by Cat Patrick
“You have to go,” I tell Joel suddenly, trying to channel Super-Dorothy. “I need time to think … and I can’t do that with you staring at me.” I push past him and head toward the front door. Joel walks out after me, and when he’s on the porch, I lock up the house.
“Caroline,” he says, touching my arm. And I realize it’s the same way he was touching Lauren’s. I brush him off and hurry down the stairs, processing the fact that I’m dissing the guy I’ve liked my whole life. But I need to decide whether I believe what he said about what happened with Lauren. And then I need to decide just how much longer I’m willing to be his secret.
I don’t feel like I can go home—not with tear-streaked cheeks and an inquisitive mother—so I drive. I end up in the grocery store parking lot. It looks like a scene from an apocalypse movie: only a few cars, dim streetlights, and zombies limping by.
Crying has messed with me, leaving me empty. I almost wish I could bottle it back up, but the damage has been done. When I reach up to grip Gram’s charm, my eyes widen and I scratch myself, feeling around for it. It’s gone. I grab the rearview mirror to check, and sure enough, the necklace that I so desperately wanted, that I lied to my sister for, is missing. I burst out crying once again; I’m in free fall—broken and lonely, sitting by myself on Halloween at a grocery store of all places.
My tears only stop when my phone buzzes. I see it’s Simone but ignore her, even as she continues to text, asking where I am. And when I read BE SURE TO GIVE LOVER BOY A KISS FOR ME, I turn my phone off altogether. Going home is even less an option now, not when my sister is there and I lost the necklace she’s been frantically searching for. I can’t go to Joel’s, and I don’t have the energy to explain to Simone what happened. I want to start over where no one knows me.
A sad smile crosses my lips as I realize where I can go. I shift into gear and get on the highway. Once I’m cruising at sixty-five, I plug in the Joel mix I made long before he first kissed me, the one filled with hopeful instead of toxic songs. I sing at the top of my lungs as I fly down the road, thinking not of Joel, but of someone else I haven’t met yet—someone who’ll make me feel lighter and better instead of like the worst version of myself.
Thirty minutes later I’m parking in front of a two-story house with white siding and black shutters. I check the mirror, and thankfully, my face is almost back to normal. There’s a group of little kids—ghosts and princesses—scrambling away from the doorway. I start up the front steps and ring the bell, taking a deep breath and then another just before the front door opens.
“Trick or treat,” I say, smiling. “I hope it’s okay that I’m here.”
My dad looks absolutely stunned to see me, but his face breaks with a huge smile. “There’s never been a better surprise,” he says, stepping back to wave me inside.
I only stay an hour, long enough to get the tour and chat with Debra about her latest decorating ideas for the spare room. It’s nothing groundbreaking, but it is a nice distraction. In a way, it almost feels like the start of something better. I leave with my confidence, though frayed, returned slightly. At least enough to know that I no longer want to be Joel Ryder’s on-the-side girl. Had I known that just an hour with my dad could bring me even a little bit of clarity, I might have stopped by sooner.
THIRTEEN
GO
I spend the rest of the weekend helping my stepmother devour the leftover Halloween candy. She made caramel apples, but I told her I had to draw the line somewhere—and it was after a bag of M&M’s, a full-size Snickers, and a handful of candy corn. Then I thought better of it and grabbed an apple anyway.
“Maybe you can bring one over to your mom’s,” she says quietly from across the kitchen table. “Tell her you made it.”
I smile at Debbie. “First of all,” I say, “my mother would know on sight that I didn’t—she’s well aware that I can’t make anything that doesn’t come with a packet of powdered cheese. And second of all, I think you’re just trying to make me go see my mom.”
“I am,” she admits. She leans forward on her elbows, smiling softly. I think then about how much I like talking with her—almost like an older sister. My stomach clenches when I think of Natalie at my mother’s house—keeping me out.
“I’m not on the best of terms with Natalie,” I say. “Maybe when she finally moves out, I’ll go by there.” Debbie tsks at the answer.
