you keep wearing those stupid masks…”

I interrupt. “So it’s my fault? That’s what you’re saying?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m trying to explain why I sacrificed the wrong pawn, as you put it.”

He does something quite unlike him then by stepping closer, close enough for me to feel his warm

breath washing over my face. I hate myself for getting goosebumps. “I get that you don’t want to hear it

now, but I’m sorry as hell for what I did, and for how I’ve been treating you. That was not okay. That

was messed up.”

Momentarily I don’t know what to say. He looks into my eyes, trying to read me, looking for a sign,

anything. But I’ve got my own shield up now, so not a chance. Somehow this is what I’ve needed to

hear. I never knew how much I needed this apology. It’s like I can breathe easier now, but the hurt and

the anger still remain.

James frowns painfully. “Say something?”

“If you think that’s all it takes for me to forgive you, you’re delusional.” I didn’t mean to say that

aloud, but somehow it got out.

He swallows, and nods. “I understand.”

I snort softly. “So that’s it? That’s what you’re gonna do, just accept this?”

“What do you want me to do, Danny? Just say it.” He looks all lost again.

Fight for me. Show me that you want me back! Because words won’t do. Words are not enough.

That’s what I want to say. But I can’t somehow. If he doesn’t get it on his own, I can’t help him.

“You figure it out,” I finally say and turn to leave. He lets me go, and I hate him for it. Do

something! Stop me, hold me back! But he’s James, so of course he doesn’t. I’m already halfway down

the corridor when his voice follows me, a quiet, yet determined promise.

“I will.”

Chapter 10

Gone

JAMES: How can I win Danny’s heart back? This question has been constantly on my mind these past

few days. Like it’s all that matters anymore. But as hard as I wreck my brains, I come up blank. And

here it is again, the realization that in truth, I know next to nothing about Danny Rizzo. What sort of

music he likes, his favorite color, his favorite drink… Although I do have an inkling about the music.

Because everyone knows whose son he is, right? But he’s never even mentioned his dad to me, and I

take that as a not so good sign. So the solution I finally come up with is this: I write Danny a letter. In

the grand tradition of love letters, I’m fairly sure this one stinks. It’s not very long and not very poetic,

but I apologize again, in much better and more words this time. It’s much easier for me to write it down

than to say these things. And I finally tell him the truth. That I’m crazy about him, and that I’ve been

wanting to be with him since last summer. I just never had the courage to take the leap of faith and let

him know.

My heart’s beating like it’s trying to break through my chest, Alien-style, when I stop by his room.

My stupid hands are sweaty as I bend down and push the letter through the crack beneath his door.

No going back now.

I wince as I briefly imagine the possibility of him reading my innermost confessions out to his

entourage, everyone laughing their asses off. But he won’t do that. I hope. All I can do now is wait for

an answer.

A day passes, and there’s no word from him. He hasn’t shown up at my doorstep to punch me in the

face, though. I take that as a good sign.

So I write him another letter. Little strokes fell big oaks. At least I hope that this also applies to

broken hearts. And he must have had strong feelings for me at one time to still be so mad with me now,

right? Oh, I hope. I start to ask him questions this time. All those little things about him I don’t know,

like stuff he likes and dislikes.

I don’t get a reply this time either. But I’m determined not to give up before his entire room is filled

up to the ceiling with my silly ramblings. I don’t see Danny around on campus for days. And I miss him

like crazy. The letter-writing becomes a daily routine. I even dream of those letters at night.

A week passes without the slightest reaction to my writing. I only see Danny occasionally, in the

distance with his friends. He seems to be needing the space, so I try not to stalk him. It’s hard.

I finally mention what I’m doing to Nick one afternoon at the Plato, out of sheer despair. I expect

him to laugh his ass off, but he just grins and teases me a little. But Danny hasn’t mentioned the letters

to him either. This can’t be good. But if he wanted me to stop, surely he would have told me so? Unless

he’s collecting my letters until he has enough of them to burn in a huge bonfire for everyone to see.

Ack. What am I supposed to do?

* * *

I’m in a surprisingly good mood when I get back to my room, having spent the last hour with Nick, just

talking. Just hanging out. I really wonder why I find myself opening up to him more quickly than I ever

have to anyone. Maybe it’s got something to do with us having Danny in common. Maybe it’s just that

he’s actually a pretty cool person.

I put down my bag full of library books, take out my cheap cell phone for the daily call, and flop

down on the bed. I only have this one number saved. It takes six rings before she answers, sounding

tired.

“Jimmy?”

“Hey, Mom. Did I wake you up?”

“No, I was just… there was something interesting on the TV.”

“You were napping, weren’t you?”

She laughs softly. “How can you always tell?”

“I just know.”

“I brought up a too clever know-it-all.”

“You may have done.”

We laugh and talk about her noisy new neighbors for a while, and she assures me that she’s taken her

meds. Then she demands to hear every detail of my day, as usual.

“So when do I get to meet this Nick?” she asks after a little while.

“I don’t know, Mom. I’m not sure I know him well enough yet for him to stay over at the house.”

“Then you’d better get to know him well enough. You know I like it when you bring friends home.”

I smile. “You’re making it sound like I do that all the time.”

“Still, I have to do my motherly inspection.”

“To make sure Nick’s worthy to be my friend, or what?”

“Something along those lines.”

“You’re crazy, Mom.”

Then out of the blue, she says: “You should have that other boy over again, too. He was gorgeous,

that one. I liked him.”

I swallow and wish my heart wouldn’t beat so fast all of a sudden. “Who’re you talking about,

Casey?”

“No, silly. The tall, dark one. Quite a dish he was.”

“Mom!”

She laughs softly. “But it’s true. Eye candy is the big advantage of having a gay son, didn’t you

know that?”

I can feel myself blushing. “Oh god. Would you stop it?”

“What? Leave me my innocent little pleasures! So what happened to that boy? You never mention

him anymore.”

“That’s because we had a falling out. I told you once before, remember?” I kind of want to tell her

about my efforts to win Danny back, but then I decide against it. It’s too early for that. She’d just get

excited - and possibly for nothing.

“He really liked you, that one.”

“Mom…” Not that this isn’t nice to hear, but discussing my love life with my mother is not my

favorite thing to do in the world.

She sighs. “I worry about you. I don’t want you to be so alone.”

“I’m not alone. Besides, I like alone.”

“Trust me, sweetie, you won’t say that once you’re past forty.”

I feel bad for her, and I wish I was there to give her a hug. “How about I come down this weekend?

We could go to the fair.”

“That would be nice. We could go on the Ferris wheel.”