He smiled. “I certainly do, Floyd.”
I glared at him. “I don’t need to go.”
“Okay, but do you want to go?”
I nodded. “Sure, but I’m not going to go for the sake of
going. If I find someone I want to go with, I’ll go. If I don’t, the sun will still rise the next day.”
“But I made you that promise,” he reminded me.
The promise. The one we made before high school about
not letting one of us attend a function alone. That lasted for
the first half of the year, then I started seeing Ian, and Levi
started seeing Carrie. Then we weren’t really speaking. And
now he was with Stacey.
“It’s okay,” I said. Because it was. Would I have fun with
Levi at the dance? Of course. But that wouldn’t be fair to
Stacey.
“Macallan?” Levi leaned toward me. “What do you want?”
It seemed like a simple question, but it wasn’t. With our
history, it was as charged as a stick of dynamite. One wrong
move and boom — our friendship would be in pieces.
Was this really a conversation we should be having when
he was so vulnerable and I was so . . . ? I didn’t know what I
was, besides confused.
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“I know what I want.” I stood up. Levi looked expectantly.
“Pie, I want some pie.”
I went upstairs. I studied my face in the kitchen window. I
knew better. We both did.
We had both been burned before. There was no way I was
going to play with that fire.
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Do you know why I didn’t kiss you at midnight?
Because you valued your life?
That. And I didn’t know what you’d do. Probably run away to the Arctic.
You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?
Let me think. . . . Nope.
Figures.
Yeah, wel , at least I have this one thing over you.
True.
And you have so much over me.
That’s because of your actions, not mine.
Whatever, Floyd.
Oh, you’re going to pay for that.
I have no doubt.
C H A P T E R S I X T E E N
Oddly enough, starting off a new year with knee surgery wasn’t
as bad an omen as I’d original y thought. I did get to miss the
first week back at school, so no complaints from me on that one.
Sure, I was a huge pain after my injury because I was in so much pain. I went through my five stages of grief: I was mad, then upset, fol owed by angry, which blossomed into frustration, which eventual y turned into depression.
But then Macal an came along, as she so often had, and wouldn’t
put up with any of it. If I complained, she wouldn’t let up until I either got over myself or laughed. She carted me back and forth to school.
Helped me with my books, cooked for me, did everything I needed, and she didn’t complain once. Unless, of course, I complained.
Which was often.
There was something about her help that calmed me. I didn’t like having my mom fret over me. I didn’t want Dad to think I was soft, even though he understood the severity of my injury more than
anybody. And I hated thinking that the guys felt they had to take care of me.
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Oh, yeah, and Stacey. I liked having her around, but things with Macal an were different.
For a second, on New Year’s Eve, I thought she was going to tell me that what she wanted was me. That she wanted to kiss me. She
only paused for a couple seconds, but in that short amount of time, I managed to get my hopes up to a ridiculous height.
She was one of the last people I saw before I was put under for
my surgery, and one of the first people I saw when I woke up. She took the day off school to be with my parents and me. She brought me my homework all week and did these hilarious reenactments of
stories involving my friends.
She even took me to physical therapy. Which I was grateful for,
because physical therapy sucked. It hurt. It was the most frustrating thing ever. I had to relearn how to use my knee. Something as simple as bending was painful and difficult. If Mom had been there, she would’ve been worried by the pain I was going through.
But Macal an stood there and helped me when I needed her. She
did her homework while my therapist was working on me. And
she gave me the strength to not give up, throw a fit, or cry. Which I wanted to do on a daily basis.
After a particularly painful session, Macal an sat next to me during my ice and stim.
“How you feeling?” she asked.
“Better,” I lied.
Kim, my therapist, set up my stim machine. “He had a good day
today. I have total faith that he’ll only be in his brace at the dance in a couple weeks.”
“That’s great!” Macal an gave me a big smile.
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Kim patted her on the shoulder. “You may need him to lean on
you more when you dance, but you know how boyfriends can be.”
Macal an gave Kim a puzzled look. “Um, yeah, but Levi and I
aren’t . . .”
“Oh!” Kim looked at both of us. “I thought, um, I didn’t mean . . .”