Already Gone Page 9

  “Did I stutter?” Drew asked. “I said I’m gay. You heard me right. I’m attracted to other girls. Like me.”

  “I don’t know what to say right now,” I said. “I didn’t see this coming.”

  “Clearly.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me before?” I asked. “Or did you just realize it?” I thought back on all the sleepovers we’d had in the past ten years. I wasn’t sure what to feel about that.

  “I don’t know how long I’ve known,” Drew said, “but a while. I kept wanting to tell you, but I didn’t know what you’d think. I didn’t want to lose you as a friend. As my best friend.”

  As a best friend? Or as more? My eyes widened. Did Drew like me? I swallowed hard and cleared my throat. “Are you telling me this for a specific reason?”

  Drew lifted one eyebrow and met my eyes for the first time since saying she liked girls. “What does that mean?”

  I couldn’t possibly say more dumb, wrong stuff. I figured I may as well get it all out there. “Do you like me?”

  Drew tilted her head. “Of course I like you, Lacy.”

  “I mean like, love me, like me?”

  Drew rolls her eyes so hard I worry they’ll get stuck up in her cranial cavity. “Uh, just because I like girls doesn’t mean I’m in love with you.”

  Duh. “Then why did you struggle to tell me? I meant what I said earlier. I will love you, no matter what.”

  She shook her head. “Okay, now it sounds like you’re saying even if I murder someone and wind up in jail, even if I sell drugs, even if I am a drug addict, even if I, I don’t know, get a face tattoo, you’ll still love me. Except those are all bad things. So you’re lumping being gay in with all that bad stuff. Like you’re such a good person, you’d love me in spite of my being gay. It’s offensive, Lacy.”

  I plopped back on the sofa. “I don’t mean it like that, and you know I don’t. I’m sorry I’m saying all the wrong things. And I’m relieved you aren’t in love with me, okay?” I blinked my eyes a few times. “Wait, you aren’t in love with me, but you didn’t want to tell me. . .” I turned toward Drew slowly. “Please, please, please tell me you aren’t in love with Hope.”

  Drew belly laughed then, which eased something inside of me.

  “Thank goodness,” I said. “So why didn’t you tell me before? And why are you hanging out with Jack?”

  Drew sat down next to me and leaned her head against my shoulder. I thought it should feel weird now that I knew she liked girls, but it just felt like Drew. “Jack got into a fight at school after P.E. last month. Punched a kid in the jaw for calling Porter a rude name.”

  “And?” I asked.

  “The kid called Porter a Fag. I figured I could talk to someone who attacked another kid for making fun of someone for being gay.”

  “Jack, the drug dealer, defender of gay rights?” I choked back a snort.

  Drew shrugged. “I talked to him about it when he got back from being suspended. He said his sister’s gay and he doesn’t like people who use words like that. He was the first person I told.”

  I meant to speak loud and clear, but my words came out as a whisper. “Why didn’t you tell me as soon as you knew?”

  Drew patted my hand. "I kept telling myself that maybe one day you'd wake up and realize I was gay, like you knew I didn’t like debate, like you knew I was never, ever going to wear high waisted jeans or those floral rompers. You knew me better than anyone. Surely you’d see it, and then I wouldn’t have to tell you. I’d set timeframes for myself. Tell her by Halloween, Drew. Tell her by Christmas. Only, when they got close, I got too scared. You’re my best friend in the world, and what if you didn’t like me once you knew? I couldn’t tell anyone else without you knowing. And if you told me it wasn’t okay.” Her voice shook along with her shoulders.

  “Drew—“

  She sat up. “No, I need to explain. It’s not your fault, and I handled this all wrong. I need to tell you why.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Go ahead.”

  She licked her chapped lips. “When that stupid, muscle bound thug showed up, and you ditched me for him in like ten seconds, I don’t know. I felt all shaky and weird, and jealous even though I don’t care about you like that. It was like I was being replaced in your life and I hadn’t even told you the truth. I was jealous of him, but not because I wanted to like kiss you or something." Her grimace felt a little unflattering.

  “So I’m gross, then?”

