Blair （Thirteen Years Old）
Blair
(thirteen years old)
I spent nearly every summer weekend with the Wells family. Sometimes, it was only Denny, his mom, and me heading out on the road with her old ranch pickup and a bumper-pull horse trailer. We’d get a crappy motel room or camp out under the inky sky—giggling late at night about silly pictures we found in the stars or the motel ceiling stains. Living off nothing but processed sugar and laughter.
Other times, the entire Wells clan tagged along with massive gooseneck stock trailers, complete with live-in quarters. Then it was full meals, sleeping alone in the same trailer as the parents while Denny bunked with his brothers, and boisterous family hangouts around a fire every evening.
Regardless, it was Denny and I all summer long—attached at the hip, as Lucy loved to say. I learned Denny could say the words “chubby bunny” with six marshmallows in his mouth, his favorite color was blue, and he was deathly afraid of June beetles. We toilet-papered Austin’s truck, ate our weight in ketchup chips, and stayed up way too late every night laughing. He was my best friend. I was also pretty sure I was in love with him—though anytime my bestie, Cassidy, asked me if I loved him, I’d lie.
The first day back at school was damp and dreary and daunting. Elbows linked with Cass, we walked into the eighth grade together. Wearing my favorite pair of jeans, a belt buckle I’d won a few weeks prior, and the pink, pearl-snap shirt Lucy Wells gifted me for my first rodeo, I was on top of the world.
“I wish we had more choices for electives. I don’t even want to take cooking class.” Cassidy stared down at her class schedule, checking once again that it hadn’t magically changed on her. We both knew she’d had the schedule memorized since they sent it out weeks ago.
“At least it’s better than taking shop class or band.” I shrugged, clutching my binders to my chest as I scanned the crowded hallway.
“Barely.” Cass huffed. “Why can’t they give us something useful?”
I snorted. “Since when is cooking not useful?”
“I can just live off the French fries from the Horseshoe forever.”
“I can’t talk about fries right now. Denny and I ate so much poutine last weekend it made my stomach hurt.”
Cass raised her eyebrow, a glimmering expression calling me out for mentioning Denny again . According to her, I found a way to work him into every conversation, which simply wasn’t true. I only brought up Denver Wells when the story fit the conversation. Just so happened, I usually had a story involving him that fit.
Shaking my head with an irritated eye roll, I spotted him. Down the hall, past the band room, Denny was huddled with a group of boys by a bank of lockers. With his back to us, it was the perfect opportunity for payback. I raced up behind him and pinched his side—a move he’d done to me at least a million times over the summer. He jumped, twisting his torso midair to see who the culprit was.
I stupidly expected a laugh. Maybe a retaliation tickle.
Instead, he metaphorically slapped me across the face when his voice grew low and, in an annoyed tone, he said, “Oh, hi, Hart.”
“Hi,” I croaked, unsure why he was acting like we hadn’t spent nearly every day together for the last two months.
Denny turned back to his friends, who stood with scrunched noses, staring at me like the biggest weirdo in school. And maybe I was. Any other girl in our grade would’ve swooned over Denny simply looking at them. But my eyes welled, my cheeks grew hot, and my intestines knotted with embarrassment.
Screw Denver Wells.
—
For the entire week, I made up excuses for why I couldn’t go to the ranch after school—a stomachache, a headache, chores, tutoring. On Thursday evening, I was sprawled across my bed reading a Seventeen magazine, daydreaming about Chad Michael Murray, when the phone rang. The garbled sounds of my dad’s low voice traveled down the hallway until he was knocking heavily on my door. I sprang to life, and cracked my bedroom door open, snatching the cordless house phone from his hand with a smile.
Expecting Cassidy, I didn’t even say hello. Instead immediately jumping into conversation with, “Do you want to take this quiz with me to see which guy from One Tree Hill you should date?”
Lucy Wells’s laugh filled my ear. “I think they’re probably too young for me, but you do have me curious.”
“Sorry, Lucy. I thought you were Cass. What’s up?”
“Well, I haven’t seen you all week….” Fudgesicles. “Jackson said you were sick or had tutoring or something. Are things okay?”
The deceit came easily when I was simply lying to Jackson as we’d cross paths in the school halls each day. But I couldn’t lie straight to Lucy like this. Not when there was clear concern in her voice, and I could so easily picture the worried maternal look that was definitely on her face.
