by Sarah Dessen
“Community service,” he told her. “I got into some trouble a couple of months back. So I owe hours to the, you know . . . community.”
I felt my mom kind of start at this. “Oh,” she said, glancing at Peter, who was still on the phone. “Well.”
“He got busted drinking at a party,” I told her.
“It was stupid,” Dave admitted. “When the cops showed up, everyone else ran. But they said to stay where I was, and I tend to follow directions. Ironic, right?”
“Um, yes,” my mom said, looking at me again. “I guess it is.”
“Truthfully,” he said, clearing his throat, “the volunteering hasn’t been bad at all. As it turns out, my parents are a lot stricter than the courts. They’ve basically had me on lockdown ever since the whole thing happened.”
“Well, I’m sure it was very alarming for them,” my mom said. “Parenting is so difficult sometimes.”
“So is being someone’s kid,” I said.
Everyone looked at me, and then my mom reached for her water glass, keeping her eyes straight ahead as she took a sip. So typical. Dave was openly confessing to an arrest and yet I was the bad one here.
“Anyway,” he said now, glancing at me, “I did the first half of my hours at the animal shelter, cleaning cages. But then with budget cuts, they started closing earlier in the afternoons. So that’s how I ended up working on the model with Mclean.”
“The model,” Peter said, joining the conversation as the waiter brought his wine, taking entirely too long to remove the empty glass and adjust the napkin beneath it. “Model of what? ”
On my right, Dave was about to answer, and on my mother’s side, Peter was waiting. But between them, she had that look on her face, like I was the worst daughter in the world, and I could just feel all this history swirling, swirling as I tried to remember what it had been like before. When we were just us, and things were simpler. I couldn’t, though. All I knew was that she was hurt again, and it was my fault. So I did what I always did. I faked it.
“It’s a model of the town,” I said suddenly, the words coming without me even thinking first. “I actually wasn’t supposed to be part of the whole thing. But Opal, this woman who works at the restaurant? She really needed the help, so I pitched in the other day.”
“Oh,” my mom said. “Well, it sounds like it might be a worthwhile way to spend your time.”
“It’s a huge project, though,” I continued. “Tons of pieces. I don’t know how she’s ever going to get it done by the deadline, which is May.”
“It’s important to have a goal,” Peter said. “Even an unreasonable one can be good for motivation.”
This, in a nutshell, was my stepfather. If the coaching thing ever ended for him, I was sure there was a group in need of confidence building somewhere that would be eager for his services.
“Well, in that case,” Dave said, “my goal is to graduate without any further misdemeanors.”
“Aim high,” I said.
“You know it.”
He smiled, and I smiled back, feeling my mother watching me. I must have seemed like such a stranger to her, I realized, when she saw me like this. In a town she didn’t know, with people she’d never met, and both of us wading through this limbo world between what we’d been and what we might be. Like seeing her from a distance earlier, this thought made me unexpectedly sad. But when I turned to her, she’d already looked away and was saying something to one of the sitters.
“That was a tough game,” I told Peter instead. “You guys played hard.”
“Not hard enough,” he said. Then, lowering his voice, he added, “Thanks for coming. It’s really made her happy.”
“What’s that?” my mom said, turning back to us.
“I was just telling Mclean about how happy we are to have the beach house finally done,” he replied smoothly. “And that she needs to come visit sometime. Colby is great this time of year.”
“I don’t know Colby that well,” I said. “We always went to North Reddemane.”
“Oh, there’s nothing decent in North Reddemane anymore,” Peter told me. “Just a few businesses on their last legs and a bunch of teardowns.”
I thought of the Poseidon, with its mildew scent and faded bedspreads, and looked at my mom, wondering if she even remembered it. But she was just smiling at him, oblivious. “It used to be nice,” I said.
“Things change,” Peter said, opening his menu with his free hand. He leaned in closer, peering down at it. “Good God,” he said. “I can’t even see this. Why aren’t there any lights on in here?”
