Get Lucky: A YA Anthology Page 13

  When he holds out a flask, I hesitate. It’s not that I haven’t had a drink or two before; it’s just not my usual style. Especially when I’m in charge of driving. “Fireball,” Lorenzen says, interpreting my hesitation as an inquiry of beverage choice. “Tastes like cinnamon.”

  I don’t have to take it—he wouldn’t care if I said no—I’ve said it plenty of times. But, instead of saying it again, I take the flask, because the panic is still floating around inside of me, making me question how long Kenny’s going to stick around now that our project’s done. Two pulls and fifteen minutes of baseball talk later, I feel a little steadier.

  When I go to find Kenny, she smiles and I’m not shy about wrapping my arms around her from behind and swaying with her, even though she’s standing near the edge of the gym, talking to Cam and his date.

  She turns to smile at me over her shoulder, and I lean down to press my lips to hers, a statement to both of us about what this is to me.

  I feel her pull back a bit, turning so she can press her hand to my chest. Cam laughs, saying something as he and Greg disappear. I barely acknowledge them, my eyes only for Kenny.

  “You’re gorgeous,” I tell her. She wrinkles her nose a little, but smiles.

  “You okay, Christensen?”

  “Perfect.” And I feel perfect. All of the insecurities that have been dodging me seem to fade away over the next forty-five minutes. A few of my friends and their dates come to stand with us, and I smile because Kenny says hi to all of them, not even trying to push out of my arms. Lorenzen looks around before taking the flask out of his pocket and untwisting the cap.

  “Want another?” he asks, motioning to me.

  Kenny freezes next to me. That feeling I washed away earlier sneaks back in. I shake my head, turning to Kenny. Her face that was glowing earlier is now pale and withdrawn, her eyes wide, dark and hurt.

  The alcohol threatens to boil in my stomach.

  “Another?” she asks. “You’ve been drinking?” Her voice is low. She wraps her arms around her middle, and I feel my gut clench.

  “Just a few shots. Nothing major.” Except, even I know that’s bullshit. Drinking is drinking—end of story.

  “Nothing major,” she repeats, eyes darker and darker. “Right. A few shots, nothing major. Except, you drove tonight.” Her eyes flare in anger when they meet mine. “Were you planning on driving me home?”

  “No,” I say, adamant. “No, I wouldn’t have done that.” Please, God, tell me I wouldn’t have done that. “I would have given you my keys, or we could have gotten a ride with someone else.” And, then, I step way over the line; unable to stand her accusing glare, and the way it makes me feel. “It’s not a big deal, I promise.”

  “Not a big deal.” Her laugh is caustic. “You drank, and you were going to drive, but it’s not a big deal.”

  “Kenny,” I say, thinking of how to apologize.

  “I don’t drive,” she snaps. “You know why I don’t drive, Gage? Because my mom drove drunk and killed herself and four other people when I was eleven. That’s why I live with April and Brad. That’s why the state pays them to take care of me. That’s why I don’t even have a license.”

  The guys around us are staring now, and I can see the shame and embarrassment mix with the pain on Kenny’s face. The alcohol is now roiling in my stomach, and I know I’m going to be sick soon.

  “Jesus, Kenny, I’m an idiot. I’m sorry. So sorry.” I try to reach for her, but she stops me with a look.

  “Give me your keys.” I take them out of my pocket without hesitation, placing them in her outstretched palm. “I’m going to ask Cam to give us a ride home.” I nod, watching her pull her phone out of her small bag and send a text. When she turns to walk away, I follow meekly, sweat covering my skin, nausea rising with every second.

  Cam doesn’t speak when he meets us at his car, but the look he gives me says it all.

  I get into the back without a word. Kenny is next to me, silent. I hear low murmurs coming from Cam and Greg in the front seat.

