Layover

by Amy Andelson

  “Poppy! Are you all right?” Louisa bends down and swoops her up into her arms. The whole display is so raw and so surprising that suddenly I find myself in tears as well. My dad wraps his arms around me, and for a moment I’m a little girl, weeping into his shoulder. I’m so absorbed in how good it feels to smell his cologne again, and find comfort in the safety of his strong embrace.

  “What the hell were you guys thinking?” My dad pulls away from me and takes me by the shoulders.

  “I’m really sorry, Dad. It was my idea to run.”

  “Flynn, your hair…and…your nose.” He shakes his head, inspecting me. “Please tell me you didn’t get a tattoo. How could you do something like this?”

  “It was all of us,” Amos chimes in from behind me.

  Louisa pulls Amos close. She takes his cheeks in her hands and says, “You scared us, you know that.” Then she looks beyond him and spots Clay. It occurs to me that this is probably the first time they’ve laid eyes on each other in years. We all sort of stand around and watch—like we’re waiting for something significant to happen, like lightning to strike or the sky to fall or something. But instead Louisa just says, “How can I thank you?”

  And Clay says, “Don’t worry about it.”

  Louisa takes a deep breath and looks at the three of us, tears welling in her eyes. “You did a terrible thing. Do you have any idea what could have happened to you?”

  “There are going to be serious consequences when we get home,” my dad says.

  “It was stupid,” I respond. “We know that. But when we heard that you two were getting divorced, and that Dad and I would be leaving—”

  “It’s just not fair,” Poppy interrupts. And my dad and Louisa just stand there, looking at each other, not knowing what to say.

  “The thing is,” Amos continues, “you guys need to understand that, despite all of your drama, we’re a family. And you can’t just split us apart.”

  “Yeah,” Poppy chimes in emphatically.

  “I’m not moving away, Dad,” I announce.

  “You’re not in a position to negotiate right now, Flynn. I know this is a lot, but it’s complicated.”

  “We’ll have plenty of time to sort out all the details once we’re back in the city,” Louisa offers. But it’s not good enough.

  Over the loudspeaker, they announce that American flight 739 to JFK is boarding. “That’s us. It’s the only flight my assistant could get us on. We’ve got to hurry,” Jack says.

  “No, Dad,” I declare. “We’re not getting on that plane until we have your word. New York’s my home now.”

  Jack turns to Louisa. They look at us kids—standing strong, unified, and defiant. Finally, my dad concedes. “I hear you, Flynn. And I promise, we’ll find a way to work it out.”

  “And I want to see Clay more,” Amos adds.

  Louisa glances over at Clay, surprised, but then nods. “I’m sure we can arrange something.”

  They call our flight again. “We should really hurry up if we’re going to catch this flight,” Louisa urges.

  Clay puts his hand on Amos’s shoulder and gives it a paternal squeeze.

  “See you soon, Dad,” Amos says. Clay smiles. It’s been a long time since Amos called him that.

  “Come on, guys. Let’s go home,” Jack says, rubbing the top of Poppy’s head.

  “Does this mean we’re not in trouble now?” Poppy asks.

  “Oh, you’re definitely still in trouble,” Jack says, putting his arm around her. And with that we say goodbye to Clay, and Los Angeles, and head back home together.

  I told Annabelle I couldn’t have a sleepover since Amos gets in tonight. Annabelle is my new friend. My best friend. Okay, my only friend. But it’s just like Amy says to Meg in Little Women: “You don’t need scores of suitors. You only need one, if he’s the right one.” Well, I guess that’s true for friends, too. Annabelle is kind of a bad girl. Only it turns out she’s not really a bad girl at all. She’s just misunderstood. Kind of like me. Anyway, once word got out about our whole winter-break adventure, it actually gave me some street cred at school.

  One cold January day, out of nowhere, Annabelle came over and sat with me at lunch. And then it happened again the next day. And then it just became this thing that every day we would sit together. My mom is so happy I have a friend that she lets me hang out with Annabelle pretty much whenever I want. And she lives just around the corner from my mom’s, which is one of the nice things about her new place. The other nice thing is that it’s near Flynn’s school, so on Mom’s weeks, Flynn comes by to see me on her way back downtown to Dad’s. Rosie makes her a snack, and things really don’t feel all that different. A few times when Dad went out of town for work, Flynn even slept over. She keeps a toothbrush here and everything. Sometimes I still wake up in the middle of the night not sure where I am, but that’s been happening less and less.

