Hey Jude Page 4

  She takes a deep breath, and I feel all of it deep in the core of me.

  “I wouldn’t sleep so much if life didn’t hurt.”

  “I know,” I say.

  “Do you?” she asks.

  Her body is warm. I slip in and out of sleep. These surface dreams bubble up and make everything seem kind of ridiculous and surreal. I dream about Jack walking away, then wake up again.

  “No, not really,” I reply. I don’t know how painful life is. Not like she does. I’ve always been on the go, making things work. Balancing and living hard so she doesn’t have to, so I can protect her from the world.

  “I hope you never know,” she says. “My everything hurts. I can feel the press of it at all angles. Like I live on a planet all by myself, a heavier planet, with way more gravity.”

  When she tells me this kind of stuff, usually late at night, I just let her talk. I let her describe the world as she sees it, as she feels it. It is so alien to me sometimes that I don’t doubt she’s on a faraway planet. Lost in space, a million miles from home. I hold her as tightly as I can, but the pressure of my arms makes me feel like I might break her, like I am that extra gravity. I know she sees everything I do for her. It can’t be easy living life needing someone to remember everything for you. Just like it isn’t easy for me to live life for someone else. I don’t resent it though—I can’t. I have no place in my heart to hate her. All I have is love for my sweet, sad, beautiful sister.

  “I just want to fly,” she whispers, her voice getting more and more distant. “I want to live on the moon where the gravity is low and I can just soar.”

  She talks like this all the time. She calls me the sun and herself the moon. I know she has a dark side that, no matter how bright I shine, I will never be able to touch.

  “My sweet little moon,” I say, rocking her back and forth ever so slightly.

  “Have I told you lately that I love you?” she asks, her voice barely loud enough to reach me.

  “Every day,” I say. The tone in my voice is a promise that I know she loves me. An allowance for all the times she doesn’t say it.

  We sink deep into sleep, our bodies sharing heat, darkness and dreams.

  Chapter Eleven

  When I wake up Jude is gone. This could be a good thing, but it could also be very bad. I sit up in her bed and listen to the radio alarm blaring from my room. I look around for any sign of my sister. Her backpack is gone, and there are a couple of items of clothing strewn on the floor. All my work last night undone by a pair of socks and three discarded T-shirts.

  When I go downstairs I see that she’s gone gone. But there’s a note.

  Gone to school early for a sketch class. Pancakes in the oven. —J

  I would prefer that she wouldn’t leave the oven on when I’m asleep, but I am grateful for the pancakes. Unlike me, she is a pancake master—hers are fluffy, bubbly, delicious things that make me flush with jealousy. More often than not, I can take her beauty, her talent, but the fact that she can make better pancakes than I can is just a kick in the pants.

  I eat quickly, assemble a makeshift lunch—leftover peas and mock-chicken fingers—and then make my way to school. The air still has a bit of a chill, despite the bright, cheerful sun. As I approach the front door of the school, I look around for Jack. My heart is pounding with the faint hope that he is waiting for me, to walk me to class. He’s not. A few of my friends are though. They wave me over. We talk, but we’re interrupted by the first bell. We disperse quickly, because we’re all keeners who like to be on time even though we don’t need to be.

  When I get to physics, Jack is already there. My breath leaves me for a second. He’s changed seats from yesterday so he can sit next to me. We don’t have assigned seats or anything, but humans are creatures of habit, and we usually stick to the places we choose on the first day of class.

  Jack smiles this lovely, wide smile at me when I sit down. I exhale. Maybe yesterday was just a glitch. Maybe he really did have to pick up some stuff for his brother. Just because his brother didn’t actually text him doesn’t mean anything. Maybe Jack was checking the time. As soon as I sit down, the teacher, Mrs. Ray, starts talking. It makes me sad, because I wish I’d had time to talk to Jack. I guess in a way it’s good, though, because I’m not 100 percent sure what I would say.

  I pull all my stuff out of my bag and try to focus. But I can feel Jack’s eyes on me periodically throughout the class. It’s hard to concentrate when my stomach is churning and my knees feel like jelly.

