“Do you remember that girl Antoinette?” Grace asked me one afternoon, while we were making out in her parents’ bedroom.
I nodded that I did.
“Oh my God, I heard the weirdest thing about her.” Grace sat up suddenly to tell me. “Supposedly, she went with Bennett Schmidt to a Southridge party? And everyone was really drunk? And they started making out? And then they started switching off.”
“Switching off” was a term used for make-out parties that involved uncool people from redneck high schools like Southridge. When those people wanted to kiss different people, they didn’t bother spinning a bottle. They switched off.
“And now she’s supposedly with him. With Bennett! Can you believe that? He is so gross. Remember him in fifth grade? Chopping up those ants in science class?”
I nodded that I did. I scooted closer to Grace and tried to caress her back. But she was lost in thoughts of improper make-out games. She scooted away.
“Someone should tell her,” said Grace. “She’s never going to be accepted if she hangs out with people like that.”
“She just moved here,” I said. “She didn’t know him in fifth grade.”
“And switching off ?” said Grace in disbelief. “With Bennett and some Southridge guys? That’s disgusting!”
“Yeah, but what’s the difference between that and spin the bottle?”
“Spin the bottle has rules!”
“Not when you play with Hanna,” I said.
“And with spin the bottle you know who you’re playing with. You know the people. It’s not some random Southridge guys.”
“She knows Bennett.”
“It just sounds icky to me. And poor Antoinette! First her brother jumps off a bridge. And then those weird girls start following her around. And now she’s with Bennett of all people.”
“Yeah . . . ,” I said.
Grace became reflective. “God, high school is so different than I thought it would be.”
“How so?”
“People are just so . . . They can’t control themselves. And they have so many problems! Why can’t they just have fun? And do fun high school things?”
“I’m with you on that,” I said, trying to kiss her neck.
But Grace was not interested. She slid off the bed and refastened her bra strap. The make-out session was over.
“Gavin?” she said, a new seriousness in her tone.
“Do you think Hanna and Claude are soul mates?”
“Uh . . .”
“Because you know Claude better than anyone,” she said.
“Yeah, I probably do.”
Grace finished buttoning her shirt. She went to her mother’s full-length mirror and fluffed out her hair. “Hanna says that Claude doesn’t think they’re soul mates.”
“What are they, then?”
“I don’t know. Not soul mates.”
“Did he say they weren’t?”
“No. But they were talking about soul mates and he said he didn’t know what it meant exactly. Meaning he didn’t consider her to be his. Do you see what I mean?”
“I think so.”
“If he’s acting like he doesn’t know what a soul mate is, that means he doesn’t think Hanna is his.”
“Yeah, but maybe what he’s saying is he doesn’t know what other people mean when they say ‘soul mate.’ Because different people probably have different ideas about that.”
“But your soul mate is supposed to be your best friend,” reasoned Grace. “And the person you love more than anything. That’s what Hanna says.”
“I’m sure Claude considers Hanna his best friend. And the person he loves more than anything.”
“She’s still mad, though. Why is he saying he doesn’t know what a soul mate is? Why would you even say that?”
“Yeah, but you know Hanna. She looks for reasons to be mad.”
“No she doesn’t. She loves him. And so she wants to know if they’re soul mates or not.”
“If she loves him so much, she shouldn’t start a fight about it.”
Grace frowned into the mirror and began brushing her hair. She didn’t look at me again. I also noticed that Grace didn’t ask me if she and I were soul mates. Which was unlike her.
Complicating things further, it was now the middle of May. Summer vacation was three weeks away. I wasn’t sure what Grace and I would do during that time. In the summer people went places with their families. We wouldn’t have our friends to do things with and go on group dates.
That’s when I realized something Grace probably already knew: We were going to break up. This thought hit me like a truck. But I knew instantly that it was true. Of course we were going to break up. We couldn’t go out forever. We weren’t going to get married. We’d been together five months, which was already longer than most high school couples. Besides which, we seemed to have completely run out of things to talk about. Which was why we spent nearly every second we were together making out.
We were going to break up. I sat pondering this. And it would probably happen soon. That’s why Grace hadn’t asked about us being soul mates.
I was shocked. I was sad. I stared at her face in the mirror as she brushed her hair. My first love was coming to an end.
• • •
For the time being, though, we kept going as before. That weekend we went to the Westgate Pavilion and saw a movie with Logan Hewitt and Olivia Goldstein. We sat in the food court afterward and ate Pinkberry frozen yogurt. Grace ate all her blueberries, like she does, so I went back to get her more. I was standing in line when I heard familiar voices. I turned to find Bennett Schmidt and Antoinette standing behind me. They had come out of a different movie.
“Oh hey,” I said.
They nodded back.
I had never seen them together in public. They looked pretty well matched: Bennett with that flushed, drugged-out look on his face, and Antoinette, who had recently cut her bangs in a bizarre way. “What movie did you see?” I asked.
Bennett said the name of the movie.
I looked at Antoinette. “Was it good?”
“It was okay,” said Bennett.
I nodded and turned away. Nobody talked. The line moved forward.
“How does Claude like the Moroccan?” asked Bennett from behind me.
I turned back toward them. “He likes it all right,” I said, though I hadn’t heard anything about it. Claude didn’t care about weed. It was probably still stashed in his desk somewhere.
“How are you doing?” I found myself asking Antoinette.
“I’m doing great,” she said, with deep sarcasm. I didn’t know what that was about. Maybe she was embarrassed to be seen with Bennett. Or maybe she disliked me even more than I realized.
And then Grace appeared. She came up behind me and slipped her hand around my elbow. I felt myself blush. The situation became even more awkward than it already was.
“I don’t want any more blueberries, I decided,” Grace told me, smiling at Antoinette.
“Okay,” I said.
The four of us stood there for a second, Grace and Antoinette staring each other down, Bennett and me avoiding eye contact. It was painful. Grace finally pulled me away.
I did manage one last glance back at Antoinette, who gave me a broad, mocking smile. Wow, I thought. She seriously hates me. Which made me feel bad in a way.
But as soon as they were gone, I was relieved to be free of them. Angry Antoinette and creepy Bennett—who needed people like that around? For one fleeting moment, I loved Grace more than ever.