Jay Asher - The Future of Us

I gesture toward a trim white house in the middle of a row of single-story homes. “That’s where Cody lives,” I say.

“I know,” Josh says.

“You do?”

“David used to hang out with Cody’s older brother. We went over there for pool parties. His brother, oddly enough, isn’t such a prick.”

“Cody’s not a prick!” I say. “You just don’t know him.”

“And you do?”

I decide not to tell Josh that for several months leading up to the prom I had a fantasy that Cody would approach me in the hall and ask me to be his date. He went with Meredith Adams, who wore a teeny silver dress. They came late and left early. I went with Graham, even though I was pretty much over the relationship by that point. We sat with his group of friends, mostly people I didn’t know. Kellan, Tamika, Ruby, and some other girls went together, sharing a limo and dancing barefoot in a big group the whole time. I joined them for a few songs, until Graham sauntered over and pulled me into a slow dance. Josh and Tyson didn’t even go. They went to Tyson’s house and drooled over Tony Hawk skating videos all night.

After a few minutes of watching fireflies, Josh positions a blade of grass between his thumbs and leans in to blow.

“Don’t!” I shriek. “You know that freaks me out.” Josh drops the grass and turns toward me. “I’m sorry about before,” he says quietly. “What I said about Graham grabbing your… you know. I was being a dick.”

“It’s okay,” I say, spinning a wheel on my rollerblade.

I lean back in the grass and look up at the sky. Venus is out, and a sliver of moon. As I stare up at the stars, I wonder what becomes of Pluto. Does it get hit by a meteor?

“We should get going,” Josh says, pointing at the clock. “Photomat closes in five minutes.”

“NELSON?” I ASK, pushing through the door.

The guy thumbs through the Ns and fishes out my envelope. When he hands us the packet, Josh’s earlobes turn pink. I give the guy a ten-dollar bill and he counts back my change.

We exit and move down a few shops until we’re directly beneath a street lamp. I tear open the packet. With my blades on, I’m almost as tall as Josh. For a second, his leg brushes against mine, but he quickly pulls it away.

The first few photos are of my mom and me in the kitchen. Josh touches the stack as if to say, faster, faster. But now I’m not sure I want to find out. If that really is my future, and I’m not happy, maybe it would be better not to know until I get there.

Josh grabs the photos from me. He flips to the next picture, and there we all are at the lake. Tyson throwing Kellan into the ice-cold water. A close-up of Josh crossing his eyes. Kellan and me with our arms flung around each other’s waists. And the bottom half of my new tan bikini with the lake stretched out in the distance.

The good ole days.

I’M GOING TO MARRY SYDNEY MILLS.

I’m going to marry Sydney Mills.

Sydney Mills is going to be my wife.

I stand in the hot shower for ten minutes. When it becomes obvious I’m not going to figure anything out by staring at the drain, I turn off the water and grab my green towel.

The porcelain sink feels cool against my palms. In the steamed bathroom mirror, I can see my scattershot red hair, thin arms, and the towel around my waist. Somehow, in fifteen years, I morph from this into the guy who marries Sydney Mills.

I take a step back, flex my biceps, and suck air into my chest. The hazy reflection helps me imagine stacking on some muscle. And it looks good!

I wink at myself. “Yeah, baby!”

A few more pushups and sit-ups every night and maybe I can become that guy even faster. I turn sideways and flex into the mirror, but from this angle there’s no denying I’m still a skinny kid with two years of high school left to go.

I slide open the bathroom window to let out some steam. Across the lawn, the lights are off in Emma’s room. She must have gone to bed early.

IT’S GETTING CLOSE to midnight. I glance around my bedroom, but I can’t see my phone. I walk downstairs, turn on the small light in the hallway, and dial my brother. It’s three hours earlier in Seattle, so I’m not worried about waking him up.

On the second ring, David answers. In the background, there’s a TV audience laughing.

“Hey, it’s Josh,” I say. “Are you busy?”

“I’m in college,” he says. “I’m eating a bowl of Lucky Charms and watching the final episode of Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.” I guarantee, if David calls home tomorrow, he’ll tell our parents he was studying in the library all night.

