The Do-Over

In sixth grade, when I ding-dong-ditched Finn Parker across the street, I fell down his steps and broke my wrist. To this day, my parents think I broke it roller-skating.

After I got home, I finally let myself cry. I felt an aching emptiness where Nick had been, which was weird when I’d only ever known him on February 14. But I felt like he somehow saw me—all of me—and understood me. None of it would ever make sense, but I felt a huge sense of loss over Nick.

I heard my mom come home, and I did not want to deal with her anger. I was certain she was probably still pissed, especially since I’d hidden in my room last night, but I just didn’t feel emotionally equipped to deal with any more conflict.

I started on my homework—I didn’t know what else to do with myself—and my stomach dropped when I heard her yell, “Em! Dinner!”

I took a deep breath and ran downstairs. I could smell spaghetti and meatballs—my favorite meal—but something about the scent added to my melancholy. It brought back memories of spaghetti at the old house, when it was just my mom, my dad, and me in that old yellow dining room. Then it made me think of meals in my dad’s tiny apartment, when it’d just been the two of us, and it brought back sneaky memories of both of them feeding me spaghetti and introducing me to the new loves of their lives.

I knew Nick had made me soft when spaghetti was making me sad.

I sat down, and I could feel my mom looking at me. I steeled myself for a lecture.

“Are you okay, Emilie?”

Todd, my mom’s husband, was nice, a harmless salesman who always seemed like he had an opinion to share on everything, including things that had nothing to do with him and everything to do with me and my dad.

So his question made me nervous.

“I’m fine.” I looked down at my spaghetti and put my napkin on my lap. “Why?”

“You just look…” He gestured toward my face with his fork.

“Like she was out too late the other night?”

Thanks, Mom.

“Like she’s sad.” Todd tilted his head and said it like it was extremely impossible. “Like she’s been crying. You sure you’re okay, kid?”

I nodded. Something about the unexpected concern in his voice made me feel more shattered than I already felt.

“Em?” Now my mother tilted her head. “Everything all right?”

I nodded again, but my vision blurred with tears, my eyes too full to keep them all inside.

“Emilie.” My mom sounded truly bewildered by the sight of my tears. “Honey?”

The endearment did it. I crumpled into a sobbing mess at the kitchen table, blubbering into my spaghetti and meatballs while my baby “brother,” Potassium, stared at me like I’d lost it.

“You’re shitting me.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” I took a sip of my Americano and said to Rox, “My mother, the woman who gave away my guinea pig when I was seven because I forgot to clean his cage, actually ungrounded me.”

“Aw, I forgot about Dre.”

I sighed. “RIP to Dre, the guinea pig my mother gave to the Finklebaums next door, who proceeded to immediately lose him in their backyard the very next day.”

“So, I don’t get it.” Rox took off her glasses and looked at them, wiping something off one of the lenses. She was one of those people who looked good in and out of glasses. Her skin always looked perfect, whether she wore makeup or not, and she looked good in any hairstyle. Since I’d known her she’d had braids, dreads, short hair, long hair, blond hair, pink hair, and an Afro, and she looked good in them all.

I ran a finger over the logo on the cup and wondered if perhaps it was time for me to change my hair, too. All of a sudden, my usual aesthetic felt wrong for me.

Rox said, “You actually deserved to be grounded this time—no offense—and now she’s being lenient?”

“Well, no.” I sat back and felt a little shaky, still. “It’s more like she decided to be a human mom. I had a bawling meltdown at dinner last night that started because of Nick but then morphed into the latest situation with my parents.”

“Which is?”

I told her about my dad’s promotion and my parents’ fight. “The good thing about my meltdown was that I was already so blubbery that I blurted out my honest feelings about who I want to live with.”

She asked, “And that is…?”

I groaned. “Both of them.”

But for once, my mom had actually listened. She’d hugged me and then we called my dad on speakerphone. I didn’t know if ultimately it would change anything, but he’d promised to talk to Lisa and explore all possible options.

