. "I was just wondering if maybe it was something you wanted to talk about. You know that girl from your biology class that you like so much? She’s the one who moved in next door three days ago. Can you believe that? We just might have to bring her a heart-shaped Jell-O mold tomorrow." She laughed at her own joke. "Anyway, call me back. I hope you’re not avoiding me." She laughed again. "Bye."

I saved that message because her voice was so beautiful. I wish I could save it longer, but the phone won’t keep any messages past two weeks, so I have no choice but to listen to it a few more times then delete it. By the time I actually do delete it, I know it by heart, and I find myself writing down her words on a stray sheet of paper and staring at them, only to imagine her voice was saying them to me. Who cares about that girl from my biology class?

I feel like we’ve talked recently because of the message, so I call Jewel. No one answers. I think about leaving a message. I do. "Jewel? Well, I guess you’re not there. This is your answering machine," I say, and slap myself on the forehead for such stupid words. Such stupid, uneraseable words. "I was just thinking how much of a jerk I’ve been lately. I’m sorry I’ve been so distant. Things have just been crazy with Ma, and I’ve had a lot of thinking to do. I hope you can forgive me. Call me back sometime. I…" I pause. "I’ll talk to you later. Bye."

Just before I can hang up, there is a beep. It’s Jewel. She must’ve caught my call just a little late. I don’t feel like repeating my whole schpeel (it was hard to say the first time), so I don’t answer it. I don’t know if it’s obvious that I just want her to listen to the message, but I figure she’ll get it eventually.

I swat my hair out of my face. "Ben!" My mom calls from down the hall. "Coming!" I call back.

When I get into the living room, she’s still on the couch, but now she’s sitting up, smoking. "You’re getting a haircut tomorrow," she says, looking me over. I don’t like the way she said it at all, or the way she’s looking at me.

"With what money?" I say defiantly, knowing she won’t like this at all.

"I don’t know. You better get some, because I’m not looking at your nappy hair like that anymore. I shouldn’t have to. I’m your mother."

"Is that what you’re supposed to be?" I ask, unusually smart aleckly.

She ignores me and keeps talking. "If you’re going to have long hair like a girl, you’re going to have to learn to groom like a girl."

"Whatever," I say, knowing that she won’t remember this conversation by tomorrow.

I dodge her beautiful yellow eyes. I pretend I don’t see her. I don’t know what she’ll want to say. All of a sudden, I regret apologizing for my jackass behavior. She didn’t call back, so maybe she isn’t going to forgive me. I couldn’t avoid her for long, though. "Ben!"

"Oh, hey, Jewel. Did you get my message?" I change my tone as I ask.

My body tenses, but I hope she doesn’t see. "Yeah. Look, it’s not a big deal. I’m just glad you want to talk to me again. I thought I’d done something to hurt you." My mind is blown. How could she think this was her fault?

"No, I just…"

"No need to keep talking about it," she laughs. "Unless, you want to. Is there anything you want to talk about?"

I contemplate telling her about all the pot. No, that can wait. "Not right now. I have to get to first block."

"Alright. I love you!" She hugs me. Just like the best friend I’m sure she’ll only always be.

I hug back lovingly, not wanting to let go. She feels so warm, and she initiated the hug, unlike the cold, empty hugs I am used to giving to my mother. I finally pull away and walk to biology. I sit down in my desk right next to Jeanette, Jewel’s new neighbor and the most beautiful girl in the whole school, and the problem: she knows she how good she looks. I suspect someone might have told her.

All the desks in this class are separated into two sections facing each other. It is all set up to where the front of the room is to the right of all the desks with their backs to the right wall and to the left of all the desks against the left wall. I am on the right side of the room, and to the left of Jeanette, so she has no excuse to look at me. And she doesn’t. She’s too good for me, anyway.

"Jeanette," I whisper. "Jeanette." She doesn’t answer. "Hey, Jeanette." I tap her shoulder.

She rolls it out from under my finger as though it was dirty. "What?" She asks, at least trying to sound friendly. Precious preps think we can’t hear the I Wish I Didn’t Have To Talk To You in their voices.

"You don’t happen to have a pencil or pen I could borrow, do you?"

"No." She turns back to where she doesn’t have to look at me anymore.

"Well, it was nice talking to you, too," I say sarcastically, ignoring her "inconspicuous" eye rolling.

After class, I decide I don’t want to go to second block. I go behind the gym and light up. I just want to be high until lunch, so I hardly smoke at all. I just don’t want to have to worry about confessing to Jewel about my smoking. Mellow is good. Kaine, the guy who first got me smoking is back there.

"Dude, I heard you got herbed the other night."

"Who told you that?"

"Why, you got a girl you don’t want knowing?" Afraid he might get a kick out of exposing me, I joke.

"No, actually, I just wanted to know who said ‘herbed’. Never heard that one. That’s pretty gay!"

"Yeah, well, did you?"

"Yeah." He keeps puffing. I’m just standing there talking. "A whole bag yesterday for myself. I started smoking at 7 A.M., when I woke up, and finished the whole bag by 3:00."

"Damn! I’ve never met anyone who smoked so much in their first week. You’re talented, my friend." I laugh and decide my high makes second block better than hanging out with a stoner who’s smoking on campus. If I get caught hanging out alone, I get a possible write-up and a "go back to class". If we get caught, and he’s smoking we’re both in giant trouble.

