“I forgot something,” he said.
“What?”
“Good-bye.”
He hung up, and I shook my head. Should I laugh or cry, encourage him or run from him? I went to my computer.
Okay, Kiera, I began. Ryder Garfield knows my name now, and in fact, I’ve invited him over tomorrow after school. He’s very complicated, maybe even too complicated for you. He seems—no, strike that—he obviously has a chip on his shoulder, and I almost got into some out-and-out fights with him when we first met and afterward, but somehow, don’t ask me exactly how, we warmed to each other, and I guess I can say he’s interesting. He thinks I am, too.
Yes, he’s very good-looking, but there are a number of good-looking boys at Pacifica. I can’t say exactly what it is about Ryder that both attracts and discourages me, but whatever it is, it’s different.
He can be funny but very sarcastic—mean, actually—and then suddenly, he’ll say something so sweet or complimentary, and I don’t know how to react. I know I stop fighting, but I’m not sure I’m doing the right thing. You don’t have to tell me how quickly you would destroy him. I know, but for some reason, I don’t want to get the better of him, even though I do or, rather, know I could.
It strikes me that we’re both in some sort of complicated situation with men. You are far more along than I am or maybe ever will be, but still.
I’ll tell you more after I spend tomorrow afternoon with him.
In the meantime, Jordan tells me you called her and told her about Richard. Have you made any decision yet about the ring? Can I give you some advice? Don’t accept it before they meet him. You never listen to anything I say, so I don’t expect you will now, but I want to be on record as giving you that advice.
Please don’t call me after midnight tonight. Have some mercy.
Sasha
I sent the e-mail. I was feeling better, so I returned to my homework. Later, after dinner, just before I started to prepare for bed, Jessica called.
“Why didn’t you call me?” she asked.
“For what?”
“Thanks a lot. I thought I was your best friend. What about Ryder?”
“I don’t have anything significant to tell you about him yet. I’ll tell you when I do.”
“So, you are going to see him?” She pounced.
“I’m going to explore,” I told her.
“Explore? Oh.” She was silent for a moment and then asked, “What does that actually mean?”
“It means I’m going to see if we have anything to say to each other, share anything in common, even have the slightest possibility of having any sort of relationship.”
“I don’t know how to do that,” she said. “Boys still confuse me.”
“There’s no specific way, Jessica. You spend some time with someone and see where it goes. Stop looking for recipes and formulas for everything, especially your relationships. It’s never that simple.”
“I don’t, but you do make it sound easy.”
I laughed. “It’s far from that, believe me, especially for me.”
“Sometimes I wish I’d had experiences like you had,” she said.
Lately, this romanticizing of my hard time with my mother when we were homeless and the subsequent mean things that were done to me when I came to live with the Marches angered me. It was so typical of these rich and spoiled girls to try to see my life as they saw one of their soap operas. It was truly as if they believed someone could shout “Cut!” and all the nasty and unpleasant things would fade away with the stage lights.
“That’s because you never did have those experiences, Jessica. I’m here because my mother was killed crossing the street on a rainy night, and I was almost killed as well. I was in great pain, both physically and emotionally, and although I don’t show it, I still am. You have your mother and father. You have a family.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she quickly recited. “I didn’t mean anything.”
“No, you didn’t. That’s the problem, really. Very few of you mean anything,” I said, and hung up, still fuming.