Chapter 23
B y the time Thursday rolls around, I’ve gone through the motions of school and cheer practice. I spend the late afternoons with Diana. She listens to music and reads magazines, gathering as much information as she can on track and field across the country in preparation for the upcoming season. I obsess over the pile of newspaper clippings stolen from Tyler’s atrium.
I should’ve returned the clippings by now. I worry one of the Jacobsons will be looking for them, but Tyler threw the party because they were out of town looking for a specialist or something and I’d heard through the grapevine that their trip would last longer than just the weekend. The EPA and Marigold connections were all I could think about the last few days, and I was now determined to figure out why Tyler’s household held these crucial bits of information.
Midway through history class the thought occurs to ask Tyler—who sits two rows in front of me—whether or not his parents have come home from their trip. Diana has made a point to ignore him, unless of course, he approaches her first. He made a sorry exit after kissing her at the party and hasn’t offered her a word since. Despite all of that drama, I plan to approach him after class.
Moments later, as I’m reading newspapers from Pops’ Little Narnia under the school desk, I feel a pair of eyes land on me. When I look up, I discover Tyler attempting to make eye contact with me by doing a caterpillar dance with his eyebrows.
As soon as I catch his glance, he sends a nervous smile my way—a look I’d never seen forged on his face before. He holds a lined piece of paper, folded like sad origami with a triangular-looking point, and bumps the shoulder of the guy in front of me, motioning for him to hand the note to me while mouthing the words “Hand to Atta.”
The guy in front of me slides the note across his desk with two long fingers before curving his arm back behind his shoulder like the beak of a crane so that my only option is to pick the note from his hand like a kid picking apples. I snatch it from him before the teacher sees, then carefully unravel the open edges from the creased folds so the paper lays flat across my stack of newspapers under the table. Tyler’s handwriting is too tilted for me to read at this angle, so I flip the paper over to find another message which reads Please give to Diana . I snag Tyler’s attention, nodding to assure him I understand the assignment.
Throughout the remainder of class Tyler’s leg shakes nervously and it seems I’m not the only one to notice. The entire class pays more attention to Tyler acting like a nervous wreck than the Axis powers diagram etched on the chalkboard. As the primary witness to Diana and Tyler’s 2010 love escapade, I particularly enjoy watching the part where Tyler sweats bullets trying to make this relationship happen. The only thing that might push it to the brink—to avante-garde potential—would be if Caleb, Diana’s current Non-80s-Land husband, were able to watch it with me.
Caleb was the king of romance. The first time he expressed interest in Diana he’d laid a trail of flowers along their college’s pole vault track leading up to a miniature toy tractor that held a note requesting she meet him after practice in the parking lot. And that’s how it all started. She met him in the school parking lot and they drove five miles an hour in Caleb’s tractor to catch a movie somewhere in Fort Collins.
In comparison, up to this point, Tyler’s attempts at communicating with Diana had been akin to Chris Farley masterfully breaking a table and falling flat on his face as Matt Foley, motivational speaker—reckless, overbearing—a total crash and burn.
After class lets out, I take a quick look at Tyler’s note while stepping over a group of girls in pointed flats and black and white sweaters. They’re sitting with their legs sprawled out, making various squealing and snorting sounds as I dodge a bunch of objects being thrown from a rowdy bunch of boys in the lounge area. The level of disarray only increases as I walk past the congested tide of students on my way to deliver Tyler’s message.
The cafeteria booms with loud chatter. I search the open layout for Diana as students pull out yellow chairs to accommodate new people at the cafeteria tables. One kid delivers a mockery of an opera performance for a table of cackling band students. A hair-metal-loving jock plays guitar with his friend’s leg to Metallica at a table that blasts music from a boombox. His friends watch intently with their girlfriends perched on their laps.
Eventually, I brush by Tyler and his group. I move quick enough that I manage to avoid Evan, but I feel Tyler’s anxious eyes on my back as I weave my way through the melting pot of nerds, burners, and jocks.
I find Diana at the far side of the cafeteria. To my surprise, Ben is eating next to her.
“Atta,” Ben says, acknowledging my presence, which causes Diana to look up from peeling her orange. I slide in next to her and meet Tyler’s stare from across the room. He quickly looks away, knowing what I’m about to do.
