Another Day (Every Day 2)

“Did you drive?” she asks Justin.

This time he hears her.

“Yes, I drove,” he says.

“We had such a great time,” I chime in. And by saying that, I get to hold on to it a little longer. It’s like Justin and I have this secret, and it’s sitting there in front of everyone else, but nobody else can see it. Neither of us is going to point it out. It remains ours. Only ours.

I don’t mind that.

I can tell Amy wants to ask more. I remind myself that she’s not a new friend; she’s just a visitor. She’s only here for today.

Justin, meanwhile, has gone back to eating. He has nothing more to say about the thing that means so much to me.

—

Amy shadows me for the rest of the day, and keeps as quiet as a shadow. I imagine what it must be like, to look into the future and see yourself living in a new place. I’ve never done that. I’ve always been here, anchored by parents who never search out change, accompanied by all the other people who fear they’ll never leave. For so many years, the idea of living somewhere else was about the same to me as the idea of living in a fairy-tale kingdom. There were places that existed as stories and places that existed as life, and I was taught to never confuse the two. It wasn’t until Justin and I became a real couple and my sister left town that I started to wonder not only about what came next, but where. I don’t want to picture us doing the same things in the same place ten years—or even two years—from now. But when I try to picture us anywhere else, it’s hard to do. We both like to pull at the anchor, but the anchor is pretty strong.

As I do my work in English class, I imagine switching places with Amy. I don’t even know where her school is, but I wonder what it would be like if I had a completely new start. Would I still remain me? Or would I become someone else? I would have to become someone else, because I can’t imagine me without Justin. It hurts to think about it. I imagine myself walking those halls—and the alone I feel there is so much worse than the alone I feel here.

I remember the ocean, and know that, no matter where I go, I want him to come with me.

—

I feel silly, but I’m a little sad to see Amy go. As we head to the parking lot at the end of the day, I write down my email address and give it to her. While I’m doing this, Justin finds me. He seems so much better now that the day is over. And from the way he lingers, I know he wants to hang out, not just say goodbye.

“Walk me to my car?” Amy asks.

I look at Justin, wanting to make sure he’ll wait.

“I’ll get my car,” he says.

It’s a good thing he seems to be in a patient mood, because Amy has parked about as far from the school as you can get. As we walk over, I wonder what Justin is going to do now. I’m trying to figure it out when Amy breaks into my thoughts and says, “Tell me something nobody else knows about you.”

“What?” I ask. It’s such a slumber party question.

“It’s something I always ask people—tell me something about you that nobody else knows. It doesn’t have to be major. Just something.”

I decide to go with whatever comes first to my mind. “Okay. When I was ten, I tried to pierce my own ear with a sewing needle. I got it halfway through, and then I passed out. Nobody was home, so nobody found me. I just woke up with this needle halfway in my ear, drops of blood all over my shirt. I pulled the needle out, cleaned up, and never tried it again. It wasn’t until I was fourteen that I went to the mall with my mom and got my ears pierced for real. She had no idea. How about you?”

There’s a beat as she thinks about it—which is a little off. If this is a question she always asks, doesn’t she always have an answer ready? After a few seconds she says, “I stole Judy Blume’s Forever from my sister when I was eight. I figured if it was by the author of Superfudge, it had to be good. Well, I soon realized why she kept it under her bed. I’m not sure I understood it all, but I thought it was unfair that the boy would name his, um, organ, and the girl wouldn’t name hers. So I decided to give mine a name.”

I can’t help but laugh, and also can’t help but ask, “What was its name?”

“Helena. I introduced everyone to her at dinner that night. It went over really well.”

Helena. I can’t figure if Justin would find this funny, too, or if he’d just find it weird.

We’re at Amy’s car now. “It was great to meet you,” I tell her. “Hopefully, I’ll see you around next year.”

“Yeah,” she says, “it was great to meet you, too.”

She thanks me for taking her around, for introducing her to my friends, and for putting up with her questions. I tell her it wasn’t any problem at all. Justin drives over and honks.

I almost tell him I want to go back to the ocean.

But instead I decide to see if I can bring the ocean here.

—