  Then, when Mrs. Ray turns her back to start writing on the board, Jack slips me a note. A small thrill passes through me. I try my best not to look in his direction, although I can feel the force of his thousand-watt smile heating me up.

  When the coast is clear, I look down at the note.

  Sorry about last night, Penny Lane. Are you mad? Y/N

  The Y/N makes me smile. Are we in fourth grade? I think about circling Y, but that would be a dick move. Besides, I’m not mad, just confused. I circle N, write ??? and hand it back.

  I allow myself one quick look at him before refocusing my attention on Mrs. Ray. She’s still writing stuff on the board, ignoring the class. People are starting to get restless. They shift in their seats, talking in gestures and mouthed words. A bunch of people are texting. I like Mrs. Ray, but she writes really, really slowly.

  Jack takes a second with the note, then slides it back.

  I like you, but there’s something I have to explain.

  I take a deep breath and exhale slowly, trying to still my racing heart. He has a girlfriend, or a boyfriend, or he’s moving back to live with his parents. Maybe he’s a criminal on the run, and his whole living-with-his-brother bit is just a con. Or maybe he’s a chemistry genius, dedicated entirely to his work, no time for anything else. My brain is on fire. Stop being stupid, Penny. Get a grip.

  I send the note back to him with a few extra question marks.

  He laughs out loud, and Mrs. Ray turns around sharply, eyeing the class. We both try to look innocent. As soon as she turns back to the board, Jack shoves the note under my hand. We could be doing this through texts, but note passing is sexier, so I’m definitely fine with it.

  Can you meet me in the theater at lunch? Y/N

  I try not to smile too hard. I pretend I’m really considering it, even though there is no question in my mind. I have to find Jude first, because she skipped her meds this morning. But other than that I’m completely his.

  I circle the Y very slowly, drawing it out.

  Then I reach over and slide the note back onto Jack’s desk. He looks down at it and grins. He bends over and scribbles something quickly before tossing the note back at me.

  Took you long enough.

  I respond with two words, trying to be cheeky, sexy, flirty.

  I know.

  Chapter Twelve

  I’m buzzing with nervous energy all through English class. When the lunch bell finally rings, I jump up and race to the pit. I just manage to get ahead of the crowds of kids streaming out of the classrooms and into the halls. Jude is already at our table. She’s hunched over her sketchbook, hard at work with a smoke hanging out of her mouth. It has a long bit of ash, and some flecks shake loose when she moves, but remarkably it manages to stay intact, like a horizontal Tower of Pisa.

  “What the hell, Jude?” I say as I approach.

  She flips the sketchbook closed and tosses her smoke away from her so fast you would think it had burned her. Then she turns to me and flashes a grin. She looks more awake than usual, and it makes me hopeful but wary. Usually the upped dosage doesn’t work this fast. I dig her pills out of my pocket and hand them to her. She takes them dry and opens her mouth to show me.

  I nod at her sketchbook. “What are you drawing?”

  She’s usually not protective about her art—not with me, at least.

  “It’s a secret,” she says. She has a sneaky, joking tone. But I don’t like secrets. One of our agre
ements is not to keep them. But I’m so desperate to get to Jack that I let it slide. I don’t want it to turn into a big thing.

  “Okay, fine. I have to go anyway,” I say.

  She grins at me. “Going to go see your new boyfriend?”

  I sigh. “How old are you?”

  She laughs and turns back to her sketchbook, shooting me a little look to make sure I’m actually leaving before she opens it.

  I shrug. “Okay, bye, Jude.”

  “Bye, Mom. Make sure you’re home by midnight or you’ll turn into a pumpkin.”

  I don’t even bother with a witty response. I’m too busy speed-walking toward the theater.

  Jack is waiting for me. Luckily the rest of the theater is empty. We’re usually a few days into the school year before the drama club starts ramping up production.

  I smile and walk slowly down the aisle. I don’t want to seem too keen, especially if he’s going to break the news to me that he’s seeing someone else.

