You Have a Match

by Emma Lord

  “Pietra,” says Savvy’s dad, who has only just caught up to Savvy’s mom. “Let’s hold on a—”

  “We’re leaving. Now.”

  I keep waiting for my parents to defend themselves. My mom takes a few steps back, but otherwise is frozen, staring at Pietra like an animal realizing it’s about to get decked by a truck.

  “Mom, you can’t just put me in the car,” says Savvy, finally finding her voice. “I work here.”

  “Like hell I can’t,” says Savvy’s mom, a far cry from the beaming, prim woman from the Tully family Christmas card.

  My dad cuts in before Savvy’s mom just short of firefighter lifts her over her shoulders. “I think we all need to talk to our daughters,” he says, without looking at Savvy’s parents. “Abby, do you need to grab anything, or can you come with us now?”

  “I … I have to…”

  “I’ll let Victoria know where you are,” says Savvy. Then, before her mom can protest, “And where I’m going. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll come with you, okay?”

  Savvy’s mom nods, not quite calm but definitely embarrassed. She turns to my dad and says, “Yes. I think that’s best. But to be clear, I never want to see either of you near my daughter, ever again.”

  I’m expecting someone, anyone, to protest. But even though my mom’s face is still a wreck, her voice is clear: “Understood.”

  twenty-two

  My parents drive me to the small hotel on the island without saying a word, periodically looking at me in the rearview mirror. I try to hold their gazes—I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—but every time I do, they look away.

  Nobody’s spoken by the time we park the car. I follow them meekly, feeling more like a kid than ever, not only because I’m in eighty-six kinds of trouble, but because I’m entirely dependent on them. I left with nothing but my camera and my keychain. I don’t even have my phone.

  My mom starts microwaving hot water the minute we get into the hotel. I’ve never had more than a few sips, and as far as I know, neither has she, but the tea ritual has become a defining thing of sorts. If it’s a problem, we figure it out. If it’s a Problem, Mom makes tea.

  After that we all sit, them on the couch, and me on the wheelie chair by the desk. I fidget, and they are ramrod still, only moving to look at each other in some silent conversation.

  “We didn’t want you to find out like this,” I finally say. “We only wanted to—I don’t know. Figure out what happened, I guess.”

  “You couldn’t have just asked?” says my dad.

  I bunch up the loose fabric of my shorts between my fingers. I should tell them the truth: I knew even then that we were digging up something too big for the world above it. That I didn’t want to give them the chance to lie.

  And how it hurt, knowing they kept this from me. That if sixteen years passed, they were probably planning on keeping it from me my whole life.

  “I’m asking now,” I say instead. The words take a lot of courage to put into the air, and I don’t even realize until I breathe out and my bones feel spent by it. “What happened?”

  My mom clutches her tea but doesn’t drink it, holding it to her face and closing her eyes briefly.

  “You know your father and I got married young.”

  I nod. I have a feeling it’s going to be a lot of nodding from here on out.

  “Well—what you don’t know is why.”

  “Because of Savvy?”

  My mom shakes her head. “Because … your father … well—we didn’t know if he had a lot of time left.”

  I let out a laugh, a genuine one followed up by a quiet, uncertain one. Neither of my parents laugh, their faces solemn and drawn. I don’t think I’ve ever seen them this serious. They look like zombie versions of themselves.

  “When I was twenty, I got a really bad case of pneumonia,” my dad tells me. “It, uh—well, the long and short of it is, I had an undiagnosed heart defect. The pneumonia triggered it. And it really did a number on me. I was in and out of the hospital for a few years.”

  My mom reaches out suddenly and grabs his hand. I watch them both squeeze—my dad first, and then my mom. I wonder how many times I’ve watched them do that. I wonder why this is the first time it’s made me understand just how much they say to each other when they’re not saying anything at all.

  “They even had him on the donor list for a while,” says my mom. “Things got pretty bad, and we—we were in love, and we just … we got married. We didn’t think there was much of a future, so we wanted to do as much as we could with what time we thought he had left.”

  My throat is thick. I can’t imagine a world where my mom exists without my dad, or my dad without her. It’s strange to think there was even a time when they hadn’t met.

  “Even having a baby?”

  “The baby—Savannah,” my mom corrects herself. She says it the way you say a word you’ve read in a book a hundred times but never said out loud. “That was an accident.”

  “We were in over our heads,” says my dad. “We were married, but we weren’t ready for … at least not under the circumstances.”

  “He was so sick,” says my mom, “and we were so young, and we were—we were already trying to plan what life would look like without him. I didn’t—the idea of—of being in a world without him … I thought I was too young to handle it on my own. I know I was.”

  You don’t have to explain, I want to say—but it’s not that. I need her to explain, and I think she needs to explain. But she doesn’t have to justify it. She’s my mom. Even before I knew the circumstances, I understood she’d made an impossible choice.

  “So we decided to give her up for adoption,” says my dad. “And then…”

  “You got better.”

  He nods. My mom’s grip around his hand tightens, the two of them pressed so close to each other that they look like a force. I’m starting to understand it now. That unnerving level of calm in the face of every Abby-made or little-brother-related catastrophe that’s come our way. They’ve already faced much worse than what we could throw at them, and come out the other side.

