Chapter 20
I’m still not super happy with Luke when Wednesday rolls around.
I’m going back to the shelter to reshoot the videos next week, but Martina is still being short in her responses to me. A
celebrity cameo would have been great for the shelter, for attention, fundraising, and getting more animals adopted. We dangled
the idea in front of her, and now we’re not following through. That is objectively shitty.
Meanwhile, Luke has probably forgotten about it by now. I’m fully prepared to be coolly professional toward him today. But
then later, when the doorbell rings, he’s standing there in joggers and a sweatshirt with a contrite look on his face and
a stack of papers in his hand.
“I have two things for you today,” he says, by way of greeting. “Can I come in?”
I motion for him to enter, and as he does, he hands me the papers he’s holding. “I felt so bad about the whole shelter thing,
so I made these. The illustrated posters they had up everywhere for that event gave me the idea. I thought they could be a
fun thing to post on social media, help them get adopted. But you don’t have to use them,” he adds quickly.
I start flipping through them. They’re drawings.
Specifically, they’re drawings of each of the nine animals we profiled on Saturday.
He made each one look like a trading card for a superhero.
He’s included their stats, which he must have gotten from the shelter’s website, like their names, their ages, whether they’re potty-trained or not.
He’s even drawn capes for some of the animals.
These must have taken a long time to do.
“Luke,” I say. “These are painfully cute.”
Martina loves cutesy stuff like this. She’s going to go wild for them.
“I made a donation, too,” Luke adds. “To the shelter. I sent them a check, so hopefully your boss will get it in a day or
two.”
“You didn’t need to do that,” I tell him, although Martina’s going to be happy about that, too.
“Yes, I did. Like I said, I felt bad.”
“Well, thank you. They’re great.”
“Now for the second thing. Is it okay if we don’t do your homework tonight?”
He was delayed with whatever he was working on for the movie, so it’s almost six and my homework is mostly done. “Sure. Why?”
“I want to show you something. Where’s your TV?”
“This way. Mom, Luke’s here!” I yell. She’s been working on contracts and menus upstairs in Nicky’s room for the past hour
or so.
“Hi, Luke!” Mom yells back.
“Hi, Ms. Lafay—Nina!”
Luke slips off his shoes and then we head into the den. He hops over the back of the sectional and settles in, pulling his
phone out of his pocket in one swift motion. He pauses, bouncing up and down on the seat. “Damn. This is comfy.”
“Best couch in the world,” I agree, walking around to join him. I choose a spot somewhat close to where he’s sitting, but
not too close.
“Do you have Apple TV?”
“Yeah.” I go to hand him the remote, but he waves me away.
“Nah, I have to screen mirror for this.”
He taps his screen a few times and then his phone screen appears on our TV. He’s in his email. It’s like I’ve been let inside
some secret inner chamber. There are so many unread emails. From his agent, management, roundup emails, one with a subject
that says “[INTERVIEW REQUEST].” What I wouldn’t do for five minutes to scroll, to get a deeper glimpse into his life. Texts
are rolling in from different contacts at an astonishing pace.
He clicks into an email with an attachment, opens it, and the screen turns black, to movie mode.
“What is this?” I ask.
“A screener. It’s Samantha Briscoe’s newest film. I saw that you had a still of her movie, the pink one, hanging in your room.”
I stare at him, touched. “You noticed that?”
“Yeah. So I thought . . .” Suddenly he looks hesitant, as if he’s not sure whether I want to watch it or not.
“I’d love to see it,” I tell him. “Thank you.” I get up to turn off the lights. When I sit back down in my spot, and maybe I’m imagining
it, it seems like Luke has moved closer.
The film isn’t about anything big. It’s about a woman—a recovered addict, ex-convict, single mom who lost her kids to the foster care system—who tends to injured
wild horses from her trailer home in rural Montana.
It’s beautifully shot, heartbreaking but also funny. Samantha Briscoe plays the principal character, and her acting is so
good. The whole experience of watching it fills me with both joy and sorrow. It’s not just a movie; it’s life.
“Wow,” I say, when the last scene fades to black. I desperately tried to hide my sniffling because I hate crying in front
of people when I’m watching a movie. It’s why I never see them in the theaters.
“Did you like it?” Luke asks.
“Did I like it?” I point at my tearstained face. “I loved it.”
Just like her debut, she directed this one, too. Wouldn’t that be the dream—to act and direct. To have no one above you to answer to. To have the buck stop with you.
I’m about to say as much when I realize how close my knee is to Luke’s.
At some point during the movie, he must have moved closer to me.
Or I moved closer to him. As he shifts to get his phone, the length of his thigh presses into mine.
