Until it does, when I hear the door open above and Cliff yells out, “Toby! Phone! It’s Chantal!”
I sigh internally and then irrationally bargain with myself, wondering if I ignore everyone except Alice, they’ll all go away.
I hear Cliff walk across the fire escape. I’m sure he’s peering over the side at us. Alice’s forehead is resting on my shoulder now. She’s catching her breath and so am I when Cliff’s chuckle rains down on us. “Oh shit. Sorry, Toby, but Chantal says the smoke alarm keeps beeping, and it’s scaring Mrs. Bennett and making Joey cry.”
I sigh again, outwardly this time, and my hands that have ended up on her hips squeeze an apology before I say, “I have to get that.”
Her hands shift from my stomach and slide around to hug me under my shirt. “Every kiss eventually ends. The memory of them doesn’t. I’ll still feel that one when I’m ninety,” she whispers so Cliff can’t hear, because the bastard is still watching us.
Hugging her back, I agree inwardly,The memory of them doesn’t,and whisper outwardly, “I’ll see you tomorrow at school, Alice. First hour.”
When she stands, there’s a small smile playing at her lips.
It matches mine. Yes, I’m smiling.
“Tomorrow,” she echoes, followed by, “Good night, Toby.” And then louder, “Good night, Cliff.”
When I climb up the ladder, Cliff looks dumbfounded that a pretty girl is talking to him, so I say, “Don’t be rude—say something.” I’m never one to prompt manners, but I don’t like Alice going unanswered anymore.
“Good night,” he hurriedly fumbles.
Alice raises her hand to wave as she disappears into her apartment.
“She’s hot,” Cliff says as he opens the door into our kitchen.
I don’t acknowledge the comment because I’m not discussing this with Cliff. But yes, she is. The fact that I have to adjust myself in my pants behind my sweatshirt when Cliff’s back is to me as we walk into the apartment is glaring proof of that.
Chapter Eighteen
Present,March 1987
Toby
Alice beatme to English this morning. I stop at her table and say hello—that’s a first at school. I don’t think I’ve ever uttered the word within this building.
She asks me to sit with her. When I hesitate, she knows I’m trying to shield her from my reputation, and insists, “I’m the blind girl they’re all ignoring because they don’t know what else to do with me. Nobody cares who I sit with…asshole.” She saysassholein such a mocking way, throwing my own label back at me, that it almost makes me laugh and I can’t resist taking a seat.
“You’ve just blacklisted yourself,” I whisper.
A smile breaks out, broadcasting that she likes the idea. “I guess it’s a good thing I don’t care what they think then, huh?”
Alice is Alice—confident.
And I am still Toby—catastrophic.
How did it come to this?
I have a friend.
A friend.
And instead of making me happy, it makes me anxious.
I don’t know how to do this.
Ishouldn’tdo this.
You’re nothing. You’re nothing. You’re nothing, the reminder demands to be felt.