  Kenny gets out first, not saying anything. I muster enough energy to open my door and stand, but she stops me from walking her to the door. “Don’t. I can’t…” Her voice breaks, and she blinks her eyes. Everything inside of me centers around the piercing pain in my chest. “Just stay here.” And, then, she’s gone. I watch her retreating form while she runs up the steps. Cam follows, hugging her at the door. Whether it’s the sight of that, or something else, I finally throw up everything in my stomach.

  When Cam gets back to the car, he looks back at me, and then balls his hand into a fist and punches me in the stomach. “That’s for not taking care of her.”

  If I hadn’t thrown up earlier, I would now. “I’m sorry, man. God… I don’t know. I didn’t know about her mom.”

  “You shouldn’t have to know about her mom to know that drinking when you’re in charge of her is never okay. What if I hadn’t been there, Gage? Who would have gotten you both home?”

  I might be sick again. Leaning over, hands on my knees, I breathe through my nose. “I messed up.”

  “You’re damn right you did.” He says.

  “Is she okay?” A stupid question.

  “I don’t know. She’s hurt—and she’s scared. Jesus—I don’t know if she’ll forgive you for this, Gage, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to blame her if she doesn’t. This was bad.”

  I nod, because he’s right. Kenny was mine to take care of, and I let her down. Just like everyone else.

  “I promised her I was different.”

  “Yeah, well, right now, you’re the same as everyone else she’s ever known.”

  I nod, standing to look Cam in the eye. “I know—but I don’t want to be. I have to try and fix this, Cam. I’m not asking for your help, I just think you should know. I’m going to try and fix this, and, if she forgives me, I’ll never be this stupid again.”

  He stares at me a second, judging from the looks, to see if he can trust me. Then he nods. “You’ve got your work cut out for you.”

  “She’s worth it,” I say. More than worth it—I just hope I can prove to her we’re worth it.

  Kennedy

  Dear Karma, I understand now.

  It’s been four days since Gage took a drink and broke my heart. Four days since I came home, took off my dress and cried in the shower. Because however much I was uncertain how he felt, I know how I felt. I loved him.

  Stupid to think that, because we’re so young. Even more stupid because I know better—know that people are never that good, that honest.

  He has called and texted a few times, and I have ignored him. The only response I sent was today to remind him to bring his reflection paper to Life Science on Friday. He wasn’t in class; I was relieved, but I still need to get an A on this project, which means we still have to present in front of the group, and we each need to complete our own reflection on what it means to be part of a pair.

  Heartbreak. Elation. Confusion. Take your pick.

  Dear Karma, I get it now. People suck—we love them anyway. Gage. My mom. Why do you have to rub my face in it?

  It’s past midnight, and the house is quiet. I’m lying in my bed, staring at the ceiling. Macy and Gia are both in their beds. I can make their forms out under the blankets. Sniffling back the tears that seem ready to threaten at any moment these days, I roll onto my side and muffle them into my pillow.

  “Kennedy? Are you okay?”

  I nod, swallowing back the lump in my throat, before answering Gia. “Yeah. Go to sleep,” I whisper. She’s quiet a moment longer, and then she’s rolling over, laying on her side so we’re facing each other from across the small space.

  “Is this about Gage?” she whispers. I hesitate a second—then I nod. “Did he… did he hurt you?” I shake my head, because I know what being hurt by someone means in Gia’s world, and it’s not the same.

  “No, but he broke my heart—and my trust.”

  She’s quiet f
or a second, and so am I. Macy’s small snores carry through our room, and we both smile. For some reason, this has the tears I’ve kept at bay spilling over.

  Gia gets out of her bed and comes to mine, slipping under the covers so she can wrap an arm around me. I let her—aware that, of all people, she’ll understand how I feel.

  “I didn’t want to trust him,” I tell her. “And then I did. He drank,” I admit, hating the words as much as the way they make me feel. “And I don’t know if he was going to drive.”

  I feel Gia pause—and then I feel her exhale. She gets it, the fear that always comes with that kind of unknown. Maybe it’s because of that shared knowledge, or just because I need her, but I finally break the barrier and ask my sister about her past.

  “Do you hate your parents, Gia?”