  She chuckles. “You’re such a girl. No, you’re fine, but what I’m saying is, I overreacted about Mason because I was already worried the truth about me would drive us apart. I can’t lose my best friend.”

  “You will never lose me.” I glanced at my watch and realized I was going to be late. “I’ve got to get back Drew, and you need to get your cute gay butt into class tomorrow. No more excuses.”

  I stood up to go, and Drew nodded. “I’ll be there.”

  One word Drew used earlier got stuck in my head and I couldn’t leave without asking her about it.

  "Hey, so thug, really?" She used the word to describe Mason in an offhand way. It was the same word Hope used to describe the guy she liked. The guy she had just met, who we knew couldn’t be the same person. Who had to be someone different because otherwise I would die a little bit inside.

  “What?” Drew asked. “What are you talking about?”

  "Why did you say Mason was a muscle bound ‘thug’?"

  "Are you really asking me about him right now? I don't know, he's enormous. What does it matter?”

  "Never mind.” This was not the time for me to grill her about her opinion on Mason, clearly.

  “I’ll be honest about this much,” Drew said. “I don’t like him. He’s more like Hope’s kind of guy than yours.”

  The words stuck with me like they were jackets from popcorn kernels lodged between my teeth. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t quite eliminate them.

  The drive back to school took forever. I felt drained when I walked into Calculus. I liked Mason, more than I'd ever liked anyone, but now with Drew’s revelation and her description of Mason, I didn’t know what to think. I wasn't even sure what Mason wanted, other than to unpack his bedroom, apparently.

  He sat right next to me in Calculus, in Drew's seat again. I wondered what would happen tomorrow when Drew returned. I didn't have much to say and I guess Mason noticed. After Calculus but before we parted paths, he said, "Hey is everything okay?"

  "Oh, sure. It's fine. I'll see you tomorrow."

  "Maybe tonight," he said with a smile. "I'll call you if I can convince my parents that I’ve made enough progress."

  I smiled back, but it felt forced. I didn't know what to do about Drew, and I couldn't help thinking that maybe I had dodged a bullet with Mason. What was I thinking, introducing him to Hope? It's been like this since the day she was born. I’m not a moron. I can see myself in the mirror. I'm thin, and I have thick, dark hair. But it's wavy, and sort of unruly. It's usually pulled back into a messy bun because I don't have time to do anything with it. I have light grayish blue eyes, and they're not bad. I have really pale skin that never tans, but I'm relatively attractive.

  Until you stand me next to Hope. Then I look like a Midge doll next to Barbie. Like a Kia next to a BMW. Like the moon next to the sun. No one could even see me when she was around.

  Eclipsed. That’s the word for what happens when Hope steps into a room I’m in.

  She was born with a shock of almost white hair. It frames her face perfectly at all times. Except when she pulled it back into a ponytail, which never got frizzy. Her eyes looked enormous in her flawless face. They're bright, almost indigo, and so big she almost looks like an anime heroine. Despite that impossible coloring, her skin darkens to golden as soon as she steps outside. She walks outside for three minutes and tans to a deep bronze, not kidding.

  I haven't even mentioned the important parts. She's stacked. She's got legs that go on for miles, and she's got thi
s toned swimmer's body that leaves boys aged ten to one hundred drooling. She can't remember a grocery list when you send her to the store, but you forget you're annoyed when she smiles, apologizes and hands you a Snickers. Her name fits her pretty well, better than mine does me, but I think my parents missed the mark. She's bright and bubbly and full of light, always happy. They should have named her Joy, or maybe Radiance.

  Anyhow, I was actually okay with Mason having plans by the time I got home and finished my homework. I decided not to invite him to anything that involved Hope until he was solidly my boyfriend and couldn't wriggle free. Maybe not even then. It's not that I don't love Hope because I do, but I've just seen too many guys become captivated by her, almost against their will.

