Why was she so stubborn? Was it so bad to let me help her? I’d heard her talk about movies before. We watched a lot of them together, and while we weren’t allowed to talk during the movies—Jolene had practically breathed fire at me the first time I’d made that mistake, when she’d showed me Rabbit Hole—she’d pore over them afterward with me. She’d point out aspects of the story I hadn’t noticed or geek out about how certain scenes were shot to emphasize a specific emotion or mind-set of a character. She noticed all kinds of things I would have never picked up on, and more than noticing them, she had ideas about how she’d have shot different scenes.
I already knew her essay would be as passionate and insightful about films as she was, and if she needed a little help to smooth out a sentence here or there, how would that take anything away from what she’d done all on her own?
I reached for my phone a dozen times to tell her that, but I knew Jolene. If I pushed her, she’d push back no matter what I said.
With a sigh, I flopped back onto my bed and stared up at my moonlit ceiling.
It might have been an hour or three later when my phone buzzed.
Jolene:
Hey.
Adam:
Hey.
Jolene:
My butt hurts.
Adam:
You’ll get better.
Jolene:
I can’t get worse.
Adam:
That’s what I meant.
Jolene:
It hurts more than it had to.
Adam:
Everybody falls. You got back up.
I waited for her to respond, but minutes ticked by and nothing. My thumbs hovered over my screen but I didn’t know what else to say.
Jolene:
Check your email.
A smile bloomed on my face when I opened my inbox, and right at the top was an email from Jolene with the subject line Essay.
Jolene:
Turns out you have to land on your butt exactly 429 times before you realize that it hurts a lot less if you let someone help you.
Jolene:
Fair warning, my essay is not good. If your eyes start bleeding at any point you can stop reading.
Adam:
They won’t.
Jolene:
They might.
Adam:
Thanks for letting me read it.
Jolene:
Don’t do it right now!
Jolene:
Adam?
Adam:
I’ll read it tomorrow.
Jolene:
Now my butt hurts and I feel nauseous.
Adam:
Night, Jo.
Jolene:
Thanks, Adam.
I immediately read Jolene’s essay.
My eyes didn’t bleed once.
IN BETWEEN
Jolene:
Forget everything you were going to do today. I have a plan.
Adam:
I feel like I need to be alarmed.
Jolene:
The word you were looking for is excited. I would also have accepted super psyched.
Adam:
You do know that we have school today.
Jolene:
And tomorrow’s Thanksgiving. You can’t tell me you’re looking forward to that.
Adam:
My mom’s an incredible cook and I make a mean sweet potato pie.
Jolene:
And I like eating my weight in mashed potatoes. Doesn’t change that fact that I’d rather stick a fork in my eye than share a meal with my mom and her boyfriend. Also save me a piece of sweet potato pie.
Adam:
That’s what you’re doing? Nothing with your dad and Shelly?
Jolene:
I’d rather stick two forks in the same eye and do something equally terrible to the other. Thankfully, no. Not this year. Are you seeing your dad?
Adam:
No. We’re driving out to my grandparents’ and it’s a long drive.
Jolene:
Think your mom will cry?
Adam:
Oh yeah. And Jeremy and I will get in a fight, my grandfather will yell at us in Dutch, and my grandmother will forget that Greg is dead and ask about him every few minutes. My mom will excuse herself to cry in the bathroom and then spend the entire two-hour drive home apologizing for ruining the day for us. Or I don’t know, maybe it’ll be different than last year.
Jolene:
You want one of my eye-stabbing forks?
Adam:
Thanks, but I’m good.
Jolene:
Liar. That is why I have a plan for one awesome day before the suckfest begins. So are you in or out?
Adam:
Tell me exactly what your plan is, oh brilliant one.
Jolene:
First, I totally approve of that nickname. Second, have you seen Ferris Bueller’s Day Off? And third, do you know of a parade nearby?
Adam:
Jolene.
Jolene:
This is where you point out that we have no cars and can’t drive.
Adam:
Also we have school.
Jolene:
All of those things are true, but you forgot one very important thing.
Adam:
I’m afraid to ask.
Jolene:
My friend has a loser boyfriend that she’d do anything to see, including put a temporary pause on the fight we’re having and have him drive to pick you up if I provide an alibi later for her parents. Jazz hands!
Adam:
You’re serious.
Jolene:
We’ll pick you up outside your school in 20 minutes. Also, where is your school?
Adam:
Unless your friend’s boyfriend drives a certain DeLorean, it’s gonna take you longer than twenty minutes to get here.
Jolene:
! You are totally winning for the Back to the Future reference right now. And I stand by my original estimate. Ask me why.
Adam:
...
Jolene:
Because we left fifteen minutes ago.