Small Miracles

"So, let me get this straight," Jase says. "You called me about two weeks ago, talking about how much you hate that Kingston kid, and now you're friends?"

"I guess so. Well, I mean, I wouldn't say we're friends. We just get along better, I guess." Jase makes a small sound in the back of his throat, like a hum. "What?" I say, somewhat defensively.

"Well, you just seemed dead set on hating him, and now you're not."

"I know," I mumble. "It just kinda happened, I guess."

"If you say so. Well, at any rate, I'm happy for you, kiddo."

"Don't call me that," I say irritably. "I'm only two years younger than you, you know." Things have been slightly weirder between us ever since Jase left for college. Our age gap was never that large to begin with, not like mine and James', or Jase and James', but when Jase was off in California and I was stuck here as a junior, the gap seemed to grow to the size of our distance. He and I are still close, but sometimes I just feel so small and insignificant around him, like I'm just his dumb little sister.

"Yeah, yeah," Jase says, a hint of a laugh in his voice. "So how's the rest of school going so far?"

"It's fine," I mutter. I was looking forward to talking to him, because Jase hardly ever calls me first, but now the excitement has sort of worn off.

"How's the football team doing?"

"We're winning every game. Are you surprised?"

"With a kid like Nick leading you? No. 'Course not. How are the college hunts going?"

"They're okay," I say slowly.

"Any particular places in mind?"

"Yeah," I nod.

"Where?"

"Um . . . I was thinking about applying to Berkeley," I say in a rush. Berkelely is only about a half hour drive from University of San Fransisco, where Jase goes. "Is that okay?"

"Of course it's okay! Why wouldn't it be?"

"I don't know . . . I wasn't sure if you'd be okay with me being so close. I don't want to impose or anything."

Jase laughs, to my surprise. "Jules, Berkeley is a great school, it's like second in the entire state of California. If you get in, which you will, by the way, don't let me stop you from going! And anyway, of course I don't mind having you so close. You're my sister."

Instead of feeling better, now I just feel stupid for even thinking he'd care. "Yeah, okay. Well, I've got work in a few, so I'd better go."

"Okay. See you later. Hey, wait," he adds before I can hang up.

"What?"

"Did you, uh, hear from Dad yet?"

I can feel my fingers tighten around the phone. "No. Have you?" I don't know what I'll do if Dad has contacted Jase and not us. Jase wasn't even here when he left.

"No. I was just wondering." There's a pause as we both reflect on this. "Okay, well. Call you later. Say hi to Ma and James for me."

After I hang up with Jase, I sigh and close my eyes for a second. Dad left in May, and it's nearly October. We've gone about five months without him. It feels strange to say that. Five months. Five months of just me and Mom and James, five months of us against everyone else. It isn't really like that anymore, now that he's been gone a while, but it still feels that way.

It's a slow day at work, thankfully, so I've got nothing to do except sit in the back and try to work on some homework. It is my senior year and all, so I'm taking four AP classes, and the workload is immense. It's even harder for Nick, who is doing the same in addition to football every day. Once he started bringing in his work, it inspired me to start busting my ass, too.

"Have you done that lab report yet for AP Bio?" Nick asks absently.

"Huh?" I've been staring at the same page of notes for at least ten minutes now. No matter how hard I try to concentrate, I just can't bring myself to be interested in this.

"I said, have you done that lab report for AP Bio?" he repeats.

"Oh. I have the results, but I didn't do the full report yet."

"Can I see?"

I pull out my notebook and show him the results from the experiment we did. "Who are you working with for this, anyway?"

"Brady," he answers, scribbling down the numbers. "We haven't really had time to get together, though, because of work and football and stuff. You?"

"Savannah. She's coming here today and we're gonna work on it later."

"Ah," Nick nods, tapping his pencil on his notebook. We work in silence for a little bit more until I hear Georgia calling me. By now my brain is fried from all of the go-go-go I've had to do all day, so I gratefully stand up and go into the diner.

