“The dock?” Aggi tilts her head. “Yeah. The dock.”
She smiles, and her eyes widen. I’m still holding her cheek, refusing to let go, and she’s leaning her head into my hand like it’s a pillow. My insides twist into knots as memories of us together zigzag through my mind. We’re on my porch bouncing a rubber ball between us while Pawtrick Swayze weaves in and out of our legs. We’re at the lake laughing while Henry and I perfect our belly flops off the dock. We’re on the rooftop of the science building, our lips wet with want as our bodies join for the first time. If I don’t kiss Aggi right now . . . But I need to ask her first. We haven’t been together in months, and I haven’t a clue if spontaneity is a part of us anymore. It’s our thousandth kiss, but it feels like the first.
“Aggi?”
“Yeah?”
I slide my fingers into the hair above her ear and sigh. She closes her eyes again, and as I’m about to ask if it’s okay to kiss her, the song changes to something drum-heavy, and I jump.
“Ouch!”
28
Aggi
MAX YANKS MY HAIR, PRACTICALLY ripping it from my scalp.
“My bracelet’s stuck!”
“Your what?”
“My bracelet.”
Since when does Max wear a bracelet?
“Can you stop pulling my hair?” Max won’t relent. He’s twisting my curls around his wrist.
“I’m really sorry, but can you hold still?”
“That’s so painful. Please stop yanking my hair.”
“I’m so sorry! I can’t unwind my hand. The beads are stuck.”
I grab his wrist and pull at the strand of hair twisted around the wooden beads. Max’s hand smacks my ear.
“God. Sorry!” Max says.
“It won’t budge.”
“I’ll take it off.” Max’s fingers, warm against my scalp, poke and prod around my head. His touch, even the jabs, charges every cell in my body. My muscles bubble with memory, reminded of the last time we were this close.
That night, on top of the science building, on top of each other. Sure, it was a bumbling first time, but it was our first time, and we’ve never had a second. The thrill of the memory coils with pain and guilt. We were messing around while Kate’s car was hitting black ice. We were pawing and panting with want, spinning out of control while Cal struggled for his life. We could barely breathe while Max’s brother took his last breath.
Max slips out of his bracelet, leaving the wooden beads dangling in my hair. “We’ll probably need to cut it out.”
We’ll. There’s no “we” anymore. There can’t be.
“Thanks, but I’ll manage.” I stress the word “I’ll” to smother his “we’ll.”
Max rubs the back of his neck.
“Well . . . thanks.”
Guilt has found me again, choking out the words I’d like to say to Max. I want to tell him what I’m feeling, and I want to hear what he’s feeling, too, but I’m afraid someone will see us and Dad will find out Max and I were alone together. He’ll think we planned it. He’ll accuse me of not caring about Kate. How I’m to blame for the accident. If Max and I hadn’t been on the roof that night—if we’d been anywhere but there—my sister, his brother, would still be alive.
“Max?” I say his name with urgency. Guilt ferries me to unanswered questions. I want to know if he blames me like my father does, as it was my idea to go to the science building that night.
Max eyeballs the beads in my hair. “You don’t have to thank me, Aggi. Grace is like a sister.”
Max, the way he says my name, the way he thinks of Grace as family, the way his head bobbles when he talks, buckles my knees beneath me. I wobble, but is it the sound of his voice or the herb-tinted air? I’ve been downstairs sucking secondhand smoke for many minutes, and now I’m light-headed—in fact, my whole body feels like it might lift and float like a helium-filled balloon.
Maybe it’s the smoke or the song playing its love-locked chorus on a wheel. Maybe it’s that Max and I haven’t touched each other since the night that tore us apart. Whatever it is, I can’t bring myself to look away from his face. My eyes lock onto his nose, cheeks, lips. My heart focuses on the likelihood that I’m going to kiss him and then walk away like nothing ever happened. There are too many questions, and I’m afraid of the answers. I’d rather feel the press of his lips against mine, even if it is the last time. That urgent swipe and push as our lips find each other again. How our mouths split apart and tongues wrap and intertwine.