"I gotta get to class. I have someone to talk to. See you later."

"One more hit?"

"No, I’m gone." I open the door we are [dumbly] standing right next to. There’s a teacher standing there staring at me. What do I say? Nothing? Her glasses stand like a barrier between me and her emotion. Is she mad?

"Where do you think you’re going, sir?" Why do teachers have to say crap like that when you’re probably in trouble? "What exactly were you doing out there?"

"I was just getting fresh air." Another lie just pours out. "I was having a panic attack a minute ago." I hope to God she’s satisfied with my answer, because it’s the only thing I could think of, being prone to panic attacks, but the glare on her glasses keeps me from knowing until she speaks.

"Don’t let it happen again, because next time you need ‘fresh air’, I’ll be there." She does her air quotes as though her fingers can’t bend. "Who else is out there?"

"I didn’t see anyone when I was out there." It’s all over, and I know it. She walks past me towards the door, and I closely follow, my body tensed. She opens the door, and no one is there. I prayed it would happen this way. Thank you, God.

"Alright, get to class." I gladly oblige.

"Hey, baby!" I have first lunch. With freshmen. How did my class get so lucky? I can’t be sure, but I’m glad Jewel’s class is as lucky as mine. "Do you want to talk now?"

That’s when it occurs to me. I don’t have to tell her. I don’t want to see the disappointment flash across her face. "No. It’s nothing."

"Alright," she says, convinced. Or maybe she just doesn’t want to pressure me. "I’m just so glad I didn’t do something to make you mad." She hugs me and I’m beginning to wonder if she thinks she’s my mother. I hate the way she acts so maternal at times. I feel her breathing in deep, almost as though smelling me. She coughs. She is smelling me. "What is that?" she asks, disgusted, but not seemingly with me.

I’m wearing the same jacket as I was wearing all of yesterday. Yikes!

"Are you taking horticulture?" Oh, God, she’s being sarcastic. At me?

"No," I laugh, crossing my mind’s fingers, in hope.

"What is that? Smells like pot to me."

"It is." I can’t joke my way out of this one.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, remember when we started to grow apart, and all that?"

"Yes, so what’s going on with your mom?"

"What are you talking about?" She must be having some kind of breakdown.

A tear wells in her eye. "Give me your hand," she demands grabbing for my wrist. "You promised not to do this anymore." Jewel traces the freshest scar on my wrist. I shrink under the sudden but innocent pain.

"I know," I say, hoping she’s not too mad. I can’t take anymore of not being able to talk to her. "I just couldn’t…" I let my words trail, and a hint of anger creeps in on me. "I guess you wouldn’t understand."

"I know everything’s hard for you. I know I can’t begin to understand the pain," she sniffles, "so I’m not going to try, but I just wish I could help you, and I know I can’t."

"There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m not crazy, Jewel. I just deal with things in a different way than some people. A lot of people do this. It’s no big deal."

"I don’t want to argue about this anymore. Can’t we just enjoy lunch for today?" Jewel continues, "I just have one more question." I look at her expectantly. "How long have you been smoking weed?"

The question catches me so off-guard that I don’t know what to say.

"You don’t have to lie to me. I know. I just wanna know how long."

I decide to tell her straight up. "About a week."

"Oh, God. So that means those rumors… Those rumors could be true?"

"Rumors?"

"About yesterday. I heard you were getting high all day."

It’s hard to control my face. "Where did you hear that?"

"That stoner with the spiky black hair."

"Kaine?"

"Yeah. Is it true?"

I try pretending I don’t hear her question. "When did he say that?"

"Just today when he came in to second block late. He was out of breath, and he said it was from running from a teacher so he wouldn’t get caught smoking. He said while he was out there, he talked to you, and you confirmed the story. Is that true?"

I try my best to look confused without taking it overboard. "Yeah," I say, giving up. I try to sound apologetic and disappointed in myself. Truly, I’m just sorry and disappointed that she found out about everything. I wasn’t very careful. I initially planned to tell her anyway. I guess, eventually I would’ve told her, or she would’ve found out sooner or later.

"Oh, God." She was trying not to sound too mad. She wasn’t mad, but in her attempt not to sound that way, she was putting an angry intonation in her voice. "Whatever, let’s just eat."

As we sit down to eat, my stomach growls pretty noticeably. "How long has it been since you ate something?" Jewel sounds maternal again.

I really think about it. I try to count it in hours on my fingers. "I ate a bag of chips at 3:00 yesterday."

"Ben! That’s 20 hours! When was the last time you ate a real meal?"

"6:00 on… what was the day before yesterday?"

"Wednesday?! I swear! What happened to you? You usually eat like a horse!"

"Well, I’ve been hungry. Hello! Muchies!" Saying that makes her uncomfortable. I laugh a little. "I just haven’t had anything I particularly wanted to ‘much’ on." I breathe in slowly. "So yesterday was Thursday? That means today is Friday. TGIF," I say brightly.

"What are you doing for dinner for tonight?" I can tell Jewel has a plan. I take a bite of my hamburger—a big one.

"Nothing," I say through a mouthful of food.