“I just…” I picked at my fingernails, delaying the inevitable. “Things are weird with Denny and me right now.”
“Are you sure this isn’t a convenient excuse because you’re afraid to tell me you don’t want to compete anymore? If you want to quit, I promise my feelings won’t be hurt.”
“No! I love riding. I love barrel racing. I mean…I was serious when I told you I wanted to try breakaway roping next year. I definitely don’t want to quit, but…”
“Okay, so I guess I’m not understanding the issue here. You two are best friends.”
I let out a breathy exhale. I thought we were, too, before he went and acted like a moldy muffin at school. “We’re not friends anymore, apparently. So I figured it would probably be weird if I was still at the ranch every day.”
“Well, it’s your choice. But if you still love riding, I don’t think you should give up on your dreams because of a boy. If it’s weird for him to have you here, he can learn to deal with it. This place is big enough—he can go somewhere else. You don’t need to suffer for the sake of his comfort.”
I couldn’t help the small smile her words made crop up on my lips. “Yeah…okay, yeah. I’ll come out. Maybe I’ll see if my dad can drive me on Sunday.”
“Perfect. You know where everything is, and you’re welcome here anytime.”
“Thanks, Lucy.”
“So…who’s my teenage heartthrob boyfriend? Maybe I’ll see if their dad’s available.”
—
Megan Barlow’s parties were the height of Wells Canyon’s adolescent social scene—which wasn’t saying much, considering our entire high school had about two hundred students spread across grades eight through twelve. I didn’t particularly like Megan…. In fact, I don’t think anybody did. But we collectively overlooked how much of a rude person she could be because her family was rich, and her parties were always incredible.
And with this about to be our first party as high schoolers, Cassidy and I spent our entire Saturday preparing. Manicures, pedicures, outfits…we even shaved our legs for the first time—only to the knee, because my grandma insisted anything further was reserved for when you were “entertaining company.” Whether it was the phrase or the accompanying wink, I’m not sure, but it turned me off shaving past the knee for a long time.
“Do you think there will be older boys at this thing?” Cass mused as she thoughtfully twirled a piece of hair around her finger. She sat on the edge of my bed, waiting as I debated between outfits for the thirtieth time.
“I think there has to be. No way she invited the seventh graders, and I hope it’s not just our class there.” I wriggled into a pair of black skinny jeans and eyed my scrawny, tall body in the full-length mirror hanging from my closet door. “Why? Is there a certain redheaded boy you’re hoping will be there?”
“Gross. No,” she said, quickly dropping the hair from her clutches and pretending to be engrossed in the magazine on her lap.
With a snort, I shook my head and returned to layering my tank tops—tugging on the hems to stretch them enough for my long torso—then spritzed myself with body spray and gave a nod of self-approval in the mirror. “I think we’re a good amount of fashionably late. Let’s go.”
We walked the two blocks to Megan’s house with a spring in our step, and it wasn’t until the front door closed behind us that I realized Denny would be there. Kicking my shoes off inside the foyer, I heard his laugh carrying up the stairs from the basement, and my stomach fell into my butt.
“Just ignore him.” Cassidy squeezed my forearm, tucking her sneakers neatly against the wall.
Easier said than done. I’d survived the first week of the school year by keeping my distance, but that would be impossible at a party in Megan’s basement unless I spent the entire night in the corner. Not that anybody would be surprised by Blair Hart tucked away somewhere petting the Barlow family dog instead of interacting with humans.
As we reached the bottom of the basement stairs, Megan immediately pulled Cass into an embrace. “Oh my God, I’m so happy you made it. There’s a ton of food and drinks over there.” She gestured toward the basement bar, which was covered in a spread of food. “Of course the usuals—pool table, arcade games…oh, and my dad hooked up Dance Dance Revolution and Guitar Hero in the theater room.”
“Wow, sounds like fun.” Cass smiled politely at her, taking in the chaotic scene before us.
“So much fun.” Megan clapped her hands together before turning to me, her smile wavering. “Hey, Blair.”
I awkwardly gave a wave, lips pressed together in a pained smile. In the movies, you can reinvent yourself when you start high school. But in a town as small as Wells Canyon, the reputation you earn as a little kid tends to follow you for life, unless you do something really gossip-worthy later on. Though I preferred being a generic “weird girl” over being Garrison the nose picker.