I have to kiss him.
Then I’ll leave. Search for Umé and insist we go.
Just one long kiss. One last time. Something to remember him by. It’s been so long.
Then I won’t look back. Ever.
29
Max
IF I DON’T KISS AGGI I’m going up in smoke. We can’t leave now without a kiss. This is the first time we’ve been alone—in a crowded room—since Cal and Kate died. If Aggi leaves with me bumbling over my words, saying no more than “You don’t have to thank me,” I’ll combust and then live with regret. What if we never get another chance? What if we’re never alone again? Aggi’s dad warned me to never speak to his daughter, but I’ll risk my life if it means I’m back in hers.
Aggi and her long blinks and tiny steps back and forth. She’s confused, too. But then she leans in and I match her move, forcing myself to stare at her face, not my bracelet stuck in her hair. I hope I’m not misreading the moment, but I don’t think I care anymore. The only thing I care about is kissing her. A reward that outweighs all risks. And I’m about to take the risk I’ve wanted to take for months.
“Aggi?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I—?”
The guy next to me turns, laughs, and blows smoke into my face. I cough and wave away the cloud. Aggi smiles, covering her face with her hands. She’s beautiful up close, more beautiful than I remember. Her freckles splash her nose and spill onto her cheeks, her lips lined in a color to match. She slides her hands from her face and parts her lips but not to speak. I step closer, brushing my body against hers.
She grabs my neck and yanks me toward her. Holy shit! This is really happening.
30
Aggi
WHEN YOU WANT SOMEONE SO bad every inch of your body aches, you’ll stop at nothing to get them. You’ll dive into freezing lake waters, shovel already-shoveled snow, sit on the porch and watch for a shadow in the window, long for a wave.
Max needed me like I needed him. We lost two of the most precious people in our lives, and then we lost each other. I joked about having a stalker, and then eventually I bought my dad’s lies. Max isn’t a fact finder. He’s showing all the signs of a boy in love. At least the signs I recognize.
There is only one way to know for sure how Max feels, but first I need him to answer a couple of questions.
I reach around Max’s neck and yank him toward me. His back bends forward, his ear at my lips. “What are you trying to accomplish by bringing girls to your house every week? Are you trying to make me jealous?”
Max’s eyes widen as his lips tremble and his mouth pops open like a baby bird’s. He looks at me, then the floor, the ceiling. He tugs at his shirt.
“Stop fidgeting, Maxwell! I deserve answers! I have to make sense of what you’ve been doing. Following me around yet seeing other girls.”
Baby-bird mouth again. No words except “I . . . I . . . I . . .”
“Following me to work makes sense. Sitting outside my window after you’ve pretended to shovel the driveway, I get. But you know I’m sitting at my desk watching as you bring a new ‘friend’ home. If you’re doing it to make me jealous, you succeeded!” I feel heat in my cheeks, my breath heavy, annoyance bubbling inside me where affection lingered mere seconds ago. Max has some explaining to do. No matter how bad I want this big, romantic reunion with him, I have to make sense of how he’s been acting for months.
Max scratches his cheek, clears his throa
t. “It’s not how it looks. I promise.”
“But you shout so the entire woods hears how happy you are. How you have the house to yourself. And every Friday—like clockwork—you bring someone new home. You’re never by yourself. Don’t you want to be alone, or with . . .” I stop myself and Max sighs.
“If you’re trying to make me jealous, that’s so unfair.” I fold my arms. “Unfair to those girls at your house. Unfair to me. I realize we haven’t spoken in almost a year, but I thought I knew you. Have you really changed that much? I mean, you’re even wearing bracelets now!” I flick my hair and the beads jingle at my ear.
Max reaches for the bracelet, leans in, and gently unwinds my hair from the beads. “I thought that’s what you wanted,” he says at my ear. “For me to leave you alone.” He rolls the bracelet between his fingers and draws a deep breath. “This was Cal’s, by the way. Sorry it got stuck in your hair.”
“You thought it was what I wanted?”
“For me to move on. For us to move on. So I thought if you saw me with those girls, you’d think I’d moved on.”