None of us replied, instead just studying our own menus in the tiny bit of brightness thrown by the candle in the center of the table. If someone had been walking by and glanced in, I wondered what they’d think of us. How they might consider this group of people, possibly related but probably not, fumbling together through the darkness.
“Wow,” Dave said. “That was loud.”
I turned to look at him as the taillights of Peter’s SUV moved away from us. “What was?”
“That sigh you just let out,” he said. “Seriously. It was almost deafening.”
“Oh,” I said. The lights were going over the slight bump now, disappearing down to the main road. The turn signal was already on. In a few minutes, they’d be on the highway. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said. “I just noticed. You all right?”
I’d been overthinking my actions and carefully crafting my responses for hours now. Honestly, I had no more energy for it. So instead of answering, I just sat down right where we were, on the curb between our two houses, and pulled my knees to my chest. Dave plopped down beside me, and we just sat there for a minute, listening to the music thumping behind my neighbors’ closed front door.
“I don’t get along with my mom,” I told him after a moment. “At all. I think . . . I think I even hate her sometimes.”
He considered this. Then he said, “Well, that explains the tension.”
“You felt that?”
“Hard to miss,” he replied. He reached down, picking at his shoe, then looked up at me. “Whatever it’s about, she’s trying really hard. Like, really hard.”
“Too hard.”
“Maybe.”
“Too hard,” I said again, and this time, he was silent. I took a breath, cold, then added, “She cheated on my dad. With Peter. Left him, got pregnant, got married. It was a mess.”
A car drove by, slowed, then kept going. Dave said, “That’s pretty harsh.”
“Yeah.” I pulled my knees tighter against me. “But, see, that’s the thing. You can acknowledge that, that easily. But she can’t. She never has.”
“Surprising,” he replied. “It’s kind of obvious.”
“Don’t you think?” I turned, facing him. “I mean, if you can understand that what she did was wrong, why can’t she?”
“But,” he replied, “those aren’t the same, though.”
I just looked at him as another car passed. “What?”
“First you said she wouldn’t acknowledge what she’d done,” he replied. “Right? Then you asked why she didn’t understand it. Those are two different things entirely.”
“They are?”
“Yeah. I mean, acknowledging is easy. Something happened or it didn’t. But understanding . . . that’s where things get sticky.”
“That’s us,” I said. “Seriously sticky. For years now.”
“I can relate,” he said.
We sat there for a moment. He was picking at the grass, the blades squeaking between his fingers, while I just stared straight ahead. Finally, I said, “So your parents really freaked when you got arrested, huh?”
“ ‘ Freaked’ is putting it mildly,” he said. “It was basically a family DEFCON 5. Total breakdown.”
“Seems kind of extreme.”
“They thought I was out of control,” he said.
“Wasn’t it just one beer, at one party?”
“It was,�
� he agreed. “But I’d never done anything like that before. Not even close. I hadn’t even been to a high school party until a few weeks earlier.”
“Big changes,” I said.
“Exactly.” He sat back, leaning on his palms. “In their minds, it’s all the fault of Frazier Bakery. When I started working there, my downward spiral began.”
I studied him for a second. “You aren’t exactly a criminal.”
“Maybe not. But you have to understand my parents,” he said. “To them, an after-school job is something you only take if it enhances your educational future. You don’t waste your time making Blueberry Banana Brain Freezes for minimum wage when you can be reading up on applied physics. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Blueberry Banana Brain Freezes?”
“It’s a breakfast smoothie,” he explained. “You should try one, they’re seriously good. Just drink it slow. It’s called that for a reason.”
I smiled. “So why did you take the job?”
“It just looked like fun,” he said. “I mean, I’ been assisting at my mom’s lab since I was ten, doing research, writing up experiment notes. It was interesting, but it’s not like I had much in common with the professors there. One day I was at FrayBake, getting my usual, and they had a help wanted sign up. I applied and they hired me. Simple as that.”
