Call It What You Want

by Brigid Kemmerer

  I sigh and look up at the night. “That’s what friends are for.”

  Connor’s aunt arrives around sunrise. I’m half-asleep on his front step, but he’s in good hands, so I take it as my cue to go home and take a shower.

  When I get out, Mom is waiting with red-rimmed eyes and a wilting frame.

  “You should go to bed,” I tell her.

  “You too.”

  I have to take a deep breath. “I’m worried Bill is going to turn you in, too.”

  She swallows. Her voice is barely audible. “I know.”

  I step forward and give her a hug, holding on for a long time.

  When I let go, she takes a good look at me. “You’re dressed. Where are you going?”

  “School,” I say.

  “Rob, you’ve been up for twenty-four hours.”

  “I need another hour.”

  “But why?”

  “I need to talk to someone.”

  “Mr. Lachlan!” says Mr. London. “I expected you yesterday.”

  “Sorry,” I say back. “I was arrested.”

  The words have the effect I expected. The good nature slips off his face, replaced with concern. “Are you okay?”

  The fact that he cares almost makes me collapse from exhaustion. “Yeah.” I take a breath. “Can I talk to you about it?”

  “Of course.” He raises the counter.

  When we’re in his office and the door is closed, I tell him everything.

  Everything everything.

  When I’m done, he’s staring at me, his fingers steepled in front of his face.

  I feel both lighter and heavier after sharing it all, and his silence is killing me. “Would you please say something?”

  He sighs. “I think I need to process all this.” He leans back in his chair. “I’m proud of you for realizing that playing Robin Hood isn’t the answer.”

  I blush and look away. “Yeah. Well. Everything else is still a mess.” I scrub my hands over my face. “I’m really worried about my mom.”

  “I can see why.”

  I swallow hard. “Is there a way she can get out of this? Is there a way I can protect her somehow?”

  His eyes darken with pity. “I don’t know, Rob.”

  Of course he doesn’t. He’s a high school librarian. Why would he have any idea? I was so foolish to come here.

  He leans in against the desk. “But,” he says, “if there’s one thing librarians are good at, it’s finding answers.” He pulls a notepad out of his desk. “I’m going to write you a pass for first period. Take it to your teacher and come right back, okay?”

  I stare at him in surprise. “Okay.”

  “Don’t worry.” He pats my hand. “We’ll figure it out.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Maegan

  When Rob walks into first period with a yellow pass slip, I nearly fall out of my chair. I didn’t expect him to show up for class this morning. He looks rough, pale and unshaven, and his eyes are a little wild. He hands the pass to Mrs. Quick, who glances at it and nods.

  Rob looks so scattered that I don’t expect him to look my way, but he does.

  He slides a note onto my calculus book. “I can’t stay,” he whispers. His fingers brush across mine, and then he’s gone.

  I carefully unfold the note.

  Connor turned in his parents. Mom might be arrested, too. I’m with Mr. London. I’ll tell you everything at lunch.

  I almost gasp out loud.

  Lunch. I glance at the clock. Lunch is three hours away.

  I start counting the minutes.

  Whether by coincidence or accident, I run into Rachel in the cafeteria. I’m still in line, but she’s walking away from the register with a soda. She flinches from my gaze and turns away without saying a word.

  I step into her path. “Hey,” I say. “Rachel.” I hold my breath. “I’m sorry.”

  That gets her attention. “You’re sorry?”

  “Yes. Kind of. I didn’t consider that you were looking out for me.”

  “Yes. I was.” I can’t read her expression.

  “Drew was really mean to Rob. He didn’t deserve that. I know you were trying to protect me, but that doesn’t mean it’s okay to be mean to him.”

  She says nothing, so I keep going. In for a penny, in for a pound, I guess. “And I don’t like the way you stand by and let Drew say mean things to me, too.”

  She frowns. “I—I’ve felt bad about that for a long time.” She takes a breath. “That’s kind of my fault.”

  “Your fault!”

  She looks away and fidgets. “Yeah. I don’t—I don’t know how to explain.”

