by Cindi Madsen
“Okay, how many times do I have to apologize?”
“Once more wouldn’t hurt.”
Spencer caught her arm and said, “I’m sorry I was a jerk.”
She’d thrown it out as a joke; she hadn’t really expected him to apologize. She looked into his brown eyes, surprised by the sincerity in them. “A-apology accepted.”
They started down the hall again, and she remembered what she’d been dying to ask for days. “Hey, what did you mean when you said, ‘You’re one of those’?”
“One of whats?”
“Exactly,” Liv said.
A crease formed between Spencer’s eyebrows. “When did I say that?”
“By the bench. After we talked the first time.”
“Wow, I really made an impact on you.”
Liv rolled her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.” She tucked her books under her left arm, since she still couldn’t trust the right not to spasm. “It just bothered me. That you’d judge me without knowing anything about me.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I am starting to change my mind about you.”
“Which means?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Liv shook her head. “You really enjoy pushing my buttons, don’t you?”
He broke into a wide smile. “You know, I kind of do.”
The crowd filling the halls started to clear.
“I better get to class.” He put his hand on her arm, just above the elbow, and gave it a light squeeze. “I’ll see you later.”
“Later.” Grinning like an idiot, she turned to take the few remaining steps to class.
And saw Sabrina staring at her, arms folded, anger evident across her face.
“Oh. Hey, Sabrina.”
Sabrina narrowed her eyes. “Why were you talking to Spencer? And why was he talking to you?”
“We’re in the same math class.”
Sabrina blocked the entrance. “So, you were talking about math?”
Liv looked past her, into the classroom. “It looks like class is about to start.”
Stepping aside, Sabrina said, “About that ride to the party. I just realized I don’t have any more room in my car.”
…
“So, I’ve been thinking,” Spencer said as he neared the bench where Liv was sitting, reading her book.
She glanced up at him. “Sounds dangerous.”
That irresistible grin spread across his face. “I was thinking you need to get out more. Experience a few things.”
“Says the guy who hangs out at school after hours and sits alone all the time.”
He plopped down next to her. “I guess we should both get out more.”
One thing had been on her mind since she’d been told she no longer had a ride. “What about the big party tonight?”
“I don’t go to those things. They’re stupid, and people just get stupider by the minute.” A distant look entered his eyes, and for a moment, it was dead quiet. Then he seemed to snap back to the present. “Are you going? To the party?”
“I don’t have a way to get there. And I doubt my parents will let me. But I do kind of want to go.” She sighed. “Even if I could, though, the thought of coming up with things to say, or knowing what I’m supposed to do when I get there, totally intimidates me.” She dropped her gaze to her lap and shook her head. “I don’t know why I told you all that.”
“Sounds like you’re not ready for your first party. I’d recommend starting with something lighter. Like McDonald’s.”
“Oh, my mom would never go there. We eat meals with foreign names every night while listening to classical music.”
One corner of his mouth turned up. “What I meant was, come with me to McDonald’s. I’ll ease you into the crazy life.”
“Now? Isn’t it too far to walk? Or ride to?” When she looked at the rack, she didn’t see his bike. “Where is your bike?”
Spencer dug a set of keys out of his pocket and held them up. “I got my car back. New alternator, just waiting to be used.”
The way he held up the keys, eyebrows raised, smile on his face, made it hard to say no. Unfortunately, it wasn’t up to her. “Let me call and ask my mom.” Who’s going to say no.
Mom didn’t have cooking class on Fridays, but she’d called to say she’d stuck some bread in the oven that wasn’t quite done, and she’d be coming as soon as she pulled it out. Liv decided to try the home phone first, hoping Mom hadn’t left yet.
With every ring, Liv’s hope faded a little more. Spencer had actually asked her to go somewhere with him, and it devastated her to think of not being able to.
“I’m pulling the bread out now,” Mom answered at the same time that Dad said, “Hello?”
“Henry? When did you get home?”
“I barely walked in the door,” Dad said. “Thought you’d be off to get our daughter, so I answered the phone.”
“I was just about to leave. Unless you want to go pick her up.”
“Actually, I was wondering if I could hang out with a friend,” Liv said. “We’re going to grab something to eat, and I’ll get a ride home so you don’t have to worry about it.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid—”
“Victoria, we talked about this,” Dad said. “We agreed to let her be a normal teenager. She can’t do that if we never let her go anywhere. Now, Livie, who’s driving?”
“His name is Spencer.”
“A boy?” Mom asked, disapproval tingeing her voice. “What is this, a date?”
“It’s just grabbing some food. There will be other people there, too.” Liv was sure other people would be at the restaurant, so it wasn’t a total lie.
“Is he a responsible driver?”
She looked at Spencer, who was spinning his keys around his finger. They flew off and landed in the nearby bushes. “Yeah. He’s a really responsible driver. It’s all anyone talks about.”
“Olivia,” Mom scolded.
“It’s a joke, Mom.”
“Safety on the road is no joke.”
There was an awkward silence as that sunk in. They all knew what could happen if you lost control of a vehicle.
