Page 35 of Down My Chimney

“Blake? Are you—” I reached out to touch his hand, but he pulled away, shaking his head.

“Yeah, no, I’m—it’s fine.” He bent down to pick up the remains of his frozen yogurt. His grapes were covered in a thin coating of sand now. He wiped his hands off on his jeans. “Just startled.”

I grabbed my own cup and followed him to a trash can. When he pointed up to the pier and suggested walking out to the end, I agreed. But our conversation felt oddly stilted now, and I had the strangest sense that he was measuring the space between us, trying to maintain a two-foot distance at all times.

“Have you heard back from that study abroad program?” he asked. “About if you got in?”

I sighed. “Not yet. Apparently, they’re supposed to tell us in the middle of finals, which won’t be stressful at all. I wish they’d just tell us now and get it over with.”

Blake frowned. “Do you want to get in? I can’t tell from how you sound.”

I paused. Did I? Everything seemed to be lining up to make it possible. Noreen saying she’d try to get me in. Blake’s parents offering me a summer job. I’d have to be an idiot not to be excited about the idea, but the thought of being gone from mid-August to early December tied my stomach in knots.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I think so? Maybe?”

“Well, I’m excited for you, even if you’re not,” he said. “I think you’re gonna get in and I want to hear about it the second that you do.”

“I’m glad one of us is pumped.” I laughed. “Three of us, actually. Your parents just texted me last week, reiterating their job offer.”

“Yeah, they can be…persistent.” Blake smiled wryly.

“At least we’ll get to spend more time with each other once the semester’s over,” I pointed out. “We could be office buddies this summer. Banging in the copy room.”

He barked a laugh. “The copy room at their office is also the lunchroom. Might be a little hard to fuck you on top of the photocopier with my parents walking in and out.” His smile faded. “And I don’t think I’d be able to anyway. They’re making me stay in San Diego for the summer.”

“Wait, what? Since when?”

“Since this morning,” Blake said heavily. He veered towards the railing that ran around the edge of the pier, and I followed. “Apparently, I’ve been acting ‘erratically,’ and they’re concerned. My dad told me this afternoon that they had a phone call with my dean a few weeks ago. They worked out a plan for me to take classes over the summer without even bothering to consult me. Because I guess I can’t be trusted to make my own decisions if I can’t even manage to keep a B average.”

“Oh, Blake. I didn’t realize it was so bad. I’m so sorry. That sucks.”

He stared stoically out over the water, but I could tell he was hurting.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Maybe I didn’t want you to know how much of a dumbass I was.” He smiled, but there wasn’t any humor in his voice. Come to think of it, I wasn’t actually sure he meant it as a joke.

“You’re not dumb,” I told him. “A B average is hard for anyone to maintain.”

“Not for you.”

“That’s different. It’s hard to get a bad grade in theater.”

“That’s not true, and you know it.” He gave me a flat look.

“I just mean that everyone’s different. There’s nothing wrong with not getting straight As. There are different kinds of intelligence. I’d fall on my face if I so much as looked at a soccer ball, and you’re the star of your team.”

“Yeah, but what does that actually get me?” Blake asked. “I know how good I am, and I know it’s not good enough to play professionally. Once school is over, I’m fucked.”

“That’s not true.”

“Henry, my only talent is looking hot on the internet, and even that’s got a shelf life. I’m not going to look like this forever. And sooner or later, people are going to realize I don’t have anything real to offer them. Eventually, they’ll move on.” He grimaced out at the horizon. “You’re the only good thing in my life right now. Why do youthinkI didn’t tell you about this?”

“I’m not gonna move on, Blake. I’ve liked you for years. That’s not gonna change.”

Loved you for years, I amended silently. But I didn’t say that out loud. Instead, I reached for his hand—and again, he shied away.

“Sorry,” he said, looking chagrined. “It’s just—you know.”

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