6. Chapter 6
Chapter six
B y the time Saturday morning rolls around, our perfectly-sized carpool has dwindled down to two. Sarah has a sinus infection, and Jason’s brother came to town unexpectedly. Will’s company spent six hours fighting off hackers overnight Friday, so he’s not up for another late night.
I’m sulking on the couch about my exciting plans going down the drain when my phone dings with an individual text from Brooks.
brOOKS
I’m still game to go tonight if you are. I could honestly use a fun break from adulting for a night
Staring at his text, I weigh my options. If I stay home, I can avoid all of the memories and confusion that would inevitably come from being alone with Brooks. But I’ve been looking forward to this all week. Amaya wasn’t wrong when she said this was right up my alley—this event was made for me. Not to mention, I’d get a mini break from Brooklyn and get to see my mom.
I chew my lip. Is avoiding Brooks worth giving all that up?
Same—let’s do it!
brOOKS
Amazing. I’ll pick you up around 4:30?
Sounds good !
This is fine. This is going to be loads of fun. Sitting in the car alone with Brooks for three hours will be the perfect opportunity to prove that all the water is under the bridge.
The part of my brain that doses out adrenaline doesn’t listen to my calming self-talk, though. I’m jittery all day. I have no choice but to channel all that restless energy into combing through my closet for the perfect outfit.
I settle on a jean skirt and a white tank top to maximize the effect of the black lights I assume will be there. After showering, I spend more time on my hair and makeup than usual. But not because I’m going to be with Brooks. Only because I need something to do with all this nervous energy.
At 4:35 p.m., Brooks’ car pulls up in front of my duplex. I’ve been watching out the front window for him, but I stop myself from opening the door to walk out and meet him. You can’t look like you’ve been standing here waiting for him! Show some chill, Teegan!
I scamper down the hallway out of sight from the windows before he can see me. Will he text me that he’s here, or will he come up and ring the—
My thought is cut off by the sound of the doorbell. I give myself an extra three seconds in the hallway to take a deep breath before walking out to answer the door.
“Brooks! Hey! Thanks so much for picking me up! And for still being willing to go,” I say with a bright smile. My eyes race to drink in his appearance in split seconds. Perfectly styled hair. Blue eyes twinkling at me. Looking like my twin in jeans and a white t-shirt.
“Of course—I wouldn’t miss it. Even if you hadn’t wanted to go, I might have still driven up by myself,” he responds with an equally bright smile. “I’ve always wanted to go to a silent disco. It’s gonna be a blast.”
I punch the code to lock my front door and pocket my phone. Brooks leads the way to his car and opens the passenger door for me. Just like he used to.
“Oh, thanks,” I tell him as I slide into the seat. My heart picks up speed. He’s allowed to be a gentleman without it meaning this is a date, Teegan. Stop making a big deal of things .
Once settled in the driver’s seat, Brooks reaches behind him to grab a grocery bag. “It’s possible that your tastes have matured more than mine,” he says, grin teasing. “But if not, help yourself to some car snacks.”
Setting the bag on his lap, he pulls out a giant package of Sour Patch Kids and a can of Pringles. Panic prickles my skin, making the hairs on my arms rise.
He’s allowed to remember your favorite snacks. It’s not like you’ve forgotten how much he loved Reese’s Pieces. Which is the next bag he pulls out of the grocery sack.
I shake off the panic with a laugh. “I definitely haven’t matured that much,” I say, accepting the Sour Patch Kids from him. I rip open the bag and pop a couple in my mouth, saving myself from having to say anything else for a moment.
Brooks props the Reese’s Pieces bag on the seat next to him before starting the car. We pull away from my duplex and begin the drive away from Brooklyn.
“How was teaching this week?” I ask, desperate to get him talking. I need time to calm my fluttery heart. Also, my desire to learn more about teaching is craving a fix.
“Pretty normal,” Brooks responds.
I lean forward slightly, forcing him to look at me. “That hardly counts as an answer,” I say, raising an eyebrow. “I assume you wouldn’t let that pass from one of your students.”
Brooks’ head falls back in a laugh. The same laugh that was once my favorite sound in the world. It’s deepened a bit with age, but the cadence is the same. My heart both expands and aches a little.
