“Hey, don’t give me that look,” he objects. “My favorite uncle’s gay as hell. I bet you fifty bucks that if I showed my uncle Eddie a picture of Lucas, he’d confirm it in half a second.” #51 | | |
“Just because Lucas appreciates fashion, that doesn’t make him gay.” Peter opens his mouth to argue but I lift up a hand to quiet him. “All it means is he’s more of a city guy in the midst of all this . . . this boring suburbia. I bet you he ends up going to NYU or some other place in New York. He could be a TV actor. He’s got that look, you know. Svelte with fine-boned features. Very sensitive features. He looks like . . . like an angel.” #52 | | |
“So what did Angel Boy say about the letter, then?” #53 | | |
“Nothing . . . I’m sure because he’s a gentleman and didn’t want to embarrass me by bringing it up.” I give him a meaningful look. Unlike some people is what I’m saying with my eyes. #54 | | |
Peter rolls his eyes. “All right, all right. Whatever, I don’t care.” He leans back in his seat and stretches his arm out on the back of the empty seat next to him. “That’s only four. Who’s the fifth?” #55 | | |
I’m surprised he’s been keeping count. “John Ambrose McClaren.” #56 | | |
Peter’s eyes widen. “McClaren? When did you like him?” #57 | | |
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“I thought you liked me in eighth grade!” #59 | | |
“There may have been a little bit of overlap,” I admit. Stirring my straw, I say, “There was this one time, in gym . . . he and I had to pick up all the soccer balls, and it started to rain . . .” I sigh. “It was probably the most romantic thing that ever happened to me.” #60 | | |
“What is it with girls and rain?” Peter wonders. #61 | | |
“I don’t know . . . I guess maybe because everything feels more dramatic in the rain,” I say with a shrug. #62 | | |
“Did anything actually happen with you two, or were you just standing out in the rain picking up soccer balls?” #63 | | |
“You wouldn’t understand.” Someone like Peter could never understand. #64 | | |
Peter rolls his eyes. “So did McClaren’s letter get sent to his old house?” he prompts. #65 | | |
“I think so. I never heard anything back from him.” I take a long sip of my soda. #66 | | |
“Why do you sound so sad about it?” #67 | | |
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Maybe I am, a little. Besides Josh, I think John Ambrose McClaren matters the most to me of all the boys I’ve loved. There was just something so sweet about him. It was the promise of maybe, maybe one day. I think John Ambrose McClaren must be the One That Got Away. Out loud I say, “I mean, either he never got my letter or he did, and . . .” I shrug. “I just always wondered how he turned out. If he’s still the same. I bet he is.” #69 | | |
“You know what, I think maybe he mentioned you once.” Slowly he says, “Yeah, he definitely did. He said he thought you were the prettiest girl in our grade. He said his one regret from middle school was not asking you to the eighth-grade formal.” #70 | | |
My whole body goes still and I think I even stop breathing. “For real?” I whisper. #71 | | |
Peter busts up laughing. “Dude! You’re so gullible!” #72 | | |
My stomach squeezes. Blinking, I say, “That was really mean. Why would you say that?” #73 | | |
Peter stops laughing and says, “Hey, I’m sorry. I was just kidding—” #74 | | |
I reach across the table and punch him in the shoulder, hard. “You’re a jerk.” #75 | | |
He rubs his shoulder and cries out, “Ow! That hurt!” #76 | | |
“Well, you deserved it.” #77 | | |
“Sorry,” he says again. But there’s still a trace of laughter in his eyes, so I turn my head away from him. “Hey, come on. Don’t be mad. Who knows? Maybe he did like you. Let’s call him and find out.” #78 | | |
My head snaps up. “You have his phone number? You have John Ambrose McClaren’s number?” #79 | | |
Peter pulls out his cell phone. “Sure. Let’s call him right now.” #80 | | |
“No!” I try to grab his phone away from him, but he’s too quick. He holds his phone above my head and I can’t reach. “Don’t you dare call him!” #81 | | |
“Why not? I thought you were so curious about what ever happened to him.” #82 | | |
I shake my head fervently. #83 | | |
“What are you so afraid of? That he doesn’t remember you?” Something changes in his face, some dawning realization about me. “Or that he does?” #84 | | |
| | |
“That’s it.” Peter nods to himself; he tips back in his chair, his hands linked around his head. #86 | | |
I don’t like the way he’s looking at me. Like he thinks he’s figured me out. I hold my palm out to him. “Give me your phone.” #87 | | |
Peter’s jaw drops. “You’re going to call him? Right now?” #88 | | |
I like that I’ve surprised him. It makes me feel like I’ve won something back. I think throwing Peter off guard could be a fun hobby for me. In a commanding voice I’ve only ever used with Kitty, I say, “Just give me your phone.” Peter hands me his phone, and I copy John’s number into mine. “I’ll call him when I feel like it, not because you feel like it.” #89 | | |
Peter gives me a look of grudging respect. Of course I’m never going to call John, but Peter K. doesn’t need to know that. #90 | | |
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That night, I’m lying in bed still thinking about John. It’s fun to think of the what-if. Scary, but fun. It’s like, I thought this door was closed before, but here it is open just the tiniest crack. What if? What would that be like, me and John Ambrose McClaren? If I close my eyes, I can almost picture it. #92 | | |
