Chapter 9
NINE
TEN YEARS AGO
Adam
I leave Madeline on her front step with one more lingering kiss, and then I drive home to Jason’s house with the windows down and “Everlong” by the Foo Fighters blasting through the Bronco’s speakers.
I inherited a box of cassette tapes along with the car, and all those nineties rock bands bring back memories of my dad.
But I’m not thinking of him right now. I’m thinking about Madeline’s warm mouth exploring mine, her tongue teasing my bottom lip, her soft curves pressing against my chest.
I couldn’t have planned a better date than this one, and I’m still a little stunned that not only am I falling for the perfect girl, but she seems to feel the same way about me.
I park at Jason’s house, and when I enter through the garage, I find him playing a video game on the couch that doubles as my bed. When I flop next to him, he tosses aside the controller and sighs dramatically. “Well, Olivia and I are done.”
I roll my head toward him. “That sucks, man. Want to talk about it?”
Jason and Olivia only hung out a couple of times, which is pretty typical for him. He has kind of a short attention span when it comes to girls. But judging by his slumped posture, he does seem a little more dejected than usual about the relationship’s demise, so maybe he really liked Olivia.
“What happened? Maybe you can work it out?”
“I can’t take all the drama.” He shakes his head. “I’m destined to be alone.”
I press my lips together to hide my smile. “I’m sure you’ll end up hanging out with someone else soon.”
“Nah. What’s the point since”—he shoves an elbow into my side, and I hold out an arm to defend myself—“you got the only girl worth dating in the entire class?”
I roll my eyes because I know he’s joking.
Maybe Jason had a thing for Madeline on the first day of school, but he moved on from it about as quickly as he will from Olivia.
Jason is more of a flirt than anything. And he’d never pass up a chance to needle me for a reaction.
We’ve been giving each other shit since elementary school.
“So, how was the date with Madeline?” Jason pulls a plastic bag from his pocket with a small bunch of a greenish-brown herb tucked into the bottom.
“What the hell is that?” I ignore his question, grab the bag from his hand, and hold it up to the light.
Of course I know what it is, I see kids smoking weed at parties all the time.
But since he competes on the baseball and swim teams, Jason never seemed interested.
Now, though, he snatches the bag from my hand and pulls out a packet of rolling papers.
“You’re smoking weed now?”
“Just for fun.”
“Where did you get it?”
He gives me an exaggerated shrug. “I know a guy.”
I watch him roll a joint, light the end, and take a drag. Then he silently offers it to me, still holding the smoke in his lungs.
“No, thanks.” I’m pretty cautious about drugs with my dad’s history with alcohol.
Jason blows the smoke into the air, and I watch it rise toward the ceiling.
Shit. I stand up and wave my hand in the air, trying to disperse the smell before it seeps into the vents.
Since I live down here, his parents are going to think I’m the one smoking weed in their basement. I cross the room to open a window.
“Dude, the date?” Jason says when I sit back down, and for a minute I have no idea what he’s talking about. And then he shoots me a grin. “Did you ask her to be your girlfriend ?”
Madeline. The afternoon rushes back to me and I feel my face flush.
“You totally did.” Jason laughs. “You’re so cheesy.”
“No, I didn’t.” I hesitate and then admit, “I did tell her about my parents.”
“What did she say?”
“She was sympathetic… and really sweet…” I sink back against the couch cushions, remembering how comfortable I felt opening up to Madeline, how I could have sat there on the overlook and talked to her forever.
“Dude, your face right now.” Jason shoves me in the arm. “Cheesy.”
With a laugh, I pick up a throw pillow and fling it in his direction.
“Did you guys discuss college and stuff?” Jason asks.
My smile fades. It’s the fall of our senior year.
Applications, essay requirements, and safety schools are all anyone is talking about.
Maple Ridge is an upper-middle-class town, and most kids go to college.
Well, most kids in this part of town. Over on the east side of the river where I grew up, kids can’t even afford the application fee, let alone tuition.
They’ll be doing what their parents did—working at Walmart, driving a truck, or if they’re lucky, they’ll get one of the union jobs at the factory over in Britton.
My mom worked as a server at the local diner until she got sick, and my dad was a car mechanic.
The word college didn’t come up in my house.
Why would we talk about something so out of our realm?
It would be like discussing our next trip to the moon.
I recently landed a part-time job as an assistant at the shop where my dad worked, and I’m hoping to eventually learn to be a mechanic like he was.
I like using my hands and coming home physically tired at the end of the day.
“Madeline and I didn’t really talk about college or what we’re doing after graduation,” I say.
Jason stubs out the remaining half of the joint on the top of an empty seltzer can, tosses it back in the baggie, and stuffs the whole thing into the coffee table drawer.
I make a note to hide it better once he leaves.
His parents give me privacy and rarely come down here, but it’s their house, and they have the right to go where they want.
He swivels on the couch cushion to look at me. “That’s good.”
“Why?” I ask, but I think I know where this is going.
The subject of college came up at the lunch table this past week.
Like Jason, Madeline is applying to a dozen different schools.
As the two of them discussed the rankings of Penn State versus Michigan versus the university of something-or-other, I made an excuse to get up and fill my water bottle.
I hovered around the drink station, and I couldn’t help but hear snippets of animated conversation as Jason and Madeline chatted about seminars and professors and travel abroad opportunities at their dream programs.
“If you’re going to get serious about her, you might need to step it up a little.
” Jason slowly enunciates each word, the pot he smoked a minute ago starting to kick in.
“A girl like her is going to expect certain things. A guy with a plan and some prospects.” He eyes the hints of motor oil that seeped into the cracks in my knuckles and won’t come out no matter how much I scrub them.
I reflexively shove my hands in my pockets.
I know he wouldn’t say these things so bluntly if he weren’t high, but that doesn’t mean he’s wrong.
On the coffee table in front of us sits the biology assignment I’ve been struggling to finish for the past week.
Until last year, I was busy taking care of my dad and trying to work enough to keep food on the table, and now I’m saddled with a C average that won’t budge.
That would never get me scholarships to college, and I could never pay for it.
Jason is only putting words to the weight sitting on my chest. Am I good enough for Madeline?
We’re only seventeen but I’m sure she thinks about the future.
A girl like her would expect to end up with someone who will work in a well-paying field like law or business.
A guy who will have a career, make good money, and be able to afford a house like this one.
Or at least more than a trailer on the other side of the river.
To me, car mechanic is a great job—stable with a decent salary—but I don’t know if Madeline would view it the same.
Her mom has some sort of fancy career in medicine, her sister goes to Berkeley, and she’s applying to top university English departments.
I’m used to Jason’s future looking different than mine, and I never really compared them. But now I glance over at Jason’s perfect hair and expensive clothes, and I can’t help the doubts that creep in.
Maybe Madeline picked the wrong guy.