“You’re right—I wouldn’t let a student get away with that kind of answer,” he says. His eyes return to the road as we merge onto the highway out of town, but the shadow of his laugh remains in them. “‘Normal’ for a middle school teacher pretty much means part of the week was infuriating and part was exhilarating.”
“Do tell,” I prod, chewing on another candy.
“We’re far enough into the semester that I’ve got a decent read on most of my students—who’s going to struggle with the content, who might have a harder time socially, who’s going to naturally take charge in class, and who’s going to want an extra challenge.” He pauses, glancing at me with a smirk. “Who’s going to be the class clown.”
I burst out laughing. “Oh, you mean who’s going to give you a taste of your own medicine?”
Brooks shrugs and momentarily holds his hands up off the steering wheel. “No idea what you’re implying there, Teegan.” I can’t help but giggle again. Brooks continues, “I have a couple of students who have lots of potential but not much support at home. So I’m always trying to think of out-of-the-box ways to keep them engaged. I did manage to rework the lyrics of ‘Bad Blood’ to help the kids review for our American Revolution test. That paid off on their scores.”
I snort. “Oh my gosh—you did not!”
“What? You doubt my skills?” Brooks teases.
“You have to sing it for me right now,” I demand. Brooks tries to wave me off, but I know that he secretly wants to perform it for me. I know because that’s exactly how I’d act if I was him. It was never hard for Brooks and I to read each other. All we had to do was picture what we’d be thinking at any given moment, and we’d know what the other person was thinking.
My gentle prodding is all it takes for Brooks to start singing his revamped version of Taylor’s masterpiece. He manages to stay seriously in character, while I’m laughing so hard by the end that I think I might be literally hyperventilating.
“I’ll never be able to hear ‘You forgive, you forget, but you never let it go’ without thinking of the battles of Lexington and Concord again,” I say, tears of laughter streaming down my cheeks.
Brooks laughs along with me until we manage to calm down. He clears his throat and asks, “So, how’s the Gan Clan?”
The Gan Clan. It was Brooks’ nickname for my family back when we were together. My dad, Morgan, married my mom, Reagan, and they thought it would be really neat for all of us to have names ending with “G-A-N.” Hence, Logan and Teegan. Brooks always thought it was the funniest, cleverest idea.
“Ah, um, good!” I say, stumbling over my response. “I mean, we’re all doing good as individuals. No complaints. Just . . . not so much of a clan anymore.”
Brooks glances over at me, concerned confusion in his eyes.
“My parents got divorced during my sophomore year of college,” I explain. “So, you know, my parents are doing fine. Just not fine together.”
Keeping his eyes on the road, Brooks quietly remarks, “I’m really sorry, Teegan. I’m sure that sucked. What happened?”
I exhale slowly and look out my window. “Nothing major. It was the most cliché split ever—once both of their kids were out of the house, they felt like they had nothing in common anymore. Had grown apart, or whatever. My mom tried to keep fighting for them for a while, but my dad eventually filed for divorce.”
The air around me is starting to feel heavy, pressing down on me uncomfortably. I abruptly change the subject. “So, when did you officially start going by Brooks instead of Murphy?” I ask. “Did you drop the last name nickname as soon as you left high school or not until you started teaching?”
“Oh, um . . .” Brooks looks caught off guard, face falling slightly. “It wasn’t until three years ago.” He pauses again, like he’s struggling to answer. I suddenly wish I hadn’t asked this question.
“You know my parents named me Brooks after my mom’s maiden name,” he says. I do remember. His older brother was named Steven Jr. after their dad, and then his mom wanted her maiden name to be carried on by their second son. Brooks clears his throat again. “Ah, three years ago, my mom passed away.”
I physically flinch. His mom was one of my favorite people. She was always so spunky and carefree. So generous with her love. “Brooks. I am so, so sorry. I didn’t know, or I wouldn’t have brought it up,” I say, voice barely above a whisper.
He shrugs one shoulder. “Of course, you didn’t know. She had a brain aneurysm that ruptured, and she died instantly. Didn’t suffer at all.” Brooks pauses, and I see him fighting to stuff down his emotions. “After that happened, it felt like going by my first name—her maiden name—was a way to remember her. Honor her. Keep a piece of her alive with me.”
