Filed to story: The One That Got Away
Confidently I say, “No, I definitely said 8901.”
“No, you definitely said 8109. And why weren’t you answering your phone?” Josh gets out of his car, and when he sees the side of my car, his jaw drops. “Holy crap. Did you call Triple A yet?”
“No. Can you?”
Josh does, and then we sit in his car in the air-conditioning while we wait. I almost get into the backseat, when I remember. Alice isn’t here any more. I’ve ridden in his car so many times, and I don’t think I’ve ever once sat up front in the passenger seat.
“Um … you know Alice’s going to kill you, right?”
I whip my head around so fast my hair slaps me in the face. “Alice’s not going to find out, so don’t you say a word!”
“When would I even talk to her? We’re broken up, remember?”
I frown at him. “I hate when people do that – when you ask them to keep something a secret and instead of saying yes or no, they say, ‘Who would I tell?'”
“I didn’t say, ‘Who would I tell?’!”
“Just say yes or no and mean it. Don’t make it conditional.”
“I won’t tell Alice anything,” he says. “It’ll just be between you and me. I promise. All right?”
“All right,” I say. And then it gets quiet with neither of us saying anything; there’s just the sound of cool air coming out of the A/C vents.
My stomach feels queasy thinking about how I’m going to tell my dad. Maybe I should break the news to him with tears in my eyes so he feels sorry for me. Or I could say something like, I have good news and bad news. The good news is, I’m fine, not a scratch on me. The bad news is, the car is wrecked. Maybe “wrecked” isn’t the right word.
I’m mulling over the right word choice in my head when Josh says, “So just because Alice and I broke up, you’re not going to talk to me any more either?” Josh sounds jokingly bitter or bitterly joking, if there is such a combination.
I look over at him in surprise. “Don’t be dumb. Of course I’m still going to talk to you. Just not in public.” This is the role I play with him. The part of the pesky little sister. As if I am the same as Kitty. As if we aren’t only a year apart. Josh doesn’t crack a smile, he just looks glum, so I bump my forehead against his. “That was a joke, dummy!”
“Did she tell you she was going to do it? I mean, was it always her plan?” When I hesitate, he says, “Come on. I know she tells you everything.”
“Not really. Not this time anyway. Honestly, Josh. I didn’t know a thing about it. Promise.” I cross my heart.
Josh absorbs this. Chewing on his bottom lip he says, “Maybe she’ll change her mind. That’s possible, right?”
I don’t know if it’s more heartless for me to say yes or no, because he’ll be hurt either way. Because while I’m 99.99999 per cent sure that she will get back together with him, there’s that tiny chance she won’t, and I don’t want to get his hopes up. So I don’t say anything.
He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “No, you’re right. When Alice makes up her mind, she doesn’t go back on it.”
Please please please don’t cry.
I rest my head on his shoulder and say, “You never know, Joshy.”
Josh stares straight ahead. A squirrel is darting up the big oak tree in the yard. Up and down and back up again. We both watch. “What time does she land?”
“Not for hours.”
“Is … is she coming home for Thanksgiving?”
“No. They don’t get off for Thanksgiving. It’s Scotland, Josh. They don’t celebrate American holidays, hello!” I’m teasing again, but my heart’s not in it.
“That’s right,” he says.
I say, “She’ll be home for Christmas though,” and we both sigh.
“Can I still hang out with you guys?” Josh asks me.
“Me and Kitty?”
“Your dad too.”
“We’re not going anywhere,” I assure him.
Josh looks relieved. “Good. I’d hate to lose you too.”
As soon as he says it, my heart does this pause, and I forget to breathe, and just for that one second I’m dizzy. And then, just as quickly as it came, the feeling, the strange flutter in my chest, is gone, and the tow truck arrives.
When we pull into my driveway, he says, “Do you want me to be there when you tell your dad?”
I brighten up and then I remember how Alice said I’m in charge now. I’m pretty sure taking responsibility for one’s mistakes is part of being in charge.
Daddy isn’t so mad after all. I go through my whole good news-bad news spiel and he just sighs and says, “As long as you’re all right.”
The car needs a special part that has to be flown in from Indiana or Idaho, I can’t remember which. In the meantime I’ll have to share the car with Daddy and take the bus to school or ask Josh for rides, which was already my plan.
Alice calls later that night. Kitty and I are watching TV and I scream for Daddy to come quick. We sit on the couch and pass the phone around and take turns talking to her.
“Alice, guess what happened today!” Kitty shouts.
Frantically, I shake my head at her. Don’t tell her about the car, I mouth. I give her warning eyes.
“Bella got into …” Kitty pauses tantalizingly. “A fight with Daddy. Yeah, she was mean to me and Daddy told her to be nice, so they had a fight.”