Confessions of an Almost-Girlfriend

Conrad looks like he feels the same way. But he also looks like he might be turning blue from lack of oxygen.

I swim down to him and reach for his arm. He yanks it away and gives me the finger.

So much for underwater tranquility.

What did I ever do to him?

I grab his arm and pull as hard as I can. Conrad fights me for a second but then lets me win. As we break the surface, a crowd of people at the edge of the pool is watching Tracy calmly shred Matt, who, of course, is the one who pushed me. I know that without having to watch the instant replay.

“…and get her and that freshman out of the pool or I’ll throw you in myself.”

A big chorus of “Oohs” goes up from the crowd. Matt is too drunk to formulate any kind of retaliation, so he just does as he’s told, stumbling to the edge and reaching for Conrad. Conrad is lifting himself out of the pool for the second time in less than an hour when someone shoves Matt aside, sending him sprawling again, and holds out a hand. Conrad looks up and half laughs, half snorts, like he’s disgusted.

“Go help your savior-complex girlfriend,” he says. “Leave me the hell alone.”

I’m trying to figure out who the savoir-complex girlfriend is and why she needs help when I’m lifted straight out of the pool and set down—dripping wet, mascara running, silk T-shirt and white capris probably see-through—on the deck. The warm hands feel familiar on my arms, and I know who it is instantly. But even though I’ve been waiting an entire summer to see him again, it still takes me a second before I can look up into the beautiful, furious face of Jamie Forta.

dissidence (noun): conflict; discord; warfare (see also: the general state of being in Union)

2

IT’S A STRANGE FEELING TO BE STANDING IN A DRIVEWAY at a keg party, fully clothed but soaking wet and wrapped in an oversize towel, talking—or not talking, as the case may be—to the guy who may or may not like you and who you haven’t seen in months, who is standing next to your worst enemy, who may or may not be his ex-girlfriend. Throw in the pacing, wet victim of a Union High hazing and a few onlookers, and you’ve officially got a three-ring circus.

I’m shivering as I wait for Tracy to get our stuff so she can drive me home. Jamie Forta is two feet away and he looks totally different. He’s tan, his arms are super cut and his hair is sort of dark gold—he looks like he spent the entire summer at the beach. He looks…beautiful.

I imagined a bunch of scenarios for when I finally saw Jamie again, but I didn’t think he would ignore me, which is what he’s been doing for the past few minutes. But why would I think that he’d do anything else, when that’s exactly what he did all summer?

He didn’t return my calls after the night he spent in jail, and he wasn’t allowed to come back to school to finish the year. After a few weeks, I started to think that I’d imagined him. I could almost convince myself I had, until I thought about the kiss. That kiss was the most real thing ever—there’s no way I could have made that up.

Which takes me back to wondering why he didn’t call. It’s infuriating.

But no matter how hurt or mad or whatever I’m feeling, Jamie looks amazing and I can’t stop staring at him.

Neither can Regina, which Anthony Parrina has just noticed as he heads up the driveway on his way back to the party from a beer run.

He doesn’t look too happy about what he sees.

Anthony puts down the case of beer he was balancing on one massive shoulder and wraps a possessive arm around Regina. “What, no chain gang for you tonight, jailbird?” he says to Jamie. “Oh, right, they only let the juvie kids work road crew during the day. I honked at you once on the highway in your little orange vest, but you didn’t wave to me,” Anthony says, making a fake sad face.

I can’t tell if there’s any truth to what Anthony is saying because Jamie’s face is a mask. Jamie’s dad is a cop—a cop who left his son in jail overnight to teach him a lesson—and I wouldn’t be surprised if he arranged for Jamie’s community service to involve spending his whole summer in the blazing hot sun fixing the town’s potholes.

I look at Regina. She is staring hard at Jamie, as if she’s trying to tell him something, but Jamie keeps his eyes on Anthony. I have no idea if Jamie and Regina have talked about what she did to him. But they do live next door to each other, so that probably answers my question.

“What, you got nothin’ to say, Forta?” Anthony challenges.

Jamie and Anthony have unfinished business. Jamie used to play hockey for Union with Peter until he got kicked off the team during the big Union vs. West Union game for high-sticking Anthony in the neck. I saw it happen, and I always figured it was some stupid trash-talking thing. But now I’m starting to think it was something bigger.

And Anthony is dating Regina, who Jamie grew up with and has…what? Liked? Gone out with?

Been in love with?

Jamie slowly turns to Regina, not taking his eyes off Anthony until the last second. When his gaze meets hers, concern fills his face. How can he possibly look so worried about her after what she did to him? What is going on?

“You okay?” Jamie asks Regina in a low voice, as if they’re the only two people in the driveway. That weird, blank look comes across Regina’s face again as Anthony tightens his grip on her and smiles like he won a prize.

“She’s fine,” Anthony answers for her. “It’s Conrad who don’t look so good.” He sort of chuckles.

Anthony is a total meathead.

Jamie turns to watch Conrad pace back and forth on the same spot, water still dripping off his rolled-up jeans.

“Conrad,” Jamie calls out.

Conrad stops. “Don’t you fucking talk to me.”

“Don’t swear at Jamie,” Regina warns. It’s the first time I’ve heard her speak all night.

“Oh, that’s great, ’Gina, stick up for the guy who treats you like shit. Should I start calling you ‘Mom’?”

Conrad is shivering in his wet red shirt, which is bleeding pink streaks on his white jeans. His eyes land on Anthony, and I’m hoping Conrad will just keep his mouth shut, for his own sake. I can’t tell whether he has tears or pool water on his face, but the overall effect is the same—with the bleeding shirt and the streaked face, he looks like he’s slightly out of his mind.

“Take him home,” Jamie says to Regina.

“You know what, Forta?” Anthony interrupts. “You don’t get to tell her what to do anymore.”

Jamie takes a step toward Anthony. “And you do?”

“Stop acting like you actually give a shit about us, Jamie,” Conrad snaps.

“I said watch your mouth,” Regina says.

“All right, kids, don’t make me send you to your rooms.” Anthony suddenly sounds annoyed and bored. “I’ll drive you home. Just don’t get my interior wet.”

“Why would I get in a car with you? You’re even more of an asshole than Jamie.”

“Conrad, if you don’t stop talking shit about Jamie—”

“Why you gotta defend Forta, Regina?” Anthony asks.

I can answer that. Because she loves him.

But of course she’s not going to admit that to Anthony.

Regina goes mute again. Anthony grabs her arm hard enough to change the color of her skin, forcing her to turn toward him. For one weird moment, I actually want to pry his hand off her.

“Let go of her,” Jamie warns.

“Fuck off, Forta,” Anthony says. He takes a step toward Jamie, his chest puffed out, fire in his eyes.