And that mattered a lot.

Rox said, “I’m glad it happened, then, because you needed to tell them. It’s about damn time.”

I swirled the drink in my cup and said, “Agreed.”

The pathetic part was that I’d wanted to tell Nick about it. He’d been so amazing when I told him about my parents when we were on the rooftop downtown that my heart thought he would appreciate it. I mean, he’d had empathetic tears when I’d cried about it, for God’s sake.

It was just a playdate, I reminded myself, the memory still stinging.

Rox looked at her phone—probably a message from Trey—and said, “Did Chris tell you that Alex took him to dinner after they went shopping last night?”

“No.” Chris’s dreamy love story was the only thing getting me through all of this. “Was it good?”

“That boy called me at one a.m. and talked for an hour about Alex. It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

I watched over Rox’s shoulder as the barista yelled “Carl!” for the third time and I said, “I want them to never break up.”

“He told me that Alex said he didn’t want to freak him out, but he thought he was already in love with Chris.”

“What?” That brought my eyes back to her. “Seriously? Wow.”

She nodded and looked curious. “Are you ever going to tell me what happened with Stark on Valentine’s Day?”

I thought about it for a second. “Um. Basically we had an amazing day together and now he wants to pretend I don’t exist.”

Rox shook her head. “What a dick.”

“Yeah. But that’s what makes it so shitty—he’s not.”

And then I did what I promised myself I wasn’t going to. I sat there, at our favorite Starbucks window table, and told her everything. Not about the repeating days—I was pretty sure I could never tell anyone about those—but every little detail about what happened on the DONC.

When I was done, I don’t know what kind of reaction I expected, but I was met with her pitying face. She took a deep breath and said, “He told you all day that he didn’t want anything more than that day, and what do you do? You assume he’s hurt or wounded. Afraid to put himself out there. I love you and I think he’s a ginormous prick, but he called his shot, sweetie.”

“Yeah, but—”

“And you got your phone back, right?” She gave me a look that was 100 percent a reality check. “Were there any messages waiting for you from him? Did he even apologize for making you cry after school?”

My eyes itched again, because of course I’d checked the second my phone had been given back to me by my mother. “No.”

“No.” She lifted her cup to her mouth and said, “But I’m glad. Now you know, so you can get on with it and not look back.”

Because she was an amazing friend, she slid right into listing off fifteen reasons why he was not nearly good enough for me, followed by ten amazing things she loved about me. I was still super bummed about Nick, but she’d made it marginally less awful.

On Monday, I wore jeans, a T-shirt, Chuck Taylors, my glasses, and a messy bun. I was serious about the whole living-for-myself thing, and I didn’t feel like making an effort.

I didn’t even know where my planner was.

I breezed through the first couple of hours of school, and then before third period, I turned a corner in the hallway and walked right into Lauren, Lallie, and Nicole. How were they always together? Their gazes met mine and I knew I was dead.

“You guys.” I took a deep breath and blurted out, “I’m sorry for being a bitch last week. I shouldn’t have freaked, but I felt bad for Isla when you were talking crap on her.”

Lally blinked and said, “Oh.”

Lauren said, “Were we talking crap on Isla?”

And Nicole said, “It’s whatever.”

She gave me the brush-off, like I wasn’t worth her time, but they didn’t destroy me.

I couldn’t believe it.

Then, on the way to my following class, I saw Josh. He spotted me from the other side of the commons and headed straight for me.

“Em!”

I grasped the books in my hand and said, “Yeah?”

“Can you talk after school?”

“What?”

“I need to talk to you. Will you meet me after school?”

“Um—”

“Please?”

“I—maybe. Let me think about it.”

I walked away, wondering what he could possibly want to talk about. And I was still wondering about it when I went to Chemistry. But then anxiety took over, and I swallowed down my nervous dread and went to my spot. Nick was already there, but we behaved the way we always had.

Like we didn’t know each other.