Cass grabbed my hand, tugging me through the sea of teenagers to the bar fridge. Cans of root beer acquired, we cracked open the tops and each took a long sip while surveying the land. For the next hour, she and I took up residence on a hot pink sofa close to the candy bar, making up pretend conversations for other party guests and consuming a concerning amount of gummy bears. Cassidy chatted with people as they perused the candy selection, and I became well acquainted with the Barlows’ corgi, Gordon, through a shared love for Cheez-Its. I was doing a fantastic job of avoiding Denny, maintaining my loser status, and giving myself a stomachache, when Megan popped up out of nowhere.
“A bunch of us are going to play a game in the next room, if you guys want to join.” She slipped her straw between her lips and took a long swig of fruit punch.
“We should probably participate in something here.” Cass grabbed my hand, yanking me to my feet.
With a groan and a longing glance back at Gordon snoozing on the couch, I followed my bestie across the room and through a wide archway. The Barlows’ basement was likely bigger than my entire house, with doors and hallways heading off in every direction. Based on the yoga mats propped up against the wall, I assumed the room we’d been summoned to was their very own yoga studio.
Who has a yoga studio in their house?
The other participants were already seated in a perfect circle, which suddenly gained an awkward lump when Cassidy and I forced our way in.
“What are we playing?” Cassidy asked, shifting on the floor to get comfortable.
The circle shrugged in a wave, rocking into Megan.
“Well, my suggestion was charades, but some people think that’s too boring.” Megan rolled her eyes. “So, if you have any suggestions.”
Cassidy’s squinted gaze moved around the circle and she opened her mouth slowly. “Well, we could play…” Her tongue darted out to lick her bottom lip, leaving space for the last words to tumble out. “We could play Seven Minutes in Heaven.”
I spun so hard to look at her, my neck cracked. Eyes wide, I mouthed, “What the hell are you thinking?”
Neither of us had kissed anybody yet. I’d thought about it a lot over the summer while hanging out alone with Denny, but it never happened. And I was absolutely not about to let the first time be in a musty closet at Megan Barlow’s party, with some random boy I didn’t like.
Apparently, that didn’t matter anymore. I was outnumbered. The boys were all eager to participate. The girls were meeker about it, but they clearly wanted to play, too. An older girl—Jessica, I think—explained the rules while Megan left in search of paper to write our names on.
Sitting in uncomfortable silence, breathing in the noxious mingling of Victoria’s Secret perfume and Axe body spray in the air, I waited as pairs of names were drawn from two metal mixing bowls. With the number of tiny, crumpled strips of printer paper dwindling, my heart rate was exponentially increasing. And in the midst of drying my clammy hands on the tops of my jeans, I heard Megan announce that Denny would be heading into the hallway closet.
I refused to look across the circle at him. If I watched him walk into a closet with a girl, I’d probably throw up gummy bears and Cheez-Its all over this nice hardwood. Simply thinking about it made it impossible to focus on anything beyond the rushing blood behind my eardrums, and the hazy vignette around my field of vision.
Was I about to pass out?
“Blair,” Megan shrieked.
After a beat, Cass tapped my foot with hers. “It’s your turn. You okay to go?”
I blinked away the blurry vision, swallowing the hard lump in my throat when I realized why everyone was staring in my direction. Denny was standing by the closet, eyes trained to the floor, white knuckles gripping the door frame.
The only thing worse than Denny being in a closet making out with a random girl was him being in that closet with me.
I shakily scrambled to my feet, my entire body on fire as I moved across the room. Although not a single cell in my body wanted to be in a closet with Denver Wells, it would be more embarrassing to be the one person who refused to participate. So I stepped into the small space, which was humid with sweat and hardly large enough for two people, and Denny slid in after.
When the door shut, Megan’s voice permeated the air. “Seven minutes starts now!”
I don’t know how long we stood face-to-face, in perfect darkness, with only the sounds of our breathing. But finally, Denny lightly cleared his throat. “It smells really bad in here. Like fried egg and bologna sandwiches left in a hot car for two days.”
“That’s very specif—”
“Don’t ask me how I know what that smells like,” he interrupted.
Scrunching my nose, I held back the smile threatening to blow the lid off my sour mood. I missed him, and I hated how difficult that made it to hate him.
His hot, peppermint-laced breath hit my cheek with a long exhale. “Are you mad at me or something?”
