15. Joel

CHAPTER 15

JOEL

P ark benches are way less comfortable when you're sober and sitting on them properly. Most of my experience with park benches has been throwing up on them, or jumping over them, or — on one occasion which is devastatingly fuzzy in my mind — committing acts of gross public indecency on them.

It was dark. She was hot. No one got arrested. Good old-fashioned fun in my book.

This is kind of fun too, though. Dozens of pigeons have gathered around us, scrabbling about on the frosty gravel for crumbs, shifting stones around with their beaks. They're closing in on us, cooing and flapping like it's a threat. I pull my feet under the bench for safety.

"You were right," I say, breaking the silence. Anna hums a question and I lift the gelato tub in answer. "This is really good."

"Uh-huh." She's smug about it, and she's right to be. It's so creamy and flavorful, and the hot chocolate is that perfect balance of comforting and sweet.

"Still can't tell the difference between this and ice cream, though."

"It's the texture!" she exclaims, rolling her eyes hard at me. I'm winding her up on purpose, but the face she makes when she's mad with me is cute. At least, the face when she's fake mad with me is. She got genuinely mad in the café and that face wasn't cute at all.

It didn't feel like a big deal to me, but I guess I can understand why she was upset. Money doesn't matter to me, but it does to a lot of people. And most people don't like to look like charity cases.

How can I begin to explain how much more than that she is to me?

"Whatever," I say instead of something heartfelt.

The birds hover around us, their beady eyes staring up at us. "You won't like this," Anna says to one of them. "I promise. Go find someone with fries."

Almost on cue, something startles one of the pigeons and it spreads its wings and takes off. A mass liftoff ensues, the birds launching into the air in a great swarm of feathers and beaks and feet.

Anna yelps at the sudden movement and leans into me. I think she's just trying to hide but instinctively I reach out and cover her head, my hand hovering just above her hair, just close enough to feel the strands brush against my palm. Once the danger passes, she sits straight back up, adjusting as if to pretend it never happened.

I want to say something, but I can't quite figure out what. I've never needed to share an emotion as real as this.

Anna speaks instead. "You know, everyone says you're a dick."

"Wow. Thanks."

She shakes her head vigorously. "No, wait, I mean, everyone says that but like, it's not true."

"Oh?" I'm surprised to hear her say that. She's been blowing so hot and cold with me that I was starting to think her liking me even as a friend was just in my head. Hearing her say that I was earlier made my heart grow a million times bigger.

"No. It's not. You're an idiot—"

"Thanks!"

" But , you're also kind." She gazes out into the park, at the scattering of trees along the main path, unable to look at me as she opens her own heart.

I'm pretty proud of the fact that I always have something smart-assed to say for every single situation. Not this time. I feel like I've fallen on the floor and had a lamp thrown at me all over again.

She stumbles over what she's trying to say, rambling nervously. I want to tell her she has no need to be nervous, but I can't make my voice work. "Like, you're annoying and full of yourself, but I don't think that's the real you. It's like you're wearing a mask, and every time anyone looks at you, you do this dance because you're wearing this mask, and that's what everyone sees. That's what the papers write about."

I nod slowly. How has she cut so close to the core of me?

"You're lucky," I say, taking a swig of my hot chocolate like it's whiskey. It's giving me that kind of strength. "You come from a family of love and hard work."

Anna snorts, almost choking on her gelato, her eyes popping wide open in amusement or shock. "Yeah, something like that."

I file that away in the ‘mysteries about Anna Romero that I want solving' section of my brain. "What I mean is, you know how to live without the wild parties. You've got your brother and your business."

She winces again at the mention of Ben, and I realize I have no idea what her business actually is. There's something hiding there that I'm determined to figure out. A loose strand of hair falls out into her face and she pushes it up under her hat before scraping at the bottom of her tub for the last of her gelato. She has a sadness in her eyes, the kind of look girls get when they've been hurt.

I've never been a white knight type of guy. I'm no savior. I'm not going to ride in on my stallion and sweep her up into my arms. I think the idea of being saved would make her more furious, actually.

Unfortunately, all I've ever done is sweep women up in my tornado and deposited them somewhere else again. I've never been swept like Anna is sweeping me. I've never wanted to be so honest.

I guess that's probably the way in. "Anyway, I know I'm lucky. I take it for granted, sure. Wouldn't you, if you were me?"