"Yes you are. My parents will be out, and you’re eating at my house." Her parents hate me because I have long hair and wear shirts with skulls on them and listen to "devil music". Who knows? My long, black hair might suck their daughter into a devil-music mosh pit of human skulls. That’s okay, Mr. and Mrs. Johnson. I hate me, too.

"Don’t you need to call your mom and at least tell her?"

"No. She’ll call if she gets worried. Fat chance." I mumble the last part.

"Okay," she says, not surprised, but still unsure. I suppose she thinks my mother loves me, and I just won’t give her a chance. "Well, Mom and Dad left me $40 to get pizza and whatever." She lifts a cookie jar that’s on the counter and pulls two twenties out from under it. "What do you want to eat?"

"Whatever," I say. I wish, for no apparent reason, to be at home sitting on my bed twiddling my thumbs or getting high. I’m not craving pot so much as I want to be alone. Even with as much as I love Jewel, for some reason, solitude seems my only mate.

"No, really, what do you want to eat?"

"Nothing," I say. It’s true. Lately, as well as wanting to be alone, I don’t want to eat. For some reason, I have been hungry but not eating. I’ve just lost interest in everything that takes effort. I feel a little like I should be doing something else with my time, but something I want to do. What kind of mystery works this way?

"Okay, well I’ll get something good… like Chinese. Do you still love Chinese?" I’ve only been gone from her for a couple of weeks. Haven’t I? Have I been drifting for a long time? How long have I been listening but not talking? Who cares?

"Of course." I don’t blame her for asking. With as many other changes that took place in two weeks, I could very well be a different person running around in my skin. Maybe I am. Who knows?

"I noticed you’ve stopped coming to school lately. What happened at home?" Jewel asks as she punches some numbers into a phone—numbers she knows by heart. I am sitting at the kitchen table, and she joins me.

"Nothing," I say, as though I, myself, am surprised. "I don’t know what’s been happening." I finally start opening up. I feel like I really want to talk about it.

"How have you been feeling? What about your feelings have changed?" That’s what I’ve always liked about Jewel. She truly tries to understand whenever possible.

"I don’t know," I say. "All of a sudden, one day, I just didn’t want to talk to people. I want to be alone a lot, even when I’m doing things I used to love."

"Like what?"

I decide I really want to be honest about this. "Like," I begin. Then I think about all the ways this could be interpreted and misinterpreted. I decide to say it anyway. "Like when I’m with you."

Jewel looks confused. "What do you mean?"

"I loved watching you talk. I’ll admit, I don’t always listen, but I always watch." She laughs a little, and I join, a little disappointed that she didn’t take me seriously. "Now, when I’m around people, all I want to be doing is-"

"Getting high?"

"Well, yes, now, but there were problems before that. I just wanted to be somewhere else." I think and change my words. "No, I want to still be there listening, but not expected to answer… kind of like a ghost."

"Wow. That’s weird. You know, I wish I knew what was really wrong so I could fix it for you, but I don’t know." She reaches up her hand and places it on my leg, lightly brushing the chain hanging from my belt loops. Her warm palm rests right on a hole in my dark pants. It’s touching my knee.

I breathe in sharply, hoping she doesn’t notice. "Me too." Jewel still has the phone in her hand, and I hear a little noise coming from it. I gesture towards the phone. "The phone."

"Oh, I forgot!" Jewel yanks the phone up to her face and her hand from my knee. "Hello?-I’m so sorry!-Yeah, give us the Number 5 Dumb Date Special.-No, he’s just feeling a little down.-Thanks."

The Number 5 Dumb Date Special is something we always order when one of us feels like shit. It all started on the day I met Jewel. Dad had just died, but I still felt like he was alive somewhere waiting for me to find him. I was at the airport waiting for mom to find me. The crackhead was a No-Show. I sat down in a seat with all my bags surrounding. Jewel was there picking up her grandma (it was the holidays), and she noticed me sitting alone, looking around like a lost puppy in the city.

She asked who I was waiting for. "She’s not coming. My mom isn’t very reliable."

"Where do you need to go? I’m bringing my grandma home with me. Thanksgiving’s in a couple of days, you know."

"It’s real close by. West and Third."

"That’s really close to where I live. I can just drop you off."

"Are you sure?" She didn’t look like a rapist or murderer.

"Don’t be silly. Of course," she smiled soothingly. "I’m Jewel." She stuck out her hand. "What’s your name?"

"Ben. I’m moving in with my ma. Dad just died."

Her face went from enchantment to shock. "I’m so sorry to hear that. My mom died in childbirth with me. My dad’s remarried now, but it’s hard anyway." She wasn’t telling me this as one of those My-Story’s-Sadder-Than-Yours things. It was more of a comparison… trying to relate.

On the carride to Mom’s, Jewel’s Granny got sick, and we had to stop and drop her off at Jewel’s house. Jewel’s grandma ran inside in front of us. The phone rang as we went inside. "Hello?" Jewel answered. "Rick?-No. Why would I be doing that?-What?" She began to cry. "Can’t you do this later?-For who? But that makes no sense!-Whatever!-Bye." She went into a full-on sob.

"What is wrong with you?" I asked as though I was her grandfather come to fix a scraped knee.

"Nothing. Just my boy-… ex-boyfriend."

"What happened?"

