The Beautiful Between - Alyssa B. Sheinmel [51]
I don’t hear from Jeremy during winter break. My mother and I spend the holidays as we always do: pretty much exactly the same way we spend the rest of the year, but with more free time. On Christmas Day, we always go to the movies, come home, and order in Chinese food. This year, we go to see the new Woody Allen movie and it’s sold out when we get there, so we have to wait for the next showing.
“So this is where all the Jews are,” I joke to my mother, who laughs for a long time.
The movie theater is across the street from the ice cream parlor where Jeremy, Kate, and I went. Maybe Kate is doing better now; maybe she’s gotten the bone marrow and it’s working. I picture them eating ice cream; I don’t think I’ve ever wished so hard for one of my fantasies to come true.
I spend New Year’s Eve fighting with computer customer service, since I can’t access my e-mail. I don’t know why I’m so determined to check it anyway. Maybe I think that there will be a “Happy New Year” e-mail from Jeremy, or from Kate. I tell myself that if only I can get online, I will e-mail them, find out how Kate is, wish them happy holidays. But I know it won’t come true. I’m too scared; I don’t think Jeremy would want to hear from me right now.
But it feels strange not to know where Jeremy is. Maybe he’s at the hospital, recovering from donating bone marrow—although I don’t even know how long you have to stay at the hospital for something like that. For all I know, he’s only a couple dozen blocks south of me, in their den, watching the ball drop with Kate asleep on his shoulder. I’m already in bed. I feel left out.
Jeremy isn’t at school the first day back. No one ever does this—takes off the last day before the break and the first day after—the school doesn’t like kids’ families trying to extend vacation, so it’s an unexcused absence and you get detention. I’m near tears in physics class. Maybe it’s because I don’t understand anything, even though I studied hard over the break, and without Jeremy there to help me, it seems like I never will. A row of F’s and D’s stretches out frighteningly in front of me. Or maybe it’s because physics was almost fun with Jeremy here—school was more fun—and having lost my best friend, I hardly know what to do with myself.
I decide to allow myself to fantasize about something; anything to distract me from the teacher, whose words I can’t follow, and from the way that Jeremy’s empty stool behind me feels like it’s staring at me. I rest my chin in my hand. I hope the teacher doesn’t notice I’ve stopped taking notes.
I imagine that Jeremy sprints into class, getting away with being late as only he can. Everyone stops what they’re doing. Everybody stares at Jeremy—the big grin on his face, the happiness he seems to have brought with him into the room. He comes straight toward me and scoops me up into a hug—a dramatic gesture he would never make in real life.
“Kate’s going to be okay,” he whispers into my hair. The bone marrow worked. Kate is well. Everything will be fine and Jeremy isn’t mad at me anymore—he’s too happy to be bothered about our stupid fight. He didn’t call because he was at the hospital so much, taking care of her, recovering from donating the marrow. Kate is well, and she can eat sundaes again, and she’ll come back to school and her hair will grow long and she’ll cheer for Jeremy when his name is called at graduation. Just like I knew she would.
Then the classroom door opens—not in my fantasy, in real life. I actually spin around on my seat, just in case it really is Jeremy. But it’s not: it’s the assistant principal, and she’s calling my name.
“Connelly?”
Everyone turns from the chalkboard to the door at the back of the room, where the assistant principal is standing timidly. Then everyone turns to look at me. I think I’m still looking for Jeremy.
“Please come with me.”
I gather up my books and grab my bag. I must be in trouble, but I can’t think of what I’ve