With a wry huff, she nods. That was kind of more positive, so I continue.

"So yeah. I'm a dick. I try not to be to waitresses and staff, but the only struggling I've ever done is for my father's attention."

"Doesn't he give you anything you ask for? Like, didn't he give you your fortune?"

"Yeah, that's my point."

"I'm not following."

I sigh. All this sitting is making me restless. All this soberness is making me way too aware of the world around me. I jump to my feet and offer her my hand. "Come on, let's walk."

To my delight, she takes my hand and lets me help her stand. For a moment, we linger with our hands entwined, then Anna pulls away and turns to throw her tub in the trash. I find my heart sinking in disappointment.

The park isn't that big, and at this time of year it's pretty dull. The grass all dies and gets covered in a sad layer of frost, the sky is always gray, and the trees are dead and bare, their branches reaching out like skeleton fingers.

"When I was young, leafless trees used to scare me," I say to myself more than anything.

"Why?" asks Anna. Most people scoff at that kind of admission, but there's only a warm kindness in those bright, green eyes. It's like looking into a spring forest after winter.

"I used to think they were hands of giant skeletons coming out of the ground to get me."

"Never realized you had such an imagination," she says. Her boots crunch on the frozen gravel, her steps shorter than mine.

I slow down to keep pace with her. "Breaking! Joel Lockhart isn't just a pretty face!"

"They're cruel to you in the headlines, aren't they?" She sips her hot chocolate, the steam washing up over her face and turning her cheeks and nose red.

"Most of it's deserved. I do take my pants off in public pretty often."

She giggles. "What I don't understand is, why do you do it? Like, you can be almost fun when you're not out of your mind drunk or whatever."

"Is that another compliment?"

Ignoring me with a glare, she finishes her thought. "But all I ever see in the news is you acting stupid. You could be a real force for good if you tried."

"Now you sound like my mother," I say bitterly, feeling like a bucket of cold water has been poured over me. I've heard those exact words from Mom. From Dad too. They never stop.

"I hate to say this, but have you ever thought that maybe she's right?"

Before I can stop myself and think of something more evasive or smart to say, the truth slips out. "Of course she's right. But how else am I meant to get them to notice me if I'm not making the headlines for being wild, stupid Joel, off doing another one of those stupid things he does to try and be funny?"

"Oh," is all Anna says like she understands. Another unfamiliar feeling bubbles through my blood — anger. How can she possibly understand what it's like to have to act the fool to try and get your family's attention? I've heard the way Ben talks about her. He loves her so much. I wish I had that.

We walk in silence for a bit, the icy wind biting the back of my neck and slicing through our easygoing atmosphere. I kick myself for ruining it. She's like the only person who's ever bothered to get to know me, and now I've gone and pushed her away.

The pigeons from earlier land in scatters along the path, back to pecking for worms or bugs or whatever it is they actually eat. I wonder if Anna is thinking about them like I am. I wonder if she's trying to figure out how to break the awkwardness again too.

"This is fun," I say, my voice sounding forced. Formal, even.

"What, even though we're stone cold sober?" She glances over to me and throws me a little grin like she's testing the waters. I grin back, trying to let her know I'm glad teasing's back on the table. If she's teasing me, I guess that means I'm forgiven.

"Yeah, actually. I literally can't remember the last time I had any fun that didn't involve substances of some kind."

"Don't you ever worry about what that's doing to your insides?"

"Not really," I say, contemplating mortality for the first time. "Maybe I should, though."

Even though she's definitely casting judgement upon me, her tone is caring, almost. Like she's really my friend and she's not just here for attention or money or status. "Yeah, you probably should."

"I've never had a friend like you. Maybe that's why I've never had sober fun before."

She pauses. We've hit the fork in the middle of the park — the path follows a Y shape and, in the summer, kids always set up a baseball diamond in the V. It's barren now, except for the birds and occasional scrawny squirrel. I never understand how they manage to stay alive. Same as me, I guess.

Anna looks squarely at me, her expression unreadable. She has all these faces that she pulls, and I have no idea what any of them mean. It's probably bad that I can't recognize the full scope of human emotions. She makes me want to learn. "Don't you ever want to change?" she asks.

I point right and she nods in agreement. In perfect sync, we continue our adventure.