Mom heaved a sigh. “I suppose it’s okay. Be careful, and not too late.”
“Thanks. I’ll be home in a while.” Liv disconnected the call and turned to Spencer. The keys were back in his hand. “I told my parents you’re a responsible driver. I hope I wasn’t lying.”
“I haven’t had any complaints. Of course, I don’t usually let anyone ride with me.” He jerked his head toward the parking lot. “Let’s go, then. And trust me, this is going to be so much better than that lame party at The Gulch.”
13
Spencer unlocked the passenger door of the rusted, used-to-be-blue car, then leaned in and tossed the papers littering the front seat into the back. He straightened and gestured her inside. “You can throw your bag anywhere.”
Liv got in and placed her backpack at her feet.
The other door opened with a creak. Spencer climbed in and turned the key. The engine chugged a few times before firing up.
“Are you sure the car’s fixed?” Liv asked.
“Hey, don’t diss Rusty. Not all of us can afford nice, fancy cars.”
She pointed at herself. “Is that a jab at me? Because I don’t have a car. I can’t even drive.”
“What exactly can you do?” Spencer asked, putting his car in gear and easing out of the lot.
“Right now, I’m just happy to be spending time away from the house. Not that my parents are hard to get along with. It’s just…it’s nice to do something different.”
Spencer’s eyes flicked from the road to her. “I know what you mean.”
A couple minutes later, they were standing in the lobby of McDonald’s, the scent of food filling the air. Liv studied the glowing red and yellow menu. “So, what do you suggest?”
“Normally, I’d say go Quarter Pounder or Big Mac, but since you didn
’t come here as a kid, you gotta have the whole experience and get a Happy Meal. But you should probably order a double cheeseburger on the side, too, or you’ll still be hungry.” Spencer stepped up to the counter. “Just leave it to me.”
“For a boy or girl?” the cashier asked when Spencer ordered the Happy Meal.
“Girl.”
“Wait,” she said, her feminist side protesting. “What’s the difference? Girls shouldn’t get treated differently from boys.”
The cashier sighed and scratched the back of his head. “Cars or ponies.” He pointed at the poster behind him. It showed a variety of cars on one side, a collection of multicolored ponies on the other.
Spencer glanced over his shoulder at her. “Are you saying that even though you’re a girl, you want the car?”
Liv saw the cute little ponies with their big eyes. “Actually,” she said with a sigh, “I kind of want a pony.”
Spencer shook his head, but he was smiling. He finished his order, refused when she offered to pay for hers, then handed her a cup for soda.
She looked over the options on the drink dispenser, wondering how much Mom had been exaggerating the effects of sugar and caffeine.
“You’ve had soda, right?” Spencer asked.
“I have to be careful what I eat.”
“Long story?”
“Exactly.”
Spencer got Coke, so she did, too. A couple minutes later, their food was up, and they went into the playland to eat.
Fries were awesome. Soda was awesome. Junk food—the stuff Mom called empty calories—might’ve been empty, but it was deliciously empty.
“Okay, you were right,” Liv said as she finished off her food. “This is good.”
“I know my fast food.”
“But I feel kind of gross now.”
“That’s normal. Running through the playland makes you forget about that, though.” He tilted his head toward the maze of plastic tubes. “Ready?”
“I don’t think we’re supposed to go in there. It’s for little kids.”
Spencer grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. “We’re on a mission to make up for what you’ve been missing out on. We’re lucky, too. There aren’t any little kids in there right now.”
They kicked off their shoes and entered the small yellow circle.
Stuffy, ketchup-and-sweat-smelling air hit her. “It smells wretched in here.”
“Who says wretched?”
“I do. And you’d be wretched if you made fun of it.”
He glanced over his shoulder, a smile on his face. “Just follow me.”
Liv crawled into the tubes after him. It was hot and she felt trapped, but she took a deep breath and powered through.
“This way,” Spencer said, going into a blue tube.
The light glowed through the space, tinting everything the same color as the plastic. As they entered the red section, Spencer’s clothes and skin took on a reddish hue. The hard plastic was unforgiving on her knees, and she still felt a little claustrophobic, but excitement shot through her stomach, taking over her other emotions. They reached a clear bubble overlooking the eating area.
“Oops. I didn’t mean to bring us to the wave-at-your-mommy bubble. It’s been a while since I’ve been in here.”
“Where exactly are we going?” Her legs were burning from being crouched over.
“The slide, of course.” On hands and knees, Spencer crawled past her, back the way they came.
“Of course. How silly of me to question our quest.”
Spencer’s laugh echoed through the red plastic tube. Hearing him laugh was worth the burning muscles, the stale ketchup smell, and the panicky feeling that she might be trapped in the playland forever.
They crawled across the mesh netting and reached a landing where she could almost stand.
“We made it to the slide.” He waved his arm toward the circle. “Ladies first.”
In order not to bang her head, she had to slip into the slide without sitting. A couple seconds later, the ride was over, but getting out was a struggle. She had to hook her feet over the bottom and pull herself through.
