Page 3 of Running Into You
“But we like the basement!” Rilla protests. “We’re basement people!”
“I’ll go,” I volunteer. Everyone looks at me and I flush from the sudden attention. “I mean, for a bit.” Then to Rilla, “If you want to.”
Rilla takes a moment and then sighs dramatically. “Fine,” she says, discarding her uneaten crust on her plate. “But if I come home with gonorrhea, Mom, remember this was your…”
“Rilla Anne Pine!” Nancy raises her voice again, but the effect is lost in the volume of our laughter.
* * *
I didn’t bring a jacket with me, and the temperature has dropped several degrees. Josh offered me his old jacket before we left the house and I snuggle into it in the crowded stands. It swims on me, but it’s warm and smells like him. So, this is a pep rally. The marching band is out of sync and the cheerleaders appear to be freezing their asses off. At least the crowd is hyped up! I feel very out of place, but I figure things out quickly enough. Someone says something in the microphone and then everyone else cheers. If they say something about our rival teams, the crowd boos. As long as I cheer and boo when everyone else does, I fit in reasonably well. We’re sitting with Josh and Eleanor’s friends. Most of them are girls cheering on their football-playing boyfriends.
We pile back into the Pine’s Subaru Forester when the pep rally is over. The entire experience wasn’t terrible, but I’m not eager to go to another one. Rilla goes straight into telling me her theories of which teachers Coach Bergan is having affairs with. I am half listening to her but also eavesdropping on Josh and Eleanor in front, talking about college applications.
“Did you apply to all of the ones we talked about?” Eleanor asks him. She’s talking to him like he’s a child, too.
“Yes, El.” Does he sound a bit annoyed, or am I imagining that?
“Because the deadlines are coming up and if we want to be considered for early acceptance—”
“I know. I sent them,” he cuts her off. They are quiet. Is this a fight? Are they going to break up? My mind is racing.
“So, who do you think?” Rilla interrupts my thought process. “He kept glancing at Ms. Jenkins, but Mrs. Philipps never took her eyes off of him.”
“Um… I think Ms. Jenkins is too young for him. And Mrs. Philipps just had a baby not too long ago.” I want to get back to the front seat.
“Ms. Jenkins is too young for him, but just because it’s gross doesn’t mean it’s not happening. Maybe he’s the real father of Mrs. Philipps’s baby!” She brightens at this as we pull into her driveway.
“I’m going to run Eleanor home,” Josh says over his shoulder. We unbuckle and file out of the backseat.
“Thanks for taking us,” I say before I close the car door. He looks back at me and smiles. Maybe a bit sadly?
“Anytime, Betts. G’night.”
I hurry into the house, where Rilla is now filling her mom in on the events of the evening, but my mind is still on Josh. Are he and Eleanor not getting along? Does he not want to go to the same schools she does? Are they going to break up after graduation? What will that mean? Would not having a girlfriend give him a chance to see me in a different way? He is only two years older than me. Lots of seniors are dating sophomores at our school. It wouldn’t be a big deal.
“Betty?” Rilla and her mom are both staring at me. I haven’t been listening to them at all.
“Sorry?”
“I said we still have time to watch the movie. Want to?” It’s just after nine thirty.
“Yes! Definitely!” I say with an enthusiasm I don’t feel. What I actually want to do is spend a few hours alone with my journal. Get everything I’m feeling down on paper. Maybe even do a bit of brainstorming. Figure out how I can get Josh to see me as more than a friend.
“Cool. I’ll get it set up.” Rilla starts grabbing snacks from the cupboard and handing them to me. I realize I’m still wearing Josh’s coat and go to the hallway closet to hang it back up. That’s when I notice his car is still sitting in the driveway. Unable to help myself, I edge closer to the front door. Through the window, I can see them; still in the car, arms around one another and kissing. Not a hormone-fueled, teenage make-out session, but a tender embrace. Her arms around his neck, his hand gently cupping the side of her face, drawing her closer to him. He’s kissing her the way I’ve pictured him kissing me for years. They’re not kissing like people who are breaking up. My heart aches with every beat as I force myself to look away.
Josh’s words from earlier echo in my mind. “Aww, poor Betty. You never really had a chance.”
Chapter 1
Present Day
Betty
Iwake up and my entire body hurts. Not hurts, aches. I had two and a half glasses of Malbec last night and I feel like I’ve done thirteen hours of manual labor. Why is it that other people my age can drink an entire bottle and be fine the next day, but I suffer dire consequences?
I automatically reach for the glass of water and ibuprofen I have set on my nightside table. My life is defined by these small rituals. Pre-program the coffeemaker each night before bed. Laundry and food prep for the week every Sunday. Make sure my face is washed and moisturized before I sit down to watch tv or doom-scroll at night. The more I’m able to plan and prepare ahead of time, the less likely I’ll get overwhelmed with daily life.
Fail to plan, plan to fail.
