The Opposite Of Invisible Part 18

I try not to seem surprised. Instead, I pick at the bedspread. Could that be?

Once you start looking at someone like they're a real person, it's easy to see that something's going on under the surface.

Jewel fidgets. "I broke up with her."

"I know." Crying in the girls' room is not a sign of being a dumper; it was about Vanessa being the dumpee.

He's silent. Closes his eyes. Opens them. "You know you'll always be the most important person to me."

At that, my heart leaps.

And then I understand what else he's saying.

"And that's why you broke up with Vanessa?"

He stands up. "Yes."

I watch him leave my room and hear him pound down the stairs in his Jewel way. I want so badly to follow him.

Now I know. I know I have to undo everything with Simon.

Simon's decided to take me for a picnic on Sunday night.

Here's my opportunity. I can't be with him anymore. It's not right. I'm not ready for something so big. I have to say those words.

If only I weren't still so, so attracted to him. There are a lot of good things about Simon. A lot that I'll miss. Like holding on to him. Looking into his eyes. His voice. Kissing him.

Aside from l.u.s.t ... he's basically a good person. He makes me feel wanted. Sometimes he makes me feel I'm special. He showed me something important about how to be social. He opened doors for me.

Now I have to close a door for him. An Alice-sized door.

Even if we had a fight, I don't think he's expecting me to say I'm done.

How am I going to do it?

We get bundled up and head to Golden Gardens, wind chilling us.

We spread out a blanket he brought and sip red wine he snuck from his kitchen out of plastic cups. His arm is around me.

"Are you cold?" he asks, and I nod before I can think.

He stands, takes my hand, wraps the blanket around my shoulders, and leads me to his dad's car in the parking lot.

When we get there, he opens the front door for me.

Then he takes the blanket and opens the back door, spreading it on the backseat. "In case we want to get comfortable."

Who knows what we might do back there? Except, I know. Nothing is going to happen. Nothing but me breaking up with my first boyfriend. But how? how?

He comes around to the driver's side and slides in next to me.

I'm taking the tiniest sips of wine, like Jewel with his first latte that time when we were twelve. I'm only pretending to drink it. I'm only pretending to like this.

The beach is like a film with smells. Seaweedy. Fishy. Lights from across the bay reflecting off the gently pulsing water.

Simon's hand on my knee is fire. I look at him and I can tell I look good.

He tosses his empty cup on the floor.

I worry about it getting caught under the brake pedal when he drives me home in a few minutes.

He takes my cup, sets it on the dash.

I never wanted to be getting it on in some car.

I never wanted to be drinking to get myself there.

"Come here," he says.

How do I say this?

"Simon, I ... I need to go home."

He looks at me.

I can't face his eyes. I look at the dashboard.

How can I explain that I'm not this girl now? That I need something else? That I had a great time with him, but he's not ... who I need? I'm not ready to be his girlfriend. Or anyone's.

He's listening. "Simon ... you're ... amazing. When we fool around, I love that. I do. I'm sure you know. G.o.d ... the way you kiss."

He squeezes my hand. "So what's the problem?"

"It's ... I like ... how you see me. I thought I was invisible before you."

"No way. I wanted to talk to you for so long before we ever did."

"I didn't know that."

"It's true."

"I believe it now."

He's still holding my hand, stroking it with his thumb.

"What I didn't realize is that having a boyfriend isn't enough to make me ..."

"Yeah?"

"I don't know. It's like I'm always trying to figure out how to be comfortable with myself. And dating you has been amazing and I've loved it. Which is good. Which is what I wanted a month ago. But I still don't feel ... right."

"But what did I do?" His thumb is still.

"You did everything right. You're amazing."

"So ..."

"It's just about feelings that are ... hard to explain. Like I hesitated to tell you about my Dove Girl."

"I guess I've noticed that you don't always let me in. That's why I thought I was the one more into it. But things seemed okay after we talked on the phone after Corrigan's party."

"She's a poster."

"The Dove Girl?"

"She's who I talk to. She's like my symbol of peace. I talk to her because I don't think I have anyone else to talk to."

"That's crazy. You've got ..."

"Jewel."

"And me."

"I did. But now I realize that I can't force it. The connection, I mean. I had a crush on you. A huge crush."

"So ..."

"I'm just not melting with you anymore. I'm not ... ready. Or something."

He's silent for a full minute. "Melting? Alice." He looks at me. "You've been kind of ... my best friend lately." His eyes start to water. "I meant it when I said I'm not into the whole football scene. I'm ... I want to keep seeing you."

I'm tempted to touch his cheek. But I can stop that impulse. I can resist him; that's the problem. I'm being pulled another way.

"I wish I could be what you want, Simon. I really do. But I just ... I just can't."

Then he drops my hand.

I know that was the last time.

Chapter Twenty.

The weirdest part of Monday is art workshop. Vanessa smiles at me as soon as I walk in the door.

It's not her usual thing either. The smile's somehow sympathetic.

We could be a photo. Vanessa with that smile, me with a mirror image.

Girls bonded by broken hearts.

Even if I'm the one who ended things with Simon, my heart is is a little broken. I'm back to being alone. At least, that's what I think when I feel insecure. Then I tell myself I have a new chance with Jewel, a new friend in Mandy, and maybe even ... a nonenemy in Vanessa. a little broken. I'm back to being alone. At least, that's what I think when I feel insecure. Then I tell myself I have a new chance with Jewel, a new friend in Mandy, and maybe even ... a nonenemy in Vanessa.

I'm deep inside my sweatshirt hood, hoping Mr. Smith will realize I don't feel like being talked to.

I haven't finished the new art portfolio cover yet.

Okay, I haven't even thought of an idea for it.

My sketchpad is in front of me, open to the first blank page. The page after my last, best attempt at my Dove Girl.

I need to do something new. Absolutely.

Mr. Smith wants more Alice in my work.

If I close my eyes, I can see colors swirling on my closed lids. Shapes that pulse, glide, and fade. I can see gla.s.s, heating and cooling.

I see a series of tiny gla.s.s globes. What colors? I'll ask Jim when I can start learning to add color. I slip my hood down and begin to draw.

Vanessa's watching from across the room, always watching when I talk to Mr. Smith.

Her latest work is clay sculptures of tiny animals. They're beautiful.

Mr. Smith is working with the letterpress.

"I don't want to do the portfolio cover," I tell him. "I'm just not really into it. I've got some good ideas for other things."

He runs his fingers through his hair, the way he does when he realizes that he's a teacher and not just an artist who happens to work in a school.

"Let Vanessa do it," I say. "She'll do a better job."

I walk home alone. The rain is heavier than usual and I can hear it pinging my hood. I'll have to change my jeans when I get home.

Just as I'm pa.s.sing John, the homeless guy, sitting outside Caffe Ladro getting soaked, Jewel comes up beside me.

He doesn't say anything.

We walk a whole block with both of us looking down at our sneakers.

"Troll?" he says, and I follow.

It's drier up by the troll, under his bridge. I take down my hood.

"Hey, your ponytail's back."