Love Will Keep Us Together (Miracle Girls Book 4)

by Anne Dayton

  “Goodness gracious.” Dreamy’s eyes go wide, and she shakes her head. “Don’t tell me you didn’t apply after all.”

  I freeze, my mouth hanging open. Why does she seem so shocked all of a sudden?

  The doorbell rings, and footsteps move toward the entryway.

  “Oh, honey.” Dreamy steps forward, and the smell of patchouli hits my nose. She wraps her arms around me in a weird hug. “I hope I didn’t say anything to make you . . .” Her voice trails off. “I wasn’t saying all that stuff for you. I was trying to convince Zoe. I didn’t mean . . .” She takes a deep breath and pulls back. “You have so much, Riley. So many opportunities and so many unique skills. I only meant . . .” She studies my face, and I have the strangest urge to cover it with my hands. “I never meant for you not to apply to college because of that.”

  “Excuse me?”

  I turn my head. Mom. She’s standing in the entrance to the kitchen, next to Zoe, her eyes wide. “What did you say?” She’s talking to Dreamy, but she’s staring at me.

  “Michelle, we need to—” Dreamy opens and closes her mouth.

  “Who didn’t apply to college?” Mom’s face is white. “Zoe?” Her voice suddenly sounds hopeful.

  Zoe’s face has gone white too, and her mouth is hanging open.

  “Um . . .” I let out a long breath. I really don’t want to die today, but I’m not quite sure how to get out of this. “Okay. So.” I shoot Dreamy a panicked look, and she shakes her head. Great. It looks like I have to be the one to say something. “Well, the truth is, I kind of didn’t quite get those applications in like I thought I was going to.” Mom puts a hand on the counter as if to brace herself. “But I was talking to Dreamy a while back, and she pointed out how college isn’t for everyone, and I kind of thought maybe I might take a year off and—”

  “You told her what?” Mom turns to face Dreamy.

  Dreamy takes a step back. “You have . . . I had no idea that she would . . . I am so, so terribly sorry.” Dreamy’s voice is high-pitched and strained. “That’s not at all what I meant to convey. I was trying to explain to Zoe that people can do fine without a college edu—”

  “I can’t believe this.” Mom puts her hand to her head. “You told Riley she didn’t need to go to college?!” Her voice is angry, but her face looks stunned. “You told my daughter that?”

  “Mom, she was just trying—” I jump in, but Mom isn’t listening. A lump forms in my throat.

  “How could you do that?” Mom says, glaring at me, and all I want to do is sink into the floor. She turns back to Dreamy. “They’re only kids.”

  I stiffen. I’ll be eighteen soon—fully an adult—but in some ways, Mom’s suggestion that I am a kid who didn’t know any better feels good, like an absolution.

  “Let’s go.” I pull on her arm and turn her toward the door.

  Mom doesn’t respond. She’s staring at Dreamy, and all I can think about is a nature show Michael watched one time, where a grizzly bear growled and bore her teeth at a photographer to protect her cub.

  “I didn’t mean to cause problems,” Dreamy finally says, her voice warbling. “I can see now that I did. And for that I’m very sorry.” Her eyes start to water. “But I’m not sure that . . .” Dreamy takes a deep breath, and I wait for her to go on, but she seems to reconsider. She crosses her arms over her chest. “Well, I apologize. We’ll leave it at that.”

  Mom doesn’t respond. Finally I turn and walk past Mom, toward the door. Zoe reaches out her hand as I walk by, but I pretend I don’t notice.

  “Riley—”

  I brush past her and out the front door. The RealMobile is parked at a precise right angle to the house. I throw open the side door and scramble onto the bench where Michael is already seated, waiting, just like I knew he would be.

  I don’t know why I do it, but I lean my head gently against his shoulder, and he doesn’t shrink away. Maybe somewhere deep in that beautifully complicated mind of his, he understands that I need this. Mom gets in and starts the car without looking back at us, and my brother and I sit there together on the dark-padded bench, not saying a word the whole way home.

  30

  “Family meeting.”

  Mom’s long shadow falls across the wooden floor, her frame silhouetted by the bright glow from the hallway. She flicks on my light, and I put a pillow over my face. I’ve been hiding here ever since we got home from Zoe’s.

  “Now.”

  Her heavy steps fade as I try to find the strength to pull myself out of bed. Somehow, until that moment at Zoe’s, I don’t think the reality of what I did had sunk in, but Mom’s reaction said it all.

  I drag myself out of bed and glance at the clock. It reads 8:15. I blink at it, almost unable to comprehend the digits. It’s not that I fear what they’ll do to me. Any punishment they could give would be a joke compared to how I’m making myself feel. It’s more that I don’t want to face them. By now Dad, Michael, and all of the Miracle Girls know what I’ve done, and I’ve never felt so small.

  I trudge down the hall, trying to remember the last family meeting we had. Was it when the doctors gave a name to Michael’s problems? Surely not. When Mom decided to become a real-estate agent?

