Matt's Story Page 6
“That’s really awesome!” I say again excitedly.
“And she’s so close to me!” Cindy squeals. “It’s, like, a train ride away. Or a bus ride. Or a quick drive. Whatever. It’s doable.”
“It is,” Kat says, practically glowing. “I know it is,” she says again, taking Cindy’s hand. The transformation was easy for Kat, from nervous to certain. I hope my words might have helped her, but I’m pretty sure it was all Cindy.
Cindy blushes, and then turns to me. “So, yeah, that’s our big news. Now we’re just trying to pick out dorm room stuff, and ugh, it’s so hard.” She pushes a catalogue to me and points at a page of microwaves.
“Do you like the pink one or the purple one?” Cindy asks, pointing to two bright microwaves in a catalog.
“Does it have to be pink or purple?” Kat asks, flipping through the other pages.
“Yes, so it’ll go with my yellow mini refrigerator!”
“How did you find a yellow fridge?” I ask.
“Don’t ask,” Kat says, shaking her head. “I’d much rather pick out classes than this stuff,” she sighs.
“Well, hey, can I ask something else?” I say, twisting my watch.
“What’s up?” Cindy asks, looking up from her catalog. She looks me in the eye and when I start to smile, she shrieks. “YOU DIDN’T! YOU GOT YOUR WASHINGTON LETTER?! AND YOU DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING?”
“Picked it up before coming here,” I say, placing my letter on the table in front of me. It’s thick, like Cindy’s was, so I’m optimistic. But still.
What if I don’t get in, what if my plan falters? What will I do next year instead? I didn’t apply to a backup school, which was stupid, but I just couldn’t be bothered to. I wanted to get away, I wanted this.
“Open it! Open it!” Cindy says, jumping in her seat.
“I . . . ,” I start, looking at the letter. “I can’t.”
“Oh my God, yes you can. You got in, look at it,” Kat says, pointing to the envelope.
“But what if I didn’t?” I ask, and they see the look in my eyes. They see that I’m worried.
“Give it to me,” Kat says, grabbing the letter. Yes, she’s abrasive, but I need abrasive right now. “Dear Matthew Grayson. Your last name is Grayson? Huh,” she says, and I stare at her, begging her to continue. My heart is racing, my head throbbing. “We’re pleased to inform you that . . . blah blah blah . . . YOU GOT IN.”
I register them cheering in the background. I register the hum and dull noise of the bookstore. I register the table in front of me, and the paper being thrust in my hands. But it doesn’t feel real. And then everything becomes Technicolor and I break out of my haze. Because I’m doing this. I’m really doing it.
“You did it!” Cindy screams, and I break out laughing, eyes-closed laughing, because I did it. I’m making my own path instead of following my family’s. I’m taking things into my own hands.
I’m starting over.
I know we cheer, and I know we hug, and I know we decide that the purple microwave is much better than the pink one. But I’m not here anymore. I’m not in Houston. I’m already in Seattle, staring at the new life ahead of me. And despite the excitement, there’s still a nagging feeling, a string getting thinner and tighter around me that feels like it’s about to break. But I shake my head and ignore it. Leave it for another time. Let me enjoy my moment now.
CHAPTER 10
“Matt,” my mom says excitedly when I get home, “I’m in the kitchen.”
“Coming,” I say, acceptance letter in hand. I know she’ll be thrilled. “Hey, I have good news.”
“And I think you’re about to have some more!” she says, handing me a large envelope. I look at the return address—University of Central Florida.
“What’s this?”
“I’m not sure, but I think it’s your response from UCF. And by the looks of it, it looks pretty good!” She’s standing next to me, bouncing excitedly.
“Oh . . .”
“Oh?” she asks, her smile dropping.
“I forgot—I mean, I just . . . I don’t want to go there.”
“At least see if you got in, honey. It’s an option,” she says, trying to reassure me, but I didn’t want this. I wanted to forget about that school, especially now that I’ve got another acceptance letter. “I know something went on there, but it can’t be so bad that you can’t go back for school.”