"He just broke up with me for his third-cousin who flew in from Colorado."

I frowned. "Tell me you’re kidding. Please tell me you’re kidding."

"It’s true," she said weeping.

"Well, that’s soap-opera-like." Suddenly, an idea came to me. "I came to visit my mom once when I was still living with Dad, and her boyfriend had just stood her up. She ordered this special dinner from our favorite Chinese place Huang He Dinery. Let me call and order it for you." She didn’t look cheered up. "It’ll change your life—I promise."

"What are you thinking about?" Jewel snaps me from my reverie.

"Oh, just the first time we ate Number 5 Dumb Date Specials together."

She smiles. "Yeah… Rick. What a loser he turned out to be." She laughs, basking in her own memories. "Good times." The radio is playing in the background, and "Home" by Michael Bublé comes on. Delighted, Jewel darts from her chair to the stereo to turn it up. "This is such a good song! Isn’t Michael Bublé’s voice just enchanting?"

"Yeah," I say sarcastically. "Enchanting. Why don’t you turn that crap up?" I throw my hands over my head and start swaying.

"You’re just jealous ‘cause you can’t croon like that!"

"Oh, right. I wanna sound like I’m back in the 40’s. I forgot. Thanks for the reminder." We laugh. I guess because the thought of me crooning is the funniest thing we’ve ever heard. That why I’m laughing, anyway.

"Okay," Jewel says as our laughter starts to subside. "Shut up now. I like this song." The beautiful smile it brings to her face is enough reason for me to obey.

The doorbell rings. "I’ll get that," I say.

We’re still sitting at the table talking, but I get up and go to the front door. I open it and hand $2o to the man that has been given the job of delivering our food. He must be new, because I don’t know him. "It only 14.97."

"I know. Keep the change," I say.

"Tank you siw."

"No problem." I grab the food and shut the door, walking back to the table. "One Number 5 Dumb Date Special for you, and one for me," I say, setting down our bags respectively. I open my bag, take out my carton of sesame chicken and fried rice, and steam pours out. Jewel does too.

All of what was in our cartons, five eggrolls, and a couple of anti-guy fortunes later, Jewel and I are sitting in her gigantic TV room watching this hilarious Ellen DeGeneres movie, Mr. Wrong. I am sitting at my usual spot on the end of the sectional. Jewel is sitting right next to me with her legs crossed, Indian-style. We laugh through the whole movie, and when it’s over, I feel much better. I look over, and Jewel has a small smirk on her face, but it looks mostly invented.

"What’s the matter?"

"I was thinking about the first time we ate Chinese together again. You said it would change my life. It did."

I smile. "Yeah, well, it changed mine, too."

"But I was also thinking about Jake."

"He’s a jerk, Jewel. You’re much better off without him."

"Like with Rick. I know, but I can’t see that now."

Her face goes into an almost-frown. "Come here," I say and outstretch my right arm towards her. She unfolds her legs and lays her head on my side. I wrap my arm around her and rest my hand on her upper arm.

"You remember what else happened that first night we had Chinese together?"

"How could I forget? You were upset, though," I say, as though offering her an excuse.

"I didn’t kiss you because I was upset." Her words vibrate through her neck, and I can feel them on my chest. "I really felt something for you."

I know she can probably hear my heart beating faster. I hope she doesn’t think I’m weak. "What? What were you feeling?"

"Chemistry. We were meant to be best friends—for life. Don’t ever leave me again."

"I won’t," I promise and sigh, my heart becoming normally paced. I should have known she doesn’t like me like I want her to. I kiss her head. "Let me get up. I have to go pee."

"Need help?" She jokes.

"No, I’m good." On my way through the kitchen, I grab my laptop and take it into the bathroom with me. When I get there, I open iTunes and buy a song—one I’ve hear on many occasions, and always loved: "You Don’t Know Me" by Michael Bublé. My favorite line in the steady, slow-paced song is: "I’m just a friend. That’s all I’ve ever been, ‘cause you don’t know me." My other favorite: "Afraid and shy, I let my chance go by—a chance that you might love me too." My other favorite line: "You give your hand to me, and then you say good-bye. I watch you walk away beside the lucky guy…" Okay, so maybe I like the whole thing.

The conviction with which Michael Bublé sings the song is what gets me. You can tell when he sings it, he’s really in pain. Just like with anything else, I love to be able to feel the real thing.

When I get back into the TV room, Jewel is not moved except her head is lying where I was sitting before I left. She doesn’t look up at me when I come back in, but she sits up enough to let me sit down, and she lays her head back on my chest. I’m glad, but I know this means she wants to talk some more about God Only Knows What. She seems to have traded emotions with me. Now, she is depressed, and I’m not chipper, but I’m not ready to fall off a cliff anymore.

"Ben?" Jewel suddenly says.

"What?"

"What you think of Jake, really think?"

"I think he had a great thing about to happen for him, and his stupid ass just couldn’t hold on."

"Really?" she asks, not believing me.

"Really." That’s the truth.

"Do you think he was using me as a back-up prom date?"

"You wanna know the real truth?" I say, trying to cheer her up.

"Yeah. What is it?"