“I have something for you,” I say, handing her the note with a closed fist so that Ben doesn’t grab it before she does. “I might have peeped,” I say, beaming with excited anticipation.
“Of course you did,” Ben cuts in.
“Thanks, Ben,” I say dryly.
Diana unfolds the finely creased paper so that it lays in front of both of us and leans forward making it difficult for Ben to peep. It reads,
Diana,
I’m kicking myself for accidentally kissing you the other night.
I didn’t expect that to happen. It was an accident and I’m sorry I haven’t said a word to you for the past few days. Accidentally kissing you has made it difficult for me to do anything but think about you.
I know you’ve hated me for a while and I don’t deserve your attention, so I waited three days just thinking about whether or not I should even write this letter.
I got my hopes up when you kissed me back and I’d really like to date you, so here I am taking my shot even if it means you might reject me.
Circle yes if you’ll go with me to the roller rink on Saturday.
Yes
No
Ty
Diana reaches into her purse and pulls out a pen, unknowingly giving Ben a visual of the crinkled love note long enough that he’s able to get the gist of the letter. Diana lifts her pen with the intent to circle Tyler’s handwritten “Yes” at the bottom of the note but before her pen lands on paper Ben throws his hands on top of hers.
“Diana, no!” Ben says.
Diana brazenly whips her hands, and the note, away from Ben with dramatic flare, pressing her full lips together to form a taunting grin. She lays the paper flat on the table and against her brother’s wishes, circles “Yes.”
“Sorry,” she says, rather pleased with herself. I try to remain neutral-faced, as Ben sends her a hard glare.
“I find it sweet that he wasn’t sure how to approach me. And he put in some effort with the note. It was cute.”
“Yeah, if you call ‘writing a love note’ effort.” Ben scoffs at his own friend’s handwritten gesture. Diana doesn’t give him any reaction as she stands up from the table.
We both watch the back of Diana’s denim jacket weave in and out of tables as she heads toward Tyler and a group of cheerleaders. Ben shoots out of his seat and quickly closes the gap between them, reaching for her rolled up sleeve.
Tyler meets Diana’s gaze with a hopeful look. He stands up, nervously fumbling into his chair in the process and as if forgetting everyone else’s presence around him, he approaches Diana. I stop a few feet short of them, weary that a fight might break out between Tyler and Ben.
“Here.” Diana smiles handing him the note. She waits patiently as he unfolds the note in front of her and finds his “Yes” circled in blue ink.
Ben pulls me aside just outside the door next to a wall of lockers after fifth period.
“Glad your head’s all healed up.” He pokes my forehead where my yellowing bruise would be if I hadn’t covered it up with Erica’s heavy foundation this morning.
“Why would you do that? Jeez! It still hurts,” I say, eager to swat his hand if he tries poking me again.
“Oh sorry,” he says, withdrawing his hand from my face.“You have to help me out.” He pleads in as casual a way as he can muster.
“Help you out with what, Ben? If this is about Tyler and Diana, I like them together and I don’t plan on interfering. She can make her own decisions, ya know.”
“So you’re really going to let her date the most obnoxious man in this school?” he says.
“Isn’t he one of your best friends?” I didn’t expect him to be so against this relationship.
“Yeah, which is why I know it’s not a good fit,” he says. I stand arms folded, waiting for him to elaborate.
“He relies on rebellion to function. He craves attention like caffeine and my sister is a softie who will tag along with anything if she believes that person has an ounce of goodness in them. Imagine her tagging along with him!”
Ben wasn’t wrong. Diana was a total softie when it came to people she liked. She’d buzz around them like a loyal bee, happy to harvest the entire hive for them as long as it made them happy. I give Ben an understanding smile before contradicting it by saying, “Maybe he’ll boost her creativity.”
“Go to the roller rink with me on Saturday.” There’s an unrelenting force to his interjection. “I need to make sure nothing happens between those two. Especially because Tyler’s parents are out of town until Monday.”
I’m relieved and shocked at the same time. Relieved to hear his parents are still out of town—that means they haven’t been looking for the newspaper clippings in the time I’ve had them—and shocked at his request, or was it an invitation?
“You?…what?” I say, replaying his request back again in my head wondering if I heard him correctly.
“Go to the roller rink with me. We can make this a double.”
“You're only doing this to keep tabs on your sister. What if they want to go by themselves?”
“I can make it a double,” Ben says with confidence.