  Actually that's one thing I could say for Drew now that I knew she, you know, liked girls. She'd known Hope for as long as she’d known me, and she only ever paid attention to me. I think that's why I liked Drew so much in the first place. We went to get ice cream with Drew and her parents once, before they got divorced. I picked mint chocolate chip and Hope picked cotton candy, only when she took a bite, she hated it. She insisted we switch. Drew threw a fit. She said it was totally unfair that I would lose my ice cream because Hope chose poorly. My mom ended up buying Hope another one, and I kept mine.

  Later, Drew told me my mom spoiled Hope. It was the first time I’d been able to put into words how I felt about the way Mom treated her.

  Drew was the first person I knew who seemed immune to my little sister, like Hope emanated some kind of irresistible hormone and Drew’s nose was broken.

  I had just put a frozen pizza in the oven for dinner when Hope came bounding up the stairs on the front porch. "Hey," I yelled through the screen door. "Welcome home."

  "Hey to you, too! I’ve got to get ready.” She breezed upstairs to her room. “Be back in a minute.”

  I guess that answered my next question. I was going to meet Moby.

  I flopped down to read while I waited for my mom to get home and for the pizza to be done. I was re-reading The Scarlett Letter. I had to read it for school the first time and I enjoyed it, but sometimes I reread the classics for fun. If a book was okay the first time around, it’s always way better when I don't have to think about it and analyze it and generally ruin it just for a grade. I was feeling pretty bad for poor Pearl, who no one ever seemed to think about, when the doorbell rang.

  I hopped up and walked over to see who it could be. I hoped Mom hadn't ordered a pizza on her way home, or we'd be eating reheated cheese and bread mush for days. I like pizza, but I hate leftovers of any kind. When I opened the door, Mason was standing there.

  His jaw dropped when he saw me.

  Mine did, too. "Uh, what are you doing here? I thought you were going to text if you could make it."

  He shook his head, and opened his mouth. Then he closed it. After a few seconds, he opened it again. "Do- Do you live here?"

  "Hey Moby, you found it," Hope called from behind me.

  I know, I know. I was an idiot. I’m sure you had already figured it out by this point Dr. Brasher, but I was completely shocked. I felt like someone had slapped me in the face for the second time in one day. I peered around Mason to see a blue Audi parked in our driveway. His dad's car.

  He was here for a date, only it wasn't with me. He was here for Hope. Eclipsed again.

  "You have a huge tattoo?" I felt like an idiot asking that, but it was the first thing that came to mind, and I always say whatever pops into my head, I guess.

  Mason looked at me, his brows drawn together.

  "I’m sorry.” Hope blushed as she bounded down the stairs. “I told them about your whale tail."

  "No, she didn’t actually.” I stepped back from the door until my legs hit the sofa. "You didn't mention it was a whale tail, but let me guess. It says Moby somewhere near it."

  Mason nodded.

  "For Moby Dick," I said.

  "Language, Lacy," Hope said, making big eyes at me. She turned back to Mason and grinned. “Sorry, she’s usually super polite.”

  "Oh Hope, shut up. It's the title of a book by Herman Melville.” I felt sick again. I should’ve faked sick today. I wanted a do over. "Dick is a common nickname for Richard." I sat down on the sofa with a giant whomp. "Now that I think about it, that's probably another reason he got the tattoo. It's funny."

  And suddenly I got it. How someone like him could have a huge tattoo. Hope's swimming demigod and my novice debater are the same amazing guy, a modern day warrior poet. And he was here to take my perfect, eye-candy sister out on a date, which is why he told me he needed to pack his room. Obviously a lie. I should probably be flattered he didn’t just tell me he had a date. He’d only make up a fake excuse if part of him wanted to keep me as an option, but of course he didn’t text me. Because what guy in his right mind would cancel a date with Scarlett Johansson for Anna Kendrick?

  "Are you hungry?" Hope asked Mason. "Lacy made pizza. It's probably ready by now."

  "Actually, I'm feeling kind of lousy," I said, stealing a page from Drew’s playbook, eight hours too late. "I should go pack some things in my room." I arched one eyebrow at Mason.

  "What?" Hope said. "Pack for what?”

  I shrugged. “Not sure. I probably need to pack for something, though.”

  Hope looked at me like I was losing my mind. “But we have ice-cream tonight. Jutzy’s. You have to come."