He seems totally relaxed, like he doesn’t notice the lack of space between us at all.
As Luke disconnects his phone and the TV goes dark, I get a text from Evie.
EVIE:
Eddie finally stopped drooling from the novocaine. Is Lucas Cordova still there?
ME:
Yeah
EVIE:
Are you SURE you don’t want to hang out? Please please please? I’m still at Eddie’s
I click off my phone without responding.
I’m still feeling so moved by the film, buzzing with the emotion of it, and it inspires a wild, very un-Claire-like idea.
I want to pitch it to Luke before I bring it up with Evie.
“She’s a Tisch alum, you know,” he says.
“What?”
“Samantha Briscoe.”
“Oh. Cool. But hey. Do you still want to see the school?”
“What? The high school?”
“Yeah.”
“I mean, yeah. I was considering asking someone on the production team to get me in for a tour, but what are you thinking?”
“Hold on,” I say as I text Evie back.
ME:
Does Eddie know how to get into school after hours?
EVIE:
Let me ask
Yeah
He says one of the doors into the gym is broken. Why???????
ME:
Any interest in a field trip? I want to show Luke around but I don’t want to have to ask permission or have it be a big thing
She texts back fast. So you want to break into school? Tonight?
ME:
No, I want to privately visit the school to allow an actor to get acclimated to a set.
And yes, now
EVIE:
brEAK INTO SCHOOLLL NIGHTTT!!!!
One car is less suspicious than 2 so we’ll be there to pick u up in 15
“Okay,” I tell Luke, clicking off my phone. “It’s all set. Evie and Eddie are coming to get us now.”
“I can drive us,” he offers.
“One car is less suspicious,” I say, parroting Evie.
When I go to tell Mom that Luke and I are going out, I stop in the doorway for a second. She’s on the phone with Johnny on
speaker, and I can hear him saying something about one of their upcoming clients. Mom starts belly-laughing. Johnny is the
only one who can get her going like that. I don’t want to disturb them, but I need to tell her I’m going out, so I knock.
“Oh, I have to go,” she says to Johnny, before yelling, “Come in!”
Thisbe’s passed out on Nicky’s bed but raises her head when I come in. Mom’s obviously been deep in work mode, because she
has a bunch of Excel spreadsheets open on her laptop and a spread of paper menu drafts littered across Nicky’s desk. She seems
to have only now realized what time it is. “Shoot. Have you two eaten? Do you want me to make something?”
“We’re good. Don’t worry. We’re going out, but we’ll be back in a bit.” I kiss Thisbe on the head on my way out.
As I grab an extra layer from my room—tonight is the first night that feels cold cold, not charming chill-in-the-air October cold—something occurs to me.
Why did Luke mention that Samantha Briscoe went to Tisch?
That’s a random thing to bring up. I can’t remember telling Luke that I wanted to go there.
I rack my brain, but I can’t find that particular conversation.
When we go outside to wait for Evie and Eddie, I ask, “Why did you say Samantha Briscoe was a Tisch alum?”
“What?”
“Before. You said, ‘She’s a Tisch alum.’”
“Oh.” He scratches his ear. “You told me you wanted to go there. The other day.”
“When?”
He makes a pretend thinking face. “When you gave me a tour of your room.”
“No, I didn’t. I said New York generally, but not Tisch.” Then it occurs to me. “Did I tell you that when I was drunk? During
the conversation where you claimed I was making no sense?”
“No. Couldn’t have been.”
“I did, didn’t I?”
“Maybe.”
“I thought you said I wasn’t making any sense.”
“I said you mostly weren’t making any sense.”
I am, of course, mortified. But then—and maybe it’s still a lingering emotional hangover from the film—I ignore the kneejerk embarrassment and instead let myself imagine what it might feel like to just .
. . say exactly what I feel all the time, not just when I’m drunk at one in the morning.
To talk honestly about everything I’ve been through.
To not apologize or feel shame for any of it.
And for a brief second, the imagined freedom of it is dizzying.
But then headlights appear down the street and soon Evie, Eddie, and Big Bird are pulling into my driveway. Evie honks and
whoops out her window. “Ya! Break into school night!”
I use my hands to mime that she should quiet down, while glancing back at the house. I’m not sure Mom would appreciate knowing
that breaking into school was the object of our outing.
“Sorry,” Evie says, chastened, as Luke and I get into the back seat. “I just can’t believe Claire Hopper is about to do something
against the rules. This is a seminal moment.”
“So what’s going on in here?” Luke asks, motioning at the feathers attached to the driver’s seat and the yellow LED lights
taped to the roof of the car.
“Don’t ask, man,” Eddie says from the front seat. He reaches back and daps Luke.