“I never had any siblings, Caroline, so I’m not really speaking from experience. But I promise you, there will come a day when you really need someone—and it’d be nice to have a sister. Everyone needs family.”
“It’s my family who doesn’t need me,” I murmur, and stand from the table. I thank Debbie again for the apple before heading up to my room. My stepmother’s words stick with me, though, so when I sit on my bed, I send my mother a text.
HOPE YOU HAD A NICE HALLOWEEN, MOM. I exhale, just this simple act making me feel a little less like the worst daughter in the world. Since I’m on a roll, I even text Teddy.
HEY. SEE YOU TOMORROW AT SUNDAY DINNER?
OF COURSE, he responds right away. DORM FOOD IS PRACTICALLY POISONOUS. BTW, PHIL IS JOINING US.
FANTASTIC. BE SURE TO TELL HIM TO ACT CIVILIZED.
CAN’T PROMISE ANYTHING.
I help Debbie set the table Sunday evening, a comfortableness at home that I haven’t felt since living with Gram. I’m not sure when my temporary exile turned into an actual life, but I decide not to question it. Not when I’m finally starting to feel like myself.
About twenty minutes later, my father is upstairs looking for a book he’s been meaning to give my brother, and Teddy comes in with Phil in tow. Just to break my chops, Phil is wearing a button-up shirt with a bow tie (where did he even get that?), and his hair is slick and brushed dramatically to the side. I half expect him to pull out a monocle.
“My lady,” he says with a bow when he sees me. I swat his shoulder and walk past, rolling my eyes at my brother.
“This is his version of civilized,” he says.
“Oh, Phillip,” Debbie says, putting her hand on her hip as she watches from the kitchen. “You look adorable.”
Phil grins, then goes to help my stepmother carry food to the table. Teddy catches my eye and motions to the other room like he has to talk to me in private. I furrow my brow but follow him. I hope this doesn’t have to do with our mom.
“Your friend is entirely unbalanced,” I say the minute we’re in the living room.
“I know. That’s why we love him, though.” My brother fidgets in that way he does when he’s hiding something. Teddy’s skills at secret keeping are nonexistent, and just like always, my stomach knots as I wait for the news to drop.
“What is it?” I ask.
“I brought you a present.”
I fight back my smile. “You did? Why?”
He scoffs. “Just say thank you, Coco.” He holds out a small white box, and I take it with a suspicious look. When I open it, my eyes immediately fill with tears.
“How … Teddy, how did you know?” Pain and happiness fill my chest, and I blubber out a few breathless thank-yous.
My brother nods, his brown eyes getting misty. “I was helping Natalie the other weekend with some of Gram’s things, and when I saw it, I knew you’d want it. And I think Gram would want you to have it.”
With the mixture of a cry and a laugh I crush my brother to me. Between us in the small white box is a piece of my life that is gone. It’s my grandmother’s initial necklace—something I’d forgotten about until this moment. And now it’s mine.
“So, Caroline,” my dad starts as we sit down to dinner. “Debbie and I were wondering about your plans for Thanksgiving.” The entire table seems to shift with discomfort at his question.
I swallow hard, trying to draw some strength from the initial necklace I’m wearing, the metal cool where it rests near my throat. “I thought I’d stay here,” I reply.
Everyone is silent for a long moment, and I�
��m sure I’m not imagining the weight of my brother’s stare from across the table. I’d almost rather talk about anything else right now. Hell, I’d even bring up Chris just for a chance to change the subject. But I don’t get off the hook that easily.
“Although we’d love that,” my father says softly, “I think your mother is expecting you there for the holiday. Your aunt Claudia will be in town, and Teddy is going over—”
“And me,” Phil adds nonchalantly before taking a big bite from his roll. I look up to see my dad watching me.
“Yes, and Phillip will be there. Anyway”—he presses his lips into a smile—“I really think you should go, Caroline. I think you have to.”
I lower my eyes. “You’re forcing me?” I say it weakly, but I’m feeling panicked. There’s a clink as Teddy sets down his fork.