Savannah is sitting in a booth in the back, two plates of apple pie in front of her. I slide across from her and pull one of the plates towards me. "You're a livesaver."

"I know," she sighs. "Come on, this is due Friday and I do not want to suffer Dr. Grant's wrath."

"It's due Friday?" I say, surprised. Today's Wednesday.

"Yeah . . . you didn't hear him say that? He told us on Monday."

"I prefer to come in contact with my teachers as little as possible," I say through a mouthful of pie. It's true. In school, I don't say much, only speaking when I'm asked a direct question. I don't like the way the teachers stare at me, some accusingly, like it's my fault for everything Dad did and didn't do, some with pity, like we're all falling apart now that he's gone (which maybe we are. But still).

Savannah rolls her eyes. "Oh, please. If you weren't so paranoid you'd realize that they're just trying to be nice to you."

"Right," I snort. "Did you know that the other day, Ms. Reter tried to get me to talk to her?" Ms. Reter is my guidance counselor, and she's good for nothing except helping with my college applications, and even then she kinda sucks at that.

"Why?"

"She thinks I'm 'troubled' or something," I say, making sarcastic air quotes. "She told me it wasn't good to keep everything bottled up inside or some bullshit like that."

Savannah laughs. "You are very troubled," she agrees. "Definitely more troubled than that girl who writes DIE DIE DIE all over her notebooks."

"I know. Why waste your time on me?" I sigh. We continue to write out our lap report, alternating between that and taking bites of pie. Mom is still busy running around taking orders, making small talk, and handling the register, but occasionally she stops over to say hello and see how we're doing. She's still a mom, after all.

"I think we're good," I say at last, admiring our work. "We just have to type this up, but I have study hall fifth period tomorrow, so I can do that then."

She nods and we push our notebooks to the side, taking a quick break amidst all the chaos. "So, speaking of Ms. Reter," Savannah begins, even though we really weren't, "have you been applying anywhere yet?"

I nod. "I've been looking at the University of New Mexico, Arizona State, University of Houston, and Baylor University." Mom and I went on a few college tours during my junior year, and while all of those places were nice, they weren't exactly what I was looking for.

"Do you have a preference?"

"Uh, yeah. I've been kind of wanting to go out of state, like Jase. If I can get scholarship money it'll really help us, or if . . ." Or if Dad pays child support, but right now that's not really an option. I don't finish my sentence, and Savannah doesn't ask me to.

"What's your number one?" she says instead.

"Berkeley," I admit, and her eyes widen.

"Berkeley as in Berkeley, California?" I nod, and she says, "I was thinking of applying there, too. Isn't that weird?"

"That is kinda weird," I say. "What made you choose Berkeley?"

"Well, it's the second best school in California, and God knows I'll never get into Stanford," she says, laughing. "So I just figured, you know, why not. What about you?"

"It's close to Jase," I say, shrugging. "And it's away from here."

"Not a lot of people in our class are going out of state," Savannah says. "Only a handful besides me and you."

"Well, Texas is a pretty large state. And it costs less than it would to go out of state," I say reasonably. But I do know what she means at the same time. Haven't these people had enough of this place? Don't they want to go somewhere else, somewhere besides this small town?

"True." She leans in a little closer, "I heard that scouts have been showing up already."

"For who?"

"Nick, you idiot. From places like Alabama and Seattle and Florida State. They all really, really want him."

I look back over my shoulder to where I can see Nick through the little kitchen window, flipping pancakes while happily whistling under his breath. He's such a dope sometimes that it's so hard to believe he's one of the greatest football players this town has ever seen.

I watch him for a few more seconds, the way he sweeps his hair out of his eyes and never once stops focusing on the task at hand. Then, he looks up and sees me staring. He flashes a grin and waves. It makes my stomach do a funny jump, and I weakly wave back before quickly looking away. Savannah's watching me with a little smile on her face.

"What?" I say defensively, and then I'm annoyed that I sound defensive.

"Nothing," she says, pursing her lips. "Nothing at all."