“Hey, Nick! Buddy!”
Saint. We haven’t spoken since December, but today, he’s behind me. I find my locker and lower my backpack to the ground.
“How come you never told me Caitlin had such a great body?” he says. “Can’t appreciate it in those dresses she wears.”
He just wants to piss me off, I know. And it’s working. I try to concentrate on my combination lock, but my fingers feel thick. I forget the numbers.
“I mean, usually girls who lose weight got tits like little elf-shoes,” he continues. “Not Caitlin’s. They’re gr-rreat.” He says it like Tony the Tiger.
Don’t react. That’s what he wants. But it gets me mad. This guy’s a hero and I’m a scum? Around me, lockers slam. I’m still opening mine. Saint’s voice rumbles in my ear.
“Mmm, mmm. Much more than a mouthful.”
I whirl to face him. He towers over me, licking his lips.
“You wanna hit me, Andreas?” Saint’s mouth twists into a smirk. “Be a new experience for you, picking on someone who’d hit back.”
He walks away.
After school, I’m at 7-Eleven again, dialing Caitlin’s number. She answers on the third ring, and I blurt out, “You know O’Connor’s telling everyone about your breasts?”
“Don’t call me!” she screams. The line goes dead.
But she listens fifteen minutes later when I call back. I repeat Saint’s comment, figuring she’ll know what a sleaze she’s with. Instead, she says, “Sounds like something you’d say.”
“I never talked about your body to other guys.”
“No, just to me, putting me down and making me want to die.”
“I didn’t do that.”
“Spare me. You did it all the time.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know I made you feel that way.” The sound of her voice puts my heart in my pants again. “We had good times too, though. Remember?”
She doesn’t answer.
“How about when we saw the dolphins? Remember that?”
Caitlin doesn’t speak, but the pause holds a promise like she’s missing me too. Finally, she says, “Of course I remember.”
“Does O’Connor ever do anything romantic like that?”
No answer.
“I bet he doesn’t. Bet he throws a burger at you and tries to jump you in that clunker of his.”
“Nick…”
“The dolphins are still there, Cat, and the beach. And us. We could do it all again.”
“I can’t.”
“I miss you, Caitlin. I miss holding you. You know there’s no one else.” I pull the receiver from my face, hating the feel of someone else’s skin oils. I listen, though. Caitlin’s breath quickens, and I say, “How about I meet you there in an hour—just to talk?”
It takes her a moment to say, “Make it six o’clock.”
“Six o’clock.” I hang up, fingering the ring in my pocket. In two hours, it will be back on Caitlin’s finger.
I pull out the journal. I’ve gotten used to carrying it around, writing in it. But if all goes well, this will be the last time I write. So, today, I’ll write about something good. There were those too, you know.
Caitlin was chosen Homecoming Princess. She wore blue and, at halftime, they drove her onto the field in a loaner car from Albritton Cadillac. I sat beside her. Liana was the other princess, so she and Tom were with us. We were making the big loop, and the whole time, I’m remembering the Kennedy assassination films we saw at the Smithsonian during last year’s Close-up Trip. Like, one second, they were smiling and waving. The next, brain city. But Cat turns to me and says, “This is the best day of my life.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes, and it’s because of you.”
I reached for her hand, loving her and unspeakably sad I didn’t vote for her. Then, Liana had to butt in.
“It’s not because of him,” she said. “Everyone loves you, Caitlin.”
Caitlin said, “They love me because I’m thin and I’m Nick Andreas’s girlfriend. A year ago, I couldn’t have rented space at your lunch table, and if I’d shown up, they’d have called me a geekoid or a lezzie like they call my friends.”
“Peyton’s such an idiot,” Liana said.
“Then we all are, even me.” The whole time Cat talked, she kept smiling a beauty-queen smile, waving. “Every day since then, we’ve practically run to stake out our table so they don’t sit there. I do it too.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“All I’m saying is it could have been me you were running from.”
Liana took Caitlin in her arms. “Oh, pobrecita, poor little thing. You’re wrong. It could never be you.”
“I know what I know,” Caitlin said. “It still could be.”
We circled at two miles per hour like a buzzard staring down a lunch box full of carrion, and Liana hugged Cat until they looked like a heap of discarded prom dresses. Principal Fernandez’s voice came over the loudspeaker:
“And in the red Seville STS from Albritton Cadillac, here come sophomore princesses Liana Castro and Caitlin McCourt with their escorts.”
She said it was the best day of her life.