To Be Yours

by Elana Johnson

  “I didn’t give her any opinions,” I said, regretting the decision to bring up prom. Honestly, my brain had taken a vacation recently. “She picked out the dress she wanted.”

  “That’s weird,” Thea said. “Friends help each other pick out their dresses.”

  “She helped me,” I said, my voice sounding weak and wounded.

  “Someone needs to.” Thea leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. She glared like she had a master’s degree in the art of staring someone down, and I swallowed again and looked away.

  The scared, timid Eden would’ve left it at that. The one who wanted to make her dad proud. Who read his letter every morning and every night. Who didn’t make decisions on her own.

  But that girl didn’t even know what kind of eggs she liked, or what to order in a food court like this. I glanced down at the remains of my crispy bean burrito—the exact item I’d wanted and enjoyed—and leveled my gaze at Thea.

  “I don’t know what I did to you,” I said. “I’m not trying to steal Mona or anything.”

  Thea laughed, but it wasn’t the friendly kind. “Oh, I know.”

  “Did I do something to make you mad?”

  “Not really.”

  So she just didn’t like me. “All right.” I’d learned a long time ago that I couldn’t make someone like me. Mona’s group of friends was plenty big, extending down a long lunch table in the cafeteria. I could easily avoid Thea next year.

  Silence prevailed until Mona returned. She slapped Thea’s smoothie on the table with a scowl. “You owe me. Hayden Buckley works over there and he doesn’t know what ‘no’ means.”

  Thea tipped her head back and laughed. She took a long drink of her smoothie and said nothing. No apology. Nothing. I wasn’t sure who Hayden Buckley was. He didn’t go to our school. I sat like a mute, wondering how to salvage this afternoon.

  Thankfully, Mona either didn’t feel the extreme awkwardness or she didn’t care. She kept the conversation going about boys, who might ask Thea to prom last minute, what the next fashion style would be. I let her and Thea talk, because my emotion lingered so close to the surface, I thought it would sound in my voice as loud as a gong.

  I didn’t take a full breath until we made it into the movie theater and the lights dimmed. Even then, it seemed like Thea’s poison hung in the air.

  “Sorry about Thea,” Mona said once we’d said good-bye and had made it safely inside her car.

  “It’s fine,” I said. “I get it.”

  “Do you?” Mona checked her rearview mirror before backing out of the parking stall. “Because I don’t. She said she’d be nice, but I don’t think she knows how.”

  “I don’t know what I did.”

  “You showed up.”

  “I’m not trying to take her spot in the group.” I just needed somewhere soft to fall when everyone I currently spent time with left.

  “She moved in right next door to me. We’ve been friends ever since, even after she moved across town. She had a rough time when Lyla started hanging out with us. She’ll adjust.” Mona slid me a glance and refocused on the road, which now shone like silver in the moonlight.

  I didn’t know what to say. I’d known Mona for years—we played on the same recreational soccer team for a few years before Dad died. He was our coach the last year Mona played. Then she moved on to dance or something. I couldn’t quite remember, because the couple of years after my dad passed away were shadowy in my memory. Foggy images. Semi-familiar names of teachers, coaches, friends.

  “Thanks for inviting me,” I said when Mona pulled into my driveway. Our windows glowed with warm, yellow light, and for the first time in a long time, I didn’t dread going inside. I didn’t cringe at the thought of Mom peppering me with questions.

  Another pair of headlights cut through the darkness. I got out of Mona’s car at the same time Grayson killed his monstrous engine. She backed out as he jumped down from the cab, Josh doing the same on the passenger side.

  “Hey.” I barely refrained from stepping into him and stealing his strength and comfort. A simple touch would erase the tension in my lungs, the anxiety in my bloodstream. But the way Josh tossed us a disgruntled look made me get my feet moving toward the house, same as him.

  “You coming?” I tossed over my shoulder.

  “I’ll call you,” he said. “I need to get home to my brothers.”