  “Hi,” he says shyly.

  “Hi.”

  I awkwardly scramble up onto the stage. And to compensate for my bumbling, I don’t make eye contact. Instead I lean back on my hands and look at the stage lights. Jack is quiet beside me, and the air feels tense, stale. My heart is thumping so hard I’m sure he must be able to hear it.

  “You know,” I say, to break the silence, “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to perform here. The lights. The makeup. Everybody looking at you.”

  I glance over at Jack, and he nods. He doesn’t look at me though.

  “The only time I ever performed anything was the Christmas pageant at my parents’ church when I was younger,” he says. “I was the star. It was mortifying. I had this huge cardboard star cutout, covered in sequins, wedged around my face.”

  I laugh. “Sounds like hell.”

  He’s wearing different suspenders today, with a striped, collared T-shirt. The collar is popped, which most people couldn’t get away with. On him it looks hot though. I really want to grab him and kiss him, but I stifle the urge. I want to hear his explanation before I do anything rash.

  Jack nods again. “It was.” He sounds so serious, it tugs at my heart. What happened between him and his parents? Probably something he doesn’t want to talk about. He was so honest about his mental-health issues yesterday. I would think he would be honest about everything else too.

  “Sorry,” I say quietly.

  He smiles and finally turns to look at me. “You should.”

  I frown, confused.

  “Perform, I mean. Try out.”

  I laugh again. “No time.”

  His smile turns sad. “You should make time. You can’t give it all away, you know. Sometimes you have to take some for yourself.”

  I feel like he’s talking about Jude, and I tense. I get defensive about her easily. I need to keep working. I need to keep watch on her. I need to get good grades.

  I take a breath.

  But maybe he’s right. Maybe I do need something of my own. Jude has her drawing. Why can’t I have the theater? It’s a little late in the game, but that shouldn’t stop me.

  “I’ll think about it,” I say.

  He looks at me. His gray eyes meeting mine.

  Jack’s gaze travels to my lips, and all those butterflies that have been beating their wings in my stomach move farther down.

  “Good,” he says, looking back up at my eyes.

  “But you’re stalling,” I say. “You have something to tell me.”

  He suddenly looks afraid. He looks away. Folds his hands, then unfolds them. Looks out across the theater like he wants to run away, right out the door. I want to put my hand on his shoulder to keep him here, but he doesn’t seem to want to touch me. He’s made that very clear. How bad must his secret be to make him look this scared?

  “So you know how I told you that my parents kicked me out?” he asks quietly.

  I nod, but I don’t say anything because I don’t want to spook him.

  “They did it because I’m trans.”

  I take a deep breath. “Oh.”

  “I try not to tell people because… well, for obvious reasons…” He’s stumbling over his words and my heart contracts. I reach out my hand and put it on his arm. “But I really like you and I just wanted to tell you in case…”

  “It’s okay,” I say.

  Jack is still staring straight ahead. He blinks, then slowly turns to look at me. There is a long pause, so I keep talking to fill the silence.

  “Yeah,” I continue, “I mean, gender doesn’t really matter to me because I’m pan. So basically I like who I like. And you don’t have to worry…” Now it is my turn to pause. “…because I like you too.” I don’t usually tell people I’m pansexual, but somehow I just know I can trust Jack, like he trusted me.

  A slow smile creeps across Jack’s face, lighting up his eyes.

  Then I grab his suspenders and pull him toward me. When our lips touch, I melt into his arms. And for the third time in the two days I’ve known him, I wish that everything could slow down. Slow down and last forever.

  Chapter Thirteen

  As if I need any other distractions from school. Now I can’t stop feeling Jack’s mouth on mine. His arms wrapped tightly around my waist. His fingers running slowly through my hair. I feel like the gravity on my own personal joy planet is so light I might just fly away.

  Unfortunately, I get my wish for time to move slower. But it’s too little too late, and instead of it happening in the theater with Jack, it hits me in class. I watch the clock on the wall and will it to move faster, but it doesn’t comply. So I just try my best to focus on schoolwork and forget the amazing look of relief and excitement in Jack’s eyes when we talked.