  “Try.” My voice comes out too sharp, so I soften it with, “Please, Rachel. I miss you.”

  She takes a deep breath and meets my eyes. “I was so mad at you when you cheated.”

  It’s literally the last thing I expected her to say. “What? Why?”

  “Because you’re so smart!” she explodes. “You practically had straight A’s last year. You’re in five AP classes. I can barely handle one honors class.”

  I jerk back.

  She’s not done. “I struggle for every single grade I get. You sail through AP classes with no effort—”

  “It takes effort, Rach.”

  “Fine.” Her voice cracks. “Fine. It takes effort. But I can’t do it. You would have sailed right into college, probably with a ton of scholarships.”

  “Yeah, maybe. But I don’t play any sports. I barely have any extracurriculars. I mean—”

  “Would you listen to yourself?”

  The rushed passion in her voice stops me short.

  She swipes at her eyes. “This is so stupid. You’re completely missing the point.”

  She’s so clearly upset about this that I can’t decide whether to be angry or compassionate. “What is the point? What does this have to do with Drew?”

  “How do you think I felt when a girl like you thought she had to cheat on the SATs? I mean, you’re right. Drew makes asshole comments, but he’s trying to make me feel better.” She sniffs. “Look at your perfect sister. Look at your perfect family.”

  And then I get it. I think about Samantha and all the pressure she was under—and how I compared myself to her. Just like Rachel was apparently comparing herself to me.

  I stare at her. “Rachel. We’re not perfect.”

  “You kind of are,” she says. “You have everything you want, and you almost threw it all away. I’m not even going to be able to go to college.”

  “You’re going to go to college, too!” I say to her. “Your dad used to brag about how he’d been smart enough to save for his little girl to—”

  “Not anymore.” She sniffs again. “It’s gone.”

  “What do you mean, it’s gone?” But as soon as I ask the question, I know. “Rob’s dad?” I whisper.

  She nods and ducks her head to swipe her cheek on the shoulder of her sweater. “No one knows, okay? Well, Drew knows. Dad’s still really upset about it. He doesn’t want the other cops to think he was stupid enough to be taken in.”

  Now I understand her attitude about Rob. I understand the vitriol behind Drew’s comments.

  She looks down at me. “I’m sorry, though,” she says. “I know this is about me. I shouldn’t have been taking it out on you.”

  “I should have been a better friend,” I say. “I didn’t know you were feeling this way.”

  “I should have been a better friend,” she says. “What happened wasn’t your fault.”

  I step forward and wrap my arms around her. “No more secrets,” I say.

  She nods against my hair. “No more secrets.” She hesitates. “So, are we going to have lunch together again?”

  “Not today. I promised Rob I would eat with him.”

  She draws back. Her expression has evened out.

  I wince. “He didn’t do it, Rachel. His dad did.”

  She frowns. “I know.”

  There�
�s still some trust to be earned back there. At least I understand it better now. I bite the edge of my lip. “Maybe we can get coffee after school?” I hesitate. “I have a lot to tell you.”

  Her expression softens. “I can’t wait.”

  She heads off to her usual table, where Drew is waiting.

  “Soup, dear?” says the cafeteria lady.

  “Yes, please.” It’s broccoli and cheese, my favorite. They sprinkle shredded cheese on top and serve it with a biscuit. It’s amazing.

  Owen Goettler comes to mind. I can see him from here, a lone cheese sandwich in front of him.

  I clear my throat and catch the cafeteria lady’s eye. “I’ll have two,” I say.

  By the time I get to the table, Rob and Owen are sitting there. Without a word, I slide the soup off my tray and give it to Owen. Then I sit down beside Rob. He takes my hand and holds it between us.

  Owen is staring at me in surprise.

  “Nothing was missed,” I say, feeding his own words back to him. “No one was hurt.”

  “You stole this?” he says in surprise.

  “What?” I say. “No! I just mean it’s fine. I can afford an extra soup without hurting anyone.”

  His face softens. “Thanks.” He picks up the spoon.