“So much for the lab,” I said.
“Yeah, well. There are plenty of kid geniuses around that building. I don’t think anyone but my mom missed me that much.” He pulled at some more grass. “Anyway, I made some friends my own age, started doing things on the weekends other than read and study. Which was unnerving enough. But then, that summer, I told them I wanted to transfer to Jackson. They said absolutely not, pointing out all these statistics about the test scores and student-teacher ratio—”
“They countered with research?”
“They’re scientists,” he said as if this explained everything. “Eventually, I got them to agree to it, but only for a semester, and only because I already had more than enough credits to graduate.”
“This was last year?”
He nodded.
“You could have graduated as a sophomore?”
“Actually,” he replied with a cough, “I had enough credits after ninth grade.”
“Holy crap,” I said. “How smart are you?”
“Do you want to hear the rest of this or not?”
I bit my lip. “Sorry.”
He shot me a fake-annoyed look, which made me snort, and then continued. “So I transferred. And then, you know, I started hanging out more with Riley and Heather, and went to a few parties, and blew off my Physics Bowl practice.”
“Sounds pretty normal,” I said. “Except for the Physics Bowl thing.”
“For some people. Not for me.” He cleared his throat. “Look, it’s not like I’m proud of it. But I was almost eighteen and I’d never done anything, you know, normal. And suddenly, I was at this big school, where no one knew me. I could be whoever I wanted. And I didn’t want to be the super-serious smart kid anymore.”
I had a flash of all those schools I’d attended, a blur of hallways and closed doors. “I can understand that,” I said.
“Yeah?”
I nodded.
“The point is, they were already not happy with me. And then I started planning this trip for after graduation, instead of going to Brain Camp, which didn’t help things.”
“Brain Camp?”
“This math thing I’ve done every summer since fifth grade,” he explained. “I was supposed to be a counselor again this year. But Ellis, Riley, Heather, and I want to do this big road trip to Texas. Which is, you know, somewhat less academic.”
I smiled. “Travel is educational.”
“I pointed that out. They weren’t buying it, though.” He looked down at his hands again. “Anyway, it was my crappy luck that in the middle of all this I w that party and got busted. Which made the trip a moot point.”
The door to my neighbors’ house banged, and someone came out and got into one of the cars parked in the front yard. They cranked the engine, hitting the gas a few times, the sound filling the street. When they pulled away, it felt even quieter than it had before.
“So you’re not going?”
“I have a lot to prove,” he said, his voice formal and stiff, clearly quoting. “Trust to earn back. If they feel I’ve made progress in those areas, they might reconsider it.”
“Might.”
“Might,” he said. He smiled at me. “I’ve got a lot hanging on that ‘might.’ Probably too much.”
“Riley says they were scared,” I said finally. “That they thought they were losing you.”
“I get that,” he said. “But it’s like, are there only two choices? Either I’m a delinquent in a fast downward spiral, or becoming a physicist, right on schedule? How is that possible?”
“You need a third option,” I said.
“Or at least the chance to look around for one,” he replied. “Which, I guess, is what I’m waiting for now. Toeing the line, doing my time, following the rules, and trying to figure out what comes next.”
“Wow,” I said. “You really are a disappointment.”
“Yep,” he agreed, stone-faced. “Although coming from a terrible daughter who is cruel to her mother, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
I smiled, digging my hands more deeply into my pockets. I was starting to really feel the cold now, and wondered what time it was.
“Seriously, though,” Dave said after a moment, “for what it’s worth, I can tell you that from the outside at least, your mom seems like she’s trying. And sometimes that’s all you can do.”
“So you’re taking her side,” I said.
“I don’t believe in sides.” He sat back, planting his palms on the strip of grass behind us. “People do crappy things for all kinds of reasons. You can’t even begin to understand.”