Spencer exited a moment later. “That seemed a lot bigger when I was a kid.”
“Well, that makes sense. You were smaller, so it felt bigger.” She raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were good at math.”
“And I thought you were a nice, quiet girl.”
As soon as they got back to the table, Liv took the sanitizer out of her bag and put it on her hands. Spencer was staring, so she held it up to him. “Want some?”
“That’s such a mom move, disinfecting your hands.”
“When we crawled past the ball pit I saw part of a hamburger in there.” Thinking about the germ-filled breeding ground made her shudder. “I have to be careful about germs.”
“Okay, time for your long story. It’s basically impossible to avoid everything you have unless you’ve been locked in a basement all your life.”
He’ll think you’re a total weirdo if you tell him.
And he’ll think the same thing if you act all sketchy about it.
Liv took a deep breath, wondering if she was really about to do this. Mom had advised against it—had said to give vague answers—but the vague answers weren’t getting her anywhere. He’d asked straight out, and she didn’t see anything wrong with giving him a straight answer. About the wreck, anyway. No way she’d tell him she was currently arguing with herself.
“It’s not that I’ve never done these things before. I just don’t remember doing them.” She glanced at the playland. “Although, knowing my parents, I probably never have eaten here.”
Spencer rested his forearms on the table, bringing him closer. “You don’t remember?”
“I was in a car wreck earlier this year. I had heart and brain surgery and was in a coma for a while. All my memories from before the wreck are gone.”
Eyebrows raised, he stared at her. “You’re not joking, are you? That would be a pretty messed-up joke.”
She shook her head. “Not a joke. I need to keep my heart rate from going too high or too low, which is why I have to be careful about what I eat, and also why my parents gave me a thirty-minute lecture on how bad it would be for me to mix my meds with alcohol. The meds suppress my immune system, thus the need for hand sanitizer.”
“Wow. That’s…”
“Frustrating. Confusing. A thousand other things.”
“I was going to say crazy.” He lowered his eyebrows. “No memories of your past? At all?”
“Sometimes I know things even though I don’t remember learning them. It’s why I like math. It makes sense. It’s all there. When I’m solving equations, I feel in control. But when people are talking about movie stars, or pop culture, or, say…” She threw her hand in the air. “Riding bikes, for instance, it’s just blank. It’s really frustrating and it makes me feel stupid.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me that when I was giving you a hard time about it?”
“My mom’s afraid of what people will say or how they’ll act when they find out.” She gazed into his big brown eyes, terrified he’d never look at her the same way again. “I probably shouldn’t have told you.”
A solemn expression overtook his features. “It’s weird how one moment can change everything. Forever.”
A group of kids ran into the room, their excited cries piercing the air. Their moms—she assumed they were their moms, anyway—came in behind them, trays filled with food. Yelling and laughing, the kids charged for the playland.
Spencer piled the trash from their meal onto the tray. The carefree, playful guy from earlier was gone. “Ready to go?”
Liv grabbed her pink pony off the table and nodded. Panic welled up as she followed him out. Sharing her secret had seemed like a good idea, but now she wanted to take it back.
I shouldn’t have told him. Mom was right that people would be weird about it.
And of course she was right. No
t remembering anything about your life is freaky. Add in the two clashing personalities, and…
Her heart sank. I don’t stand a chance of ever having a close friend, someone I can actually share everything with.
Without another word, they walked across the parking lot and got into the car. Liv’s phone beeped as Spencer merged with traffic. Thinking Mom was sending her a message, she dug it out of her pocket. The text was from Keira.
What happened? Sabrina just said you didn’t want to come to The Gulch.
She’d forgotten all about the party. Though it irritated her that Sabrina made it sound like she had decided to back out, when she’d been the one to un-invite her. Because of Spencer. Who was quiet and distant now.
Liv typed out a response.
Sorry, couldn’t make it. See you Monday.
She sent the text, then pocketed her phone.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
Spencer looked at her, seeming surprised to find her there. “I wasn’t thinking. I just started driving home.”
“I freaked you out, huh?”
“No.”
“Liar. You were talking nonstop until I told you about my accident.”
He took a deep breath, then blew it out. “It’s not you, I swear. I started thinking about something else.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“So we’re back to this.” Liv crossed her arms, so frustrated she wasn’t sure if she should scream or burst into tears. “Just take me home. You’ll need to flip around and go back the other way.”
Spencer turned onto a side street, made a U-turn, and headed back down the main road. “Just tell me where to go.”
“Down this street, left on Oasis.”
Spencer turned up the music instead of attempting a conversation.
Earlier, things had been so light and fun; now tension filled the air, and Spencer didn’t even seem to care. She’d expected him to say something. Anything.
The longer the silence stretched between them, the more her chest ached, and the more she wished she could rewind time and take back her confession.
He took the left, and they drove past the familiar houses. She pointed at the four-bedroom house that had recently become home. Lately, though, it didn’t even feel like home, just another place she didn’t quite belong. “It’s the one on the end.”