  I don’t know the whole story—just enough. Gia was abandoned in a warehouse when she was little. She bounced around until Brad and April, and, now, she lives in a home that’s temporary, while the state pays for us. April and Brad care about us, but they also get a paycheck for us. It’s hard to know that.

  Harder still to know that the people who were supposed to love you never did.

  “No. I did,” she says, when I pull back enough to look at her. “But, at some point, I realized that I hate what they did. Them?” She shakes her head. “I don’t know. I guess if they came back for me… I would want to try and forgive them.” She rolls onto her back to look at the ceiling. So do I. “Probably makes me weak and lame. I mean, they left me, right? Who does that?”

  I think of my own mom. How much I hated her at times, and, then, about how I cried when she never came back. Would I forgive her if she could come back? I can’t… so it’s moot. But I can forgive Gage… can’t I?

  “Are you going to forgive him?”

  Gia’s question breaks into my fog. “I don’t know. I hate what he did… but I get that he didn’t do it to hurt me.” But, God, did it hurt. He’s not like anyone else, and, with that one choice, everything about him dimmed and I saw him the way I saw everyone else: irresponsible and untrustworthy. It’s not fair, but it’s true. “I can’t be with someone who drinks… I don’t know if I ever can.”

  “You could tell him that. This is the first time it’s ever happened… but maybe—maybe he was just scared, too, and he made a mistake. A big one,” she adds, and I smile.

  “I really liked him,” I admit. “I think that’s why it hurt so bad.”

  Gia nods. “I think he liked you, too.”

  “What if he does it again?” My stomach seizes at the thought. “What if I can never trust him?”

  Gia shakes her head. “I don’t know. But I guess you won’t, either, if you don’t try.”

  Gage

  D-Day

  Kenny is late. Kenny is never late.

  I waited by the bus lane, and then her locker, but she was nowhere to be found. I even checked out the library like a true stalker, walking by each nook and cranny she usually hides away in with zero luck. Now, the bell has rung and I’m sitting at our table alone, flipping my phone back and forth and wondering if I should text her. Maybe call her. Send a Tweet?

  We haven’t talked in seven days. Monday, she ran away from me, and, Wednesday, I skipped class because I wasn’t ready to see her. She’s ignored all of my calls and texts, only responding once to remind me about homework.

  Now, I’m not sure I’m ready, but I’m here and I have a plan. That plan doesn’t work if she isn’t here.

  Maybe it’s for the best; it’s not really a plan. More like a gesture. And a lame one at that, considering how epically I messed up, but it’s all I could think of as a way to show Kenny I’m on her side, that I’m so freaking sorry, and I’m still here. Not because I have to be, not because of an assignment, but because of her.

  Joss looked at me like I was a crazy person when I told her my plan involved a grocery bag full of raisins, grains, and off-brand cereal, but she’s twelve and kind of arrogant, so what does she know about groveling?

  Probably about as much as I know, but I’m willing to do it anyway. Kenny’s just that important. I wipe my damp palms on the thighs of my shorts, and click the power button on my phone for the fifth time in three minutes.

  Where the heck are you, Kenny?

  I’m so engrossed in my thoughts that it takes me a minute to notice that someone is next to me. A glance and I double take, staring at Kenny while she unloads her backpack.

  Ms. Cool, she barely acknowledges me except to slap some notecards in front of me. “Those are for our presentation.”

  I glance at the neatly printed, bright pink notecards. I raise my brow. “Pink?”

  She nods, eyes still cast down. “It was the closest thing to red.”

  “And I would want red notecards because…”

  Now she looks at me, eyes wide and maybe a little unsure. “Because it’s your favorite color—all of your favorite teams in every sport have some sort of red in them,” she stammers on when I don’t answer. “And you wear your red baseball cap more than most others. You like red.” The last words are thrown at me like a challenge—to dare and defy her. I want to, on principal, because I know for a fact that my favorite color is blue, but… Kenny noticed something about me, and, damn, if red isn’t quickly becoming my new favorite color.