“Yeah, I’m mad at you or something. You’ve been a real…piece of moldy cheese lately.” I bit my lip to stop from tearing a strip off him.
“Moldy cheese? How have I been the moldy cheese when you’re the one avoiding me every day? The only time I seem to exist is when you glare at me in math class.”
He couldn’t be serious.
“I’m avoiding you because you were rude to me on the first day. I thought we were friends, Denny.”
“We are friends.”
“Except when you’re with your other friends,” I mumbled, swiping a leaky tear just before it slid down my cheek.
“Blair,” he breathed out my name, and his warm hands grabbed hold of my upper arms. “I didn’t mean to. They’re just…well, you know how those guys are.”
“Yeah.” I sniffled. Realizing I was crying, I wiped the back of my hand across my eyes. “I know how they are.”
“I-I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I said to convince both of us. “I’m fine.”
“I can tell you’re crying. You wouldn’t be crying if you were fine.” He exhaled hard. “Okay…there’s something my mom always says when we’re too scared to fess up to something bad. It’s like a Get Out of Jail Free card. She lets us have five seconds of honesty.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that…Pretend I broke a vase. I get five seconds where I can tell her the truth, and there won’t be any consequences or questions. Even if I was doing something I shouldn’t have, like practicing trick roping in the living room, she can’t get mad at me if I fess up during those five seconds. But there’s no passing the blame, so I can’t say ‘I broke it, but that’s only because Jackson told me to swing a rope inside.’?” Denny’s hands glided down my bare arms, leaving a wake of goosebumps he thankfully couldn’t see, before falling away from me completely. “So, Blair, give me your five seconds of honesty.”
I swallowed hard, weaving together a believable half-truth in my mind. Shoving away the sentences that would be too damning. The truth was, his actions hurt me not only because we were friends, but because Denver Wells was my first real crush. Because he made my brain float, my chest ache, and my insides somersault when he was near. Because he was the first person, aside from Cassidy, who seemed to get me.
“You were my best friend all summer. I thought you wouldn’t treat me differently ’cause your popular friends were around. I know how they are…. I didn’t think you were like that. So it hurt.”
I wrapped my arms around myself in a hug, hoping to ease the shakiness in every fiber of my body, and ease the nausea bubbling in my stomach. Maybe it wasn’t the entire truth, but it was a shard of honesty. And despite Denny’s promise not to question me on it, I couldn’t help but fear how he’d react.
“Five seconds of honesty—I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat. “Okay, well…the truth is, those guys made fun of me, saying I liked you because we hung out all summer. It bugged me because…I don’t know. I guess because I thought it was obvious we’re just friends. You’re more like a sister than anything. I was a jerk to you so they’d lay off. But that was very blue cheese of me, and I’m sorry.”
Just friends. A pseudo-sister. Obviously. All those thoughts about kissing him were entirely delusional. I shook my head slowly, wiping the tears collecting on my lower lashes. “ Very blue cheese of you.”
“Can we be friends again?” he asked in a whisper.
“I don’t know. Can we? Are you allowed to be friends with me?”
I heard the smack of his lips as he opened them in the dark, maybe preparing to give another five seconds of honesty. But before the words found their way off his tongue, the closet door opened and Megan stood with a devilish grin, hoping to catch us making out.
I blinked rapidly to let my eyes adjust before meeting Denny’s own bewildered stare. And when he looked into my eyes—which were likely red and watery—his shoulders sank. I quickly reached to clean up any stray tears or dried salt with my fingertips before turning to face the crowd of partygoers. A catchy pop song played somewhere in the distance and, for a second, everyone stared at us in silence.
“You turned her down so bad you made her cry?” an older jock guy shouted from the other side of the room, clear pride and excitement in his voice.
There’s that nausea again. My mouth was wet and dry all at the same time. I could’ve run away crying, but my brain couldn’t convince my legs to move no matter how hard I tried.
Cass stood, stepping over and around people to get across the room, her eyes never leaving mine.
Then Denny cleared his throat beside me. “No. She turned me down, actually.”
Liar. Though the slack-jawed expression on Megan’s face made both me crying in front of everybody, and Denny lying, totally worth it.
“She turned me down, then got upset because I said something really rude in response—which I didn’t mean to do, by the way,” he said. Catching him staring in my periphery, I turned to meet his apologetic half-smile. “And I’m hoping she forgives me for being a jerk.”
“I accept the apology, blue cheese.”