Page 17

Someday

Fourteen Years Old, Virginia

When I was fourteen, we moved once again.

I was sad about leaving Colorado Springs, but I wasn’t unhappy to be heading to Northern Virginia. My final sleepover with Andi and Anika felt like reading the last chapter of a favorite book. The next day, Hayden and I hugged goodbye in the empty living room of our just-packed rental. My dad was fresh off an Afghanistan deployment, and an Army Staff job at the Pentagon wouldn’t require TDYs longer than a few weeks. Bummed as I was about leaving my friends and my favorite teacher, Ms. Bonny, the thought of having Dad home consistently for the next three years was a worthy trade.

Plus, Beck was in Virginia.

The Byrnes had arrived six months before we did. Connor was working for INSCOM at Fort Belvoir, and he and his family had settled in Rosebell, so we did too. It was an easy commute for Dad with teaching opportunities for Mom and a good high school for me. I was thrilled to be back in the same town as the Byrnes.

They came over the day our household goods were delivered, toting a foil-wrapped casserole, a bottle of booze, and a spray of cut flowers. Mom and Bernie sat on a blanket in the front yard, checking box numbers off an inventory list as the movers unloaded the sardine-packed truck. Norah and Mae played with a collection of Little People in the grass. Dad and Connor were in the house, sipping whiskey out of paper cups, directing traffic as box after box was hauled inside.

After the mess that was our South Carolina visit, I’d been worried about how Virginia would treat Beck and me. We weren’t kids anymore, and he’d had a head start establishing a life in Rosebell. Maybe, in his eyes, I’d be a chore.

But no way. He’d been front and center on the porch when his family arrived at our new-to-us house. His grin was incandescent. His hug was instantaneous and made me feel like I was being folded into the embrace of a grizzly bear. Since I’d last seen him, he’d shot up in height and filled out in frame. He was Herculean, suddenly, and I was a sprite in his arms.

Just like that, my time with Hayden became a dress rehearsal.

Beck and I hung out in the backyard, where a tire swing was suspended from a massive red maple, left behind by the house’s previous tenants. Three years earlier, we would’ve squished on together, but I was halfway to fifteen and he’d just turned sixteen, so it seemed strange to jump into the physical closeness we’d shared when we were little. Instead he pushed me on the swing as we fell back into the friendship we’d known our whole lives.

He shared what he’d picked up about our new school, Rosebell High, where he’d been enrolled for the final months of his sophomore year, and the first few weeks of his junior year. I told him about the road trip I’d survived: Colorado Springs, Colorado, to Rosebell, Virginia, with my parents, newly reunited after too many months apart.

“They couldn’t keep their hands off each other,” I said, shuddering.

He laughed. “Six months is an epic dry spell. Who can blame them?”

“I can,” I said, stretching my legs as the swing glided over the yard. “They’re gross.”

“They’re in love,” he said, catching the swing. Holding it in place, he turned it so we were face-to-face. Sometime during the last few years, his voice had become a deep baritone that reverberated through my bones. His eyes held fast to mine. “Someday you’ll get it. We’ll get it.”

Maybe I already did.

Our three-year separation had made me long for Beck—his humor, our meandering conversations, the comfort of his presence. Being with him again made it easy to understand, suddenly, why Mom and Dad couldn’t quit chattering, why they were always holding hands or resting a palm on the other’s leg, why I’d catch them locked in a stare, like there wasn’t anyone in the world but the two of them.

I wanted the same—all of it.

I wanted it with Beck.

They’re in love , he said.

Was it love, that current of electricity raising goose bumps on my skin?

Did he feel it too?

“You’re gonna like RHS,” he said, turning the swing back around and sending me into the air again. “It’s a good school—cool people. I’ll introduce you around next week.”

I wasn’t sure if he was oblivious to the brain-melting realization I was coming up against, or if he was having one of his own, and deflecting.

I leaned back, letting my hair fly out behind me, shaking that idea free.

Beck wasn’t in love with me. He was silly and fun. He was my favorite friend. Someday, hopefully, our fate would find us, but for now he was chosen family, same as he’d always been.

He spun the swing and flashed me a grin, and I was overcome with fondness.

We were together again, exactly as I’d wanted. I wasn’t about to complicate things by giving in to my crush. For the time being, friendship would have to be enough.

***

My first morning at Rosebell High, Beck caught up with me and, true to his word, introduced me to his circle of friends. Raj, a member of the Academic Decathlon Team, and hurdler. Stephen, a man-bun-sporting swimmer. And Wyatt, a third-generation Rosebell High legacy who stands five feet, four inches and makes up for what he lacks in height with humor. Wyatt’s girlfriend was part of the group too. Macy favors thick-framed glasses and bell-bottom jeans, and she has the cutest gap-toothed grin. She seemed accustomed to and unamused by the boys’ roughhousing.

I liked her on the spot.

When the bell rang, the guys sent me off with salutes, Macy flashed an ironic peace sign, and Beck pointed me in the direction of my first class.

