Second Helpings_ A Jessica Darling Novel - Megan McCafferty [58]
“I guess,” I say.
And so it goes.
At the same time, Len has stepped up. This is not a coincidence. He’s been going out of his way to talk to me more. In class. In between classes. At lunch. He’s called me twice. I did my part by not being phone phobic and picking it up when I saw his name. The second time, he asked me out on a sort of date. Not a real date. A sort of date.
“Um. I know you can’t run anymore. But would you like to go hiking? Um. With me?”
It was all very sweet, so I said sure. My defenses must definitely be down.
So today—much to my mother’s delight—Len and I went for a long walk around the windy, sandy trails of Double Trouble Park. It’s really the perfect time of year to do something like this, because the leaves are as vibrant and varied as the sixty-four box of Crayolas. There’s that crisp hint of chill in the air that reminds you that winter is coming and you’d better get outside while you still can without freezing your ass off. Perfect cross-country weather. While I don’t miss the team one bit, I have missed being outside and moving my body and feeling alive.
Len and I walked for two hours. And we talked. A lot.
The actual content of our conversations isn’t necessary to rehash here, as they can always be traced back to the headlines in The New York Times. (If you’re interested, just check the NYT archives for November 7 through November 10, 2001.) Len’s end of the conversation always takes one of two forms: (1) long-winded and rambly or (2) start-and-stop stuttery. He’s very dependable in that way.
My reaction varies.
Sometimes I can get past the shoddy presentation and focus on what he’s saying. When I listen, I appreciate that Len’s observations are intelligent and almost scientific in their factual accuracy. Spontaneous or emotional, they are not. Still, they are a far cry from the gaseous emissions that pass as conversation among his male peers. I come away from the conversation better informed about current events.
Other times, I purposely tune out so I can just appreciate his cuteness. I try to forget that this cute guy with the cute bangs falling oh-so-cutely into his cute eyes is Len Levy.
This is harder to do on the phone.
Most times, I think about how much easier my life would be if I could just fall madly, passionately in love with Len already. The end result—our mad, passionate love—would more than make up for its less-than-romantic roots. Falling madly, passionately in love with Len would compensate perfectly for the fact that I only let him into my life to annoy Marcus, who, I’ll repeat, just for the sake of clarity, doesn’t really want us to be together, but only wants to make it seem like he wants us to be together, for reasons I can only attribute to the brain-fry incurred from his falling into one K-hole too many in middle school.
About halfway through our hike, we hit the Graffiti Bridge. I have crossed it a bizillion times on training runs, but I’d never stopped there before.
“Let’s take a break for a second,” I said.
We braced ourselves on the beam overlooking the water. The wood was weathered gray and carved with almost illegible initials and names. Len and I looked at the water in the kind of comfortable silence that only exists between good friends. It was nice, actually. The mud floor and cedar foam made the creek look like a dark, bitter brew swirling around in a cauldron.
I turned to him and said, “Do you remember breaking my heart in second grade?”
“Um. I did? What? Um.”
“You did.”
Then I reminded him how I gave him a Valentine and he didn’t give me one in return, the first devastating event of my loser love life.
He looked at me very seriously. “I’m sorry I did that. Um. I would never do that to you now.”
It was a very sweet thing for him to say. And if he felt like kissing me, it would have been the perfect moment for him to do it. But he didn’t.
the fifteenth
Now that my college applications are out to the original final four, I don’t have much else to do to pass the time in school. There’s only so much energy I can funnel toward making sure