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by L. M. Augustine

  For a minute, I just sit there and I think about Cat, who is probably off and making new friends and totally forgetting about me. I can’t push her away, not over something this stupid. I can’t screw up my life any more than I have.

  Then, it hits me. I need to fix this.

  Before I know what I’m doing, I reach for my computer, click over to my email, and begin typing. I click send without reading it over, and proceed to constantly refresh my inbox until I get a response, afraid I won’t even get one.

  from: West Ryder

  to: Cat Davenport

  subject: (no subject)

  Dear Your Highness of All Things Chocolate,

  It has come to my attention that your subject, West Ryder, has been temporarily banished from your chocolate kingdom due to his “asshole behavior.” I’ve recently been in contact with said criminal, and it seems he can’t stop thinking about how stupid he acted and now all he wants is to get you back. So he wishes for me to deliver you this real apology. He says that even if you don’t accept, Your Highness of All Things Chocolate, he wants to thank you… for everything you’ve done for him. Anyway, here it is:

  Dear Your Highness of All Things Chocolate,

  I am sorry for insulting your chocolate-centric palace and for leaving you so abruptly. I am sorry we fought over which chocolate is best—obviously dark chocolate—and I’m sorry it’s come to this. But more than that, I’m sorry for disappointing you. You needed me, and I… I wasn’t there for you. I regret it. I want to come back to your Chocolate Palace, but more than that, I want you, Your Highness. I want to be with you again. I want to be your friend. I don’t want to push you away any further.

  I want to fix this.

  With lots of chocolate,

  West

  (Seriously, Cat. I need you. I don’t care what anyone thinks. I need you.)

  When I read over the email, I know deep down that I mean every word of it.

  It feels like the longest time before Cat responds, but in reality I don’t think it’s much more than thirty minutes. I keep refreshing my inbox, though, my pulse pounding, wondering what Cat will think. Will she ignore me? Will she even respond?

  Finally, my email dings, and I swear it’s the most beautiful sound in the world. I rush to click on it, and I take a deep breath. My stomach is tight as I start reading the email, and I swear I’m expecting to be disappointed, to be turned down and pushed away for good.

  from: Cat Davenport

  to: West Ryder

  subject: (no subject)

  Dear Servant,

  First of all, it was my direct order for you never to email me again. For this offense, you shall be beheaded tomorrow at dawn. Be there, or we’ll just behead you elsewhere. I can wait. I have plenty of chocolate in this palace to last me.

  Second, however, I am glad you sent me this email from that West Ryder character. (Though yes, you’re still going to die. You are incredibly needy. You say you “must have food and water every few days or else you’ll die?” Seems very rather greedy of you.) I remember him quite well; we used to be close, and I hope we still are, but we just… disagreed about something, and that was all. I banished him from my Chocolate Palace because I was angry in the moment, but I do hope he can return to the Palace soon. Point being, tell him this before you die:

  West,

  I need you too.

  Without pity,

  Your Highness of All Things Chocolate

  By the end of the email my heart is in my throat and my whole body feels so light inside. I let out a breath of relief.

  I need you too.

  They’re just four words, but they’ve already sent my body into an episode of muppetflails, internal screaming, and excited jumping-and-down. The knot in my stomach disappears, and the sinking feeling in my gut is gone. In that moment, all I want to do is run around the house and jump for joy. A huge, lopsided grin spreads across my face.

  Cat, we need each other, I tell myself as I start typing a response.

  from: West Ryder

  to: Cat Davenport

  subject: (no subject)

  Your Highness,

  I am sorry to hear that. I will be at my beheading tomorrow. But before I die, West would like to know: what does this mean for him? Will you two stay friends and let him move back into the Chocolate Palace?

  As soon as I send it, my fists clench. I half-expect her to say no, to say that this friendship is over and then never respond to me again

  But she doesn’t.

  My email dings a minute later, and I click on it, swallowing hard. Cat’s response is two words: We’ll see.

  Chapter 9

  I don’t talk to Cat after that. Instead, I close my computer, watch a victory episode of Law & Order, flail some more, and eventually make my way back up to my bedroom. I sit on the edge of my bed for a while, just staring out the window at the dried leaves swirling in the air and spiraling down to the ground below, thinking about Cat. I hope this means we can go back to being normal. I hope we can just stay best friends, and I’ll have at least one constant left in my life.

  But how do I tell? Am I just supposed to wait? I can’t wait for Cat, I can’t just wait and see.

  I get up and walk to my window, pressing a sweaty hand to the cool glass. My eyes wander to the empty street in front of me. Neither cars nor people pass by my house, and it’s not like I can blame them. Every house in my neighborhood is either falling apart or too small to fit a family of more than two, and some both. This area is not exactly a sight to see. In the distance I can see the tops of much larger, much nicer houses—Cat’s neighborhood. For an instant, a pang of regret comes over me. I wish I could be there with her, laughing and debating about random things and having ice cream eating contests like we used to. But instead? I’m stuck here.

  I try not to think about it.