The heavy air I was attempting to alleviate by asking that question is now one hundred times heavier. I’m suffocating, and I know that Brooks must be too. I close my eyes and picture a sunny meadow, pretending I’m running through it. Mentally escaping from uncomfortable feelings has become a well-rehearsed habit. This time, I even allow myself to include Brooks in the daydream, holding hands and smiling as we run through the grass. Running far away from the heavy air.
Brooks breaks the silence. “No one warns you that growing up means a lot more sucky life moments coming at ya, huh?”
I huff a small laugh and continue the attempt to lighten the mood. “For real. Where is that class in high school—‘Preparing for Life’s Suckiest Moments 101?’”
“I’ll include it as a suggestion on my end-of-the-year staff survey,” Brooks jokes. And with mutual understanding, we move back to light-hearted conversation.
“How did you know Joy and Caleb to get plugged into the small group?” Brooks asks.
“I’ve slowly gotten to know Joy a little bit over the past few years. Mostly short conversations after church on Sunday mornings, but she always made me feel so welcome and asked lots of questions. So I was always drawn to her, but I never made time to get to know her better,” I respond. “But at the beginning of the school year, I was having a mini meltdown, feeling overloaded with my responsibilities and relationships on campus. My two best friends, Lana and Amaya, suggested that I try to meet some friends who aren’t connected to my Arrow world. So, I jumped at the chance when Joy invited me to the group.”
“Your best friends don’t live in Brooklyn?” he asks. I shake my head.
“They used to. We went to college together. Met freshman year and were in the same sorority,” I explain.
“You must have become really close if they’re still your best friends now, long distance even. What are they like?” Brooks questions, glancing over at me.
“You want the CliffsNotes or unabridged version?”
He smiles. “Unabridged. Definitely.”
I spend the next thirty minutes filling Brooks in on my friendship with Amaya and Lana. Our AOPi and Arrow shenanigans. Amaya’s lofty business ambitions. Lana’s laser-focused goal of changing the world as an immigration lawyer. Mateo’s disruption of her plans that led to even better plans. Our weekly video calls and daily text messages. Brooks doesn’t even tease me when I explain our “Beefs” nickname. He sincerely smiles.
“Wow,” he replies. “It sounds like you three really have something unique. I still keep in touch with some of my buddies from college, and we hang out when we can. But what you have is next level.”
I sigh. “Yeah, it is really special. Which makes it that much harder to be so far apart from each other. Thank goodness for technology keeping us in touch because I don’t know what I would have done without them.” I stare out the window for a few seconds, feeling the melancholy nostalgia that washes over me whenever I think too long about the distance between me and my best friends.
“How was it playing basketball in college?” I ask. It seems we have an unspoken agreement to avoid talking about high school. Or anything related to when we were “us.” But I’m dying to know about his life since then. I’d purposely avoided all of Brooks’ social media accounts, all of his friends’ accounts, even his college team’s account in an attempt to wipe him from my memory. For eight years, I systematically starved myself of knowing any information about him. But now, I’ve had a tiny taste, and my mind is frantically scrambling for more scraps.
Brooks tells me about his college experience, including more details about the guys on his team who sparked his interest in FCA. The antics he describes sound exactly like the playful, easygoing guy I knew in high school. Although, he also seems to have matured and changed a lot after he started growing in his faith. No more sneaking out after curfew at tournaments or scraping by with the bare minimum in class. I’m quietly impressed to see the way years of growth and maturity have amplified Brooks’ best qualities while chiseling the rough edges down.
That impressed feeling is suddenly mixed with emotions adjacent to sadness, disappointment, and bitterness. Emotions that I am not rolling out the welcome mat for right now.
“We’re on our way to a silent disco—we’d better get in the zone before we get there,” I abruptly announce. “Let me have your phone to pull up some dance music. ”
Brooks hands his phone to me, and I hold it in front of his face momentarily to unlock it. The wallpaper on his phone is a photo of him with his mom. From the looks of his jersey and sweaty hair, it must have been taken after one of his college games. Another wave of sadness slams me in the chest, and I quickly open his music app. I find my favorite EDM remix playlist and turn up the sound dial.
Soon, we’re car dancing and singing along to a lively version of “Sky Full of Stars.” I shake off all the negativity and lose myself in the moment.