Page 2 of The Note
Gus frowned. “What’s up? I’d blame shit-for-brains,” he said, jerking a thumb at Alex, who’d resumed his video game.
“Hey!” Alex protested.
“…But that’s not all that’s going on. You’ve been off ever since you got here,” Gus finished.
“What, are you planning to specialize in psychiatry now, Doctor Fletcher? Does a pre-med degree qualify you to diagnose me? It’s nothing. Just fucking suck at calculus. That’s all.” I grabbed my backpack and attempted to jam my math book into it, but the fucking thing wouldn’tgo, because of course it wouldn’t.
“That’s all?” Gus repeated, watching my fucking comedy routine with the book and the bag without attempting to intervene. “So you’re, what? Gonna give up? Gonna go home, bottle it up, and play video games? Let the world just happen to you? Dumbass.”
Ouch.I dropped the book on the table and looked at Gus, stung. “Nota dumbass, so stop calling me that. Andscrew you.”
“Yeah,” Alex said, pausing his game so he could glare at Gus also. “I don’t know what crawled upyourass and died, but leave Tyler alone!”
“Your boyTyler?” Gus snorted. “But only in a platonic sort of way, right?”
The scathing tone hurt more than it should have because it was so unexpected.
Honestly, I expected Alex to be a jerk sometimes. He was brash and silly and occasionally thoughtless. We gave each other shitconstantly, because we’d been friends since birth — or evenbeforebirth, since our mothers had been pregnant at the same time — and had lived next door to one another all our lives. Alex’s father was a well-respected doctor who’d been my dad’s biggest campaign supporter when my father first ran for office andstilldrove a Toyota with a “Turnbull for State Senate” bumper sticker. Mrs. Fletcher, meanwhile, had driven my mother to her oncology appointments, and now sat on the board of the cancer charity my father had founded in my mother’s name.
But Gus?Damn. Gus wasn’t just my friend, he was more like my idol, you know? He was older than me. Wiser, kinder, and smarter, too. And he never seemed to mind having me around. When we were younger, he’d always pickedmeto be on his team when the neighborhood played kickball, even though I’d missed more pitches than I’d kicked back then. And Gus had been the only one who’d recognized that I might needcomfortrather thancongratulationswhen my father announced he was getting remarried to the well-endowed Brenda Berry and presented me with a brand-new stepsister two years after my mom died. He’d found me in the backyard, crying into a fucking bed of snapdragons, because those had been my mom’s favorite flowers, and had sat beside me for an hour without saying a single stupid thing about life being unfair. He was the big brother I’d always wanted.
“You know what?” Alex said, vaulting over the arm of the sofa. “If you need me to kick your ass, Gussie, I’m happy to do it. I don’t know what the fuck you’re mad atmefor,and I sure as hell don’t know what you’re mad atTylerfor.” He came up beside me and folded his arms over his chest like he was ready to throw down to defend my honor. I’d be lying if I said my stomach didn’t flip a little at the idea.
Gus folded his arms over his chest, too. “I’m not mad.”
“No, you’re a judgy bitch,” I informed him.
Gus’s head went back. His eyes locked on mine and held.
“You know why I’m here right now, Gus? Because my father took one look at my SATs and decided that a regular old college wouldn’t do forhisson, oh no. He’s upwardly mobile, politically. He’s got Brenda’s family money and connections, so state senate isn’t enough anymore.” I threw my bag into the corner. “That’s why he’s never home these days. There’s always a memorial that needs to be dedicated, or a pancake breakfast that has to be eaten, or a wild animal on the brink of extinction that needs to be saved with an impassioned speech. And we all have to do our part, you know? I have to pass calculus and get into an Ivy League. Marissa has to be the prettiest, most polite stepdaughter, and the poor thing hasn’t seen herownfather in fucking ages. Brenda has to decorate and redecorate the goddamn house every two minutes like it’s her job.”
I pushed my math book off the table and it skittered across the floor. Gus’s eyes didn’t move from mine.
“You know why else I’m not homeplaying video games? Because they’ve all been packed away for now. Brenda has decided that the basement rec room needs to be atranquil, soothing haven, so she’s re-doing the whole thing inunderwater pastels, that she assures me are going to becheerfulandzen, because that’s the exact atmosphere I need for playing Call of Duty in the goddamn dark.”
I sucked in a breath, practically vibrating with anger. “Not that it matters what I think. It’s notmyhouse, right? It’sBrenda’s. And yes, Brenda is lovely, and yes, Brenda is kind to me, but Brenda’s gotta be descended from a family of fuckingdaleks, because all the woman knows how to do isexterminateand she cannot be stopped. So if Brenda wants to yank out the gardens in back to put in a pool, then she will. And if she wants to paint my mother’s bedroombright pinkto dispel the negative energy, then she will. And if she wants to erase everything that existed before she got there, then she fuckingwill, and that’s all there is to it. And because I am a goddamn Turnbull, I would rather be flayed with a thousand tiny knives than ask her to stop.”
I stared at Gus and panted, closing my hands into fists at my sides. “And I know, I knowperfectly well, that I am warm and clothed and rich and smart, socry me a river, right? But this morning my academic counselor called me into her office to discuss my future major and eventual career plans, like the poor, deluded woman thinks I actually havechoicesabout anything in my life, and I realized there is not one soul on the planet who really sees me. I am worse than invisible. I’m the fucking… shiny, mirrored surface that reflects what other people want me to be. And sometimes itsucks!”
I punctuated the last word by ramming my fist, knuckles-first, into the solid wooden table.
Spoiler: The table won.
Also spoiler: It hurt like amother.
“Shit,”I breathed, cradling my hand to my chest like a baby, too worn out to even scream.
And Gus? He just nodded, like the whole entire torrent had simply confirmed something he already knew.
If I weren’t suddenly so tired, I might have planted my other fist in hisface.
“God, Tyler,” Alex stared at me wide-eyed and walked slowly across the space between us until he could wrap an arm around my waist. “Are you okay?”
I nodded, still holding my hand to my chest. It was starting to throb, sending little ricochets of pain all the way up to my elbow, but for the first time in a while I felt… I dunno…empty. It wasn’t a bad feeling.
Alex put his other hand on my cheek and turned my head to make me look at him. Up close like this, his eyes were chocolate and surrounded by long, dark lashes. Prettier than I’d ever noticed. “Calm down,” he said, brushing my jaw with his thumb. “Everything is gonna be okay.”
I frowned. I wasn’t actually sure it would. And ifIwasn’t sure, then how the hell couldhebe?