  The front door banged closed behind Josh, so I spun back toward Grayson, practically flying into his arms. “See you tomorrow,” I breathed before pressing my lips to his.

  He kissed me and held me tight, almost like he needed my touch as badly as I craved his. I couldn’t quite believe that, but I felt cherished in those few moments. Then Terry slammed open the front door and made a big show of pretending not to know Grayson and I were still outside.

  Grayson’s letter to his mother:

  Dear Mom,

  I feel bad that I never got to say goodbye. I know Luke and Darren do too, so I suggested we write these letters to you. Problem is, every time I sit down to say something, I have nothing to say. Nothing good anyway, and I figure you have enough negative stuff in your life right now.

  I just thought of something, though. Dad said you never recovered after your miscarriage, and I guess I’m just wondering if I’m not good enough for you, or why me, Luke, and Darren weren’t enough for you. Are girls really that much better? Would a daughter really have made you that much happier? I guess so.

  Whatever.

  Grayson

  24

  Grayson

  I used to think everything could be fixed with enough money. That was what my dad did. If one accountant wouldn’t do what he wanted, he hired another one and paid him more. Couldn’t make the baseball team off talent? Let him write a check, buy the equipment, and put whoever he wanted on the roster.

  But even money couldn’t buy contentment. In fact, all I’d ever seen it buy was alcohol and prescription drugs and replacement dishes when the ones we hardly ever used got broken in a drunken rage.

  I woke the following weekend with these resentful thoughts spiraling through my head. It had been sunny and unseasonably warm for the past five days, causing premature melting and flooding all over town. Dad was in Seattle to help get Mom into the rehabilitation facility, and he’d called on Thursday night to say she’d been checked in. She didn’t have access to phones, computers, or any kind of electronics. No Internet. So I’d suggested writing the letters. Mine sat on my desk, mocking me.

  Our coach had strongly encouraged the baseball team to volunteer to help around the community during the spring clean-up, so I heaved myself out of bed and got dressed. I filled sandbags at the hardware store for a couple of hours, my muscles glad for the workout. I took a list of addresses from the community organizer and climbed into my truck, which held a hundred sandbags in the bed.

  I drove around to the addresses and delivered the sandbags, unloading most of the forty-pound beasts by myself at every destination. I pulled up to a house on the west edge of town, the driveway practically on top of the entrance to the ski resort. I would hate living here, with all the resort traffic.

  There wasn’t much today, but I was sure November through March wasn’t exactly pleasant. I had four sandbags tossed into the driveway when the garage door rumbled upward. Thea appeared, wearing very non-winter clothes. My skin prickled, but I said, “Oh, hey. I didn’t know you lived here.”

  “We moved last summer.”

  I nodded and bent for another bag. “I’ve got a dozen of these for you. Is your dad here?”

  “He went to town to buy a shovel and a water pump. Apparently we have run-off flooding our basement.”

  So did a bunch of other people, but Thea possessed a talent for making problems sound like they were unique to her. “Do you know where I should put these?” Everyone else had met me in the driveway, thanked me profusely, and taken care of getting the sandbags where they were needed most. Thea just leaned against
the doorway, her arms crossed and her heavily makeupped eyes watching me.

  “Out back, I guess.” She sounded bored, and though I didn’t have any sisters, I knew a bored girl was a recipe for disaster.

  “Great.” I tossed down the last bag and leapt out of my truck. I shouldered two bags, though I’d been working for close to four hours now and my muscles were begging me to stop. I needed to get this job done and get out of here. Fast.

  I hoped Thea would wander back into the house. With the cutoff shorts she wore, she had to be close to freezing. No such luck, though. She followed me through the garage and into the backyard. It wasn’t hard to find the swamped area, and I dropped the bags in the muck. Big mistake. Water and mud splashed as high as my chest, soaking me and sending an icy tremor through my body.