  “Right before Savannah was born, they put him on an experimental treatment plan, and it was like it never happened. It still is. He hasn’t had any issues since.”

  My dad sees the question poised in my eyes but misinterprets it. “And as far as we know, neither will you or your brothers. We got all of you tested.”

  “But Savvy?”

  “Does she have…?” My mom’s hand goes to her heart, her face paler than it was before.

  “No,” I say quickly, wishing I’d realized wording it like that would scare them. “I meant—when you gave her up. You know her parents.”

  “We were friends,” says my dad carefully.

  It’s clear neither of them are going to elaborate. “So … what the hell happened?”

  My mom folds in on herself. She’s always been small—more Savvy-size than I am—but right now she looks like she could sink into the couch cushions and disappear. “It’s complicated.”

  “And the part where you kept a secret sister from me for sixteen years isn’t?”

  “Hey,” my dad warns me.

  “It’s okay, Tom,” says my mom.

  I wave in their direction, a gesture of surrender that comes off a little awkward because I’ve never really had to make one before. Even I’m surprised at myself for challenging them. It isn’t easy, but it’s not as hard as I thought it would be either. Like I’ve been saving up all these little moments over the last year where I could have, would have, should have said something, and something so big that I can’t ignore it has finally pushed me over the edge.

  “I already know the rest of it,” I say. “Why can’t you tell me?”

  “Because…” My mom shakes her head.

  “And—and what about me? I mean, how do I fit into this?” I ask, before I lose my nerve. I’m shaking. “I mean—you gave her up and had me a year and a half later. Were yo
u, like—super accident-prone, or—”

  “Honey, no,” says my mom.

  “It’s okay,” I say, and I mean it. “I mean, I always kind of figured I was, and I know it doesn’t mean you guys love me any—”

  “Honey, you weren’t an accident, you were—”

  My mom cuts herself off, because in her haste to reassure me, she’s given something away.

  I feel weak, like I’ve climbed up something too tall and don’t know if I have it in me to get back down. “The whole thing … it doesn’t make sense.”

  “I know,” says my mom, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I know.”

  I can feel my window to ask shutting. They’re going to find some way to close this, to seal it tight. I try another tactic. “If you can’t tell me now—will you ever?”

  They glance at each other, and this time it isn’t a mystery. Neither knows what to tell me.

  “Because—because I’m going to have to know someday. Savvy’s a part of my life,” I tell them, and only then do I feel like I might be losing what ridiculously small amount of control I have over the situation. Only then do I realize that this isn’t just about what they lost—I have something to lose, too. “We’re friends. What we did was shitty, and I’m sorry about that, but I’m not sorry about the part where we found each other, because—”

  I have to stop, because my mom’s crying again. She puts her face in her hands, shaking her head like she didn’t mean for me to stop. But she breathes in and it comes back out in this big, gasping sob, a noise I’ve never heard her make before, and it clamps my mouth shut so fast that the rest of the words die halfway up my throat.

  “I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m…”

  My dad pulls his hand from hers so he can put an arm around her shoulders, steadying her. I don’t move, stunned by this unexpected power I have over them, by how quickly it broke them. I don’t want it. I just want to understand. I don’t want all the pain that comes with it.

  But the understanding and pain are woven together, tighter than a knot, and together make something so immovable that it doesn’t matter what I mean and what I don’t. It’s all going to end with me yanking on something that can’t be undone.

  “We’re going to turn in for the night,” says my dad, helping my mom to her feet. “There’s a deli, just outside, and cash in your mom’s purse—”

  “Wait,” I say, leaping to my feet. “I know that … this is a lot. But if you could let me stay—”

  “Abby,” my dad starts.

  “—because I’m actually making progress. I really am! I got a 720 on a math practice exam two days ago. A 720! Me!”

  They’re not even hearing me. I feel like I’m in an alternate dimension. I don’t know what else I can say, how else to make it stick.

  “And I’m making friends, and … and I’ve taken so many photographs. Beautiful ones.”

  My dad glances at me. I have his attention, but not enough to hold it. The next words are some of the most nerve-wracking I’ve ever said in my life, but I’m desperate.

  “Let me show you.”

  My dad stops at this, and we stare at each other, trying to figure out which of us is more surprised. I’ve never shown them more than one rare photo at a time before. They’ve only ever had good things to say, but they’re my parents and obligated to say nice things. If anything, it only makes me more self-conscious.

  This, on the other hand, might fling my sense of self straight into the sun.

  “Send them to us. We want to see them,” he says, and though his voice is grim, and his face ashen, I can tell how much he means it. That he knows how much it means to me. “We do. But Abby?”

  Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

  “I … I don’t want you to get your hopes up. It’s not anything to do with you, or the summer school thing. It’s bigger than that, okay?”

  The word tastes like metal on my tongue, but there’s nothing else to say.