“It’s not my job to understand,” I said, my voice sounding sharper than I intended. “I didn’t do anything. I was just an innocent bystander.”
Dave didn’t say anything, still looking up.
“I didn’t do anything,” I said again, surprised at the lump that suddenly rose in my throat. “I didn’t deserve this.”
“No,” he said. “You didn’t.”
“I don’t have to understand.”
“Okay.”
I swallowed over the lump, then blinked hard. It had been such a long day, and I was so, so tired. I wished I could just leave, disappear inside, but there was always something else required, a way to get from here to there.
Thinking this, I looked up at the sky, cold and clear overhead, and took a breath. One, I thought, finding the Big Dipper a. Ars pricked my eyes. Two, and I swallowed again, trying to calm myself as I spotted Cassiopeia. I was searching for a third when I felt myself starting to shake, desperate to find something familiar up there, somewhere. It was so cold, looking through my blurry gaze, but then, suddenly, I felt Dave slide his arm over my shoulders. He was warm and close, and at the same moment I realized this, I spotted the outline of Orion. Three, I thought, and then rested my head against him, closing my eyes.
Eight
When I got to school Monday morning, the first person I saw was Riley.
She was actually the only person I saw, as I was way late. Our heat had gone out overnight, and what with calling the rental agency to get a repairman set up, I’d missed the bus. Then I had to wait for my dad to finish a phone conference with Chuckles, who was in London, before he could give me a ride. When I finally got there, fifteen minutes into second period, my hair was still wet, fingers slightly numb. Plus, I was starving, as all I’d eaten was half a banana in the car with my dad as he raced through yellow lights and school zones, now late himself.
I was halfway up the stairs, on my way to my locker, when I spotted Riley sitting on the radiator outside the guidance office, her backpack at her feet. She was on the phone, talking qu
ietly, her head ducked down as I passed her and turned the corner. All I could think about was that text she’d sent to Dave—YOU CHARMER—and, despite the fact that nothing had really happened between me and him, I still felt kind of weird. I’d meant what I said about Dave: he was a nice guy, but I didn’t have time for a nice guy, or any guy, really. I didn’t feel like explaining this again, though, so I steered clear.
At my locker, I stowed some books, then as my stomach rumbled, began to dig around for an energy bar I was pretty sure I’d stashed in there the week before. When I finally found it, I ripped it open right there and took a bite. As I stood there chewing, I caught a glimpse of myself in that awful, feathered SEXXY mirror and decided it was time for it to go. When I reached up to rip it off, though, I found it was stuck on pretty well. I took another bite of the bar, then dug my fingers down the side of the mirror, dislodging it only the tiniest bit.
Damn, I thought, giving it another yank. Nothing. I stuffed the rest of the bar in my mouth, then used both hands, really trying to pry under the feathers on the edge. It resisted completely. I was just about to give up when, just as I was swallowing, the mirror suddenly came off. What happened next was in quick succession: the bite of energy bar caught in my throat, the mirror clattered to the floor, and the locker door, rapidly swinging shut, cracked me right across the nose.
I stumbled backward, simultaneously choking and seeing stars as I banged into the water fountain behind me. It came on cheerfully and dependably, shooting an arc of water over my elbow.
“Oh my God,” I heard someone say. There were footsteps, and blurrily, as my eyes were squeezed shut in pain, I saw movement in front of me. “Are you okay?”
I coughed—relieved that I could breathe—then swallowed and stepped back from the fountain, stopping the water show. Which left only my nose, which was smarting like I’d been punched. “I think so,” I said.
“That was crazy.”
I opened my eyes slowly, to see what I was pretty sure was Riley in front of me, a concerned expression on her face. I blinked, and she came a bit more into focus.
“You should sit down,” she said, taking my elbow. I bent my knees, easing myself down the wall to the floor. “That was a pretty big whack. I heard it all the way down the hallway.”
