by Emma Scott
“Hey, pumpkin.” He kissed the top of my head and managed a smile. His gaze went to the acceptance letters, and his eyes widened. “Get some good news?”
“The best news. UCSC said yes.” I waved the envelope. “The others did too, but this is the golden ticket. I can stay here and…” My words trailed as my dad’s expression collapsed. “Dad?”
“That’s great, Violet.” He gave me a short, tense hug. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Thank you,” I said warily. “So…we need to talk about the next steps.”
“Yes, we do. Better get your mother down here.” He sounded like he’d ordered his own executioner.
“She’s out with some friends from work. She texted to say she’d be home late.”
He sighed and loosened his tie as he slid onto a stool beside me. “Maybe that’s for the best.” He eyed the stack of acceptance letters. “I’m sorry, pumpkin. I tried.”
My heart plummeted to my stomach. “What do you mean?”
“The promise we made on your twelfth birthday. I wanted more than anything to uphold it. But…I can’t. I’m sorry.”
I sat back, absorbing this like a blow. “Okay. How bad is it?”
His eyes—the same dark blue as mine—were heavy and so, so tired. “Not great. I don’t want to get into details—”
“I want you to get into details. For so long, I’ve been nodding my head and going along with your assurances. Dad…” I clutched the sleeve of his jacket. “Just tell me the truth.”
“You don’t need the nitty-gritty,” he said. “But yes, things have been tough lately, and we’ve had to pull money from various sources, your fund being one. I had a deal that was supposed to cover it, but…it fell through. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Sweetheart.”
He looked on the verge of tears.
“I knew it,” I said. “Somehow I always knew. I applied for scholarships, but the merit-based kind are hard to win and none will cover everything. I’ll need financial aid.” I glared at him. “Will I need financial aid? You never tell me anything. And you said not to worry. I trusted you and Mom…”
God, Miller is right. Trust is such a stupid thing to bank a future on.
“I know you did,” Dad said. “But I was so close. The deal felt like such a sure thing—”
“What deal?”
“An app I’d been working on. But there were…patent issues.” He waved his hand. “It’s not important. What’s important is fixing this. I wanted so badly for you to avoid starting your life with massive debt.” He brightened with a watery optimism that made my heart crack in two. “But there are other scholarships that I’m sure you qualify for. More than qualify.”
“There are,” I said slowly. “But the application deadlines on most of them have probably passed or are about to. There’s no time.”
“For Fall. But you could apply for Spring next year.”
My eyes stung as they met his. We both knew I’d been busting my ass for years to get ahead. If I were to be a surgeon, I was going to be in med school for the better part of my young adult life. I wanted to be finished with it and begin a career and have a family as soon as possible.
“It’s fine,” I said, sitting up and blinking back tears. I gathered my letters and slipped off the stool. “I’ll apply for financial aid and see which scholarships are still open.”
“Violet, wait,” Dad said. “I know I screwed up, but please talk to me.”
My heart wanted to break. I’d never seen my big, strong dad so defeated. It scared me to the bone. And I knew there was more he wasn’t telling me.
I held up the letters. “This sucks and it’s disappointing, but I can deal with it. But you never gave me a chance to prepare because you haven’t been honest with me. Not about the money, or about you and Mom.”
“I know. But it’s…complicated. The last thing we want to do is hurt you.”
I wanted to tell him every time they fought, it hurt. Every time they shattered a glass or slammed a door, it hurt. But Miller had shouted at them for me and nothing had changed.
“I’m tired,” I said, swallowing my tears. “Soccer practice was long.”
“Okay. Goodnight, Violet,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
Not so long ago, I’d have wanted to rush to him, hug him, cry on his shoulder about all of it. About Miller. Like I used to when I was little. Back when he and Mom had been happy. Before they’d both turned into people I no longer recognized.
But I left without another word and went to my room. I was becoming unrecognizable to myself.
At school the next day, I went through the motions, kept my head down. Despite what I’d told Dad about being tired, I stayed up late applying for financial aid and researching scholarship deadlines for each of the schools I’d been accepted to and then emailed my counselor for an emergency meeting that afternoon.
I was on my way to that meeting and nearly crashed into Evelyn Gonzalez.
“Hey, girl,” she said, with a winning—triumphant smile. “Long time, no see. You’ve been so busy. I feel like it’s been ages since we hung out.”
I met her gaze with a steely one of my own. “Is that what happened? Or were you embarrassed to be seen with the girl who got stood up by the captain of the football team in front of the entire school?” I didn’t let her reply. “Speaking of Homecoming, were you ever going to tell me you stole the video of Miller off my phone?”
“Wow, hostile much? What happened to sweet Snow White? And anyway, I didn’t steal anything. You posted that video on the internet. It’s a free-market economy.”
I crossed my arms. “That’s not exactly how it works but okay. What about you deleting my YouTube account?”
“It was in the way. What’s your problem, anyway? I was doing Miller a favor. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m helping to make him a viral sensation. Not that it’s hard.” She touched her tongue to her lower lip. “He really is a beautiful specimen of a man.”
