“I was just getting a pen.” His eyes flick to my backpack once more and now he’ll never let this go.
He’s going to want to know why I was so defensive over my bag. I didn’t mean to be, it was just my first reaction. I’m new to this whole period thing and Mom told me to keep a pad with me at all times. I put one in my backpack, not thinking that Drake might get into it.
I should have known. He always loses his pens or pencils and digs through my bag to get a new one. He holds his hand out and I know he’s not asking for me to give him a pen. He wants the backpack.
“Whatever.” I toss it to him and he catches it.
I throw the worst passes to him in the yard when he wants me to help him practice his football skills. I’m not trying to be bad at it, but somehow I suck and he still manages to catch them all. He tells me it’s good that I throw so bad because it makes him work harder to catch the ball. I don’t know if that’s true or if he’s trying to make me feel better.
As he opens my backpack I stomp out of the dining room where we’ve been doing our homework. I go straight to my room because my face is already hot. I don’t know why I’m embarrassed, because I know it’s normal. It’s just weird and I don’t want to talk about it with Drake. I’ve already had to listen to it from my mom, the school nurse, and my health class.
I think I’m most upset about things changing between Drake and me. It makes us different and defines us more as boy and girl. It’s like there’s a new part of my life and I don’t like that he isn’t a part of it in some way. I can’t even make sense of it in my head.
I fall onto my bed and stare up at the ceiling, knowing I need to go back downstairs. Drake needs help with his science project and I have a crap ton of math homework I need to get done. I have to face the music at some point and get this weird conversation over with. Maybe I’ll get lucky and he won’t say anything.
My door flies open and I pop up from the bed to see something white in Drake’s hand.
“You took it out of my bag!” I scream, pointing at the white square in his hand. My face burns with embarrassment so brightly I can feel the heat.
“Yeah, because you shouldn’t have it!” Now he’s the one shouting at me. He steps into my room and closes the door behind him. He’s already changed out of his school uniform into a shirt and gym shorts. He can’t stand the school uniforms but they don’t bother me.
“I need it.” I put my hands over my face, praying for a hole in the floor to swallow me. Oh God, this is not happening.
“You need a note from Ben?”
I drop my hands from my face to look at Drake standing a few feet from my bed. He’s got that same stern face Dad gets when he’s in a meeting or on a conference call.
“Ben?” What is he talking about? He lifts his hand and I see he’s not holding my pad but a folded piece of paper.
“Oh,” is all I say because I have absolutely no idea what we’re talking about.
“He’s a dick.”
Ben is a dick, but not to me. I’ve seen him be a jerk a few times so I nod my head in agreement.
“Then why is he telling you to text him?” Drake shakes the paper in his hand.
“That was in my backpack?”
“Yeah.”
I reach for the note to look but Drake steps back so I can’t grab it. I’m guessing it has Ben’s number on it.
“Do you want to text him?” he asks. “Maybe Dad was right and we’re too young for cell phones.” I start laughing because he’s never looked more like Dad than in this moment. “It’s not funny.” He’s agitated and I laugh harder.
“No, I don’t want to text him. I didn’t know he put a note in my backpack,” I say through laughter.
“I’ll have a talk with him.” Tears leak down my cheeks at Drake’s expression.
“I can’t. You look so much like Dad right now.”
Finally Drake smiles and sits down on the bed next to me. “You done?”
“I think so,” I say, but my body keeps shaking as I hold in the laughter.
“Stay away from Ben,” he adds when I finally get it together. I’ll stay away from Ben. He’s a jerk and I trust Drake.
“Ben who?” I tease, and he shakes his head before standing up and holding out his hand. I take it and he pulls me to my feet.