“Mom and Dad watched that tonight,” I say. “Doesn’t it scare you to know you have the same sense of humor as them?”

“A little,” he says. “But it’s Will Smith! Have I ever told you that every time he starts rapping the theme song, it reminds me of the time you tried rapping in the junior high—”

“I remember,” I say, cutting him off. “But that’s not why I called.”

“Of course not,” he says. “So what’s going on, RedSauce?”

“There’s this girl,” I say.

I hear the TV shutting off. “Is she cute?”

“She’s gorgeous. Any guy in school would die to go out with her.”

“And she’s interested in you?” David asks. “That’s my brother!”

“No, she’s not interested… yet.” I take a breath. “It’s hard to explain, but I think she could be interested in me… eventually.”

“How do you know her?”

“I don’t. Not really. We have Peer Issues together, but she’s a year ahead of me.”

“Have you ever talked to her?”

“No.”

“Never?” he asks.

“No.”

“So she’s more like your fantasy girl,” he says. “That’s okay. You just need to break the ice.”

“That’s the part I suck at.”

“Whatever you do,” he says, “don’t walk up and ask her out. If you don’t have any sort of a relationship yet, that can seem creepy.”

“Then what do I do?”

“Hang back and play it cool,” he says. “When the right moment appears, the key is not to let it pass.”

That’s always been my problem. I let moments pass, and then I kick myself endlessly.

I twist the phone cord around my finger. “What if it feels like the perfect moment is happening, but I’m misreading things?”

“You mean like what happened with Emma?” David asks. “No, definitely don’t let that happen again.”

I ARRIVE AT SCHOOL early and head to the newspaper office. Kellan’s editorials are due on Tuesdays and she always reviews last-minute changes with Tamika West, who’s the editor in chief. When I enter, Kellan and Tamika are marking up papers spread out on a long table.

“Hey, Emma,” Tamika says.

Kellan looks up. “What happened to you?”

“What do you mean?” This morning, I blew my hair straight and even put on makeup, which I rarely do for school. But I just needed the ego boost today.

“You look fried,” Kellan says.

“I’m fine… just a little tired.”

“Can you hang on for a second?” Kellan asks. “We’re almost done.”

I settle into a stained armchair at the corner of the office. It’s a cluttered room, with newspaper clippings, gum wrappers, and flattened soda cans everywhere. For several weeks after Tyson broke up with her, we ate lunch at that long table.

I listen as Kellan and Tamika discuss Kellan’s editorial. I read an early draft of it. It’s about a school policy prohibiting girls from wearing shirts that reveal their midriffs, and whether that violates their First Amendment rights. It makes me think about Graham lusting after my belly button in the dugout yesterday. On my way here, I slipped a note through the vents in his locker, saying I wouldn’t see him until band. That way he won’t hunt me down for a make out session before class. Eventually we need to have the breakup talk, just not this morning.

Kellan picks up her backpack. “Ready?”

We walk into the hallway, and people are starting to arrive at their lockers. I have no idea what I’ll say to Josh if I run into him. It was dark when we returned home from Photomat and said good night. But now, under the bright florescent lights of school, my emotions are too exposed.

“Did you hear about Rick’s bonfire on Friday night?” Kellan asks as we walk up the stairs. “Tamika told me about it. It’s at the end of Senior Skip Day, but the party isn’t just for seniors. It’s on the beach behind his house, and he’s inviting anyone who wants to come.”

Rick Rolland is a senior who plays football and throws parties and always has a beautiful girlfriend. He actually went out with Sydney Mills last year, but word is that he cheated on her with a ninth grader.

“Rick lives on the lake?” I ask, thinking about Josh and Sydney’s future house.

“Yeah. Want to go?”

“I guess,” I say, though it’s hard planning for the end of the week when all I can think about is fifteen years in the future. As we head down the foreign language corridor, I turn to Kellan. “Do you think it’s too late to sign up for that college biology course?”

Kellan claps her hands together. “You changed your mind?”

“I think so,” I say.

I woke up this morning feeling sad for myself. But telling people I’m taking a college class while still in high school sounds worthy of respect. Also, I liked biology this year, especially the units on genetics and DNA.