“We’ll all be there, Coco,” my brother says. “And it’s time. Mom needs you, and …” He stops, and when I look up, his expression is pleading. “Just say you’ll go.”
I look at Debbie. She’s Switzerland: her face pleasant and nonjudging. That’s when finally I nod. I don’t promise to go—I don’t say it aloud. But it’s a silent agreement—with my mother, with my family. I know that Natalie and I have a lot of unfinished business. And as I excuse myself from the table the minute we’re done eating, I hope that the fallout with my sister won’t be big enough to ruin Thanksgiving for everyone.
FOURTEEN
STAY
When I wanted Joel’s attention, I never got it; now that I don’t want it, all he does is text me. I spend the week after Halloween ignoring him, deleting messages like I MISS YOU and SERIOUSLY, CALL ME. Because really, how much could he miss me—we weren’t together that often. And somehow the fact that he hasn’t actually called himself—just texted to tell me to call him—leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
So instead of dialing, I focus on other things.
“What are we doing tonight?” I ask Simone as we walk out of school on Friday. “I’ve got to get out of here. Not that I’m obsessing, but there are strangers in Gram’s house right now, possibly buying it.”
“Oh, Linus, I forgot about that,” Simone says. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks. So how can we keep my mind off of the fact that my home is being ripped out from under me; oh, and that Joel is a wishy-washy man whore too?”
Simone checks her phone. “Party?” she asks. “There’s one at Angel’s tonight.”
“Sure,” I say, shrugging, knowing that at the very least, Angel has videogames and I can wipe the floor with anyone who challenges me to All-Stars Racing. And also knowing that in seventh grade, Angel and Joel got in a fistfight at school—there’s no way my pseudo-ex will be there.
We park on an intersecting street near the back alley in case the police show up and we have to run to our car. Simone applies red lipstick to her luscious lips while I smear on balm with my pointer finger by the light of the flip-down mirror.
“Ready?” she asks, opening her door.
“Let’s go.”
We knock, but no one answers—the music’s too loud to hear—so we just walk in. The entryway is crowded with conversations. A few people glance at us and nod or wave before diving headfirst back into noise.
“Did you tell the girls we were coming?” I ask. One second later, like they’re tracking us with GPS devices, Gwen and Felicity are by our sides.
“It’s about time,” Felicity shouts over the bass. “Did you go for coffee in Canada or something?” She’s wearing plaid pants that literally no one else on earth could pull off with a pair of black suspenders, one over her shoulder and one hanging by her side. “I need confirmation that Ryan Elgin is hot for me.”
I glance at Gwen, who shakes her head no so slightly that it’s barely noticeable. She looks back down at the phone in her hand, and I wonder if she’d self-destruct if she ever lost it.
“Why do you think he’s into you?” Simone asks curiously. Ryan Elgin is the captain of the football team, the class president, and a Mormon. Felicity may dress ironically straight edge, but Ryan’s the real deal: square as they come. There’s no way he’s flirting with anyone other than a God-fearing cheerleader or student council member who needs saving.
“He looked at my sisters,” Felicity says, leaning in like it’s a secret but still shouting so we can hear. She motions to her chest in case we didn’t get the reference. A couple of guys near a tray of chips look at us … well, at her.
“They are quite nice, your sisters,” Simone says, making Gwen laugh. “I mean, who doesn’t check them out once in a while?” She wiggles her eyebrows at Felicity. “I’m just not sure. … I mean, you know Ryan. And his … beliefs.”
“I think I can lure him to the dark side,” Felicity says. “Come on, he’s playing a game in the living room. I’ll stand near him and you guys hang back and watch. See if he checks me out again.”
Gwen rolls her eyes but follows Felicity; Simone grabs my hand and pulls me through the sweaty masses on the main level of the house. Once we’re though the entryway and hall, we need to cut through the kitchen to get to the living room. But there’s a major pileup near the refrigerator, so we’re forced to stop. My eyes fall on the kitchen table, where a group of guys is playing cards.