"I think he’s gay. Any guy who wouldn’t want you has to be gay." She laughs and that makes me feel 75% better. "I’ve got to go," I say, but I don’t move, and neither does Jewel. I’m thinking about Mom and the fact she probably hasn’t eaten dinner. I make her dinner every three days, because I know she usually doesn’t feed herself. It’s the third day in the dinner cycle.

"No." Jewel lays her hand on my stomach. "You said you wouldn’t leave me anymore."

"I have to." I hate this part. "Ma needs to eat."

"She needs you to be able to eat?

"Yes. She needs me, because she-" I stop short. "She’s Out."

"Out where?" She sits up and lets me sit up.

"Out, passed out on the couch ‘cause she’s on crack."

"On crack? For real?"

"Yes. I’ll come back after I make sure she eats."

"Promise?"

"I promise like the time I promised Chinese food from Huang He would change your life." She smiles and I stand up to leave. On my way through the kitchen, I grab a napkin and a Sharpie and write out a little note for Jewel on it. "PROMISE… I do. Be right back!" I set it on the table on top of my laptop, which I decide to leave there as collateral for my return. I also tape a napkin that says, "I said I promise!" to the screen door, because I know she’ll be eager and open the door, either when I get back there, or before, if only because she needs someone to talk to, and I know it’ll make her smile if nothing else

"Bye!" I say and leave, locking the door behind me.

By the time I get to my house, Mom is sitting at the kitchen table with a bag of McDonald’s food. "I’ve already eaten. Where you been? Getting high? You’re more of a disappointment than Daniel was."

"Shut up, Mom."

"Well, he was a disappointment. That fag was nothing but a disappointment."

"Shut up, Mom!"

"I can’t help it if your brother was a fag."

"Yes, you could. If you hadn’t had that sicko, Brennan around, maybe."

"How could I know he was a child molester?"

"Maybe you shouldn’t have been having an affair in the first place! You have HIV, too Mom. Brennan gave you both AIDS, so you’re no better than Danny."

"You shut the hell up. You don’t know what you’re talking about."

"Oh, but I do. Sounds like you don’t know what the hell is going on! Glad to know you’ve eaten." I turn around and shoot down the stairs headed back towards Jewel’s. That was the shortest and most sudden fight I’ve ever been in. I hope Jewel will be a little happier to see me than I expect her to be.

"That was fast," Jewel says as I climb up her front stairs and walk with her through the kitchen back to the TV room. We sit down on the couch the way we were during the movie—not even touching. I shouldn’t have left just to go argue with my mom. "You don’t look as happy as you did before you left. Cheer up," she says and kisses my hand like a Victorian gentleman. "Thanks for the notes, by the way. You know me well."

I can still feel the spot where her lips touched my hand a few seconds later. I don’t tell her that she’s welcome for the notes, because I’ve lost my cheerful spirit. "Well, my mom doesn’t exactly keep things on the bright side," I say with a sigh.

"What happened?"

"She kept talking bad about my brother, Daniel."

"Like, what was she saying?"

"Well, he died of AIDS. He was gay."

"Really?" She said surprised. "I didn’t know you had a brother, let alone one that died. How old was he?"

"Ten."

"Oh my God. How did he get AIDS?"

"My mom’s boyfriend, Brennan, molested him."

"How old were you?"

"I was 6."

"Wow. How long have your parents been divorced?"

"Nine years. Brennan was an affair she was having. He wasn’t a legitimate boyfriend."

"I’m sorry." Until she says this, I feel kind of like I’m talking to a therapist.

"Well, my life’s been a sack of crap piled on a sack of crap for as long as I can remember. You kind of have to get used to it or you get your feelings hurt a lot."

"I can’t imagine," she says. Suddenly, an idea strikes her. "What do you say we get out of here?"

"And go where?"

"I don’t know. Boston?"

"Boston? Like that Augustana song? I thought we were talking the Piggly Wiggly or something. Boston?"

"Sorry. I guess that was a bad idea."

"Not bad. Complicated… sudden."

"Well," she smiles as though she has a secret, "what would we do if we where in Boston?"

"I don’t know," I admit. I’m so attracted to her ability to turn anything into an adventure, to her naivete, to her innocence. Jewel’s got everything I missed out on in a childhood.

"I think we’d go swimming! In a hotel’s heated pool. What kind of hotel do you think we’d be able to get?"

"A cheap one if we’re living on the 20 you’ve got left of what your parents left." She laughs.

"Oh, you’re not doing this right. It’s called imagination. Use yours. I know you have one. You don’t just write songs and play guitar like you if you don’t have somewhat of an imagination!"

"Okay, we’d be in the Lover’s Suit. It would have an inground hot tub shaped like a heart and lined in red leather." We laugh.

"See! That’s not so hard!" Jewel giggles. "How romantic!" She plays along.

"And every morning while you’re getting a massage-"

Jewel interrupts. "Alright."

"-me and the Swedish maid, Helga would take a dip and massage each other." I smirk.

"Hey!" She hits my arm. "Ben!"

"Did I mention you would be getting a massage from a very hunky guy who looks like-" I think for a minute. Who do ladies find attractive? "Fabio!"

"Ew! Fabio’s gross!"

"George Clooney?"

"That’s a little better."

"Brad Pitt."

"Colder."

"The lead singer of Hinder?"