  I look at Rob. “Are you okay?”

  He doesn’t look it, but he nods anyway. “Mr. London’s sister is an attorney with Legal Aid. We had a long call this morning. She’s going to help Mom arrange a ‘surrender,’ in the hopes that by testifying against Connor’s parents, she can avoid jail time.”

  I squeeze his hand. “Rob. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” He rubs his eyes with his free hand. “But I’m exhausted. Ms. London says Dad will have to go to a state care facility for a while.” His voice breaks, but he catches it and steadies it. “Because I can’t do all that by myself. Am I a bad person that it’s kind of a relief?”

  It’s such a crazy question that I’m shocked he seems completely sincere. “No. Rob. No. You’re the most decent person I know.”

  “No,” he says. “Not by a long shot.”

  “You are,” Owen says. He hesitates. “You’re more decent than I am, and I never expected to say that.”

  Rob looks at him. “I’m still not introducing you to Zach Poco.”

  Owen doesn’t smile. “If they take your mom, what happens to you?”

  “I turn eighteen in six weeks. Ms. London says they can appoint a temporary guardian to make sure I stay alive, but I can stay in my house.” He pauses and takes a heavy breath. “Until I can’t.”

  I squeeze his hand again. “Who’s going to be the temporary guardian?”

  “I don’t know yet.” His voice cracks again. “But Mr. London said he would do it. He asked his sister to get the necessary papers.” He presses his fingers into his eyes. “I didn’t know what to say. I don’t deserve that.”

  “You do,” I whisper, putting my forehead against his. “You do.”

  EPILOGUE

  SIX WEEKS LATER

  Maegan

  I’ve never really thought about teachers living in normal houses, but of course they do. Mr. London and his husband live in a townhouse in the southern part of the county. The garage door is open, as Rob promised, and I slide past a small Honda to get to the door at the back. When I knock, Rob throws open the door.

  I haven’t seen him in weeks, though we’ve been able to text. Right now, he looks ready to burst, like a kid on Christmas morning, so I smile. “So, are you all moved i—”

  He stops me with a kiss, catching my elbows in his hands. “Yes. Come in.”

  It’s a basement apartment, sort of. He’s got a bedroom and a private bathroom, along with a tiny refrigerator and the small television that must have come from his house.

  His mother has to serve ninety days.

  His house has to be sold.

  His father has to remain in state care.

  But Rob is okay. He had to move out of his house so it could be put on the market. I expected the decision to upset him, but it actually seemed to be a relief. He said he felt like a ghost, living there alone with all the bad memories.

  This moment, right now, when he’s inviting me into his temporary living arrangement, is the lightest I’ve ever seen him.

  “I love it,” I say, looking around.

  “Owen came over yesterday.”

  “He told me he was going to.” Once Rob’s attendance grew scarce, I invited Owen to join me and Rachel and Drew at lunch. I was worried they wouldn’t get along, but to my surprise, Drew likes Owen’s quirky honesty—and Owen takes none of Drew’s crap. Drew helped get Owen a job in his parents’ restaurant, and they work the same shifts, so Drew’s been giving him a ride. “What did he think?”

  “He thinks I need an Xbox.”

  I glance at the ceiling and tease, “The landlords don’t hassle you?”

  “They’re great. They have books everywhere.” He smiles, but for the first time, a bit of sadness sneaks into his expression. “They’ve been helping me keep up with schoolwork while everything else has been going on.”

  “Nothing like living with two teachers to make sure your GPA doesn’t slip.”

  “You’re not kidding. How’s Samantha?”

  Duke is allowing her to defer her scholarship until next year, which shocked my sister. Despite everything that happened with David, I think this news was more than she expected, especially since David lost his job. Mom is telling Sam to keep her options open, so right this very instant, my sister is enrolling to take her spring courses online, so she can go back as a sophomore if she can find a balance between motherhood and school and lacrosse. “She’s finally wearing maternity clothes, but she wants me to tell you that she could still kick your ass on the lacrosse field.”

  He laughs. “I believe it.”

