Page 12 of Don’t Let Me Go
For every no, there has to be an accompanying yes. ‘ No , I don’t want this, but yes , I do want that.’ Otherwise you reject everything life has to offer, and you end up sad, miserable, and alone.”
Jackson nods. “Sounds like good advice.”
“Yeah, it is. Only...”
“Only what?”
“I’ve never been able to find anything to say yes to.”
Jackson scrutinizes me with his deep blue eyes. Eyes bluer than the Bay of Naples , I can’t help thinking.
“That’s okay,” he finally says, shooting me an encouraging smile. “You’re in high school. You’ve got time.”
“Yeah,” I agree. Though after almost eighteen years, I can’t help worrying that time is exactly what I’m running out of. I
can feel my life turning into one giant no, and I’m nervous that I’ll never find anything that makes me say yes .
“Of course, if you want my advice,” Jackson continues, stealing some fries off my plate now that his are all gone, “I think
you should reconsider the whole anti-love thing.”
“Oh, really?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “And why’s that?”
Jackson shrugs. “I think you’d make a really good boyfriend.”
I feel the heat rise in my cheeks. And when I open my mouth, my throat is so dry, I need to take a sip of my Diet Coke before
I can speak.
“Why do you think that ?” I eventually manage to ask.
“Well, from what I’ve seen, you’re really protective of the people you care about. And you don’t take shit from anyone. I
feel like if some asshole tried to mess with anyone you were dating, you’d lay them out in ten seconds flat. Or you’d tell
them off so badly they’d never show their face in public again.”
“You’re telling me I’d make a good boyfriend because I’m scary?”
“Um, yeah . Have you met you? You’re terrifying.” Jackson laughs. “But you’re also a good person. This morning when I told you about
what happened in Tallahassee, you were really there for me. In fact, you’re the first person that I’ve met in a long time
who’s made me feel like—I don’t know—like my life isn’t a total disaster. Like there’s a chance everything might turn out
okay.”
“Oh,” I say, staring down at my chicken sandwich. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to look at Jackson.
“I mean it,” he insists. “You’re a special guy, Riley. You’re smart and you’re funny. And despite the fact that I’m kind of
terrified of you, I know you’ve got a big heart. I think any guy would be lucky to be your boyfriend.”
My cheeks are burning so hard, I don’t know what to say.
It’s not like this is the first time I’ve ever received a compliment. My friends and my dad have made similar attempts to
bolster my self-esteem over the years, but then they’re legally obligated to tell me what a catch I am.
Jackson, though, isn’t a friend or a parent. Jackson is Jackson. I’ve known him for less than twenty-four hours. His opinion
should mean nothing to me. Yet for some reason, his words leave me speechless.
Maybe that’s because they make me believe things about myself that I stopped believing a long time ago.
“Sorry,” Jackson says, noticing my silence. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“It’s okay,” I answer once I remember how my mouth works. “And thanks.”
“No problem.” Jackson nods. Then, grinning cockily, he reaches across the table and grabs another handful of fries off my
plate. “I was just buttering you up so you’d let me steal your fries.”
“All yours.” I laugh, pushing my plate to him.
“Sweet!”
Jackson beams in excitement, and I can’t help smiling back. I don’t know if he’s right about not giving up on love or about
me making a good boyfriend. In fact, I’m pretty sure he’s wrong on both counts. But that doesn’t matter. Right now, I’m okay
with settling for being a good friend. Because after a lifetime of saying no, friendship with Jackson is definitely something
I can say yes to.
I’m still thinking about Jackson’s words as I crawl into bed later that night. I can’t believe how much I misjudged him. Only
yesterday, I was convinced he was trouble, someone to be avoided at all costs. Now I find myself wondering when I’ll get to
see him again.
Unfortunately, that won’t be for a while. Tomorrow, Dad begins the one (and only) week of summer vacation he allows himself.
We’ll be going to St. Augustine to stay with my grandparents, who have a condo on the beach. It’s a trip I normally look forward
to, though right now, I can’t help thinking that the timing kind of sucks.
I wonder if Dad would let me stay here in Orlando without him...
Wait. What am I saying? That’s ridiculous .
I can’t bail on our summer vacation because I want to hang out with a guy I just met. Is my self-esteem really so low that I’d abandon my family just to spend a few more days with a boy who gave me a couple of compliments?
Granted, they were pretty great compliments. And if you think about it, is it really that crazy to want to spend time with
someone who seems determined to see only the best in you?
Who knows? Maybe if I keep hanging out with Jackson, I might actually start to see myself the way he sees me. Because that
Riley—the Riley he seems to think I am—sounds like a pretty great guy. I have no clue if he’s real, but maybe with Jackson’s
help, he could be.
Could that be why I’ve felt such an intense connection with him since the carnival? Because, for whatever reason, he’s able
to see me more clearly than I can see myself? Just like I’m able to see the real him?
Lying in the dark of my bedroom, I smile at that thought and listen to the thunderclouds growling outside. A summer storm
is moving in, sending raindrops the size of golf balls splattering against my window. Normally I’d find the noise distracting
and wouldn’t be able to sleep, but I must have worn myself out at the rink today because I’m suddenly aware of how exhausted
I am.
With a yawn, I close my eyes and listen to the plonk, plonk, plonk of the rain. A heaviness steals across my body, and I feel myself being pulled down into sleep.
I think of Jackson. I hear the storm. And the screams begin.