  "I think Moby will enjoy a little one on one time with you." I met Mason's eyes and dared him to say something. He didn't. Coward.

  I wasn't going to let him off that easy. "Sorry, Hope. I know you don't like taking the pizza out, but I bet Richard can help you with that. I bet he’s great at taking things out of places, like unpacking boxes, or pulling pizzas out of ovens."

  Hope shakes her head. “No, his name is easy. It’s not Richard, it’s MOBY.”

  “Right,” I said. “My mistake, sorry Moby.” I met Mason’s eyes and he winced.

  “She must really be sick, because she’s so smart usually, I swear. I can barely deal with it.”

  I rolled my eyes. "I'm going to my room."

  I ducked out before Hope could say anything else. I closed my door a little too hard. My phone buzzed and I looked down at Mom's group text message to me and Hope. STUCK AT WORK LATE. GO WITHOUT ME. SORRY!

  I hadn't even thought about it, but Mom met Mason at the tournament. She'd have known Moby was Mason the second she clapped eyes on him, but now it'll fall to Mason to tell Hope himself about the whole mess.

  When I thought about it, though, there wasn't much to tell from his end. He knew me and he had classes with me, but what had we done, really? He hadn't kissed me, or even so much as held my hand. He hadn’t asked me out either. I asked him, and he told me he was busy.

  Because he had already asked Hope out.

  I felt like crying. Instead, I shoved my headphones into my iPod, turned on some angry music and texted Drew. YOU BETTER BE AT SCHOOL TOMORROW.

  I SAID I WOULD.

  I texted again. ALSO, UPDATE. MASON IS DATING HOPE.

  She texted back immediately, just like I knew she would.

  I DON’T KNOW IF HE’S A BIGGER JERK OR A BIGGER IDIOT. TOSSUP. SEE YOU TOMORROW.

  Chapter Eight

  Hope

  Dear Diary:

  Today was even better than yesterday, until it wasn't. Oh man, I don't even know where to start. I guess at the beginning. School was school. I didn't learn anything, but I didn't really blow anything either.

  Today at lunch I saw Moby. He waved at me and I gestured for him to come over. He set a loaded tray down on the table next to me and sat down.

  "Hey there,” I said. “Didn't see you here yesterday."

  "I had some homework to catch up on."

  "On your first day?" I thought it was a weird comment at the time, but his explanation made sense.

  "It’s the middle of the school year. I'm playing catch up in lots of stuff."

  "T
oo bad we don't have any classes together," I said. "Maybe I could help you." I doubted it, actually, but since we don’t have any together, he didn't have to know that either.

  "We should get together and study. That would be fun."

  Studying fun? Was he nuts? Maybe it was code for making out. "Sure. What classes do you have?"

  Before he could answer, my friends descended.

  "Who's this?" Annie asked.

  Before I could answer, my best friend Gwen said, "He's the new swimmer who just moved here. Moby, right?"

  When he nodded, Gwen winked at me. She’d been teasing me about him being imaginary, but now she’d seen him, she got it.

  He fit right in. The other guys hassled him a little bit, and the girls badgered him, but he slid right into my normal group of friends so perfectly it was like he'd been here forever. The only time I worried was when Dave slammed his tray down at the end of the table. I thought he was going to say something at first, but he didn’t. He just glared. By the end of lunch, Moby still hadn't asked me about going for ice cream tonight, which bugged me, but I figured he was trying to play it cool.

  After lunch, I went to two more boring classes. I survived until swim team. Coach caught everyone before we changed into swimsuits. We all groaned together. We were doing dry-land exercises today before we swam.

  After doing a hundred push-ups, a dozen pull-ups, and more sit-ups than I could count, coach made us run two miles. Then, finally, after the torture was done, he sent us to change into our suits.

  "I hate dry-land work," I moaned.

  "I like it." Moby looked way too good sweaty.

  "Of course you do." I rolled my eyes.

  "What does that mean?"

  "I mean you're too perfect for your own good." I headed for the girls' locker room, but then I turned back. "Did you change your mind about tonight? Or did you still want to come over later?"