I stiffened and an ugly feeling surged in my blood. “I’m aware of his sudden popularity. I’ve seen the video I took on your vlog. Funny how you all treated him so badly right up until you thought you could get something out of him.”
“Possessive, are we? How cute. Don’t you want him to be a huge smash?”
“Of course, I do. But doing a fashion vlog doesn’t feel like his style. Or something he’d want.”
“It is now. He didn’t tell you?”
I braced myself. “Tell me what?”
“He’s been coming over to my house on Sundays. We’ve been staying up so late, working on new cover songs. He’s coming over to my house tonight, as a matter of fact. So, maybe you were once the expert on what he wants but…not so much anymore.” She twiddled her fingers. “See ya!”
I watched her go—beautiful, smart, and always focused like a laser on getting exactly what she wanted.
It’s none of my business, I thought, drawing deeper into myself. He won’t talk to me. He’s not mine. We’re impossible.
“The timeline isn’t great,” my counselor, Ms. Taylor, said, peering over my scholarship research. “And UCSC doesn’t offer much unless it’s for low-income families, which we’re still not entirely sure you qualify for. Have you heard back about any of the merit-based scholarships?”
“Not yet. But I’ll make up whatever I need to in financial aid.”
Ms. Taylor took off her half-moon glasses and sat back. “This has to be incredibly disappointing for you, Violet.”
I gave her a wan smile. “First world problems, right? Mommy and Daddy can’t pay for my fancy school.”
She frowned. “I don’t need to tell you that being burdened with debt is incredibly stressful, no matter who or why. It’s the tragic reason why thousands of young people avoid college altogether. You had a free path and now you don’t. It’s okay to feel upset about that.”
“Being upset isn’t going to get me through it,” I said. “I’ll do whatever it takes, but if I want to start schoo
l in the fall, I need to stay on track.”
“I’ll do my best to help you, Violet, but UCSC might not be the school that works for you. You need to be flexible, okay?”
I’d nodded and promised, but I’d been planning my career since I was ten years old. I loved Santa Cruz. I loved my home. My family. Miller. I had no idea where I stood with anything. As if the ground under my feet were trembling and breaking apart, and I didn’t know if I’d withstand the rift or fall in.
That afternoon, I let myself in to the Whitmore’s as usual, but the master bedroom was empty. A sliver of fear lodged into my stomach until I remembered Nancy had scheduled a doctor’s appointment.
I turned to leave, to head home and continue to work on scholarship applications until soccer practice. Then River came up the stairs.
He looked handsome as ever, and his eyes lit up to see me. “Hey,” he said.
“Hi,” I said.
He cocked his head. “You okay? You look a little sad.”
“It’s been a rough couple of days,” I said, my throat thick.
“I hear you. Want to go somewhere and get something to eat? Take your mind off things?”
He was so handsome and kind, smiling at me with genuine compassion. His kindness threatened to undo all of the hard work I’d done to keep my feelings in check. They bubbled to the surface, but God, I was so tired of crying. So sick of feeling like a lump of clay, molded and shaped by outside forces. I had to be harder than this, or I’d never survive.
He grinned. “It’s a yes or no question—”
I flew at River. I flung my arms around his neck and kissed him. I kissed his lips, his jaw, his chin, and then his lips again. Urgently. Desperate to erase Miller from my body’s sense memory. To do what he did—move on with someone else and take back control of my own life that was unraveling right before my eyes.
River froze in surprise, his lips stiff and unyielding but eventually parting just enough. He kissed me back, lightly and then harder, his eyes squeezed shut and his brow furrowed, as if our kiss was work that had to be done. Our tongues tangled, out of sync, noses bumping, teeth clashing.
He broke away, his breath short. “Violet?”
“Your room.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. No more talking.”
Talking would lead to thinking and thinking would lead to admitting that this was all wrong.
We stumbled to his room; our mouths still mashed together awkwardly. I pushed his letterman jacket off his shoulders. He fell back on the bed and I climbed on top of him.
“I never expected this from you,” he said.
“Neither did I,” I said. Except that I wanted to escape from being at the mercy of my feelings for Miller. River was my lifelong crush. This should work…
But it didn’t.
Like trying to get a lighter to spark when it’s out of fluid, we tried to ignite with half-hearted touches and kisses that grew shallower. He wasn’t hard in his jeans. I wasn’t desperate to have him. We were like actors with zero chemistry, rehearsing a scene.
With a small cry of despair, I rolled off of him. We lay on our backs, side by side, our gazes on the ceiling.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Me too. I’m usually better…at that. You just took me by surprise, is all.”
“Okay.”
“That’s why I wasn’t…better.”
“You said that already,” I said, humiliation for what I’d done burning through me. I covered my eyes with a hand, but the hot tears spilled out. “I’m so sorry.”
I’m sorry, Miller.
“Hey.” River gently pulled my hand away. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Nothing’s wrong with you. It’s me who’s messed up. Believe me.”
I shook my head. “No. You didn’t deserve that. Everything’s been going all wrong. I used to be so organized and on top of things. Now…” I gestured at the ceiling. “Now it’s all falling apart. I’m falling apart. Doing things I’d never do. Being someone I’m not.”
