And it forced me to question mine. Every decision I had made. Every knee-jerk reaction. Would I end up on the side of the road telling someone I did it all wrong?
As I stare at Stella I see her strength, her beauty, her faith and forgiveness in me, even when I didn’t deserve it—no, I’m not going to do this wrong. “Regardless of what happens between us tonight, tomorrow or twenty years from now, I’m never going to be the guy that says nothing again.”
“I know you won’t. You’re going to be a great man, Jonah.”
“And you’ll be there to see it.”
A slight smile tilts her mouth, but it’s not enough to drain the sadness from her face. “I wish I had your resolve.”
Resolve? “Stella, you run circles around my sorry butt.”
She lets out a rush of air that moves her hair. “I’m dropping out of American Lit.”
I sit up so quickly the headboard of the bed bounces against the wall. “What? Why?”
“I don’t know what I was thinking signing up for the college prep track. I thought...I thought that I had a shot of breaking out, but I don’t. Once Joss figures out Dad’s not coming back, she’ll throw me out like everyone else has. I need a good job and I have a shot at one. I have to be able to support myself.”
Whoa. “Stella...” But there are no words.
“College speeches only sound pretty if they’re true. They’re not true for me. I don’t have someone to catch me if I fall. You’re blessed. You have people who can offer you second chances. I don’t. I get one shot at everything I do so it’s best not to walk the high wire. It’s best I stay on the ground.”
I glance around my room. There are a ton of things that were not only bought for me, but picked out for me. Without a doubt I know my parents are going to pay for college. What words of advice do I have for Stella?
When the silence becomes a heavy blanket smothering both of us, Stella finally speaks. “Take me back to Joss’s.”
22
Stella
I tell Jonah to park at the strip mall across the street from Joss’s apartment complex. It’s the end of the month, so we look more white trash than normal with our overflowing dumpster. The pièce de résistance is the child’s tricycle at the top of the furniture pyramid.
Because I’m a glutton for punishment, I held Jonah’s hand on the way here. He attempted to start a conversation several times, but I cut him off each time. I like the evening we had and the memories burned in my brain are enough.
A pain pricks at my chest—I’m back to settling for enough.
Jonah releases my hand and each click of his gearshift from drive to park thunders through my body. This is it. These are our final moments together as Stella and Jonah. Tomorrow we’ll be at school and I’ll be Stella and he’ll be Jonah, but we’ll forever be separate.
Jonah stares at his hand, still clutching the gearshift. “You never answered about the cemetery.”
I didn’t. If anyone would understand, maybe it would be him. “So you know how there used to be a Dairy Queen on the corner across from school?”
He raises an eyebrow, but sticks with me. “Yeah.”
“And there used to be a Sears in that shopping plaza by the movie theaters?”
“Yep.”
“The cemetery doesn’t change.”
He blinks and it’s hard to find the courage to continue. “The cemetery is always there. Unlike everything else, I can leave and six months later it will still be there and somehow that makes me feel better and not...alone.”
Unlike how I feel with my dad or whatever girlfriend has taken me in. I’ve never called anywhere home. I’ve never had a steady foundation, but year after year, day after day, the cemetery is the one place that’s been steady and constant.
“You’re not alone.” Jonah reaches over and, being faster than me, he claimsmy beize="- my hand and squeezes it.
“I am.”
“You’re not.” His voice is quiet, but his determination is strong. “You have me.”
My throat tightens and my chest constricts. I pull at the neck of my shirt, hoping for air, but it doesn’t work. Nothing ever works.
“I can’t do this. I can’t hope that we’ll be a couple. I can’t hope that college will work out. I can’t hope that everything will be okay. Anything that’s good, anything that’s right, it either explodes or it fades and either way I’m left with nothing. If I don’t hope for more, then it can’t hurt as bad. That’s how life works for someone like me.”
“So you’ll walk away from us. You’ll walk away from this.” He lifts our joint hands in the air. “Because you’re afraid of having hope? You’re afraid of how it’ll turn out?”
I suck in my trembling bottom lip. I won’t cry. I won’t. “If it hurts this much now, how much will it hurt later? I’m sorry, but I can’t. If everything crumbles, you have something to return to. Friends, a family. I don’t have anything.”
Using my chin, I gesture to the apartments. “It’s a matter of time before Joss throws me out and then I don’t know what I’m going to do. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll land on my feet, but I can’t take care of myself if I end up with a broken heart. Love is dangerous. It’s just as bad as hope. This is the way life is for me. I have to accept it.”
My insides, they’re breaking, because I like him. Possibly more than like, but it’s the more that forces me to lay my other hand on the handle and crack the door open. “Thank you, Jonah.”
He lowers his head at the break in my voice. I ignore the moisture in his eyes and I pretend that mine don’t sting.
“For what?” he whispers.
“For showing me that people can change. Even if it is one person out of a million.”
I tug once on my hand. He doesn’t give. I yank a second time and I swear his hold tightens. I pray for numbness, but I’m consumed by pain. In a quick motion, I lean over the console and kiss his cheek. I close my eyes when his rough evening stubble sweetly scratches my face. I’ll miss him. I’ll miss him so much.
Jonah turns toward me and I take advantage of his weakened grip to bolt out of the car.
I run fast. I run far. I run in the hopes that nothing will ever catch up.
23
Jonah
I’ve walked into this school hundreds of times, but this time it’s different. It’s because I’m different and I’m never going back to who I used to be.