Part 7 (1/2)

He writes me a pa.s.s.

Just by avoiding Jewel right now, I feel like I'm breaking the rules.

I get out my notebook, tear off a piece of paper, and write a note.

I ask him to meet me at the troll after school.

I walk down the empty hall, fast so I won't flip out, and I slip the note into his locker.

The VW's rear winds.h.i.+eld is newly decorated with a Day-Glo heart, spray-paint pink, filled in with squiggles. A garnish of love graffiti for the beast's meal.

I lean against the troll's fist, out of the misty rain, waiting for Jewel. I think about what to say to him. I love you as a friend.... It's not you, it's me... I love you as a friend.... It's not you, it's me....

Jewel walks from the direction of school, his hood up against the drizzle and his eyes down.

He gets to where I am. He doesn't talk. He doesn't look at me.

”I got your note.”

”I figured.” He moves his gaze to the pink heart.

”I don't know what to say.” I close my eyes, then open them and speak to his forehead. ”I can't go with you. I have ... a date, sort of.”

I let my gaze meet his. My eyes instantly water. ”But I still want to hang out with you. You're ... my best friend.”

He finally looks at me. He's heard. It's obvious. His eyes are empty. Someone slapped Simon five on a new chick or something, in front of Jewel. Possibly on purpose.

In this instant, I want to erase everything with Simon and just go back to normal with Jewel. But I also know that it's impossible. Because now Jewel and I have our own kiss-weirdness so even if there weren't a Simon Murphy in my life, there would not be normal with Jewel, either.

”Why don't you come for dinner,” I say. ”Lasagna. Sat.u.r.day before the dance.”

He looks back at the VW. ”Wouldn't your boyfriend be p.i.s.sed?”

He turns, keeps his head down as he walks through the rain.

I don't think about it; I just run after him. ”Hey,” I say. ”Hey.”

He turns around.

”That's not fair. For you to be mad at me for having a date to the Bath.”

He just looks at me, rain falling between us.

I go on. ”I know we were supposed to go together. We do everything together. But you know ... I'm allowed to have a date who's not you. Isn't that okay? And you might ... go out with someone.”

Jewel and someone else? The thought is like someone stealing from me.

He stands there.

”Is it because Simon's ... what? Popular?”

”Alice, that's so not it.” He walks away again. I don't follow him.

I walk home feeling like something so low. Like I deserve to be eaten by the troll.

Because what Jewel really meant was: I'm breaking his heart.

Chapter Seven.

When I go to bed and close my eyes, I hear Jewel's voice, shaking. So I sit up and trace my Dove Girl with the tip of my finger, starting with her eyes, extending to her long nose, her uneven heart of a mouth. Then her head; lastly, the place where her skin turns into the wings of a dove. I try to memorize this shape. Peace. What it is to be still, calm.

I've tried drawing her in my sketchbook. She ends up too pointy or too mean-looking. Mean like me, according to Jewel. Maybe. Probably.

What if it were two weeks ago? What if Jewel had kissed me then and Simon and I had never hung out? And kissed? Then would I go with Jewel to the Bath as his date? Would I become his girlfriend?

What ifs. That's all I've got because my Dove Girl doesn't talk back. She just sits there, looking like the Buddha or something.

The Buddha reminds me of Vanessa's new Zen thing.

I wonder what Vanessa would say about my boy situation. As if I would ever ask her.

I already know the answer, anyway. Deep down. Yeah. Yes. If Jewel had kissed me and Simon hadn't, I'd be with Jewel. I'd be his.

We'd stay in our coc.o.o.n.

Tuesday morning, I take a quick shower, put on my sweater, jeans, and orange puffy vest, grab an apple in the kitchen, yell goodbye to my parents shuffling around in their room, and start my walk.

Dad used to drive me to school on his way to the university. But I like walking. School is one mile away, almost exactly, which gives me enough time to mellow before hitting the hallowed halls.

I head down Phinney and almost step on a slug. I think it's a fat stick at first. Then I stoop to look at it. It's a teeny alien, with those eyes on top of its head. Now that I think of it, I I feel a little alien: a strange girl on an even stranger planet that should look familiar but doesn't. feel a little alien: a strange girl on an even stranger planet that should look familiar but doesn't.

I remember the Chihuly slug from the museum. I have gla.s.sblowing on Sat.u.r.day.

I keep walking, careful where I step.

Jewel and I usually meet at Thirty-fourth and Phinney.

He's not here.

Still mad, then. Still ... whatever. Hurt.

I keep walking, having an imaginary conversation with him.

”Morning,” I say, in my head.