Page 77 of Crossing the Brooklyn Briggs
Though he doesn’t say anything, his answering smile is good enough for me.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Brooklyn
Jordan: Are you home?
Me: *bacteria emoji*
Jordan: Uh, what?
Me: I meant to do a thumbs up.
Jordan: Have you ever seen a thumb before?
Me: Yes.
Me: I mean yes I’m home. What’s up?
Jordan: I’ll be there soon. I think we should talk.
That’s only the most terrifyingtext someone can send a person, and I’ve been on edge for the last ten minutes, pacing around my living room because I can’t sit still while I wait for Jordan to show up.
What does he want to talk about? About what happened with Mark? I said some things about James I shouldn’t have said, so maybe he wants to talk about that. I would really rather not. Or maybe he wants to talk about that almost-kiss, which is the most terrifying option of all.
He said he wasn’t going to kiss me, but what if that’s changed now that Mark isn’t an obstacle?
A knock on the door scares me out of my skin, even though I should have been expecting it. Struggling to breathe, I open the door with shaking fingers and do my best to smile at Jordan when he looks at me.
“Hey.”
His eyebrows pull together. “Why did you tell Mateo to talk back to Mark?”
My stomach drops like I’m on the world’s worst elevator. “What?”
He hasn’t made any move to come inside, which might be the worst part of this conversation (which is likely only going to get worse). “You. Told my brother. To correct. A teacher.” He says it slowly, like I might be too dumb to understand if he doesn’t enunciate.
I’ve never seen Jordan angry before. And I’m not sure I can say he’s angry now. But he’s definitely feeling some strong emotions, all of them directed at me.
I don’t know what to say to him, which is fine because he keeps talking.
“Mateo got sent to the principal’s office, Brooklyn. They called my mom while she was in the middle of her chemo treatment, and I had to show up at the school because you thought it was a good idea to use akidto get revenge on a guy who isn’t worth your time. What is wrong with you?”
Clearly a lot of things. “Jordan.”
He holds up a hand. “No. I know what Mark did was crappy, and he’s a jerk. I’m not saying he isn’t.”
“Then what are you saying?” I wrap my arms around myself, wishing I had someone stronger to hold me.
Jordan groans and grabs the door frame, his eyes locked so thoroughly on me that I can’t stand to look at him. I stare at my toes instead, wishing I had thought to put on socks because they’re getting cold standing in the open doorway.
“I’m saying you’re better than this, Queens. You’ve always been the bigger person, and I’ve always loved that about you.”
My head snaps up, but he’s not done.
“It didn’t matter how much I teased you or made you miserable. You were only ever kind to me. Yeah, you had your comebacks, but they never hurt anyone. Where’s the Brooklyn who switched Houston’s soap out for a potato? Who threw water balloons at us when we were playing video games?” His expression falls, leaving him looking lost. “Where’s the girl I had the biggest crush on but never knew it until you were gone?”
I can’t speak. I can’tbreathe. He’s saying so many things that mean so much, but I don’t have any of the answers to his questions. Not ones he would like, anyway. Where’s the old Brooklyn? She grew up. She got dumped time and time again because she wasn’t enough for the men who decided she was their next shiny new toy. She lost her dream job—her passion—because she trusted the wrong man, but she can’t tell her siblings because they only see the happy and content Brooklyn.