  Mom and Dad are perched on one couch, watching my every move, and Michael is sitting on the floor, staring into space. I slump down on the other couch and bore my eyes into the wide leather ottoman. I wrap my arms around my body and squeeze hard, trying to collapse into myself.

  “Riley has an announcement.” Mom gestures with her hands, giving me the floor.

  My eyes flash from her face to Dad’s. Did she really not tell them herself? “You’re an adult.” Her clenched jaw shows what a struggle it is for her to hold it together. “Tell your father what . . . happened.”

  It didn’t just happen. That’s the problem. I wish I could blame someone else, point to Michael or my parents or Tom, anything, but there’s no one to blame but me.

  “Riley?” Dad grabs anxiously at his sweatpants. “What’s going on, honey?

  “I . . .” My throat clogs with emotion. “Something happened at Zoe’s.” How did I let it come to this? I’m the girl who dreamed of getting out of this Podunk town and making my way somewhere else, somewhere with skyscrapers and art galleries and book readings. Mom stares at her lap, apparently unable to look at me.

  “No matter what you have to say, it’s going to be okay.” Dad’s cool blue eyes peer back at me, strong and steady.

  I say a quick prayer for strength and decide to just come out with it. “I didn’t turn my applications in. I missed the deadline.”

  He bolts to his feet and begins to pace in front of the entertainment center. Michael starts to rock back and forth on the floor, and Mom covers her face with her hands.

  “That’s impossible.” Dad stops and turns to me. “We asked if you had them done before New Year’s, and you said yes.”

  My eyes go blurry for a second, but I force myself to stay focused. “I said they weren’t quite done and I meant to get them done.”

  “No, no, no, no.” Dad scratches his head. “Well, this can be fixed, obviously. Riley’s sorry now, and we can make this better.”

  “Jack.” Mom pushes herself off the couch and puts a hand on his shoulder. “I’ve been working through it since I found out.” She glances at me, then turns away quickly. “It’s over for now. There’s next year, maybe even next semester at some schools, but for now, it’s over.”

  Mom’s right. There are probably some state colleges that would take me, but the Ivy League has slipped through my fingers, just like that. It would be better to wait and try next year.

  My hands begin to ache, and I realize I’m clenching my fists. I open them and press them into the couch, trying to remember to breathe. Michael’s rhythmic rocking moves in and out of my peripheral view.

  Dad’s shoulders buckle, and he lets out a long, deep sigh. Mom whispers something gentle and soothing to him, and for a second I can pic
ture them as college students, young and in love.

  “I’m so sorry,” I manage through my tear-choked voice. “I’ve been having a hard time. I’m not sure what I want or where . . . I couldn’t do it.” I gasp a few times for air. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, but I couldn’t make myself work on them.”

  Dad sits down again and grabs his hair in big clumps. His bald spot stares back at me. It first started to show last year, and something about it makes me even sadder.

  “Everything is going to be fine.” Mom places a firm hand on Michael’s knee. He stops rocking and stares blankly.

  Dad doesn’t seem to hear her. “Does this have anything to do with Tom?” The tendons in his arms work, rising in long, taut threads. “Ever since he came back around—”

  “Dad.” I raise my voice, but not in anger—more to snap him out of it. I lean forward and give him a pleading look. “This had nothing to do with Tom. It’s about me and my issues.”

  “I’m sure it will all be fine.” Mom directs her homily at the hardwood floor. “In the morning, we’ll think about our options, but for now, it’s best if we go to bed. Everything will look better tomorrow.”

  I find myself staring at the same spot on the floor. One minute of silence bleeds into the next, all of us listening to the faint hum of the heater. Has it always been this loud? How do we go about our daily lives and not hear it?

  “Sorry, Riley,” Michael blurts out.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, and tears begin to roll down my face. He leaves the room without acknowledging me, and I cry harder.

  Mom follows after Michael, as if to comfort him, but she goes straight to the master suite instead.

  They had so much faith in me, and I blew it. I understand that. But I’ve also never been so humbled by regret in my life. Doesn’t that count for something?

  “It’s late,” Dad announces to no one at all. He rises and heads for the back of the house too.

  Mom and Dad need time to process what I’ve done. I know they love me no matter what. They must have said it a million times when we were growing up. But as I trudge to my room in the dark, it’s hard to make myself believe it.

  31

  The noise from the gym grows fainter as I make my way through the parking lot. The basketball game lasted longer than usual, but that means it trimmed a few hours off my unbearable evening at home, so it’s all right with me.

  An automatic light flickers on over the parking lot as the cold January night settles in. I look at the RealMobile, then pause. Christine’s boxy silver Volvo and Ana’s candy-apple red Audi are parked next to my car. Why are they still here? School ended hours ago. I got to school late and avoided them at lunch and thought I had made it through the day without facing them, but I squint and can see them lounging on the hoods of their cars.

  An ambush. I adjust my bag. There’s not really any way to avoid them now if I want to get to my car. I sigh and head toward the cars.

  “Hey,” I say quietly as I approach the circle. Ana is leaning against her car with her arms crossed over her chest, and Zoe and Christine are lying on the hood of the Volvo staring up at the sky. Their arms are splayed, and they appear to have been hunkered down for the long haul.

