What If

by Shirley Anne Edwards

  What If

  Shirley Anne Edwards

  What If by Shirley Anne Edwards

  Cover art Copyright 2014 by Kenda Montgomery

  The reproduction or utilization of this book in any form by mechanical or other means is forbidden by law. Copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and may result in fines of up to $250,000 or imprisonment.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Acknowledgements:

  To my mother, the first person who read a very early draft of What If and gave me the confidence to follow my publishing dream. To my grandmother, the original Shirley Edwards, who is always by my side especially when self-doubt takes over.

  Thank you to Kenda Montgomery for her amazing artistic talent, and to Jennifer L. Armentrout, a role model, mentor and overall amazing person. A plate of brownies will always be waiting for you. To my editor Laura Garland and her incredible skill with the written word.

  For those who always ask, what if? Ignore those who make you second guess yourself and erode your confidence. Live for yourself and no one else.

  “Never say goodbye, because saying goodbye means going away, and going away means nothing”- Peter Pan, J.M. Barrie

  Prologue

  I fell to the floor with tears rolling down my face. I couldn’t catch my breath, and my heart rattled around in my chest. I banged the back of my head against the wall. What I did will haunt me for the rest of my life.

  My best friend was dead. I’m the reason he died.

  If only I’d gone with him to pick up his backpack he left at the boathouse. But he told me not to worry, to get ready for bed. He would return in less than twenty minutes.

  “Wendy, nothing will happen to me. We live in one of the safest towns on the East Coast.” Pete caressed my cheek with the back of his hand, giving me a kiss that left me wanting more.

  He climbed out my bedroom window, just like all the other times.

  He waved as he turned the corner and again just before he ducked into his car to drive to the lake.

  He left a few minutes after midnight. I did what he asked. I got ready for bed and waited for him to climb through my bedroom window again, where I’d lie in his arms all night long.

  I fell asleep.

  If I’d never fallen asleep, he might still be alive. He’d be in my arms, sharing kisses and dreams of his future.

  Pete’s future was stamped out.

  Twenty-four hours later, the police were at his house, explaining to his parents how they’d found his body at the bottom of the lake.

  I was the last one to see him alive, to feel his touch, those warm lips of his against mine.

  If only I’d made him forget about his backpack by kissing him, pulling him to bed, and continuing what we did at the lake.

  My best friend, the one I loved most of all, was dead.

  I had a tough decision to make. He would expect me to do the right thing.

  I would walk out of my bedroom and down the steps to tell my parents what I knew. It would be the hardest thing I would ever have to do. I’d kept so many secrets from them already.

  They would find out about last night and what we did together.

  He’s gone, and it’s all my fault! If only….

  No more if onlys. Now only, what if?

  What if they were wrong and he was still alive?

  What if I continued to lie?

  What if I could go back in time to the end of the summer when things between me and Pete had changed forever?

  Chapter One

  Five months ago….

  “Move your ass, Wonder Woman,” Pete shouted, flying by me on his cherry-red bicycle.

  “You’re a dead man, Preiss,” I yelled, wiping the sweat off my forehead as I huffed up one of the biggest hills in Brookview Park. Just another hot and sticky Monday—Labor Day to be exact—as we enjoyed the last few days of freedom before we began our junior year of high school. We’d biked at Brookview forever and did every free chance available. Soon, we’d only be able to bike together on the weekends because of school and Pete’s part-time job.

  He shot down the hill with his arms spread open like he was on a roller coaster. It frightened me. I didn’t want him breaking his leg like he did when he was twelve.

  “Be careful, Mr. Daredevil.” I took my time coming down. There was no way my leg would be bound in a cast during my first semester of junior year, with me limping down the hallways open for anyone to tease or try to trip me.

  He spun his bike and kicked his legs in the air. He could be such a show-off sometimes. He bowed, walking his bike over instead of riding it, and I rolled my eyes. He would be crushed if he knew my true feelings.

  Biking wasn’t really my thing. My idea of fun was reading magazines and watching television.

  Such a teeny, itsy, bitsy lie.

  I hit him hard on the shoulder. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”

  “Hey, that hurt.” He winced, rubbing his arm.

  “Suck it up, Pee Pee.”

  “You know how much I hate that nickname.”

  I moved my sweat-drenched hair away from my forehead. I could feel a zit forming, rising under the skin. Great. Knowing my luck, I’d have a huge tumor right smack in the middle of my forehead for the first day of school.

  “You call me Wonder Woman. I call you Pee Pee. Deal with it,” I teased.

  He took off his sunglasses and wiped them off with the bottom of his damp white T-shirt. He sweated more than any person I knew.

  “Wendy, I can’t help it that your first and last name begins with the letter W. Think of Wonder Woman as a compliment. My nickname, on the other hand, is humiliating.”

  He frowned, turning away from me. It was bad enough the jerks at our school made fun of him. Among the more derogatory names used were Pity Pete or Patchy because of the bad case of acne he suffered from. Most times he looked like he had a constant case of sunburn. His face was a curse. I could hear the sing-song phrase in my head, “It’s such a pity Petey Pee-Pee is a monkey”.