  “Also … Craig finally asked her out, and she said yes.”

  His eyebrows go way up. “The Taco Taco guy?”

  I nod.

  “Wow.”

  “She’s been going over there a few nights a week, and she kept telling me that the guacamole was the only thing that settled her stomach.” I roll my eyes, but my voice softens. “Apparently they’ve been talking a lot.”

  “Good for her.”

  I smile. “Have you heard from Connor lately?”

  Rob sobers. I know from our texting that Connor had to move to Oregon to live with his aunt. “He’s having a hard time with it.” Rob pauses. “We talk a lot.”

  I wonder if it’s easier that Connor got the chance to start over somewhere new, instead of having to endure school the way Rob did. Then again, he moved across the country in the middle of his senior year. He lost both parents at once.

  “I’m glad he has you,” I say.

  “Alex says maybe I could fly out over spring break.”

  Alex is Mr. London. Rob’s casual use of his first name makes me smile. “It’s so good to see you like this,” I say.

  He blushes. “Like the old Rob Lachlan?”

  “No.” I lean in to kiss him. “The new one.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Call It What You Want is my tenth published novel, and I’ve gotten to the point in my writing career where I just want to weep and thank everyone for helping me get this far. The UPS man. The grocery store cashier. The guy two doors down for letting me know the siding was coming loose on my house. But I realize I have to narrow it down a little, so here we go.

  My husband, Michael, comes first. Always. Yesterday I was at Starbucks writing for five hours, and I texted him in the evening and said, “How’s everything going?” He wrote back that he’d cleaned the house, given the kids baths, ordered pizza, and SAVED ME BREADSTICKS. He’s amazing. You can’t have him. Thank you, Michael, for everything.

  My mother, as always, is a constant inspiration. You would not be reading these words if not for her unwavering encouragement when I was growing up—and even now. She doesn’t read many of my books, and s
he might not even be aware of what I write in the acknowledgments section, but she knows I love her, and I hope she knows what a profound influence her positivity has been in my life. (I literally copied this paragraph from the acknowledgments in A Curse So Dark and Lonely. Shh. Let’s see if she notices.)

  Bobbie Goettler is my BFFOAT (Best Friend Forever of All Time) and has read almost every word I’ve ever written, since the beginning, when I was writing about silly vampires running around the suburbs. Thank you, Bobbie, for being such an amazing friend. Your support over the years has meant everything to me. I love that my kids call you Aunt Bobbie, and when they refer to their “cousins,” they include your kids. For a friendship that started on a message board about writing, I think that’s pretty powerful.

  My amazing agent, Mandy Hubbard, has been a wonderful source of guidance for my writing and my career. From supportive text messages to amazing email GIFs to listening to me sob over Google chat—plus all the actual agent businessy-type stuff—Mandy is beyond compare.

  Mary Kate Castellani is my fearless editor at Bloomsbury, and I cannot thank her enough for every moment she spends working with me. Whenever I think something is good enough, she pushes me to make it better. When it’s better, she pushes me to make it the best. Mary Kate has a brilliant vision and always finds the story I didn’t know I was looking for. Thank you, Mary Kate, for everything.

  Speaking of Bloomsbury, tremendous thanks to Cindy Loh, Claire Stetzer, Lizzy Mason, Courtney Griffin, Erica Barmash, Cristina Gilbert, Anna Bernard, Brittany Mitchell, Phoebe Dyer, Beth Eller, Melissa Kavonic, Jeanette Levy, as well as Diane Aronson and the copyediting team, along with everyone else at Bloomsbury who played a role in putting this book into your hands. I wish I knew everyone’s name, so I could thank you all individually. Please know that my gratitude is endless, and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your efforts on my behalf.

  It takes a village to make a book come together, and this book is no exception. Many people read this manuscript, offered support, or gave me feedback and input and insights. Special thanks to Michelle MacWhirter, Diana Peterfreund, Lee Bross, Shyla Stokes, Steph Messa, Emile Horne, and Joy George. I couldn’t have gotten to this point without you all. Thank you.