I shake my head. She’s right that people can’t keep me from a city, they can’t kick me out, but why go back to somewhere that holds such mixed memories? Why not move on?
“I didn’t—I just—ugh,” I say, crashing onto the counter. I know I’m being ridiculous, that I shouldn’t complain if another school wants me, but ugh.
“You don’t have to go there, you know, you can just say no,” she says.
“Yeah, I know,” I say, wondering if saying no could be as freeing as saying yes.
“At least open it,” she says, pushing it toward me. I look at the envelope and know what’s going to happen. This isn’t like before—Cindy and Kat aren’t cheering in unison. I’m not envisioning my future. I open the paper and, yes, I did get in, and yes, they’re excited to have me. I even got a scholarship. Great.
“I got in,” I say. “I also got into University of Washington.” I hand her my letter from earlier. “I’m going to go there.”
“Oh, honey, I’m so proud,” she says, sweeping me up for a hug, but I’m not in a hugging mood. I’m done with hugging and thinking. The excitement is completely gone. I thank my mom and take my letters to my room, shutting the door behind me. I sit at my desk and look at both of them.
I can go to Seattle. I can move on.
Or.
Or I can go back to Orlando. I can start over there. I know I can’t undo everything I’ve done, I know I run the risk of her hating me, and I deserve it, I do. I’ve been horrible. But I can try to make it better. Maybe it’s that simple.
Kat planned her school to be close to Cindy because she believed in them. They were up against life, but they survived. They didn’t run and duck out like me, they embraced their problems and fought. I should have done that from the start. I shouldn’t have escaped, I should have held on.
I get up and walk across the hall to Chris’s room. “Hey.” I hold out both papers.
“UW AND UCF? That’s awesome!” he says, leaning over on his computer chair to give me a high five. He settles back down and looks at me. “But judging by your face, you’re not happy.”
“I am,” I say. “It’s awesome that both schools want me. It’s just—”
“It’s just you had your heart set on UW, but now you have another option that might be more tempting.”
“But it shouldn’t be, right? I left there. I can’t go back there, to all that.”
“Why not?” he asks, still trying to figure it out.
“I never told Ella about you,” I admit, finally. “I kept it all from her.”
“Why?” he asks, confused.
“Because I didn’t want to involve her. I didn’t want her to be wrapped up in our drama.”
“Well, that was stupid.”
“Yeah, I know that now. And then when we got here, Mom and Dad didn’t want me to because—”
“Of me,” he sighs. “Got it.” He looks back at his computer, then turns around again. “But you loved her?”
“Yeah,” I say, sitting on the ground, leaning against his wall.
“So why can’t you tell her now?”
“It’s just so much, and it’s been too long.”
“Matt, didn’t we just discuss this?” he asks, swirling in his chair to study me, stare me down.
“I’m scared,” I admit. And that’s it. That’s really it, I’m just absolutely terrified. Of hurting her. Of getting hurt. I know if I go back I’ll have to do it as me, and not with notes or messages. I’ll have to show her the real me in order for her to trust me again. And that’s terrifying. I don’t know how to d
o that with someone I care about so much when everything relies on it.
“Dude,” Chris says, kicking my legs. “Man up.”
I look at him, raise an eyebrow, and smile.
CHAPTER 11
“You got everything, right?” my mom asks for the seven thousandth time.
“Yes, Mom,” I say, closing my car’s trunk. “Everything is packed—oh wait, crap, hold on.” I remember something important and run back into the house. I reach under my bed and grab my bass guitar. I’ve missed it. I take it out of its case and feel the cool strings against my fingers again. They’re familiar, like an old friend coming back. I put it back in its case and run outside.
“How’d you forget that?” my dad asks, opening the trunk again. My car is small, but we fit almost everything in. The rest is in my parents’ car, which will be following behind me. Thankfully I’m moving into a furnished apartment, so I don’t have to worry about pink or purple microwaves and the like.