  At least they’d stopped calling him Jew Boy.

  “Sorry,” I grumbled. He’d been calling me Wonder Woman for as long as I could remember.

  “It sure is hot out here.” He lifted his shirt, wiping his face with it. I was about to tell him how gross that was, but then I noticed his stomach. Wow. His abs weren’t all that bad.

  “You’ve been working out?” I patted his stomach, hiding a grimace as his sweat moistened my palm. Before I could wipe it away, he grabbed my arm and twisted me around until he held me in a head lock. We grappled like that until I almost slipped out of his grip, but he was just too strong.

  “Do you surrender?”

  “Never!” I decided to do something very low. I tickled him.

  He released me, and I raised my arms in victory. Leaning against his bike, he rolled his eyes.

  “Seriously, you have some major guns there.” I stretched my arms above my head.

  “And your boobs are so big, now, they can crush soda cans. What are you now, a triple D?”

  Only he could get away with saying something like that.

  “Yeah, thanks for noticing. No push-up bra needed here.” I pushed my chest out for emphasis.

  Suddenly, a silver convertible drove by with two guys.

  “Hey, Patchy, where’s your bananas?” the driver shouted, and roared down the street with his radio blasting some air-splitting rock song.

  I clenched my fists, wishing they would crash into a tree. “Pete—”

  He fiddled with the handle bars of his bike. “I’m pretty wiped out. I should head home and shower before dinner.”

  I glimpsed at m
y watch, surprised by the time. “Okay.”

  He strode away with his bike. I came up beside him, bumping my shoulder into his. He did the same to me.

  “Ignore that jerk. He’s jealous you’re with a big-boobed girl and he isn’t.”

  He gave me a small smile but didn’t say anything. We walked in silence until we reached my house.

  “Eleven’s okay?” he asked.

  “Same time as always.”

  He leaned over to give me a hug but ruffled my hair instead.

  “Preiss,” I yelled.

  He jumped on his bike and drove straight inside his garage, chuckling all the way. I felt too winded to chase after him.

  I’d get him back. I always made sure I got the last laugh.

  ***

  “Wendy, come help set the table,” Mom called from the kitchen. I sat on the couch in the living room, reading one of the entertainment magazines after I’d finished taking a shower.

  I went to the kitchen. Mom grabbed plates out of the cabinet.

  “Is Dad working late tonight?” I asked.

  “No. He stopped at a store to get some doo-hickey for the lawn mower.”

  My father had a strange obsession with our lawn. He would’ve been a better gardener than an insurance claims adjuster.

  “Can I mash?” I asked as I took the milk and butter out of the refrigerator for the potatoes. I loved mashing potatoes. Yup, I was strange that way.

  She pushed the ends of her strawberry-blonde hair behind her ears. “Thank you, pumpkin.” She squeezed my shoulder and handed over the items as she went to the oven to take out her homemade special meat loaf. What made it special, I couldn’t say. It was a brick of meat that stayed in your stomach long after you ate it.

  “I’m no longer four. You need to stop calling me that.”

  “You’ll never be too old to be my pumpkin head. Remember the Halloween you were five?”

  “You made me dress up like a pumpkin. Oh, yeah. To this day I still get called, The Great Pumpkin.” I mashed the potatoes into pulp.

  “You were so adorable. I had a blast making that costume.”

  “A blast? Really, Marie?”

  “Yes, a blast, Wendy Margaret. I try to keep up with the teen lingo.”

  I covered a laugh and finished mashing. “Sure, Mom, sure. You’re one hip chick.”

  She poured soda into a glass. “Like mother, like daughter. Why can’t I call you a cute nickname? You don’t seem to mind when Pete calls you one.”

  I set the bowl of potatoes on the table. “Don’t remind me. It’s perfectly okay for him to call me some cutesy name, but whenever I try to call him something, he gets upset.” I scooped up some potatoes with a finger and slipped it into my mouth.

  She gave me her I’m-not-amused mom look. “He calls you by a nickname because he likes you.”

  “It’s because I’m his only friend.” I winced, wanting to kick myself for what I just said.

  She placed a hand on my shoulder. “Pete’s such a sweet kid. I don’t understand why the other kids in your class can’t see the same thing we see.”

  “They’re all stupid. But I don’t care. He’s my peep.”

  “Peep?”

  “Yeah. It’s—”

  “Hmm…what smells good?” Dad came in carrying a brown paper bag and reached for Mom, pressing his nose into the side of her neck.

  She gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. It didn’t bother me my parents were lovey dovey. They’d always been like that. It was pretty cool they still were affectionate after so many years of marriage.

  “Hey, Dad.” I poured my own drink and then his.

  “Hey, pumpkin.” He gave me a hug.

  “Now, Greg, Wendy doesn’t want to be called that anymore.” Mom sat down at the table.

  Dad pinched my cheek. “Why not? It takes me back to that Halloween—”

  I sat down, rolling my eyes. “Been there, done that. The Great Pumpkin label will haunt me to the grave.”

  He laughed and sat down across from me, winking.

  I smiled.

  When Dad started to say grace, Mom mouthed the word, pumpkin, and we burst out laughing. Dad shook his head and made me say the prayer instead.