  Six more trips, I coached myself. I turned and practically trampled Thea. “Sorry,” I muttered and made to step around her.

  She tiptoed her fingers up my chest. “You’re wet.”

  “I’ll survive.” I backed up three steps and eyed her. “I’ll let your dad move the rest of the bags.”

  A pout some guys probably found attractive puckered her mouth. “You can come in and change.”

  Going into her house would be suicide. “I’m fine. I have several more deliveries to make.” She wouldn’t know I only had two more. She didn’t need to know. Every internal alarm screamed at me to leave. Now.

  I tried to step around her, but Thea blocked my way, a dark look on her face. “Why do you like Eden Scotson?”

  “I’ve known her forever.” I cringed at the words, because they weren’t even close to true. Or even relevant.

  Thea pressed closer. One more step, and she’d have her chest against the muck on my jacket. She didn’t seem to notice or care. I grabbed her wrists before she could touch me. “This is a very bad idea,” I said in the nicest tone I could muster.

  The pout returned. “Eden’s so gloomy,” she said. “I don’t understand why people like her. First you, and now Mona.”

  “She has a lot going on.” I knew better than most, but I wasn’t going to spill any of Eden’s secrets. “You don’t even know her.”

  “I know she walks around with those sad, sad eyes.” She leaned into me. Before she could speak—or do something worse—I released her hands and stepped back. I ducked around her and walked as fast as I could back to my idling truck.

  “You’re no fun either,” she called after me, but I ignored her. “And she’s hiding something.” Her voice echoed through my eardrums like thunder. “Something about prom.”

  I didn’t acknowledge that I’d heard her. Eden didn’t have any secrets, especially about prom. She’d said no more lies.

  Still, my heart rippled like a flag in a winter storm, and I drove on adrenaline. I didn’t deal well with confrontation, and Thea was right. I wasn’t very fun. I didn’t get to be. I didn’t go to parties, or kiss lots of girls, or do whatever I wanted on weekends. Luke and Darren deserved to be kids, and I wouldn’t do to them what had been done to me. My heart twisted at the thought of leaving, of requiring Luke to watch out for Darren.

  Spoiled, snobby Thea probably had nothing to worry about. No deceased father. No drunk mother. Lots of time to make up lies about Eden.

  I took a deep breath and reminded myself that appearances never told the whole story. I knew better than most, and I wondered what Thea saw when she looked at me. Probably a rich guy with a big truck, big muscles, big plans. No worries. Everything going for him.

  Suddenly, it was easy to see why she was confused about my interest in Eden. But there was something about Eden that soothed me. I thought it was because she was as broken as I was, but I’d spent a lot of time this week thinking about what Josh had said last weekend. Eden was changing—and for the better.

  And I was still stuck. With Mom gone, the immediacy of my worries had fled. But now I wondered what would happen when I left for UNLV. Would she be back by then? Would she be ready to mother Luke and Darren? If not, then what?

  Ten minutes later, I remembered I still had two deliveries to make, and I pulled out the list to check the addresses. By the time I got home, the cold had penetrated all my muscles, and I thought I’d never get warm.

  I found Luke in the living room with Darren and an open pizza box on the kitchen counter. I grabbed a slice of the combination pie, glad they’d found something to eat. Maybe they’d be just fine without me.

  “I’m going to shower,” I said.

  “Eden came over,” Luke said without turning from the TV.

  I froze. “She did? Why?”

  He rose from the couch. “She brought over some cookies. Said you needed to taste some real homemade stuff.” He grinned. “She left them somewhere...” He glanced around. “Maybe the stairs. She actually came to the front door. I almost didn’t know how to open it.” He moved past me and into the foyer. He returned a moment later carrying a paper plate. “And Melissa called. I guess she found out about Mom. She’s coming to make dinner tonight and tomorrow.”

