“Jamie, I just think you need to really consider what you’re doing. This is a big deal.” I’m trying to sound like a concerned friend and not a parent, but it’s coming out the other way around.
“I thought you’d be happy for me.”
“J, I want you to be happy. I just don’t think this is right. I’m really worried about you.”
“Well, don’t be,” Jamie snaps.
I know she’s pissed, and yet, I have to keep trying. I ignore the notes that told me never to tell Jamie about her future.
“He’s not going to leave his wife, and you’ll just end up hurt. You’ll even try to…”
“SHUT UP, LONDON!” Jamie shouts into the phone. “I told you not to tell me anything, and you wrote it down, so I know you know. Don’t even try to pretend you don’t.”
“Fine,” I say forcefully. “I won’t tell you. But you don’t have to remember the future to know that a grown man only wants one thing from a high school girl.”
“Don’t be a bitch, London.”
“I won’t, if you stop acting like a slut.”
We’re both silent, and I immediately want to suck the biting words back into my mouth. But it’s too late. My memory is right: Jamie and I won’t talk again for a while after this. Still, I try to fix the situation.
“J, I just worry about you.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry anymore. We’re done.”
Click.
15
10/27 (Wed.)
Clothes:
—Black cardigan with yellow tank underneath
—Faded Levi’s
School:
—Math test (read chapters 5 and 6 before school)
—Downloaded a couple cool logo samples for graphic design project (in backpack)
—Finish English essay & print before Friday
Drama:
Check out Dark Memory file on computer. I think it might be Dad’s funeral. Can’t deal with how unfair that is! Almost asked Mom about him today, but decided it was a bad idea (see envelope of stuff she’s hidden from me). WHY?? I want to meet him before anything happens.
>“I didn’t know you were on a crew team,” I say before taking a bite of the best turkey sandwich on earth.
He frowns, and I consider that he might have shared that with me already. Instead, he replies, “I need to keep you away from the photos.”
“It’s cute,” I mumble through bread and turkey, admiring a photo of Luke and his teammates. He looks oddly out of place among the Ivy-bound prepsters, but strangely at ease just the same.
“Ha-ha,” he replies sarcastically, and then smiles. “I’m not really into team sports, but crew was pretty fun. You have no idea what cold is until you’ve been dunked in the Charles River at six in the morning.”
We share a laugh and then finish our lunches before Luke gives me a guided tour of the rest of the house. It’s gorgeous, and with every new room, I search for traces of him.