“I’m going to miss you so much, sweetie,” Mom says, pulling me in for a hug. Dad looks on awkwardly, not one for physical contact. But he’s here sending me off, so that’s something. It was another argument, another talk, but eventually he came into my room and said he was proud. Eventually he had a conversation with Chris that didn’t involve yelling. Eventually he decided to be a dad, and explained that his father never was one, so he never knew how to do it. I haven’t seen it much yet, but he’s coming on this trip, so that’s a start.
“Mom, I can’t breathe,” I say, and she releases me. I hear a car and turn around to see Delilah’s parking in front of our house. Chris opens the door and steps out.
“You didn’t think I’d miss Matty-Matt-Matt’s send-off, did you?” he yells, walking from the car to me.
“So glad the nicknames are continuing,” I drily say as he grabs me in a hug, and I smile so big. Because this is my brother, with all of his faults. This is the guy who taught me how to ride a bike, and helped me when I fell. Who introduced me to all his friends at school, and checked in on me during the day. This is the guy who helped me plan my next move, as scary as it is. He’s not perfect, he’s not a role model, but he’s my brother, and that’s enough.
“You’ll be okay, yeah?” he says into my shoulder.
“You know it.”
“And if anyone bothers you—” he says, and I pull away and shake my head.
“I know, I know. And you’ll be okay?”
“Now, yeah,” he says, putting his arm around Delilah. He’s starting up school again next semester at a local community college. I helped him apply right after he helped me decide my future. He’s still going to live at home. They’re small steps, but they’re something.
“I’ll be back to visit soon, okay?” I say.
“You better. And if not, I’m coming to get you.”
“Don’t doubt him, he’ll actually do it,” Delilah says, breaking in to hug me good-bye. I look at her and, this time, I’m happy she stayed with my brother. I really am. He needs her.
“Okay, we should get going before it’s too late,” Mom says. “We’ll be right behind you. Just flash your lights if you need anything. NO CELL PHONE.”
“I know, I know. I’m a good driver, you know,” I say, and she whacks me in the head.
“Are your friends coming by before we leave?” she asks, and I’m reminded of Orlando, when she asked me the same thing about Ella. But this time, I did say good-bye, and I do plan on staying in touch.
They took me to pick out new glasses yesterday. “New start, new you!” Cindy had said, holding up at least two dozen pairs for me to try on. I’d settled on a pair of black wire-rimmed ones. Like always, it took a few minutes to adjust to new glasses, but they fit my face perfectly, and they did look new and cool. More mature. I was going to college as the same Matt, only new and improved.
We threw a going-away party for the three of us after at Kat’s while her mom was out. We had champagne, again, and I left when the girls started making out. I figured it was my cue to leave. But before I stepped out, I turned around and tried to thank them for what they did, for being there, for bringing me back to life. I wanted to say so much, but I only got out “thank you” before they tackled me with a hug. It’s nice, having them. I know we’ll go our separate ways over time, but I want to know what happens; I’m not ready to lose them yet. Maybe a slow end of a friendship isn’t as bad as I thought—maybe just having something, for however long, is enough.
“Okay, all ready?” Dad asks, banging on the top of the car.
I look at the house that was never really my house, and at my parents who, despite everything, were always there for me. I look at Chris, who’s now leaning on Delilah, and give him a high five. I take a deep breath in and nod.
I get in the car, turn on the engine, and load the playlist Ella made me so long ago, because I want to hear it. I’m ready to see her, and move back there to Orlando. I’m not running away this time. She said yes to me once before, so maybe she’ll do it again.
Maybe. Just maybe.
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About the Author
Photo by KV Photography
LAUREN GIBALDI is a public librarian who’s been, among other things, a magazine editor, high school English teacher, bookseller, and circus aerialist (seriously). She has a BA in literature and a master’s degree in library and information studies. She lives in Orlando, Florida, with her husband and daughter. Find her online at www.laurengibaldi.com or on Twitter @laurengibaldi.
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Books by Lauren Gibaldi
The Night We Said Yes
Matt’s Story
Copyright
MATT’S STORY. Copyright © 2015 by Lauren Gibaldi. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition © July 2015 ISBN 9780062391551
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