River turned his gaze to the ceiling, his mouth a hard line. “Yeah. I know exactly how that is.”
“You do?”
“Definitely.”
I wiped my nose on the sleeve of my sweatshirt and rolled on my side to face him.
“How? I mean…seems like everything’s going how it should for you.”
“That’s because I’m really good at making it look like everything’s going as it should,” he said bitterly. He reached over and plucked a tissue from the nightstand and handed it to me.
“Thank you.” I dabbed my eyes. “Nancy told me you got into Alabama and Texas A&M.”
“I did,” he said.
“You don’t look happy.”
He turned his head on the pillow to face me. “Can I tell you a secret?”
“Of course.”
“Swear you won’t tell anyone?”
“Cross my heart.”
He faced forward again, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a heavy swallow. “I don’t want to play football anymore.”
I propped my head with my elbow. “What? Really?”
“I haven’t wanted to…since forever, actually. It’s been more my dad’s dream than mine. He was a big star in his day and could’ve gone pro, until a knee injury took him out.”
“Wow,” I said, absorbing that. “But you’re so good at it. Like Tom Brady or Peyton Manning.”
He smiled grimly. “It’s wasteful, right? To want to throw it all away?”
“Well, no. Not if it makes you unhappy. What do you really want to do?”
“You’ll laugh. Or think I’m a huge dork.”
I smirked. “As someone who dabbled in not being a dork for a short time until Evelyn Gonzalez returned me to the Land of Dorks from whence I came, you have my word.”
He laughed, but it faded fast. “I want to stay here. I want to be with my mom until…however long she needs me. I want to work at the family business. I want to live in Santa Cruz and start my own family.”
“I know exactly what you mean, River. That all sounds perfect. Can’t you tell that to your dad?”
He shook his head. “It’d crush him. He has this idea of me. Of who I should be. I’ve spent my entire life trying to live up to it. When I play football…” He shrugged helplessly. “That’s when he’s happy. That’s when I feel…”
He bit the word off, but I heard it anyway.
Loved.
River’s head turned to me again. “Please don’t tell anyone. I don’t know why I even told you, except that I feel comfortable with you.” A small grin touched his lips. “Just not when we’re kissing.”
I gave a short laugh. “Story of my life.”
We lay back to stare at the ceiling, chuckling. A silence fell that felt warm and calm passed and then River shifted beside me.
“So Violet.”
“So River.”
“Since we’re both secretly dorks in disguise, how about we go to Prom together?”
An incredulous laugh burst out of me. “Oh, sure. Why not?” I looked over at him. He arched a brow. “You’re serious?”
“As the plague. We’d just go as friends.”
“Don’t you have a gaggle of girls waiting for you to ask them out?”
“Ha, no. Honestly, I don’t even want to go—”
“Way to sell it to me, Whitmore.”
He laughed. “Sorry. I mean. I do want to go, for my parents’ sake. Dad keeps asking which girl I’m bringing…” He cleared his throat. “And Mom loves you. We should go. It’s our senior year.”
“I seem to remember a certain other dance that you were supposed to take me to and then didn’t.”
“I know, I’m so sorry. But this is how I make it up to you.”
“I suppose,” I said, sadness creeping back into my heart.
Miller hated dances. Hated the money spent that could go to other places
that needed it more. Hated the silly gimmicks and themes. But I didn’t. I wanted all the high school experiences and going with River had been my plan all along.
But after Miller had kissed me, even my fantasies about those experiences had been rearranged. I imagined Miller and me at the base of the stairs at my house. Mom would take a million photos and Dad would joke, but not really, that Miller had better have me home on time and take care of me.
And Miller would, because that’s what he did. At the dance, he’d hold me close, and we’d sway to the music. Maybe he’d sing one of his songs in my ear and then kiss me…
I shook myself out of my thoughts with a shiver. Miller wasn’t going to ask me to any Prom, I reminded myself. He had a girlfriend.
And he and I are impossible.
“I’ll go to the Prom with you,” I said to River. “But only as friends.”
His face brightened, and though he was a huge, strong guy, something intangible in his eyes broke my heart. Relief, maybe, that he was going to do something that would please his dad.
“Just friends,” he said, then grinned and touched a small cut on his lip my teeth had left thanks to our clumsy kisses. “Safer for me that way.”
“I’m never going to live this down, am I?”
He smiled and nudged my arm. “It’s already forgotten.”
I left the Whitmores feeling shockingly calm. Almost optimistic.
I made a new friend.
It felt weird to think of River that way, since we’d known each other for ages. But my clumsy attempt to kiss Miller Stratton out of my system had backfired in the best possible way. I went to soccer practice feeling better than I had in days.
My phone vibrated with a text as I walked to the field. Shiloh.
Amber told me that she and Miller broke up.
My heart seized up all over again. OK. When?
A few days ago. Right after the bonfire.
I stared at the text. Days ago. But no word from him since.
She sent another. Did something happen with u2 that night?
I hadn’t told Shiloh we kissed. She’d be pissed off at both of us and defensive of her friend. And she’d be right on both counts. I had no idea what to say. Or even think. My silence prompted a phone call.