The day went smoothly, until lunch. Macy had invited me to sit with the group, which was so nice, seeing as I was a freshman, she was a sophomore, and the boys were all juniors. I’d made it to the sandwich line without tripping or dropping my bag or bumping into anyone, but Octobers in Virginia are warmer than Octobers in Colorado, and the cafeteria was like a sauna. I shed my sweater, draping it over an arm as I waited to collect a sandwich.

I’d dressed in a white tank that morning and the shadow of my bra, plum colored, lacier than any other underthing I owned (Mom only bought it after I’d pleaded) was visible.

But barely .

A couple of guys stood in the line next to mine, waiting for the hot lunch of fries and corn dogs, and they weren’t discreet about noticing what I had on under my tank. I crossed my arms and met eyes with the taller of the two. He had expanders in his earlobes and his hair was uneven, like he’d taken shears to it himself. His buddy wore a ratty Washington Nationals hat. I flashed my most disgusted look, hoping they didn’t register the flush consuming my face.

Beck and his friends were in a far corner of the cafeteria. He caught my eye and grinned, and I felt better, knowing I wasn’t on my own.

I felt better—until the oglers jumped lines and invaded my personal space.

The one with the shaggy hair bumped my bag, then said, blockishly, “Oops.”

They laughed. And then they closed in, bringing their musky scents into my bubble. I heard the word ass and then tits , and I wanted to sink through the floor. Instead I hunched my shoulders, tucking in my chin, making myself as small as possible.

There were two people between me and the front of the line.

I had too much pride to let a pair of assholes chase me away from lunch.

They were right behind me, carrying on about the fit of my jeans, the scent of my shampoo, and the unfortunately sheer quality of my top. And then the taller boy brushed up against me and pressed his palm to the small of my back—actually touched me. I was too shocked to move. His hand slithered lower, to my butt, and the boy in the baseball hat snickered, either at my distress, or his friend’s audacity.

My fear became fury.

I jerked away. “Don’t touch me.”

He lifted his hands in feigned innocence, his buddy looking on with a smirk. But before I could scream my wrath, Beck was there.

He grabbed the taller boy’s arm and whipped him around. “What’s your problem?”

“There’s no problem,” the boy said, wrenching free of Beck’s grasp.

“I think there is.”

“Hey, it’s done,” I said, taking Beck’s hand. “Let’s go.”

He shook me off and leaned menacingly toward the guy. “You just felt up a girl who clearly wanted you to back off.”

Worried a teacher would catch Beck yelling and assume him responsible for the commotion, I scanned the cafeteria. Aside from a couple of busy cashiers and a distracted custodian emptying a trash bin on the far side of the room, I didn’t see any adults monitoring the crowded space.

The boy, who didn’t look so imposing with Beck stacked against him, said, “Naw, dude. She was into it.”

Beck swiveled to face me, then asked sardonically, “Lia? Were you into having your ass grabbed by a stranger?”

“No,” I said with renewed confidence. “I told him to leave me alone.”

“Bullshit,” the groper muttered.

Beck got in his face. “Stay away from her.”

“What do you care?” the boy challenged.

Beck shoved him backward, and I thought of King Kong swatting terrified New Yorkers aside as he stormed toward the Empire State Building. The boy staggered, knocking into his buddy, who caught him, barely keeping the both of them upright. “I care because she’s my best friend,” Beck said. “And if you touch her again, I’ll fucking end you.”

His complexion was ruddy, and there was murder in his eyes, but when I crossed into his line of vision, his expression cleared. He slung an arm over my shoulders and guided me away.

“You okay?” he asked as we made our way to the table where his friends waited.

“Totally,” I said, disregarding my thudding heart and clammy palms. “Just hungry.”

He smiled. “You can share my lunch.”

Once we reached the table, Macy went all mama bear, checking to be sure I was okay, asking if I wanted her to walk me to the bathroom so I could collect myself.

“I’m fine,” I told her, and I meant it.

At Beck’s side, I was untouchable.

“Those guys are dicks,” Macy told me after Beck passed over one of the two turkey and cheese sandwiches Bernie had packed for him. “Last year they harassed a girl in my English class until her parents complained to the administration. They were suspended for three days.” She rolled her eyes. “Give me a break, right? They’re predators. They went right back to the same shit.”

“Probably not anymore, though,” Wyatt said.

Raj thudded Beck on the back. “Our boy got through to them.”

Beck shrugged. “My dad would’ve had my ass if I’d let them do Lia wrong.”

I deflated. That’s what motivated his chivalry? Fear of Connor coming down on him?

He bumped my shoulder, then leaned in to whisper, “Sure you’re good?”

His low voice in my ear, his bulky arm against mine, the way he checked in, privately—a shiver built. I tamped it down.

I nodded. Yep, good. Totally and completely good .

Later that afternoon, he texted: Let me take you home?

Of course.