"You’re back on Fabio’s level." Jewel waits a second more, but I’m not coming up with anything. "Okay," she says, finally, "George Clooney’s fine." She smiles at me excitedly. "Alright, and your girl looks like… like Renée Zellweger."

"Okay, no one said you had to be cruel. Did you stick me with someone so odious because you’re jealous?"

"A little," she laughs. "A lot." We laugh together. "How could I not be? Weight training is making you buff." She pats my right bicep and pretends to be amazed.

"You’re a funny girl," I say sarcastically.

"I know," Jewel says. "So, besides our little trip to Boston, if you had a billion dollars, what would you buy?" This question hurls me into my own world. Happiness? I wish they had a store that sold that. I wouldn’t care how much it costed. Somehow, I’d manage. If I could buy anything, it would have to be worth. Self-worth, worldly worth—any of that would do.

"I think I’d buy a puppy," I finally tell her.

"Why? A puppy? I don’t get it."

"Well, I figured you might not." I sigh and try to decide where to begin. "What do they call dogs?"

"Man’s best friend?"

"Right. They give unconditional love and support—worth. That’s what I want. Right now, I don’t really mean anything."

"What about to me?"

"What do you mean?"

"What about what you mean to me?"

I look puzzledly at her. "I don’t know. What about it?"

"You mean a lot to me. I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through some things, especially lately, without you. That’s why I’m so hard on you when you cut yourself or do drugs. I need you, and I need you to be safe, because you’re my lifeline."

This makes me feel good to hear. "Well, I need you, too. More than you’ll ever know."

As though Jewel doesn’t hear me, she keeps talking. "And I think we’ve been trying to go backwards since the day we met. You can’t do that. Ever since we kissed, we’ve been trying to be Just Friends, and we both know that’s not working. We have to give Us a shot."

I am thrown for a complete loop. "Huh? Like me and you be a couple?"

Jewel leans to her left quickly and presses her lips to mine. This time, I know her, I want this to be happening, and I feel something besides the feeling of rebound boy. She pulls away and looks at me, as though gauging my reaction.

I try not to look immature or inexperienced by smiling, but I don’t how well that’s going. Nothing could make me happier. I decide to show her how I feel by leaning back in for another kiss.

"Ben, where’ve you been?"

"At Jewel’s!" I chime, delightedly.

"Really? A girl, huh? Great. Just what I need: a grandchild."

"Mom, what are you talking about?"

"I’m not blind, Ben."

"You caught me," I say sarcastically, finally leaving the doorway and traipsing down the hall to my bedroom. Before this moment, Mom hadn’t known about Jewel. I try to make like I have no friends, though I know she knows I do. If I never mention anyone, I can never be tied to their screw-ups. I figure with Jewel I don’t have much to worry about.

It’s 10:30 a.m., and I just got back from Jewel’s house. In my room, I quickly find that there is nothing to do and decide to go see Danny. I take the picture of Jewel and me with me.

I enter the black, wrought-iron cemetery gates as the birds chirp loudly in the distance. I walk to the spot I’ve only been to thousands of times before. It’s right on the grassy hill: the only hill in the cemetery. Daniel’s is the tombstone on the edge of the hill, and I’m nervous about telling him about this new chapter of my life, though he’s now 21. I wonder what he would be like if he were alive.

"Remember Jewel?" I suddenly open with. "Here’s a picture of me and her at lunch last year. I know, I know. She’s hot. Well, she looks even better now." I grin. "Well, as you already know, Danny, I’ve liked her for quite a while. Last night, she kissed me and told me we were meant to be," I say as though gloating. "Don’t be jealous," I say, mostly for my own enjoyment. "You’ve got Marilyn Monroe on that side!

"We didn’t really do anything much. We just made out. Dan, I think I really love this girl. She’s so…" I search for the word(s). "She’s so, just, great. She’s like a little kid, but still so mature and sure of herself. Sounds mushy, I guess." I lay the picture down on the ground next to the tombstone and link my fingers together, twiddling my thumbs. "Don’t get me wrong," I say, suddenly. "Last night, I thought about It. She said she Wanted To. It’s not so much that I didn’t Want To, I just didn’t know where that would put Us, and I wasn’t going to risk everything I’ve wanted that’s now finally mine."

I chuckle a little under my breath to myself. "I guess I sound like a little bitch." I keep twiddling my thumbs and begin to make them my eyes’ resting point. "I haven’t been here in a while, so there’s other stuff I haven’t told you, like why I almost lost her the first time… yesterday. But, of course, like with everything else, the story doesn’t start yesterday." I breathe in deep and exhale slowly, almost in a sigh. "You know a couple weeks ago, I met this guy, Kaine. He got me smoking pot. It’s so soothing. I usually just lay back and watch everything from a two-way funhouse mirror-type thing. I lay on the trampoline all Thursday just watching the clouds and doing what thinking I could. For once, I didn’t have to think about Mom and Dad… and you.

"Well, Jewel doesn’t like that. Or my cutting. I have to stop both. Truthfully, she’s so worth it. I’d give up air if she asked me to." I laugh a short I’m So Pathetic chuckle. "Well, I’d still be at her house now, just holding her or looking at her, but her parents came home early, and I had to shoot out of her house this morning pretty early, but not before she gave me the most spectacular goodbye kiss ever."