  ***

  I glanced over at my alarm clock. 10:50 p.m. Ten minutes until show time.

  I lay on my back, watching the glow-in-the-dark star stickers on my ceiling and rubbing my stomach while it cramped. The meatloaf, as always, didn’t sit well. I’d pretended to enjoy eating it so as not to hurt Mom’s feelings. I lied. Parents lied to their children all the time. Why not their offspring? I still hadn’t forgiven my parents for fibbing about Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. At least I’d kept the Tooth Fairy thing going until I was thirteen.

  The whirl of the ceiling fan made me sleepy. I didn’t want Pete coming in while I dozed. I liked it better when we fell asleep together.

  I turned on my side with my palm pressed against my stomach and continued rubbing it. Glancing at the window, I waited for him to make an appearance. My window was unlatched and opened halfway for him to climb in without any problem.

  There was a scraping noise. Waving, Pete popped up in front of my window. I met him, giving him my hand to help him inside. He hopped down and set his backpack on the floor.

  I opened my bedroom door and peeked down the hall. My parents’ bedroom door was closed—a good sign they were in bed. But I’d noticed the looks they gave each other at dinner, which led me to believe they weren’t going to sleep right away.

  I shut my door and turned to see Pete lying on my bed with his arms behind his head. He wore black cotton boxers and a T-shirt with a faded picture of Spiderman on the front.

  “I think my parents are having sex.” I sat next to him.

  “Duh. It’s pretty much a given parents have sex.”

  “I mean like now. They were making gooey faces with one another at dinner.” I lay down.

  He cringed, and I covered a smile. “Please, can we not talk about your parents having sex? That’s just…gross.”

  Turning on my side, I faced him. “Sometimes you can be such a girl.”

  He rolled his head toward me. “You want me to tell you about the time I found my parents—”

  I covered his mouth. “Let’s not go there.” I tried to get comfortable but couldn’t. My stomach wouldn’t stop bubbling.

  Pete linked out fingers together. “What’s wrong?’

  “Mom’s meatloaf.” I clutched my stomach and winced in pain.

  “Oh.” He knew all too well about Mom’s killer meatloaf. He’d eaten it one too many times himself. “Come here. I’ll make you feel better.”

  He moved his big, warm hand beneath mine. He was the only boy to ever touch me this way—skin to skin.

  I yawned, the motion of his palm lulling me to sleep. “I can’t believe tomorrow is our last day of summer vacation.”

  “Yeah. I can’t wait.” He sounded less than thrilled.

  I rested my other fingers on top of his. “Don’t worry. We’re no longer the low men on the totem pole. Things will be better, you’ll see.”

  I couldn’t see his expression in the dark. “I bet Brookeside High can’t wait for monkey boy. I wonder how many bananas I’ll find in my locker the first day.”

  I lifted my palm to Pete’s face. He might look like a monkey with his big mouth, squashed, wide nose, and ears too big for his head, but none of that mattered. I found him to be perfect in every way. He was my best friend, and I loved him.

  “You have me for backup. If anyone tries to mess with you, I’ll kick their ass.”

  “With your humongous boobs as weapons?” he joked.

  I flicked his nose with my finger. “Are boobs all you ever think about?”

  He nestled me against his side and settled his palm on my stomach again. “I’m a guy. What do expect?”

  “At least I know you’re not gay.”

  He patted my head then kissed my forehead, and I began
to drift off. “You don’t have to worry. I’m not gay.”

  “Really, how?” I yawned loudly and closed my eyes.

  “I dream of your boobs.”

  I chuckled and kissed his collarbone. Soon after, I drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter Two

  The sun poured through the window, hitting me in my face. I groaned and rolled to the side, expecting to feel Pete up against my back. I lifted my head. My clock said nine fifty. He had left. Poor guy would work his last day of vacation until six tonight.

  I blinked the sleep out of my eyes and climbed out of bed, yawning while I made my way to the bathroom. Before I could get there, the phone rang. The need to pee wasn’t as strong as it could’ve been, so I hurried downstairs and picked up the phone.

  “H’llo?”

  “I’m hungry. Let’s get some breakfast.” My other best friend, Pamela, whined for food.

  “I could eat.” A sudden craving for pancakes hit me. “I need to buy school stuff for tomorrow.” I scratched my arm. Damn. I had a huge, ugly red mosquito bite on the inside of my elbow. That reminded me about my forehead. Damn again. I could feel a pimple growing there. “Shit.”

  “What’s the matter? Must be something serious for you to say shit.”

  “It’s life threatening. I have mosquito bites all over me and a zit that looks like a second head’s growing out of my forehead.”

  “If you washed your face with more than just the cheap, generic crap, you wouldn’t have a problem.”

  “You can be such a bitch.”

  “You better believe it. Hurry up and get ready. Slap on some makeup, and do something presentable with your hair that won’t make me embarrassed to be seen with you. I’ll pick you up in less than thirty.”

  “Okay. Later.” I hung up the phone and spotted a twenty-dollar bill poking out from under a piece of paper on the dining room table.

  Wendy,

  Here’s money for your school supplies.