  “I do like red,” I say. She nods and turns back to her backpack, staring at it for a minute before pulling something else out.

  “Christensen-Russo—is your group ready to present?”

  I raise my brow at Kenny. “All set?”

  She nods. “Go plug this in. It’s under the Life Science folder.”

  I take the thumb drive she hands me, and stand to plug it into the Smartboard. It takes no time to navigate the scary organization that are Kenny’s electronic folders, and I set our project to full screen before turning around. Kenny is standing there, my old baseball jersey hanging near to her knees, and a bag of kiwis in one hand.

  She catches me staring, and rolls her eyes. “Let’s go, Christensen. You’re speaking first.”

  The class laughs, and so do I. When I step up to her, I can’t help but reach out and run my finger across the newly minted name on the back. “Christensen-Russo. Aren’t I supposed to be last?”

  She shrugs, a pink tinge to her cheeks. “I like the equal opportunity of this. Now speak. Our clock’s ticking.”

  Taking her hand, I link our fingers and turn to the class. “Everyone, we’re the Christensen-Russo’s, and this is our five-week life story. It includes sacrifice, love, a little sleep deprivation, and one big mistake. Mostly, it includes us together.”

  “Read the script, Gage,” Kenny sighs. I smile at the audience.

  “Kenny loves a script—me, I prefer a good story. Anyone else want to hear our story?” Hands shoot in the air, and, despite her groan, Kenny grips my hand tighter and stays next to me the whole time, letting me know we’re in this together.

  Epilogue

  Kennedy

  If this was a movie… screw it, I like reality today.

  Gage grabs my hand again when we’re done with class, tugging me through the door and into a secluded corner of the busy hallway.

  People are staring, but, at some point in the last week, I’ve come to the conclusion that the majority of them aren’t really looking at me, just at me and Gage. I might not like it, but I understand it—especially since I’m wearing our jersey, and he’s carrying a bag of groceries. Halfway through our off-script presentation, he presented me with a twenty-five-dollar bag of groceries with all of the exact ingredients from my Google list. No one else seemed impressed, but it almost brought me to tears. And Ms. Moyer seemed to think it showed commitment. That counts for something.

  “You’re wearing my jersey.”

  He rests his hands on the wall on either side of me, getting so close all I can see is him. “You mean our jersey?” I shrug like it’s no big deal, mentally high-fiving Cam for such an ingenious idea. “It s
eemed like the day to do it.”

  “Buying me kiwis?”

  “Still a girly fruit… but they’re your girly fruit.”

  He waits, raising his eyebrows when I don’t go on. “Do I really deserve them?” His face turns serious. “After what I did…” He shakes his head, and I see the regret all over him.

  “You messed up really bad,” I say. He nods, stepping back a little, like he’s waiting for me to walk. A part of me wants to, because I know it’s safer alone. The other part, though… she isn’t ready to quit. “But, maybe, I understand that everyone makes mistakes… even huge ones like that. Once,” I say. “I understand this once.”

  “Never again,” he says. “Jesus, Kenny, never again.”

  I smile. “Maybe I’m also a little sorry—sorry for not telling you sooner how much I like you.”

  His smile turns real in an instant, and everything inside of me settles. There’s my life-partner. “Oh, yeah?”

  I nod. “Your turn. What’s with the groceries?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” I shake my head. He sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes to the ceiling for a second. “Joss said it was stupid. It was all I could think of to show you what you mean to me. No Doritos, and an entire box of raisins,” he finishes, a wry smile.

  “Saturated fat—that’s what you’ll sacrifice for me?”

  “Says the girl who qualified her declaration of love with ‘maybe’.”

  We laugh, and it’s familiar, like we’ve always been Kenny and Gage, life-partners and friends. And, then, we stop, because we remember it wasn’t funny a few days ago. Still close, still alone, we stare at one another. Gage breaks eye contact first, looking down and easing back an inch. “I’m sorry I messed up so big. I don’t think sometimes. I want you to trust me, Kennedy. You can trust me.”