  I don’t have to scan the room to find Flynn. She’s ensconced in our old corner booth at the Carlyle. Poppy and I cross the bar toward her, not even attempting to hide our smiles.

  “Amos picked me up from Annabelle’s!” Poppy exclaims as we approach.

  “Lucky girl,” Flynn says, and we slide in next to her.

  And then there’s Mac hovering over us, jovial as ever. “Hey, what do you know, the band’s back together. What’ll it be?”

  “The usual,” Poppy, Flynn, and I say at the same time.

  “One hot fudge sundae, no nuts, extra sauce. Three cherries and three spoons. Coming right up.”

  I look at my sisters, both so much more grown-up than the last time we were here together. Flynn’s kept her hair short, and it looks good like that. I notice the nose piercing is gone, though—it didn’t even leave a scar.

  “When do you leave for surf camp with Clay?” she asks.

  “End of next week.”

  “So you can come to Flynn’s piano recital on Saturday!” Poppy says.

  “Recital?” I ask.

  “Got a lot of practicing in while I was grounded all winter,” she explains.

  “Wouldn’t miss it.” I smile at her.

  “Mom’s got your room all ready,” Poppy says to me. “Guess what color she painted it?” And we all laugh. But still, I know I made the right call to do my senior year back in the city at Collegiate. Boarding school seemed like a solid escape, but I realized (as trite as it sounds) that the person I was running from most was myself. Besides, I hate to admit it, but I was homesick. Granted, it’s undoubtedly a new life that I’m returning to, but the most important pieces are the same, even if the geography is a little different.

  “Wife, mistress, or daughter?” I ask, gesturing to the couple entering.

  The more things change, the more they stay the same. I guess that’s the thing about family.

  We drop Poppy off at Louisa’s, and Amos offers to walk me to Fifth Avenue to catch a cab downtown to my dad’s. The summer sun is just beginning to set. Across the park, the windows light up in the iconic buildings of Central Park West: the Beresford and the San Remo.

  “You wanna walk for a little?” he asks.

  And because it’s just light enough outside, and because we can, but mostly because it’s me and Amos, I answer, “Yes.”

  We decide to go through the park. We walk for a while without saying anything. And it feels so good to be back in that comfortable quiet with him. It feels like home. As we cross the park, we find ourselves once again in the Shakespeare Garden.

  “What do you say, for old times’ sake?” he suggests, gesturing to the Whisper Bench. We take seats at opposite ends, just like that time two years ago. He turns to me and says something softly. But because of the distance and the dimming light, I can’t quite read his lips. And then I hear it. Amos’s voice in my ear.

  “You know I’ll always love you—
right, Flynn?”

  “I love you, too,” I say. Because it’s the truth. And it always will be.

  “It’s getting dark. We should get going.”

  I nod, but we both linger for a moment. We’re hesitant to leave—unsure of what the future will bring. If there’s one thing we’ve learned in all of this, it’s that life is always changing, and that it’s hard to find things, and people, you can hold on to. But once you do, you should never let go. Now that the dust has settled, and our parents’ divorce is almost final, I can feel the possibility of Amos and me.

  As we walk out of the garden, we pass a plaque with a quote from Romeo and Juliet.

  “This bud of love, by summer’s ripening breath,

  May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.”

  “You know, it’s really good to be home,” Amos says. He reaches for my hand, and I take his, our fingers intertwined.

  I look at him. “I think it’s going to be a really good summer.”

  This book would not be possible without Allen Fischer—thank you for believing in us from the very beginning. You’re the best Coach we could ever ask for. We would also like to thank everyone at Dupree Miller—Dabney Rice, and especially Lacy Lynch. Your tenacity and unwavering support made our dream a reality. Allison Binder, thank you for always being our best advocate.

  We are so grateful to Emily Easton for falling in love with Flynn, Amos, and Poppy. Your vision and insight made Layover come to life. We couldn’t ask for a better home than Random House. To Samantha Gentry, and everyone at Crown, thank you for guiding us through this incredible journey.

  To our family and friends—what can we say, thanks for putting up with us (x2). Without your love, this book, and so many other things, would not be possible.

  Amy Andelson and Emily Meyer have been best friends since the seventh grade. As screenwriters, they have worked together on the Step Up franchise, Naomi & Ely’s No Kiss List, and numerous other TV and film projects. Layover is their debut novel. You can follow them on Instagram at @by_amy_and_emily and at byamyandemily.com.

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