Angel is at the head of the table, and because the universe obviously hates me … Joel is to his left.
Like he can feel my stare, he looks up. He leans back in his chair, eyes on me, wearing an expression I can’t place. Simone sees him and squeezes my hand, then looks at me, concerned. Angel hits Joel on the arm—it’s his turn. He looks down at the cards in his hands and plays one, then he leans over and says something to Angel.
Great, back to ignoring me in public.
Simone tugs at my hand—the bottleneck is gone and so are Felicity and Gwen. We’re almost to the kitchen doorway when Joel stands and works his way around the table and through the crowd; before I realize what’s happening, he’s standing right in front of me, invading my personal space. I drop Simone’s hand and stare at him. She turns her body away but stays right next to me, giving me privacy but telling me that she’s here for me when I need her.
“I thought you and Angel hated each other,” I say.
“Guys don’t hold grudges,” he says, shrugging. His voice is low—the only reason I can hear him is that he’s talking right into my ear. “We’re good.”
“Oh,” I say, “well, excuse me. You’re in my way.” I point toward the doorway, fully intending to follow the girls into the other room and focus my energy on gauging whether a Mormon likes a hipster.
Joel takes another step closer to me; our chests could touch if I took a deep enough breath … considering I’m holding it, there’s little worry of that happening.
“Hey, Ryder, you still in?” someone calls from the direction of the table. I look and five pairs of eyes are on me. Joel doesn’t flinch; he stares at my face.
“I’m out,” he says loudly. His breath smells like mint.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, searching those dark eyes for an explanation. They’re on fire tonight.
“I’m doing what you wanted,” he says. “I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want you to be confused about us. I’m telling everyone.”
He steps even closer still and puts his palms on my jaw and his lips on mine. I hear Simone suck in her breath as Joel kisses me—hard—right there in the middle of Angel Hernandez’s party for the entire world to see.
I want to pull back and smack him; I want to tell him that one kiss doesn’t make it all better. But it’s a grand gesture like they do in movies, and it kind of does make it better. So instead of pulling away, I wrap my hands around his low waist and hold him tight, letting it happen. Completely in the moment, I don’t think of anything else but being here … with him. I’m addicted to Joel, getting my fix. At least now, everyone knows he’s addicted to me right back.
FOURTEEN
GO
My eyes wander to t
he dry-erase calendar pinned to Chris’s wall; it’s just two weeks until Thanksgiving. I’m on Chris’s bed and he’s next to me, strumming his guitar quietly, pretending not to listen as I hold the phone to my ear. My stomach is in knots—when my mother answers, I close my eyes.
“Hi, Mom,” I say. She’s silent for a moment, and it surprises me. I’m not sure why, but I guess I expected her to fall over herself, saying how much she misses me. When she doesn’t, there’s a small tug of regret. “Sorry I haven’t called,” I say.
“I’m sorry too,” she responds softly. “Is everything okay? Are you okay?”
I lean back against the wall, and Chris adjusts the strings of his guitar instead of playing anything. He’s the one who forced me to call, saying that he wouldn’t come to Thanksgiving dinner with me until I told my mom about him. I didn’t have the courage to tell him the entire story behind my rift with her. For all he knows, we’re a little distant, my sister sucks, and my brother is the link between us. But I haven’t told him about how I left Gram the night she died. I let him assume that she died before I went to the party.
“I’m good, Mom,” I say. “I wanted to call you about Thanksgiving.”
She seems to hold her breath and then, “Have you decided to spend it with your father?”
“No, actually,” I say, “I was hoping I could come to your house.” My eyes start to tear up, a weight lifted off my chest. When my mother starts talking again, I know she can feel it too.
“I’d love that, Caroline,” she says. “We’d all love to have you here.”
I smile and glance over at Chris, who’s watching his guitar, but his lips are upturned as he eavesdrops. “Do you mind if I bring someone?”
“Of course not,” she says. “Simone?”
“Well, yes, Simone. But someone else, too. His name is Christopher.” Chris wrinkles his nose at the use of his full name.