  Beyond Cat’s neighborhood lies the lake she and I always used to go to, which is located off to the right side of town. The lake is about a quarter mile long with a small, one-house island located in its center, and its water shimmery and calm. Every week in the summer when I was kid, I used to kayak across the lake and out to that mini island with my mom and dad. Most of the time we capsized, or spent more energy into random splash wars than we did actual kayaking.

  We used to have a competition to see who could kayak to the island first, and the winner would receive bragging rights until next time. They would also be called, “Your Highness” by the two losers, and let me tell you, it’s pretty freaking awesome to be called “Your Highness” by your own parents, especially in public. So one can say I had some pretty serious drive to win.

  The best part of the competition wasn’t the prize, though, but how serious we were about it. We would trash talk each other, try to knock each other’s kayaks overboard, and we seemed to find every possible way to beat out the others. I remember how Dad once capsized Mom’s kayak with his paddle when they were racing to the island, and she totally flipped out at him, swam to catch up with his kayak, then pulled him from his seat and dragged him into the water with her. The two of them started fighting and laughing and splashing each other and I just kayaked by, smiling, not realizing how lucky I was to have my family so strong and intact, not realizing how all that love I felt at the time would only come back to haunt me.

  I return to my bed, fighting back tears. I miss Mom. I miss Dad. But more than that, I miss us. I miss those simple times back on the lake, when we didn’t need to worry about anything, when we could just enjoy each other’s presence and that’s all there was: enjoyment. No catch. No fear. No nothing but each other.

  We were such a tight-knit family back then, and now we’re nothing. It still doesn’t feel real, honestly, like this is all some elaborate dream and we’ll go back to being normal soon enough. But in my heart, I know that will nev
er happen. It’s as if the tighter we were, the harder we were ripped apart.

  I don’t want that to happen to Cat and me.

  I remember what my mom once told me: “If you care about someone, no matter what, fight for her.”

  My fists clench, and I take in a long, deep breath.

  I care about Cat.

  I’m not going to sit around and hope an email has fixed all of our problems

  I’m going to fight for her.

  ***

  I don’t know what I’m doing.

  One second I’m standing in my bedroom, staring at my hands and telling myself that I need to fight for Cat before it’s too late, and the next I find myself outside, my coat on, running down the street to god-knows-where. It takes me a few seconds to realize I’m heading to Cat’s house, the one place where I can always go to, the one place where I’m always safe.

  And I’m going back.

  The air is thick and misty as I run, and the smell of fallen leaves is everywhere. I gulp in some fresh air, clearing my head. I try not to think about what a horrible idea this is or even what I’m going to say to Cat, because I know that no matter what, I have to see her again, know that I can’t go without her any longer. It’s only been a day away from her, but it feels like eternity has come and gone, like she ran off with a part of me and I need to get it back.

  I need to get her back.

  My legs carry me all the way there, and I slow my pace as I reach her house.

  This late at night it’s dark outside, really dark, but I can still see my surroundings clearly in the moonlight. The houses on her street form a neat line, each of them looking so perfectly white it’s like they’ve never been used. Immediately, my gaze shifts to Cat’s driveway. It’s almost like instinct, but I just know she is there.

  I shove my hands deep into my pockets and walk slowly toward the driveway. The darkness keeps me hidden most of the way, and slowly, the nerves sink back in. When I finally reach the driveway, the motion sensor lights go off, bathing the area in a bright yellowish light. I look around.

  I find Cat crouching by the side of her Dad’s Mercedes like she always is, focusing her gaze on the car door. A brush is in her hand as she applies a fresh coat of red paint to its side.

  I stop walking, listening to the distant echo of my footfalls throughout the neighborhood. Cat is only a few feet in front of me, still painting away as if she isn’t seeing me, but we both know she’s aware of my presence. I take another breath. A cloud of freezing air forms in front of my face and dissolves into nothingness almost immediately. I don’t realize how cold it is until now, and a shiver races down my spine.

  Finally, Cat’s eyes shift from the car to my face, and my breath completely catches. In only twenty-four hours, I managed to forget how beautiful she was. I shift uncomfortably on my feet as soon as the thought crosses my mind.

  I can’t be thinking that.

  But yet, I am.

  The whole neighborhood is deathly silent, like we’re the only two people left in the world.

  “Hi,” I breathe.

  She stares at me, those blue eyes shimmering in the moonlight. “Hi,” is all she says back, the paint brush still clenched in her hand. I watch as beads of red slip from the end of the brush and seep onto the ground below, making an almost inaudible pat, pat, pat.

  There’s a long pause, and it’s in that instant—that single, unsmiling, heartbreakingly empty breath—that I realize how far apart we’ve grown. I step forward and hesitate, unsure of what to say but sure I have to say it.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

  For a second, nothing happens. Cat just looks at me, letting her paintbrush slip from her fingers until it clatters onto the driveway below, sending drops of red paint everywhere. Then, as if on cue, she laughs—a total, pissed-off kind of laugh. “Wow, that was incredibly creative and impressive, West,” she says absently. “I’m glad you know how to make a girl feel so special.”

