He went to public school his junior year, and his dad tried to keep him housebound when he wasn’t in class. So he ran away—lived out of his car until he met up with his old buddy Kermit. He joined Kermit’s band, and they played gigs around town. But mostly they sat around Kermit’s mom’s apartment and got wasted.
“I was with Kermit the night he got busted,” he said. “He was selling weed to some girls behind the mall and these unmarked cars came racing up. Doors flew open, and I just ran. I heard them grab Kermit, but I was too high at the time to even realize they were cops. I got away and flagged down a cab. Went back home, asked my dad for help. He called the cops. I can’t get the look in his eyes out of my head. He was fucking terrified of me.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “They found speed on me. Charged me with possession and obstruction, all that fun stuff. They tried to pin an intent-to-sell charge on me, but it didn’t stick. My dad told the judge he didn’t want me back home. So I got to spend more time in juvie, then rehab. My sister took custody when I got out—made me promise I wouldn’t let her down. And here I am, repeating my junior year like a dumbass.”
I couldn’t imagine my mom calling it quits on me like that. Despite my issues and our fights, she never walked away from me. “Are you angry with your dad?”
He looked over at me and shook his head. “I was at first, but not anymore. It wasn’t like he didn’t try. He put his job at risk so he could be home with me last year. We were never close, though.”
I moved nearer to him and put my hand over his. “You’re nothing like Scott.”
“I was waiting for you to get up and run.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
He weaved his fingers with mine, brushing his thumb along the back of my hand. “Good.”
The warmth of his touch traveled up my arm. I looked away, trying to hide a smile. “What was your mom like?”
“She was always cooking something atrocious.” He shook his head and chuckled. “I mean, really bad. But she loved it. Never gave up. And she never let us give up, either.”
He talked about how she required him and his older sister to practice their passion for an hour every day—piano for him and everything from martial arts to hairstyling for his sister. “When she got sick, it happened so fast,” he continued. “One day she was humming in the kitchen, full of energy, and then she wasn’t.”
I laid my head on his shoulder and squeezed his hand. There wasn’t anything I could say—words wouldn’t take away his pain. His heart beat slowly against my ear, and he rested his head against mine. We stayed like that for a while, taking in the sounds around us. The lake whispered in the distance, calming my racing thoughts. There was cheering from a nearby soccer game and laughter from people eating charred burgers at picnic tables. Things I normally hated because I didn’t feel part of them. Sometimes it was like watching aliens in their habitat from behind a glass wall. But Justin’s warmth against my cheek made it okay.
I sat up, closing my eyes. “I have…” My lips tried to form the word, but I couldn’t quite do it. “I don’t know how to say this.”
“Sometimes the only way is to stop thinking of how you’ll say it, and just say it. It’s kind of like ripping off a Band-Aid.”
I opened my eyes and faced him. “I have ADHD and something called Asperger’s syndrome. At least that’s what they tell me. It’s kind of like—”
“I know what it is. My niece is autistic.”
“Oh. Well, it’s milder than autism. Like, in my case, the doctor said I didn’t need special classes or anything, because my grades are pretty good.”
His arm pressed into mine. “You’re just a geek. Like me.”
“You don’t seem surprised.”
“I’m sorry.” He smiled. “Was I supposed to do a cheer for you?”
“My mom told you, didn’t she?” Somehow I felt that—no matter how well he was trying to hide it.
“Yeah, when we took her car out.” He put his hand on my knee. “She was just looking out for you, I think. She didn’t know what my intentions were.”
“And that’s my whole problem. She treats me like I’m retarded, like I can’t do things for myself.”
“Drea, she’s a mom. You know mine didn’t let me cross the street by myself until I was, like, ten?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you knew?” I looked away, folding my arms across my stomach.
“Because I know it’s a lot bigger deal to you than it is to me. And I wanted to hear it from you.”
“How can it not be? It’s not like I’m confessing to needing eyeglasses here.”
“It’s just a word, Drea. A definition for a certain way of thinking. There’s nothing wrong with it. My niece does some pretty brilliant things.”
I glanced up at him. “Most people don’t see it that way.”
Justin ran the back of his hand down my cheek. “I know. But I’m not most people, so stop trying to put me in a box.”
“I’m working on it.” I let a grin escape, but it quickly faded when I reminded myself I had to tell him everything. “You and Naomi are the first friends I’ve had in a really long time. And I made that skydiving thing up. I’ve never actually had a boyfriend.”
“Why did you think your dating history mattered to us?”
“Because you guys were the first people to treat me like nothing was wrong with me. I’ve had labels thrown at me my whole life. Teachers calling me socially immature, kids calling me a freak, doctors checking off symptoms so they could plop a diagnosis in my lap. All because I don’t understand some invisible set of social rules. Lie about this, but don’t lie about that. Smile—even when you aren’t happy—but don’t smile too much. Too much is weird. Look people in the eye but, again, not too much. That might freak them out. It’s like acting in a play. I’ve tried to learn my lines, but I’m not very good at it. And with you guys, I wanted to be good. I didn’t want you to start looking at me like everyone else.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’ve never been in a relationship, and I don’t have many people I’d consider real friends.”
“What about that girl you fell in love with?”
He squinted at the lake. “We messed around, but we were never together. And after that, I didn’t want to get close to anyone. Committing to anything or anyone scared me. It still kind of does.”
I thought about asking what messing around entailed, but I decided to drop it. It bothered me—made me feel more alone. Like I was the only person my age who hadn’t experienced a real kiss. The kind that made people see stars.
“Naomi doesn’t know about me yet. I wanted to tell her today, but I couldn’t,” I said.
“Why not?”
“She said I was the only person she trusted.”
“All the more reason to tell her.”
“Don’t say anything to her until I do. Please.”
He leaned closer to me, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. “I wouldn’t do that.”
I turned away from his stare. “What does your sister think of you missing school?”
“She allowed it for today only. This weekend brought back a lot for me. I needed some time to think. But then you went and found me.”
“Sorry,” I said.
“Don’t be.” He put his arm around me, giving me a quick hug. “Let’s get you home so you can wash that skirt.”
We took the long, no-muddy-grass-involved way to his car. When he opened the door for me, I stopped and looked at him for a second. I wanted him to lean in and kiss me, like they did in an eighties movie Mr. Diaz showed. They kissed in the pouring rain—I thought that was cool.