The parking lot is empty when we pull in. Like Eddie said, one of the gym doors opens right up.
“Wait,” I whisper-shout as Eddie pushes in. “It’s not even that late. What if there are, like, after-school groups still here?
Or teachers who are working late grading tests?”
“It’s fine,” Eddie says. “We can say we forgot something at school for a group project.”
I point at Luke. “And him?”
“What about him? He’s our fellow high school student, isn’t he?” Evie asks.
“Fine. Okay. I guess we’re doing it.”
“This was your idea,” Evie reminds me. “And we’re at our own school. To literally just walk around. We’re not doing anything bad.”
I’m pretty sure it’s a form of trespassing, but I don’t say this. And she’s right. It was my idea.
I’m jumpy at first as we walk down the empty, quiet hallways, but as it becomes increasingly clear that no one else is here,
I start to relax. We take Luke through the student center, the library, some of the classrooms, the science wing.
All the halls are decked out with orange, brown, and yellow ribbons and posters for Fall Fest, which is happening this coming
weekend.
“What’s Fall Fest?” Luke asks.
“It’s a big fundraiser the school puts on every October,” I tell him. “There are food trucks, games, hayrides, you name it.
It’s cute.”
“That sounds fun. Very quaint,” he says. “Are you going?”
“Not this year.” I’m about to tell him I’ll be gone, visiting Nicky, when Evie says, “You can come with me and Eddie, if you
want.”
Eddie makes a face. “Are you really going to make me go to that, babe?”
I’m not sure why, but for whatever reason, Fall Fest is a “thing” that seniors don’t do. Like we’ve aged out of it. They’ll
probably be the only two seniors there.
“Luke doesn’t want to go to Fall Fest,” I add.
Luke looks affronted. “Says who? Maybe I do.”
“See?” Evie says. “Luke thinks it sounds cool.”
Behind Evie’s back, Eddie shakes his head fervently, which makes Luke smile.
On our way back from the science wing to the gymnasium, Luke says, “Damn. This place is huge. Way bigger than I thought it
would be.”
“Not all students who go here live in Glenridge,” I explain. “Half are from Westbury. Their high school shut down because
of the story you’re here to film.”
“Huh. No kidding.” Luke catches my eye. “Great tour guiding. Very informative stuff.”
“I’m here to serve.”
When we get back into the gym, Eddie makes his way toward a bin of basketballs off to the side of the room. “So, Luke. Are
you as bad at basketball in real life as you are at NBA 2K?”
“Oh, okay. I see how it is.” He motions for Eddie to throw him one of the balls.
Evie and I sit on the bleachers while Eddie and Luke make free throws from increasingly faraway positions. Luke is better
at basketball in real life, but still not half as good as Eddie.
In a low voice, Evie says, “He’s into you.”
“Who? Luke?” I ask incredulously.
She nods.
My heart starts beating so fast. “Stop. Don’t say stuff like that.”
Evie holds up her hand. “I swear. I swear on everything, anything. The whole time we’ve been here, he keeps looking at you. Like when you’re ahead of him, or when he thinks you won’t notice.”
“No.” I shake my head. “He’s an old friend. It’s not like that between us.”
“Sometimes old friends bloom into new lovers,” Evie says. “Maybe you could see both Ben and Luke at the same time. It would be very French of you.”
I can tell she’s being stupid on purpose, so I laugh. “Okay. Stop.”
“Fine, fine. I do have something else for you.”
“What?”
Evie leans over and whispers in my ear. “Eddie’s parents are going to Miami over Halloween weekend. He’s going to have the
house all to himself. That’s when I want to do it.”
“It?” I ask, for confirmation. Evie nods.
I can’t help myself. I whoop.
The boys, who have been shooting basketballs, suddenly stop. “What? What is it?”
“Nothing!” Evie says, but that’s not true.
Because without the sound of their squeaking shoes or the thump of the basketball against the floor, I do hear something. And not only do I hear something, I see something. A single beam of light, arcing through the windows of the
double doors into the main hallway.
A flashlight, I realize.
I jump up from the bleachers. “Someone’s here! Run!”
“Shit!” Eddie cries.
Luke lets the basketball bounce and roll away, and soon all four of us are running toward the open door as a night janitor
yells at us to stop, wait! But we don’t. We sprint, laughing and breathless, all the way to Big Bird.
“Go, go, go!” Eddie cries at Evie, once we’re all barely inside the car. Evie screeches out of the parking lot, windows open.
The cold October air streams in, whipping at our hair as she drives, and we’re laughing and whooping, and the only thing I
am experiencing is this moment, right here, right now, without any of my usual almost-paranoid focus on potential consequences.
And all I can think is, This is what it means to be alive.