didn’t answer. He sounded like he was trying not to cry.
“But they could have the courage to be honest about it. Do you know what I mean? About honesty?”
“Yeah,” I lied.
He turned around. “They lie and lie and lie—they don’t even realize they’re doing it. But they’ll do anything to avoid a confrontation.”
“Our parents?”
“All of them,” he said. “Adults. Most people.”
I nodded.
“But not you,” he said. “You don’t shy away from anything.”
“Me?” Good golly, the queen of conflict-averse.
He shook his head. “You’re different. That’s what’s so cool about you.”
“It is?”
“For a while I thought you were stuck-up. But then I realized it was just me, specifically, you were nasty to.”
“I was not!”
“Don’t start lying now, too. You know you were.”
“Not always,” I mumbled.
“No,” he whispered. “Not always.”
Whoa, Nelly! Take a breath and BACK OFF. “Maybe I’m just nasty,” I suggested.
“Maybe.” A hint of a smile lifted one side of his mouth. “But I think you’re probably the most honest person I know. I like that about you.”
I shrugged, unable to speak. I would never do anything to hurt Tess. My friendship with her is the most important relationship in my life with the possible—possible—exception of my mother. At the same time, there I was in the parking lot, really, really wanting to kiss my best friend’s boyfriend. How’s that for honest?
A car sped past on the road. I resisted the urge to turn and look at it, as I was resisting every other urge. I decided to stay completely still, to wait and see what he did first: my feeble attempt at maintaining my innocence.
His cell phone rang, which broke the tension. He took it out of his pocket, looked at it, then turned it toward me. The caller ID said TESS . I raised my eyebrows at him. He shrugged and let it ring until it stopped ringing. He kept it in his palm then, as if he was wondering what else it might start to do. But it just lay there, still as a rock. We both watched it. When the ringing started again, neither of us was surprised, until he looked at it and said, “It’s not mine.”
Digging through my bag, I realized it was of course Tess, calling me; I got to the phone in time to confirm it. I showed it to Kevin and didn’t answer either.
“You, uh . . .” he said after a while, in his low, raspy voice. “You know we have no say in this Vermont trip.”
“Yup,” I said, and cleared my throat. “You know what the state motto is, of Vermont?”
“No.”
“Exactly,” I said.
He didn’t laugh. He slipped his cell phone back into his pocket.
“How’s your hand?”
“Fine. My hand?”
“That Dumpster had it coming,” I said. “After how it acted toward you.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” I said, putting my cell away, too. “It’s freezing out here.”
“Yeah,” he said.
We started walking back toward the restaurant. I was really cold and still pretty hungry but I also wasn’t completely ready to go back to our parents.
“Can I ask you a question?” I asked, which of course was itself a question.
“Sure,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“Is your mother . . .”
“I don’t want to talk about my mother.”
“Okay,” I said. We walked some more. When we got to the door he opened it, and since I thought he might be holding it open for me I started to walk through. But he wasn’t, so we kind of crashed into each other. I said sorry and we headed toward our table, where a lady was making a balloon hat shaped like a flower garden for Kevin’s father, and where my mother had icicles behind her smile.
It was a long dinner and a longer ride home. Halfway home my mother said, without taking her eyes off the road, “You are never to leave the table like that again. I don’t like the way Kevin spoke to his father or the assumptions either of you were making. It is insulting and inappropriate.”
I slumped
“But they could have the courage to be honest about it. Do you know what I mean? About honesty?”
“Yeah,” I lied.
He turned around. “They lie and lie and lie—they don’t even realize they’re doing it. But they’ll do anything to avoid a confrontation.”
“Our parents?”
“All of them,” he said. “Adults. Most people.”
I nodded.
“But not you,” he said. “You don’t shy away from anything.”
“Me?” Good golly, the queen of conflict-averse.
He shook his head. “You’re different. That’s what’s so cool about you.”
“It is?”
“For a while I thought you were stuck-up. But then I realized it was just me, specifically, you were nasty to.”
“I was not!”
“Don’t start lying now, too. You know you were.”
“Not always,” I mumbled.
“No,” he whispered. “Not always.”
Whoa, Nelly! Take a breath and BACK OFF. “Maybe I’m just nasty,” I suggested.
“Maybe.” A hint of a smile lifted one side of his mouth. “But I think you’re probably the most honest person I know. I like that about you.”
I shrugged, unable to speak. I would never do anything to hurt Tess. My friendship with her is the most important relationship in my life with the possible—possible—exception of my mother. At the same time, there I was in the parking lot, really, really wanting to kiss my best friend’s boyfriend. How’s that for honest?
A car sped past on the road. I resisted the urge to turn and look at it, as I was resisting every other urge. I decided to stay completely still, to wait and see what he did first: my feeble attempt at maintaining my innocence.
His cell phone rang, which broke the tension. He took it out of his pocket, looked at it, then turned it toward me. The caller ID said TESS . I raised my eyebrows at him. He shrugged and let it ring until it stopped ringing. He kept it in his palm then, as if he was wondering what else it might start to do. But it just lay there, still as a rock. We both watched it. When the ringing started again, neither of us was surprised, until he looked at it and said, “It’s not mine.”
Digging through my bag, I realized it was of course Tess, calling me; I got to the phone in time to confirm it. I showed it to Kevin and didn’t answer either.
“You, uh . . .” he said after a while, in his low, raspy voice. “You know we have no say in this Vermont trip.”
“Yup,” I said, and cleared my throat. “You know what the state motto is, of Vermont?”
“No.”
“Exactly,” I said.
He didn’t laugh. He slipped his cell phone back into his pocket.
“How’s your hand?”
“Fine. My hand?”
“That Dumpster had it coming,” I said. “After how it acted toward you.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” I said, putting my cell away, too. “It’s freezing out here.”
“Yeah,” he said.
We started walking back toward the restaurant. I was really cold and still pretty hungry but I also wasn’t completely ready to go back to our parents.
“Can I ask you a question?” I asked, which of course was itself a question.
“Sure,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“Is your mother . . .”
“I don’t want to talk about my mother.”
“Okay,” I said. We walked some more. When we got to the door he opened it, and since I thought he might be holding it open for me I started to walk through. But he wasn’t, so we kind of crashed into each other. I said sorry and we headed toward our table, where a lady was making a balloon hat shaped like a flower garden for Kevin’s father, and where my mother had icicles behind her smile.
It was a long dinner and a longer ride home. Halfway home my mother said, without taking her eyes off the road, “You are never to leave the table like that again. I don’t like the way Kevin spoke to his father or the assumptions either of you were making. It is insulting and inappropriate.”
I slumped
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