Suddenly, my phone rings. "Hello?" I answer, knowing it’s Jewel.

"Hey, this is Jewel. You left your laptop over here yesterday when you brought me my homework." I realize her parents must be around. I catch onto things like that pretty quickly. I think I almost hear joy in her voice when she says, "Looks like you’ll have to come over and pick it up. I know you need it for your weekend project."

"Right! Okay. I’ll be there in a sec." I don’t know if her parents have forced her to put me on speakerphone because of their lack of trust, so I don’t say I Love You, but I want to so badly. "Bye," I say instead.

"Okay, bye. One-forty-three."

"Huh?"

"Bye," she says and hangs up. Must be one of those crazy girl codes.

"I’ll be right back, Dan. I might bring Jewel with me. If I do, I’m not talking to you. She’ll think I’m crazy." I laugh and walk away, consciously leaving the picture of Jewel and me in the grass on this day of no rain or wind. It’ll give Danny a little longer to look at it.

On the way to Jewel’s, I mostly try to figure out what 143 means. I think. I realize, after thinking for a long amount of time. There’s one letter in the word "I", four letters in the word "love" and three letters in the word "you"… or "Ben". That has to be it! I realize that if I were a girl, I probably would’ve gotten that way sooner. Boys aren’t good with sweet little codes, but somehow, Jewel knew I’d get it.

When I get to her front door, it’s open, and only a glass screen door stands between Jewel’s parents and me. I don’t know what to do, because I don’t see Jewel anywhere, and they’re not jumping out of their skins to invite me in. "Ah, you’re the Ben boy. Come in, son," her dad calls, looking up from the paper.

I push down the golden handle on the screen door and shove it open. "Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Johnson."

"Hello," Mrs. Johnson says without looking at me. She’s staring at her BEST MOM mug, sitting on the coffee table. "Jewel’s in her room. Hurry and get your laptop, and then you can be on your way." I don’t exactly know if what she meant to say was "Don’t go in there and have sex with my daughter", "Don’t go in there and kill my daughter", or "When you go in there, don’t even speak to my daughter". I wish I knew.

I go into Jewel’s room, surprised that I have never been in there before. It is pink… really pink. There are pink sheets on her bed and pink curtains covering her windows. I remember passing her house before I moved in with mom and seeing those same pink curtains and wondering whose room it was. Someone who really wants pink curtains or someone who’s mom decides about the curtains in the house? I’m still not sure today.

Jewel is sitting on her gigantic bed, but when I come in, she goes over to her white dresser with pink handles on all the drawers. "My room looks like a giant bottle of Pepto took a barf on it, right?"

"Pretty much," I laugh.

"Well, here’s your laptop. You can’t stay long. They already guessed about last night—how you stayed here. I told them you didn’t but you know how that goes. I’m a horrible liar… which is why they know we didn’t do anything."

"Dang. Now I’m gonna feel embarrassed when I go back in there."

"Don’t. What can they do?"

"Nothing, I guess."

"So what time can I meet you at your house?"

"Whenever you can get there. You can’t leave now? There’s someone I want you to meet."

"You know what?" she says, now smiling slyly. "Let’s go. I can’t wait to see their faces."

"No, no, no!" I say. "Let’s not do anything to make them hate me more!"

"Come on, you chicken!" She grabs my wrist, which hurts a little, but I don’t want her to know. I suddenly see several visions: Jewel pushing me out of a plane, with only a parachute to save me. Jewel forcing me to bungee jump. Jewel telling me I better ride a rollercoaster with her. Who does she think I am? Some daredevil?

We get to the end of the hall, and Jewel is still smiling like a vixen. It’s so cute. "Mom, Dad, we’re going out." I realize I still don’t have my laptop, so we’ll have to come back after going to see Daniel.

"Alright," her father says. "Be back soon."

Jewel turns to me with a puzzled look on her face. "Okay," she says and takes hold of my hand, locks her fingers in mine, and puts our hands behind her back, as though my arm were around her. I could feel myself blushing.

"Don’t you want to get the boy’s laptop and drop it off at his house?" her father asks. Her mother looks outraged, the way women on TV do when they think their husbands are being stupid, but they don’t want to correct them in front of their child.

"That’s a good idea, Daddy." Jewel drops my hand and addresses me. "I’ll be right back. Sit down here." She points to the couch. I’m so embarrassed, I don’t know whether to sit down or follow her to the end of the hall. Then, I remember what I said to Daniel about how I’d do anything for her. I sit down and try my best to smile. I don’t know if I look defiant or mentally challenged.

She comes back less than a minute later wielding what she left to get. "Let’s go," she says handing me my laptop and taking my hand again. This time, I feel less like she’s trying to make her parents mad and more like she’s interested in holding my hand.

We begin walking down the street, but I lead her away from my house rather than towards it. "We’re going somewhere to meet the someone I want you to meet."

"Where are we going?"

"You’ll see when we get there," I tell her and lead her off the road and onto and beaten dirt path—one beaten by my own two feet several summers in a row.

"Where are we going?" Jewel asks again.

"To see Danny."

"Danny? Who’s Danny?"

"My brother. I visit him a lot."

"How could-" She decides not to ask me how I visit a dead person and just goes along with it.

