Page 15 of The Heart That Breaks
“What?”
“I’d like to hear you sing one.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I’ve got a bunch.”
“But you’ve never heard me sing.”
“No, but I’m guessing you have a beautiful voice.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Just hearing you talk. I can imagine what it would sound like.”
Something between goosebumps and chills run up my back. I absorb the words and the invitation, and it’s like someone just opened up a rainbow right in front of me and all these wonderful colors I’ve never seen before come spilling out. But the two of us come from different worlds, and trusting another person’s motivation as pure isn’t a natural response for me. “You must know a lot of people who can sing.”
“Not anyone I’d want to sing my songs.”
“That’s nice, Nathan, but-”
“There’s no but. It just is, Ann-Elizabeth. For now, let’s go back to the Homecoming thing. I could help you get a dress.”
“I don’t want to be your pity case. Please don’t feel sorry for me.”
“I’m not. I just. . .my sister has dresses she’s worn in weddings. I know she wouldn’t mind letting you borrow one. They’re just hanging in her closet.”
Henry sticks his head under my arm and nudges me hard, as if he’s lost patience with my lack of attention. I rub his back as I say, “Why would you want to take a girl like me to Homecoming when you could pretty much have your pick of anyone at school?”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because you have everything popular girls insist on having in a guy.”
“Maybe I don’t want to be that.”
“You can’t help it,” I say, matter-of-factly.
He folds his arms across his chest, and I can see that I have upset him. “Do you want to go with me to the dance or not?”
“Honestly? Yes. But I can’t, Nathan.”
“You mean won’t.”
“No.”
“Okay,” he says, getting to his feet and brushing off the back of his jeans. He picks up his backpack, hefts it on to his shoulder. “See you in school then.”
He leans down and rubs Henry’s head once. Henry licks his hand, and we both watch him climb on his bike and roll off down the driveway.
I wonder what he would have said if I had told him why. But it’s humiliating to think of telling him anything else about Lance and the fact that I don’t dare give him a reason to notice that I’m liking boys.
Besides, once Henry and I are inside the barrel and curled up under the blanket, it’s almost as if Nathan had never been here at all.
Maybe I dreamed it.
*
Nathan