I felt him look over at me when I was scrolling through my news feed, but I just kept scrolling until my phone whinnied because I got a text from Josh. I glanced up to make sure Mr. Bong hadn’t heard, but he wasn’t even in the room. I put it on vibrate and read the message.

Josh: Hi.

I stared at it for a second.

Me: Hey.

Josh: Have you decided?

Me: Decided what?

Josh: If you’ll talk to me.

Me: NO.

Josh: No, you won’t?

Me: No, I haven’t decided. Honestly, what do you want?

Josh: Ouch.

“Tell me you aren’t texting the guy who cheated on you.”

I raised my eyes and Nick was looking at me. There was annoyance in his voice when he said, “You’re smarter than that.”

I wanted to go off on him, but then he’d think I was still into him. I calmly said, “I’m sorry, but I don’t think it’s any of your business.”

“I know it’s not.” He looked… frustrated. He scratched his eyebrow and said, “But I’d hate to see you trust a guy who’s only going to cheat again.”

“I will take that under advisement, thank you.”

My phone vibrated on the table at that moment, and I’d never been happier to ignore someone and look at my phone. I picked it up.

Josh: I need to explain something.

I could feel Nick’s gaze on me as I started typing out a response. Me: Let’s just move past everything. You’re forgiven. It’s water under the bridge.

Josh: Seriously?

Me: Yeah.

“Are you doing this on purpose?”

I looked at him out of the corner of my eyes. “Doing what?”

“Texting him.”

I shook my head. “First of all, no. Believe it or not, I text lots of people and it has nothing to do with you. Second of all, I can’t understand why you’re inserting yourself in this situation.”

“I just don’t want to see you get—”

“Hurt?” I looked him square in the eyes. It felt like my heart skipped a beat when I said, “You are the last person who could protect me from that.”

He swallowed. “That’s not fair.”

He was looking at me with those eyes and it hurt to look at him at all. I glanced down at my phone and said, “Okay.”

Thankfully, Mr. Bong walked in, shutting down the chance for any more painfully awkward conversation. But I was bothered by our exchange for the rest of the class. Because he didn’t have the right to be jealous when he didn’t want me. Why would he care if I was talking to Josh?

I texted Josh: Can you give me a ride home after school?

Josh: You got it.

When class ended, I packed up and left as fast as I could. I needed to forget all about the surly one, even if it was hard to focus when the smell of his Irish Spring found its way to my olfactory senses and tormented me with memories of the seven minutes we were in love on the side of my grandma’s house.

“Em!”

I heard Chris’s voice in the hall, and when I turned around, there he was, walking my way while holding hands with Alex.

“Hey.”

“Your look?” Chris raised his eyebrows and said, “Did you have to clean out a basement before school today?”

Alex pressed his lips together, too polite to laugh at Chris’s snark.

I said, “New Emilie didn’t feel like glamming it up today.”

“New Emilie doesn’t look like she’s ever heard of glam,” he replied.

“Why don’t you leave me alone and figure out how to fix your own cowlick?”

He was obsessed with the one tiny imperfection in his thick, curly, gorgeous hair.

“Oh, God help us,” he teased. “New Emilie is evil.”

“The new Emilie,” Alex said, grinning at me, “looks adorable. Just like your cowlick.”

Alex and Chris shared a glance that made me envious, so I rolled my eyes and said, “You’re giving me cavities with the sweet. Knock it off.”

I took a step in the other direction, then turned back and said, “Oh, yeah—I don’t need a ride home.”

“ ’Kay,” he said, and I knew he would text me next hour to see why.

It only took five minutes.

Chris: Who is driving you home? Is it Stark?

Me: Josh.

Chris: Omigod what in the actual?

Me: No idea. Said he wants to talk to me. Can’t hurt to listen, right?

Chris: I guess not. But don’t let him back in.

Me: Trust me—I won’t.

After school, Josh was waiting for me at my locker. My heart didn’t flutter when I saw him there; in fact, my first thought was, Does he even own a pair of jeans?