"Here we are," I say when we finally get to the spot on the hill I visited earlier, this time through the back entrance. "This is where Danny is," I say pointing to his stone. I pick up the picture of her and me and show it to her. "He was guarding this for me. Isn’t he sweet?"

"My goodness! That picture is haneous! We need to take another one. This is so old!" Jewel takes the picture and peers down at it. I knew she would hate it. "Anyway," she says, handing back to me. "I’m glad you brought me to meet Danny. It really is an honor." She was being genuine and not goofy. Another thing I liked about her—she knew when to be serious and just when to let go.

"The two most important people in my life had to be acquainted." I smile, trying to put across something, even though I don’t even know what it is. "Let’s go," I say, trying to leave before things get uncomfortable.

"Alright," Jewel says to me. "Bye, Daniel," she adds.

It really puts me at ease to hear her say this. "Bye, Dan." I’m still holding my laptop and the picture. I figure now is as good a time as any to introduce Mom to Jewel. I figure I should call and ask Mom first. "Hold this." I hand Jewel my laptop. I call Mom. "Hey, Mom. Can I bring Jewel home? Yeah. I will okay. Thanks." I hang up.

"You didn’t say ‘goodbye’."

"We never do."

"You didn’t even say ‘I love you’."

"No sense in lying," I say coldly. "I’m sorry." I immediately apologize. "I shouldn’t dump crap like this on you. She’s just hard to deal with, to say the least."

"No, I get it."

"I feel like you don’t. You don’t think I’m crazy?"

"No. I don’t like my parents either. Are you blind?"

"Not really. I didn’t want to make any assumptions."

"Here," she says, not changing the subject because she’s uncomfortable, but rather because she has nothing else to say. She hands me my laptop and her cell phone. "Put this in your pocket for me." Her skirt has no pockets. From there, we walk hand-in-hand to my house. "What’s your mom really like?" she asks when my house is in sight and I’ve just pointed it out to her.

"She is a crackhead who is irrational and controlling. What else is there to know?"

"Are you trying to scare me?"

"No, I just want you to know what you’re in for. I’ve never let her meet one of my friends—not since elementary school. I think she’ll like you."

"I hope so!" We walk down my sidewalk, and when we get to the door, Mom is waiting on the couch next the door, cigarette in hand. That’s one thing I despise: going from Jewel’s house, which smells so clean and crisp, or just going from fresh air to my smoky-, musky-smelling house. It’s a bit of a disappointment, and standing here in my house with Jewel, it’s embarrassing.

"Hey, I’m Rebecca, Ben’s mom." She smiles sweetly. When was the last time I saw that? Years ago, for sure.

"Hi, I’m Jewel." Jewel puts out her hand to shake my mother’s.

"Hi, baby." My mom is acting sweet. If she were like this all the time, most of my troubles would be non-existent.

"Mom, we’re going to the kitchen. Have you eaten today?"

"Yes."

"Do you want anything?"

"No, son. I’m fine."

"Okay. I just wanted to be sure." I kiss Mom on the forehead, more to show Jewel that I do have a soft spot for my mom and less because I wanted to kiss her.

Jewel and I walk into the kitchen, and I realize it’s much smaller than hers is. "Sit down," I say, pointing to the table. "What do you want to drink?"

"Nothing," she says contentedly and smiles. "I can’t stay long because we have to go see my grandmother in Trenton."

"Alright," I say, a little disappointed, and set my laptop down on the table along with the picture. I pour myself a cup of Dr. Pepper and sit down next to Jewel at the table. As I sit down, I notice she has my laptop open, facing me.

"I have a confession to make," she says with that mischievous smile.

"What?" I ask, almost in a laugh.

"I looked through some stuff on your laptop. Nothing personal, just a receipt for music files that was already opened in your email."

I blush. I’m not quite sure what I have that would be embarrassing, but she’s acting funny. "What’s so funny?"

"Well, I found something you downloaded while you were at my house… yesterday."

I suddenly remember what she’s talking about, but I play stupid. "What was it?"

"A Michael Bublé song." She giggles.

"Huh? Which one?"

"‘You Don’t Know Me’."

"Oh, that? My mom must have…" That’s when I realize she knows when I bought the song. Oh, well. It’s just Jewel. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’m pretty sure she won’t make fun of me. "I love that song." I tell her. She laughs. I wait, but she doesn’t stop. "What? You like him too!"

"I’m sorry!" she says through rolls of laughter. "I’m sorry!" She repeats. "It’s just that…" Jewel keeps laughing. "…that you…" I’ve been blushing since her laughter began. Her face straightens and she breathes in deeply, but her smile doesn’t completely fade. "It’s just that you made fun of me so bad yesterday for wanting to hear a Michael Bublé song, and now you have one on your computer… one you paid for."

"Have you heard the song?" I ask, trying to defend myself.

"No," Jewel admits. "Let’s listen to it."

I reach out my finger and open iTunes. When it opens, I click on "You Don’t Know Me" and pray she sees this for what it is. She already knows everything there is to know about me… except about how I felt before last night. We listen all the way through.Jewel listens intently throughout and closes her eyes most of the time. "Is that how you’ve been feeling?"

"I guess so." Jewel leans in and kisses me. "Me too." I’m glad it went this way.

"I have to go," she says, rubbing my hand. "