  Finally the day crawls past the finish line, and I race to my locker to grab my stuff. I’m meeting Jack in the pit so we can wait for Jude and all go home together. As in, Jack coming to my place. So we can be alone. In my room. Together.

  When I get to my locker, though, I stop short. There is a piece of art paper taped to it, a sketch of my face. Jude must have left it for me. It’s a perfect likeness, but as I stare at it, I see the exhaustion in my eyes and the hint of sadness. I’ve always thought Jude had the monopoly on sadness. But here it is reflected back at me, and it’s undeniable. Suddenly my limbs feel heavy. I feel like I could sleep for a million years. Maybe I am tired. Maybe I’ve taken on the weight of life by myself for too long. But now I have Jack. He’s a reminder that things can be light, slow, happy. I smile as I peel the picture off my locker. Then I notice the words written under it in teeny-tiny text.

  Penny Lane is in my eyes and in my ears…

  My heart sinks. Of course it’s a beautiful message, but it’s wrong. The order of the words is reversed. It should be “Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes.” Jude knows better. I grab my stuff from my locker and stick the picture on the inside of the door before slamming it shut and running toward the pit.

  Jack is waiting at my table, and he waves me over, but Jude is nowhere in sight.

  “Have you seen her?” I ask as I approach him, breathless from my run.

  He shakes his head, a concerned look on his face. “Why?”

  “I don’t know,” I reply. “I feel like something is wrong.”

  “What can I do?”

  I pull out my phone without answering him and dial Jude. It goes straight to voice mail. Another one of my rules she’s breaking. Always keep your phone on. I text her quickly.

  Where are you?

  I take off at a run toward her school. Sometimes she sticks around to talk to her art teacher, Rob, after class. Maybe that’s why her phone isn’t on. Jack slips off the table and follows me, keeping up easily. I wrench open the door of the school, my heart pounding hard in my chest. We race past the classrooms filled with couches and barely avoid a couple of kids coming out of the lounge. I scurry up the stairs, down the hall and into the art room. Rob is there, sitting at a desk that’s
covered in piles of sketches and paintings. He looks up at me, and the second he sees my worried face, he shakes his head.

  “She left half an hour ago,” he says. He knows everything. He’s the teacher Jude most trusts. Mom and I have had a couple of meetings with him to fill him in on her condition. Sometimes he even calls me if he senses something is up with her. “She seemed okay, though. Energetic,” he adds.

  Sometimes that is a good sign, but today I fear it isn’t.

  My heart gets even tighter as I turn around, deftly avoiding Jack and picking up my pace. I run down the stairs and out into the sunshine that seems to be mocking me now with its brightness. It should be fall by now, dying leaves and gray skies. That would be better. That would match the way I’m feeling, the hard tug in my chest, the heaviness in my lungs.

  “I need to get home,” I say.

  Jack nods and grabs my hand. He pulls me off the school grounds and to the main road. Luckily it’s a busy street, so Jack has no problem hailing a cab. I try to breathe as he slides into the car ahead of me and tugs me in after him.

  “Address, Penny,” he says.

  I give the driver my address. I feel light-headed, floaty, and not in a good way. Everything is blurry. Penny Lane is in my eyes and in my ears. It was a message. I know it was.

  Time can’t move fast enough.

  Every red light is torture.

  I guess I can’t slow things down after all, or take my time. If I let things get slow, I let my guard down, and I can’t do that, not even for a second.

  Jack is looking at me, his hand in mine. But I can’t even enjoy the feeling.

  Maybe I won’t enjoy anything ever again.

  Chapter Fourteen

  When we get home Jack stays behind to pay the driver. I leap out and run to the door. I fumble with my keys and drop them, curse myself and pick them up. My hands are shaking so much I can barely get the key in the lock. A car door slams, but I don’t bother waiting for Jack. I just push into the house and run upstairs, taking the steps two at a time.