“Max! I see you everywhere! You’re not exactly the best stalker.” The word slips, and he winces.
“That’s what you think of me? A stalker?” Max’s chin drops. He wipes his eye, and I wonder if it’s a tear or if the smoke is burning. “I did everything the wrong way, but I didn’t know what to do or how to do it. This year, without my brother, without you—I’m just trying to figure out how to survive without the people I love.”
The room spins and my heart pounds.
I grab Max’s free hand and draw it to my chest as I close my eyes and inch closer to kiss him. I lean in. Max leans in, too. We’re so close his hot breath puffs my face. As we inch closer, and closer still, Henry slams into us, shouting, “We have to get out of here now! NOW!”
31
Max
LEAVE IT TO MY BEST friend to interrupt me as my lips are centimeters from Aggi’s. Goose bumps cover me, head to toe. A cloud of smoke burns my eyes, yet Aggi is all I see, in focus and sunlight bright. My legs are rubber, ankles melting, and if I’m not mistaken, I quite possibly have a boner.
“No. No! NO!” I shout in Henry’s face and he flinches. “Not going. Not going anywhere. I can’t.” I glance down, then back at Henry. Does he not see the predicament I’m in?
Henry grabs my shirt. “My brothers texted Umé and she told them where we were! They’re going to beat my ass for hiding their keys! They’ve been circling the house in my dad’s truck, and we have to get out of here!”
I turn to Aggi. “Go with us?”
She pauses. Worry in her eyes. She has her own devils messing with her head, and I want to wrestle them to the ground and pummel their faces, but instead I beg, “Please, Aggi. I want to answer all those questions you asked me. One last talk. We owe it to ourselves. To them.” Kate and Cal.
Henry comes between us as he shoves me toward the basement stairs. We race toward the back door. In the dim porch light, I’m afraid to turn around and check if Aggi followed.
32
Aggi
WHAT DOES MAX MEAN BY “one last talk”? After tonight, will he never speak to me again? Maybe he’s hurt by me calling him a stalker.
I trudge up the stairs behind the boys. Jen is waiting for us on the landing and grabs Henry’s arm, swings the back door open, and shouts, “Through here!”
I should duck out, find Umé, and insist we leave so I can avoid this “one last talk.” But Max and I may never speak again, and then I’d be full of regret.
At the doorway, Max leans against a metal pipe railing, shifting his pants and patting his crotch, and I force myself to look away. Jen and Henry huddle in the backyard, Henry’s voice wound tight.
“I’m so sorry, but I have to go!” Henry says. “Earlier, I took my brothers’ keys. They were in no condition to drive, and I knew they’d be pissed when they discovered their keys missing. They’d come after me.”
“Oh, Henry,” Max says from the steps.
Henry clears his throat. “Yeah. Probably shouldn’t have done that.” He swats the air. “I should have taken their truck, too, and driven it smack-dab into the lake. Because when they find me—”
“Really wish you’d left them alone,” Max says, shaking his head.
Henry races to the corner of the house for a peek, and Jen follows.
Max looks back at me and hesitates. I smile.
“Will you please go with us?”
I shake my head. “I can’t. . . . I won’t leave Umé.”
“They’re circling around again!” Henry shouts, and plasters himself against the wall of the house. “We have to go!”
Max jumps from the steps, grabs Henry, and says, “Just stand up to them!”
“Hah!”
“I’m serious,” Max says. “You’re always letting them settle the score the way your dad says to settle it, the way they want to. Why can’t they settle it the way you want?”
Jen interrupts. “Why is there a fucking score to settle in the first place? You’re brothers.”
Henry and Max glance at Jen, neither speaking, only nodding.
The truck slows in front of the house, and Henry peeks around the edge again. “There’s Umé! What the hell is she doing?”
I leap from the steps and trail Max and Jen to the corner of the house. The truck is stopped, window down, and Umé’s pointing toward the front steps as if she’s telling them Henry’s inside the house.
“I hope she’s not doing what I think she is!” Henry says.
“Did you tell her you’d taken their keys?” Max asks.