  “Okay.”

  twenty-three

  Somehow, against all odds, I am setting foot back in Camp Reynolds before lunch the next day. It’s such a relief I could prostrate myself in front of the academic building and kiss the mud. It is also such a disappointment that instead I stand in the parking lot, watching my parents drive away, my guilt mounting more and more with every turn of the minivan’s wheels.

  “She lives!”

  I’m entirely too exhausted for Finn and his boundless energy, and judging by the visible bags under his eyes, he is, too.

  “I thought you were straight-up murdered. I was going to start spreading rumors. Make you the next Gaby, find you a decent tree to haunt—”

  “Is Savvy here?”

  “She got in last night. Had to report back for duty and all. You’re the talk of the camp, you know,” Finn tells me. “Phoenix Cabin thought you’d gotten lost in the woods; they were about to start a search party. I swear Leo looked like he was going to cry—”

  “I texted him from my mom’s phone—didn’t he get it?”

  “Well, yeah. But we thought you’d be back by dinner. He was convinced you’d been kidnapped or eaten by a rabid animal or something.”

  Crap. We were supposed to have dinner and talk. Twenty-four hours ago it would have been so burned into my brain I wouldn’t have been able to think of anything else. Now I’ve gone and made yet another bad situation worse.

  “So what happened?” Finn asks. “Are you—”

  “Abby!”

  Savvy looks stunned to see me, breaking away from the other junior counselors so abruptly that they all look like a fellow migrating bird just threw off their formation. From a distance she looks like her usual camera-ready self, but once she gets up close she looks every bit as exhausted as I feel, her eyes rimmed red and her perfect posture off a few degrees.

  “You’re here?”

  “I’m as shocked as you are.”

  “What happened?” Finn asks again, his eyes darting between us. “Did we solve the mystery? Were you secretly split from the same egg the whole time, a genetic experiment gone wrong, the cover-up botched—”

  Rufus interrupts by clobbering me with his usual muddy overexuberance, right as Savvy says, “Meet me after lunch?”

  “Yeah,” Finn and I say at the same time.

  Savvy raises her eyebrows at him.

  “Ugh, fine,” says Finn. “I’ll go find a secret sister of my own.”

  The instant Savvy and I are somewhat alone, we spill everything we know, comparing notes. My parents’ and her parents’ stories line up perfectly. They told Savvy about not being able to have kids, and a friend of theirs being in a position where they needed to put their baby up for adoption. Neither story goes any further than that.

  “I tried to find out, but my mom got really upset,” says Savvy, shifting uncomfortably.

  “You’re telling me.”

  “I wonder…” Savvy shakes her head. “What made your parents change their minds about letting you stay?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  But maybe I am. It could be the SAT thing, but it could also be that they just woke up this morning and decided it was easier not to deal with me than to spend another two weeks fielding questions. Easier not to walk around the house with a living, breathing reminder that what happened eighteen years ago is out in the open, pushing at the edges of the world they’ve built since. I’m not just their problem kid anymore. I’m a time bomb.

  The one thing I know for sure is that it’s not my photography. Nobody even tried to access the Dropbox of my photos last night. It should be a relief, but if it is, it sinks way lower than any kind I’ve felt before.

  “I wish we knew what made them hate each other so much,” says Savvy.

  “I just wish we could fix it.”

  “Savvy, have you seen Amelia?”

  We both jump, but Victoria seems unfazed.

  “Uh … she was in the mess hall,” says Savvy. “Why? Is there anything I can help with?”

 
; Victoria sighs. “There’s some problem with the dock. No ferries in or out since this morning. So now the teacher for AP Lit Prep isn’t here, and I need Amelia to sub in until they get things up and running. Let her know to come find me if you see her.”

  “Absolutely.”

  The moment she leaves, our eyes snap to each other’s: our parents are all still here.

  Savvy’s eyes light up with sudden mischief so familiar to me that I might as well be back home, playing referee between my brothers as they pummel one another with plastic lightsabers and Silly String.

  “I’ve got an idea.”

  twenty-four

  I have done some pretty stupid things in my life, but this plan of Savvy’s—Savvy, the responsible one—might be the stupidest thing I’ve done yet.

  In fact, plan is a generous word. She wants us to go out and find our parents, and by our parents, I mean each other’s parents. As in I am walking through the woods, one pair of binoculars away from getting labeled as a certified stalker, because Savvy is sure I’ll find Dale and Pietra on this specific trail. Meanwhile, Savvy is using her one break during the day to hitch a ride with one of the morning teachers up to the little stretch of town.

  “We’ll ease them in this way,” she reasoned. “We’ll ‘accidentally’ bump into them, chat them up, make it seem like our own parents said something about missing them, and nudge them in the right direction.”

  “So lie to them.”

  “It’s not lying. They clearly do miss each other. You saw those pictures.”

  “Yeah. But Savvy…”

  “But what?” Savvy asked.

  I sighed. “Say we find them. Then what?”

  “We draw them back to camp. Maybe they’ll be loosened up and it won’t be as weird.”

  I raised my eyebrows, wondering when Savvy became the lawless one and I became the rule follower. I didn’t know what her night looked like, but I personally had a vested interest in never seeing those looks on my parents’ faces again.