“Hey.” I opened my locker. “Care if I stop by the office on the way out?”

“Sure.”

I dropped to a squat and grabbed my Chem book out of the bottom of my locker, adding it to my already bulging backpack. “It should only take a sec.”

I straightened, shut my locker, and we started walking toward the office. It should’ve felt like something, walking with him after the turmoil, but I felt really detached from the whole thing.

“What do you have to do at the office?” he asked.

“Well,” I said, giving him a half-smile, “I have to schedule my detention for bullying you.”

He gave his head a confused shake and said, “You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope. Apparently I violated the student bill of rights and did it over the intercom.” I smiled at Mr. Bong as we passed him and he didn’t smile back. “And then I have to pick up my deposit for the Northwestern summer program.”

He looked stunned. “Why?”

“Well, for starters, I found out that the applications were scored incorrectly and I didn’t actually get accepted.”

He looked super stunned. “For real?”

“For real.” I gave a hey smile to a girl from my Government class as she walked by. “But I’m actually kind of glad. After I thought about it for a while, I realized that I’d really like to just chill out and relax this summer.”

His eyebrows went down. “Relax?”

I’m sure he couldn’t fathom that sentiment. I said, “I know—I can hardly believe it myself.

Josh waited outside of the office when I went in, and things went fairly smoothly, for what it was worth. I apologized to the principal and scheduled the days for my detention, which he was surprisingly cool about, and then I popped over to Mr. Kessler’s office.

He looked nervous to see me after my outburst the day before, but once I apologized and said I was no longer interested in joining the program, he turned into the guy who was once again wildly enthusiastic about my future plans.

When I came out of the office, Josh was still standing where I’d left him.

“Thanks for waiting,” I said, hitching up my backpack.

“Yeah,” he replied, giving me a weird look like he was trying to figure something out. He didn’t say anything else as we walked to his car, but as soon as he started it and buckled his seat belt, he said, “So here’s the thing, Em.”

I was a little distracted looking at his car, because the last time I’d been in there, I’d been wedged between him and Macy and my boots had smelled like garbage.

“The reason I wanted to talk is because I owe you a huge apology for Macy.”

Wow—that wasn’t what I’d expected. No denial? No blame? “Really?”

“I care about you, Em; you’re seriously one of my favorite people and I hate that I hurt you. She asked to go along on the coffee run and I knew she liked me—I was wrong to take her.”

I looked at his face and felt… unfazed.

“But you have to believe me that nothing happened.”

I thought about what he was saying, and the weird thing? I genuinely believed him. Even though I’d seen him kiss her on other cosmic days, I believed him that he hadn’t on that day. And really, he wasn’t the kind of guy who cheated.

That being said, if I still wanted him, his words probably wouldn’t have mattered.

I would’ve been too hurt to forgive him.

Like I’d been on the first Valentine’s Day.

But now—meh.

He wasn’t finished explaining, though.

He said, “I don’t expect you to forgive me—I was totally in the wrong and you have every right to hate me. But I just want you to know that you’re amazing. I was totally happy with you.”

“Um.” I didn’t really know what to even say to that. “Sorry. I just—I’m stunned you’re being so nice after the intercom thing.”

He glanced over. “I mean, I didn’t love that, but I probably had it coming.”

“Wow, Sutton—you sound so mature.”

That made him look at me again, I think checking to make sure I was teasing. When he saw my grin, he smiled. “We’ll call it personal growth.”

“So.” I tucked my hair behind my ears as my brain filtered through information. “You said it’s complicated. Are you going to ask Macy out now? Reconnect with her?”

He crinkled his nose. “I doubt it.”

“What?” He was crinkling his nose about Macy? “I mean, it’s none of my business, but why not?”

He downshifted and glanced over at me. “Besides the fact that I just got out of a relationship?”

I gave him an eye roll.