“Didn’t get a chance to explain after she told me they texted her. I was too busy freaking out that she’d told them where we were!”
Jen aims her key fob at a black Honda parked on the opposite side of the street. She says, “Tuck your coat over your head and run to my car!” She tosses Henry her keys. “You drive! I had a beer.”
“We’re going with you,” Max says, and reaches for my hand.
I pause as Henry pulls his coat over his head. Max’s eyes urge me to go, to take hold of his hand. My chest tightens. I know I shouldn’t, but Henry’s counting to three and Jen’s shouting, “Let’s go!”
As Henry’s brothers pull away from the curb, we sprint—all four of us—across the street. Max’s door won’t open and Henry frantically pushes buttons on the key fob. The beep-beep draws Umé’s eyes to us and she shouts, “Hey! Where are you guys going?”
“Get in!” Henry screams, and we dive into the car.
Henry slams on the gas and we fishtail down the road, heading in the opposite direction of the twins.
When I slip my phone from my coat to text Umé and fill her in on what the hell is going on, my stomach turns to knots. Two messages from my dad. I refuse to check them, which sickens me even more, but I send a vague text to Umé that reads: Call me. Additional details would get me into more trouble than I’m already in.
I don’t know where we’re going or why I chose to go. The spontaneity feels good, though, and for the first time in months I feel taking a risk is exactly what I need to do. I am having fun again.
33
Max
AGGI AND I END UP in the back seat of Jen’s Honda, me pushed into the passenger-side door and Aggi perched in the middle. She has yet to slide back over to her side, and I’m not complaining. Her knee bumps mine and presses into my thigh as I straighten my back. The courage I felt in the dark, smoke-filled basement fades. In the car, the air’s clear and smells of peppermint, the streetlights shine on us like spotlights, and I’ve never felt so vulnerable.
Jen flips around in her seat as Henry runs a stop sign. “That was your friend, right, talking to Henry’s brothers?”
Aggi glances at her phone screen, and I glimpse a text from her dad. “Yeah. I just texted her.” She swipes the unread text bubble into oblivion. “Haven’t heard from her yet. She probably thinks we left her.”
“We did,” I mumble, and grit my teeth when Aggi glances over.
“I saw her on the porch earlier talking to a girl,” Jen says. I think she’s trying to put Aggi’s mind at ease. She senses Aggi’s worried about her friend, but I know her concerns run deeper.
Henry taps the gas and turns the corner.
“Where do you plan on going?” I ask, and Henry glances in the rearview mirror. “They already know you’re in town. At a party.” We skid as he approaches a stop sign.
“I’m not taking any chances, especially now that Umé clearly told them we were inside.”
“I though you hid their spare set of keys.”
Henry ignores me and revs the engine, squinting down the cross street. “Aggi?” he says. “Text Umé again and see what they told her.”
Aggi scoots forward. “I already did and haven’t heard back.”
Headlights shine from an approaching vehicle, and as the truck draws closer, Henry slams the gas pedal and we fishtail across the street. “Hold on!” Henry shouts.
Aggi slams back into the seat and slides sideways against my shoulder.
“A little easier on my car, please,” Jen says, and Henry flashes a sheepish grin.
“Sorry. I thought it was my brothers.”
Aggi takes her time removing herself from my shoulder. “Oops,” she mumbles.
But I hear “sorry” and say, “Oh, no. You don’t have to be sorry.” Her eyebrow lifts, and I realize Henry’s the one who apologized.
“So why are we running from your brothers this time?” Aggi asks, and hearing the word “we” feels wonderful and makes me smile.
We’ve done this before—Aggi, Henry, Umé, and me—a couple of summers ago, when Henry’s brothers found his Hawaii fund and stole forty bucks. Henry was furious. He’d worked hard for that money, selling eggs and in-season fruit at the farmers market as his mother had done before Henry was born. Henry drove fifty miles every weekend to sell goods, and he never missed a day unless Mr. Parker, the farmer Henry worked for, called to tell him he couldn’t afford to pay him that week.
Since We Last Spoke Page 14