***

The rest of the week was a lot of the same, minus the uninvited fondling. I met people in my classes, and I joined a few clubs—Key Club, French Club, and a creative writing club facilitated by my Lit teacher—but I mostly hung out with Beck and his friends. Occasionally, seedlings of doubt poked through the soil of my contentment: Did they really want an underclassman hanging around? But when I’d test them by showing up late for lunch or bowing out of our morning catch-ups, someone, usually Beck or Macy, rose questions.

I glowed.

A couple weeks after the lunchtime debacle, walking to fifth period with Macy and Wyatt, we cruised by a pretty girl with sleek brown hair. She was wearing a Rosebell Track and Field sweatshirt and a scowl, which deepened as she and I made fleeting eye contact.

“That’s Taryn,” Wyatt said as we rounded the corner. “She and Beck had a thing.”

I’d assumed Beck had dated, though he and I never spoke of it. I wasn’t so besotted I’d turned delusional. Of course he’d been interested in girls. But seeing one of those girls in the flesh clogged my windpipe for a few scary seconds.

“It’s done,” Macy assured me—maybe because I’d started to turn blue. “It has been since before you came to Rosebell. And it only lasted a second.”

“No big thing,” Wyatt confirmed.

So Beck had been drawn to a tall brunette, an athlete with an intimidating stare. A girl who was very different from me: a petite blond who will always choose community service over sweaty sports. I didn’t care about Taryn—I didn’t want to care—but I must’ve looked properly disturbed for Macy and Wyatt to go on about what a meaningless romance hers and Beck’s had been.

Macy looped her arm through mine. “It was nothing like what he has with you.”

“What he has with me?”

“You know, the way he acts when he’s with you.”

I lifted a brow. “How’s that?”

She and Wyatt traded glances, then looked at me like a pair of deer caught in the high beams of a semitruck.

“You guys. How does he act when he’s with me?”

Wyatt shook his head. “Beck would throttle me for disloyalty, and I’d deserve it.” He kissed Macy’s cheek and zipped off down the hall.

She tugged me aside, out of the current of traffic. Nudging her glasses up her nose, she said, “Boys can be too obtuse for their own good. I’ll tell you what I’ve observed, okay? But I don’t want you to freak out.”

I was already freaking out.

Beck and I had been spending a lot of time together. The weekend before, we’d holed up in his room with popcorn and Red Vines to marathon The Lord of the Rings trilogy, then spent ages debating which were superior: the films or the novels. He favored the movies, and I liked the books. We were stuck at a stalemate when he flopped me back on the bed and tickled me until I was gasping with laughter, shrieking, “Okay—you win! The movies are better!”

He’d smiled then, hovering over me, triumphant. He brushed a lock of hair from my face and said, “Let’s never fight again.”

I lay awake for hours that night, analyzing his comments and scrutinizing his gestures, examining the gentle way he’d touched my hair from every possible angle.

Because…what if?

No—we were lifelong friends, and I was probably projecting. Still, my thoughts wouldn’t quiet, and my stomach wouldn’t settle; my deepening feelings for Beck scared me.

What if he never fell for me the way I was falling for him?

Exhausted, I fell asleep without resolution.

In the bustling hallway, Macy continued. “He’s very…checked in with you.”

“What does that mean?”

“You know…he pays attention. He gets you.”

“Because we’ve known each other forever. Literally. Forever.”

“Sure,” she said, humoring me. “But he’s always smiling when you come around, and he practically implodes when he thinks someone’s done you wrong. I think he liked Taryn fine, but he didn’t search for her when she wasn’t in our circle. He didn’t make grand declarations about how she was his best friend. She seemed like…a placeholder.”

“Well, no wonder she shot eyeball lasers at me—she probably thinks I’m trying to steal her boyfriend.”

“He’s not her boyfriend,” Macy pointed out.

“He’s not mine, either.”

She linked her arm through mine, and we started walking again. “Seriously, babe,” she said, steering us around a slower-moving group. “Even before you started at RHS, I knew all about you. Beck talked about you constantly.”

I bit back the smile threatening to split my face. “That must’ve been annoying.”

“It wasn’t. He liked you, so we liked you. And now we really like you, because you’re just as cool as he was always going on about.”

December 22

Dear Ms. Graham,

I am delighted to inform you that the Commonwealth of Virginia University’s Admissions Committee has admitted you under the Early Decision Program. Allow me to be the first to commend you on your outstanding achievements. Your academic record, your volunteer work, your essay, the endorsements of people who know you, and your personal qualities stood out among a record number of Early Decision applicants. We are confident you will flourish in CVU’s diverse and demanding learning environment.

The attached CVU brochure will provide you with information regarding your commitment deposit, financial aid, housing, and various other aspects of campus life. In the weeks ahead, I encourage you to learn all you can about the opportunities afforded to undergraduates at CVU. Our faculty and students are eager to share the Eagle Spirit with you!

A heartfelt congratulations, and best wishes to you and your family for a joyous holiday season. Please reach out to the Undergraduate Admissions Office with questions. We look forward to having you on campus for the upcoming Fall Semester.

Sincerely,

Laura L. Ovidio

Dean of Undergraduate Admissions