“Well,” he said around a sigh as he turned his eyes back to the road, “I’m just not really into Macy anymore.”

That answer irritated me. “But you two have chemistry.” I saw it. More times than I wanted to.

“We have history.”

“That’s a pointless distinction.”

“It’s not.” He swallowed. “I mean, of course it is. But do you know what popped into my head when we were alone in my car?”

“ ‘WWJD’?”

“Hilarious.” He reached out and adjusted one of the heat vents. “What popped into my head, smart-ass, was the realization that you’ve never been like that with me.”

“Like what?”

“Buzzing.” He shook his head, his eyes staying on the road, and he said, “Nervous. I’ve always known that you like me—as a person—but I’ve never felt like you were into me.”

I squirmed a little in my seat. “What is this, couples’ therapy? Are you filing a complaint that I wasn’t attentive enough so you had to go elsewhere?”

“That’s not at all what I’m saying.” He turned onto my street and said, “It was more that I had this moment where I wondered if you’d ever been into me at all.”

“That’s not fair,” I said, even as I doubted.

“I’m not directing this at you, Em. My point is that I wondered, when I went back to class after the near-kiss with Macy and tried to figure out what in the hell had just happened, why we were dating at all.”

I looked down at my lap; I couldn’t meet his eyes. The words “because you were on my checklist” hovered on my lips, but I held them back.

Josh was the perfect boyfriend for me on paper: smart, motivated, and charming. But I didn’t realize until I watched him kiss Macy that the paper didn’t always translate.

Josh was the guy that the girl I wanted to be should want.

My throat felt tight as I thought about how wrong I’d been, how wrong I still was. If planning didn’t root out true love, and fate didn’t either, was it even a tangible thing one could hope for?

“We like each other so much.” He cleared his throat and downshifted. “We have since the beginning—we’re, like, the perfect match. And we have a blast together. But can you honestly say that you have feelings for me?”

I raised my eyes to his face, and he was giving me a patient smile. But then Nick’s face popped into my head, the face that weakened my knees every time he looked at me. The boy I had instigated a downtown kiss with.

“That’s what I thought.” He looked at me and slowly shook his head, but it wasn’t mean. It was a little bit sweet, like a gaze of fondness. “I think the idea of us together was so good that we both might’ve forced it.”

I took in the fact that Josh knew how I was feeling before I did. “So you never—”

“I think you’re hot, Em—don’t worry.” Like always, he kind of understood the way my brain worked. “I just think that maybe we’re meant to be the best of friends.”

“Stop saying things that make it sound like you’re dumping me. Remember the intercom.”

“Oh, I remember.” He coughed out a laugh and said, “I’ll be ninety-five years old at the home, and I’ll still remember you slamming me and the Bards.”

That made me laugh. “Gah—is this weird? That everything feels just as comfortable, even though we aren’t a thing anymore?”

He shook his head. “It feels right, I think.”

“Can I torture you a little, though?” I crossed my arms. “Kind of like my own special goodbye to us?”

He slowed as a car tried miserably to parallel park on the street. “I’m scared but okay.”

I looked out the window at the late-day winter sun and I said, “I got you the Coach watchband for Valentine’s Day. If we hadn’t broken up, you’d have a stunning chocolate leather band on your wrist.”

He lifted his hand off the shifter to cover his heart as if I had mortally wounded him. “You know how to deliver quite the parting blow.”

“Right?” I said, grinning at him as he smiled at me.

“I know this is absolutely unheard of in real life, but do you think we can still hang out? And not, like, just say it?” He swallowed and said, “Because I really don’t want to lose you.”

“Let’s play it by ear.” I pulled out my phone and checked for messages. Nothing. “But I could theoretically continue to kick your ass at Scrabble if you don’t piss me off.” “Good.” He turned into my driveway. “Because if you desert me, who will call me out on my contrarian shit?”

“Ooh—I do enjoy doing that.”

He gave a little laugh. “Thank you for hearing me out, by the way.”