  I took Eden’s cookies and swiped off the plastic wrap. The scent of chocolate and sugar reminded me I hadn’t eaten yet that day. I devoured a cookie and took the plate with me upstairs. Maybe with her baking and Melissa’s cooking and Luke’s ability to order pizza, my family wouldn’t starve once I left.

  I called Eden once I made it to my bedroom and closed the door. “Hey,” I said. “These cookies are amazing.”

  “Great.” He tone sounded like shards of glass coated in frost.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “That’s a lie.” I set the cookies on my desk next to the lame letter to my mom, the slice of pizza also forgotten.

  “Thea said you grabbed her.” Eden’s voice sounded distant, like it was coming through a long tunnel.

  My world stalled for a moment. “I did not.”

  “Well, that’s what she told Mona. That you came over, but then you didn’t want to hang out.”

  I laughed, because the way the story had been warped required such a reaction. “I’ve been helping the community during the spring clean-up,” I said. “I spent five hours this morning filling sandbags and delivering them. Her house was on my list. I didn’t even know it was hers until she opened the garage.”

  “Did you touch her?”

  “Yeah, because she was coming on to me.”

  “She says you were coming on to her.”

  “And you believed her?”

  “No—I—”

  “So should I believe everything she told me too?”

  The silence coming through the line reeked of awkwardness. Finally, Eden asked, “What did she tell you?”

  “Something about prom. I wasn’t really listening at that point. Just trying to get out of there.”

  The way Eden didn’t scoff, didn’t defend herself, didn’t say anything, made me wonder if I should’ve turned back and questioned Thea further. Really found out what she knew about Eden and prom.

  My stomach growled, and I found I didn’t have patience for this conversation. “So do you have anything to tell me about prom?”

  “Only if you tell me the truth about Thea.”

  “She was right about you,” I said before I could censor myself. “You don’t even try to see the good side of things.” I blamed the way my stomach was shaking for the cruel undercurrent in my words. The lack of food for saying Thea was right. The worry and fear about the future for saying, “I have to go,” and hanging up.

  More of Eden’s letter to her father:

  Dear Dad,

  I wish your letter had contained a section about how to determine who was telling the truth. That would’ve been some good advice. Something I could really use right now.

  At the same time, I can’t believe I thought for even a moment that Thea’s version of the story was true. I know Grayson. I’ve known him my whole life—longer than you even. He’s never done anything to make me believe he’d cheat o
n me.

  Still, everything Thea says gets under my skin. How do I deal with that? That would’ve been a good thing to put in your letter too. I keep trying to think of what you would tell me to do, and then I’m angry with myself for still trying to please you.

  Oh, and how did Thea find out about JJ asking me to prom? Mona swears she didn’t tell her, and I didn’t tell her, and no one else knows. Except Josh, and he wouldn’t say anything. Why didn’t you detail how to deal with mean girls? That would’ve been useful too. But I don’t know how, and I’ll probably mess it all up, and that’ll pretty much guarantee that I won’t make you proud.

  I’m still not sure why I care. It’s not like you’re here.

  25

  Eden

  I paced in my bedroom, Grayson’s words riding the merry-go-round of my mind. She was right about you. Something about prom. She was right about you. Something about prom prom prom.

  I hadn’t done anything about the whole prom issue. JJ hadn’t tried to talk to me at school, in class, nothing. He was a good guy; I couldn’t hurt him either. I didn’t go around hurting people.

  My phone went off, and it was JJ. Want to go to the dog park? I’m taking my boxer and Steele is bringing his mastiff.

  My first thought was to say yes. Yes, I wanted to go. Get Bubba out of the house. Make new friends. Spend time with people my own age.

  But JJ thought we were going to prom together.

  “This is why you shouldn’t date.” I touched the wall and turned. Made it to my bed and turned. Wall, turn. Bed, turn.

  I needed to fix things. I wanted to be with Grayson, but I could be friends with JJ next year. All summer. Maybe not friends who held hands and kissed, but he could be someone I talked to, shared my life with, hung out with.