I cut Nash off. “I don’t want to be awkward anymore.”
Kels is on hiatus, while I am processing the reality that IRL, Nash and me are temporary. That’s the truth, isn’t it? I’m frozen in type because there is no way to spin this story where Nash won’t see me as a huge liar. If I can’t talk to him as Kels and things are going to blow up anyway, I think I’d rather enjoy these next few months being not awkward with Nash, as Halle, before we go down in flames.
“Me either,” Nash says, relieved.
“Let’s stop being awkward,” I say.
“Yes. Okay. Good plan,” Nash says.
We shake on it. To not being awkward anymore. I mean, awkward is an inherent part of the Halle genome. I will never be Not Awkward—only incremental amounts of Less Awkward. And before I went off in Book Land, romanticizing sunrises and creating A Thing out of nothing, I was at my Least Awkward around Nash.
Even if it’s temporary, I want to get back to that.
Since we’re now officially Not Awkward, I pop open a bag of Smartfood and we catch up. Scout is curled up in ball on the couch cushion between us.
“Have you sent in your applications yet?” he asks, passing me the bag of popcorn.
Scout has no chill around snack food. As soon as the bag crinkles she’s up and sniffing, trying to convince us to share. Nash passes the bag to me and scoops up Scout, so she’s sitting in his lap. He’s scratching her ears and for a moment, I swear she forgets about the popcorn.
Scout on Nash’s lap might be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.
I shake my head no. “Still tweaking my supplemental essays. Did you?”
Nash nods. “Yesterday.”
“How’re you feeling?”
“Honestly? I’m not sure what to do with myself. You?”
I scoop a handful of popcorn and nod. “My application is ready to go. I know it is. But every time I go to press send, I think I should reread my essay one more time, or make sure I filled out all the forms correctly.”
“How many schools are you applying to?”
I shrug. As much as I don’t like the idea of applying to other schools, I know I need options. Since the first time Grams took me to New York, I’ve only pictured myself there, so I don’t have a proper backup plan.
“I’ll panic apply to twelve other schools, I’m sure. At least,” I say.
Scout jumps off Nash’s lap and runs toward the kitchen, toward the actual possible chance of treats. We’ve been stone cold with our Smartfood, and she’s totally over us.
“I only applied to four. Should I be panic applying?” he asks.
I shake my head. “Nope. Not a recommended strategy.”
“I feel like I need to be doing something.” Nash drums his fingers against his thigh. “It’s, like, as soon as I knew I wanted to study studio art at NYU, everything snapped into focus, right? I studied harder, started freelance designing websites, and took REX more seriously. It’s always been this thing to work toward. Now I’ve applied and all I can do … is wait? It feels wrong.”
“I mean, you could convince your parents to let you go.”
Nash gives me a look. “I’ll tell them if I get in,” Nash says. “I don’t need to deal with their Emotions and the pile-on of guilt if it’s a nonissue.”
“That’s fair,” I say. I want to throw my arms around him in a supportive hug. Instead, I throw popcorn at him. Because that’s not awkward.
It’s usually Kels talking about NYU in hypothetical future speak. Talking with Nash about NYU as Halle? It feels more real. The possibility of us getting in. But also? The possibility of us not. Maybe it won’t happen for me. Maybe I’ll be screwed over by standardized test scores. Maybe Nash won’t be allowed to go. But there is a scenario where we’re both there. Just now there’s no scenario where we are both there and actually friends.
But we’re not there yet. We’re in Gramps’s house, throwing popcorn at each other because we’re trying to be not awkward. It’s not easy like it was, but it’s so much better than the way things have been these past few weeks.
We talk until he has to be home for curfew, then I walk him to the door.
“Thanks for the hoop,” I say. “It’s seriously great.”
The tips of his ears flash pink. “I’m really glad you like it.”
We stand in the doorway and stare at each other.
“So yeah,” I say.
“So yeah,” he says.
I put my hand on the doorknob and twist it open. Cold, crisp air whips into the entranceway, the kind of cold that comes just before a storm. I’m coatless so I shiver, but I step onto the porch and close the door behind us.
“See you next year?” Nash asks.
“I suppose so,” I say.
“Happy Chanukah, Halle,” he says, walking backward down Gramps’s walkway, through the light snow that accumulated the night before. He unlocks his car and opens the driver’s door. “We’re good, right?”
I nod. “Welcome to the friend zone.”
Nash’s blush is so fierce, I have to laugh.
Kels’s DMs, winter break
Amy, Elle, and Samira
Mon, Dec 30, 7:00 PM
Elle Carter
I don’t expect you to answer this, but what the hell is going on? I know you’ve been busy and I’m trying not to take it personal, but you also cut NASH out and now I’m even more confused.
1:37 PM
Amy Chen
we’ve come to the conclusion that you’re only our friend when nothing is going on with you IRL. and kels? that’s not friendship. it’s just not.
1:39 PM
Samira Lee
I’m mostly confused.
1:41 PM
Elle Carter
We’ve been talking and decided we’re starting a separate Group chat. So it’s gonna be quiet here now. Sorry, but you can’t just see our conversations and not participate in them
1:43 PM
Samira Lee
Yeah, that’s weird.
1:45 PM
Amy Chen
bye
1:48 PM
Nash
Tues, Dec 31, 11:01 AM
So. 3 weeks. Have I been officially ghosted? Elle says you’ve been weird for MONTHS. But … we haven’t been weird. I don’t think. I honestly don’t know anything right now. What the hell?
Thurs, Jan 2, 2:13 PM
I hope everything’s okay. I really wish you would’ve just talked to me if it wasn’t. It sounds so stupid now—but I thought we had something real. I guess we don’t.
Bye, Kels.
SEVENTEEN
Fireflies and You fandom is the definition of extra.
It’s ten-thirty p.m., and the line for the midnight premiere nearly wraps around the building. It’s mostly tweens and teens, all dressed in F&Y swag from the official Alanna LaForest Shoppe. Some even have brought the book with them and are rereading it in line. It’s a sea of book covers—both the original and movie tie-in editions—everyone counting down the moments until their favorite book comes to life.
All the tension on Book Twitter? In this moment, it doesn’t exist.
“I hate you,” Autumn says.