“Ditto.” I opened the door. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Anytime. Seriously.”

I got out and slammed the door, and was almost to the porch when he yelled, “Em—wait.”

I looked back and his window was down. He was waving me over. I dropped my bag and jogged to his window. “I’m not going to kiss you goodbye, Sutton.”

“Ha, ha.” He put the car in reverse and looked at me intently. “So… what’s the deal with you and Nick Stark?”

I felt my face flush. “ ‘Deal’?”

“When I was waiting for you to come out of the office, we had a little talk.”

Wait. “What? You talked to Nick?”

His brown eyes were full of humor when he said, “The second you went inside the office, he walked up to me. Honestly, he looked mad and he’s kind of tall, so I was a little intimidated.”

My lips were tingly and I felt breathless. “What did he say?”

“He said, ‘I don’t really know you, Josh’—and he totally said my name like he thinks I’m a douche.”

“Well, I might’ve—”

“I figured.” He gave me a look and said, “But then he goes, ‘Emilie’s too good for you. If she takes you back, don’t screw it up this time.’ ”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “What? He said that?”

“The thing is, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, the guy seems really into you.” Josh rested his elbow on the open window and said, “So if you like him—”

“I don’t.” I shook my head and felt sick to my stomach. My body was all aflutter at the thought of Nick pining over me or giving a shit, but it wasn’t enough. “Thanks for telling me all that, but Nick likes me enough to want me not with you, but not enough to actually do something about it.”

“Oh.” He looked surprised. “Well.”

“Yeah,” I said, trying to force my lips into a smile as my heart ached inside my chest.

That made him get out of the car. “Come here.”

Josh wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. It wasn’t a casual hug, but a tight, all-encompassing embrace that felt like a goodbye to us, to Josh and Emilie. The smell of his familiar cologne comforted me, but in a friend way.

“You okay?” he said into my hair, and I just nodded and swallowed.

Somehow, over the course of many February fourteenths, one DONC, and multiple days of fallout, everything had changed.

I was emotional, yet again, by the time I got inside. As someone who rarely got feelsy, it was beginning to get ridiculous. I threw my keys on the table just inside the door, but stopped short when I looked to my left and saw that my mom and Todd were already home.

“Hey.” I slipped off my shoes. “How come you’re home already?”

“I want to talk to you,” my mom said. “Sit down, Em.”

I went into the room and sat down on the love seat across from them. “Time for an impromptu family meeting?”

Todd said, “In a way.”

“Your dad and I had lunch today,” my mom said, steepling her fingers together like she was in a boardroom, not a living room. “To discuss our situation.”

I glanced at Todd, and he gave me a reassuring closed-mouth smile.

“He is still taking the job in Houston, but his company is allowing him to work remotely until August. That way you can finish your junior year, and then decide if you want to move with him or stay here.”

I blinked. Did she mean—

“After much discussion, we’ve decided that as long as your grades stay up and you stay out of trouble, you can make the call on whether you want to finish with your friends at Hazelwood, or start over with your dad in Texas.” She gave me a smile and said, “We will respect your wishes, no hard feelings.”

“Are you serious?”

My mom nodded but her brow was wrinkled, like she was unsure about the whole niceness thing. I looked at Todd and he smiled.

“Oh, thank you!” I got up and ran over to my mom, hugging her even though we didn’t really do that very often. I breathed in Chanel and hairspray as I said, “Thank you so much!”

My mom smiled when I pulled back and she pushed my hair off my face. “It was Todd’s idea, and your dad was the one who had to renegotiate his new job.”

“Still,” I said, my heart nearly bursting with love for the confusing woman whom I both loved and was terrified of, “I know how hard it is for you to, um—”

“Give in?” Todd laughed and said, “Yeah, she’s growing.”

My mom smiled at him like he was her whole world, and for once, it didn’t piss me off. Then I hugged him, too, feeling guilty for the thousands of unkind thoughts I’d had about him over the years.

Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.