  A twinge of hurt shoots through me, but I shake it off, because I deserved that.

  I take another step forward. Cat’s house sits to our right, and I’m distinctly aware of how dark it is—the only light is from the motion sensor, which illuminates her pale face. “You know I mean it.”

  “Do I?”

  “You do,” I say, inching ever closer.

  She stands up now, kicking the paint bucket to the side. “Look, do you have anything else to say to me? Apology accepted. Whatever. Now get the hell out of here so I can work on the car, okay?”

  I grit my teeth. Not the kind of reaction I was going for. “Cat, please—”

  She rolls her eyes, looking annoyed. “Please what?”

  “Please… I don’t know. Please just don’t leave, okay? I don’t want you to… leave.” I kick myself in the ankle. I sound like such an idiot.

  “And why not?” Her hands are on her hips now, but her eyes look sharp, calculating, like there is a wrong answer to this question and she’s seeing if I pick it.

  I close my eyes. “You really want to know?”

  “I do.”

  This time, I answer her clearly. I grip her arms with my hands and look deep into her eyes. I’m consciously aware of her warmth flooding into me, of the shudder that races down my spine as our skin meets. “Because I don’t want you to go,” I say so quietly I’m not even sure if she can hear. I feel my biceps flexing as I hold her, hold her and don’t let go. “I need you.” The words seem to echo around the silent neighborhood, dancing every which way as if to taunt me with their desperation.

  I need you.

  But it’s true. It’s so freaking true. I need her, and it’s that simple. I need her there for me, I need her presence, her smile; she always knows what to say, and I need that too. Fuck love. Fuck all of this. We’re best friends. I can’t stay apart from her over something this stupid. She’s too important to me for that.

  As soon as the words leave my mouth, Cat’s lips purse into a thin line, and I can’t detect any emotion from her. God, she has a great poker face. But me? Not so much. I can feel the warmth settling on my cheeks already, and I know—just know—I’m blushing. And hard.

  This near to me, I can feel Cat’s body inching closer and closer to mine. I see her lips, open and soft, sliding in closer to my jaw... And that hyperawareness scares the hell out of me. I’ve never noticed these things before.

  Finally, Cat opens her mouth to speak. “Interesting,” is all she says.

  My heart sinks. “Interesting?”

  “Interesting,” she confirms, forcing a slight nod.

  Here and there crickets chirp behind us and I can hear the distant hum of a car on a nearby road somewhere. It’s cold out, freezing cold, but my skin is so hot from being near Cat that I barely even register it. I release my grip on her arm, shaking my head. “That’s it?”

  “That’s it.”

  I sigh. “What?” I mutter, because by the blankness of her face, the subtle, sharp edge to her words, I can tell she’s angry. She has reason to be angry, dammit. I was an idiot. An asshole. Look where that got me.

  “What do you mean, ‘what?’”

  “Are we seriously going to do this?”

  “Do what?”

  I laugh, annoyed, and throw my head back. “I deserved that.”

  “You did.”

  I kick the ground. “Dammit, Cat! Why are we treating each other like enemies? We aren’t! We’re best friends, but we just… I just…” I close my eyes, gathering the energy to continue. “I don’t want us to turn out like this,” I finally say.

  Before I even realize what’s happening, my fingers reach out and brush her arm. I feel the searing warmth of her skin, then a tingle down my spine, and something else too. Something… I jump back, not wanting to know what it was. I shudder, and she just sighs.

  “Could you be any more obvious about it?” she says.

  I open and close my mouth before saying, “Probably.”

  “You’re an idiot,”
she says.

  I force a laugh. “I know.”

  “I’m glad. I thought I was going to have to explain to you why, and you know how thick-headed you are.” Then, she smiles to herself, a distant kind of smile that I can’t possibly place. She shakes her head, and the look disappears in a flash. “But, at least, you’re a cute idiot.”

  I let a little grin slip onto my lips. “I am?”

  “Unfortunately, yes, you are. It’s just about the only thing you have going for you at this point.”

  “Not true.”

  “So true.”

  I roll my eyes. A slight breeze whistles past us and I feel the goosebumps prickling across the skin on my arm. My eyes lock on hers. Suddenly, it’s just Cat and me and nothing but darkness.

  I shift my gaze to my feet. “I miss you,” I whisper, letting the wind carry my words, because this close to her, I know she can hear me. I can feel her, can almost anticipate her touch, her smile, and I know from the bottom of my heart that I really do miss her.

  “I miss you too,” she says, her eyes so big and genuine. “But I also miss us. Us… before.”

  “I know.” I find myself nodding. “Me too.” Then, “Think we can go back to being friends?”

  She hesitates. A look crosses her eyes—a glimmer of something that looks like… regret?—but it’s gone the second it comes. “Yeah,” she finally breathes, turning her head back to the car. “I… I can do that, I think.”

  The air is cool all around, but between us, with each other so close, it’s all warmth.

  “Good,” I say. “That sounds… nice. Being best friends again is nice. But promise me you won’t try anything?”

  “Like what?” A devilish look flashes across her lips.