  I wait for one of them to say something, but no one does. I zip up my cheerleading hoodie to fight off the chill.

  “Guys, I’m really sorry.”

  Ana gives me a weak smile, giving me the strength to try to push forward. “I really, really meant to apply to USC, but I choked.”

  Christine hops off the hood and levels her eyes on me. “Why didn’t you come talk to us? Let us help you?” Her voice gets louder at the end.

  “I tried to . . .” Did I? All year they reached out to me, did everything they could think of, but I kept pushing them away. Why did I do that?

  “No you didn’t.” She takes a few steps toward me. “Why can’t you accept help? That’s what I don’t get.”

  “Christine.” Ana moves toward her and touches her shoulder gently. “Riley’s sorry.”

  “She should be sorry.” Christine turns back to me, her eyes narrowed. “You messed everything up, all of our plans.”

  “Christine.” I don’t know what else to say, so I let the word hang in the air. I peer around her and try to see Zoe’s face, but she’s still staring up at the sky, as if she can’t hear what’s going on.

  “She didn’t mess up everything.” Ana gives me a sympathetic smile, and it seems like the nicest thing anyone’s ever done. “And she’s trying to apologize.”

  She, she, she. The way they’re talking about me makes it sound like I’m not here, but I try to ignore that. “Guys, I’m so sorry.” I push my fists down deep in my hoodie pockets. “You have no idea how wretched I feel. I’m sorry for lying, I’m sorry for—”

  “And why are you avoiding us?” Christine takes a few steps backward, putting more space between us again. “We shouldn’t have to hear about this from Zoe and then wait for you in the parking lot.”

  Zoe sits forward into the light, and I see the tears streaming down her face. It feels like a punch in the gut. Christine is mad, but she’ll cool off; hurting someone as pure and loyal as Zoe—that’s low. How can I ever forgive myself? Are they going to be able to forgive me?

  “Christine, knock it off.” Ana throws her hands up in the air. “We’re Miracle Girls, and that means that we forgive, no matter what. We’ve forgiven you plenty of times.”

  Christine starts to say something else, but nothing comes out.

  “No, it’s okay. She’s right,” I say quietly. “I’ve been a bad friend, but I didn’t do this to hurt you on purpose.” They all turn their faces toward me, and I look down. “That’s the last thing in the world I’d want to do. I’m going through something. . . .” Zoe wipes a tear away, and I almost lose it myself. “But I should have reached out to you guys for help. I don’t know why I couldn’t. I think I told myself you wouldn’t understand, but maybe I thought you’d look at me differently.”

  “You did the best you could.” Ana walks over to Zoe, sits on the hood of the Volvo, and puts an arm around her. “I know you wouldn’t hurt us intentionally.”

  Christine turns her back to me and crosses her arms over her chest. She stares at the school gates in silence.

  I guess I always thought USC was Zoe’s dream, but somehow during this year, it became Christine’s too.

  “I couldn’t picture myself at USC. Well, at any college, really.” I shake my head. “I really wish I could take it back, take everything back, and apply this time. I don’t want to lose you guys.”

  “But it’s too late,” Christine says quietly without turning around.

  32

  Tom gets off work in five minutes, so I’m standing outside Velo Rouge Cafe trying to look nonchalant. An old bicycle hangs over the entrance and several skinny bikers with scraggly beards are smoking outside the bar down the block. The lights inside the café go off, and I brush my fingers through my hair and stand up straight. A moment later the door opens, and Tom steps out, laughing, followed by a girl with long curly hair. She grabs his arm and pulls him back toward the door, then turns and slips a key into the front door. Tom swats her playfully. I clear my throat.

  “Tom?”

  He blinks, and then his face breaks into a smile. “Riley!” He waves for me to come closer. “What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to talk to you,” I say, trying not to let the horror show in my face. Who is this girl? She seems older, like she’s in college, and they looked mighty friendly there a minute ago.

  “Riley, this is Jen.” Tom slips his arm around my shoulder. “She’s my manager, and we close together. Jen, Riley.”

  Jen puts her key into her pocket and gives me a halfhearted smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” She smirks at Tom.

  “Jen was just leaving,” Tom says, and for some reason that cracks Jen up.

  “All right, all right. I’ll go, cradle robber.” Their eyes meet
for a second too long. “See you tomorrow.” She zips up her leather jacket and starts to walk away, but casts a glance back over her shoulder and winks at Tom, then disappears around a corner.

  “What was that about?”

  Instead of answering, Tom pulls me in close and plants a kiss squarely on my mouth. Instantly I forget why I’m here. I press against him, and his strong arms wrap around me. This feels so right. And Tom’s always had plenty of girl friends. Why would that bother me now? I guess I’m feeling vulnerable with all that’s going on.

  Eventually, I have to come up for air, giving me a chance to remember what I came here for in the first place. I pull back and take a deep breath.

  “Hey, Tom?”

  He smiles at me, his face only a few inches from mine, his eyebrow raised.

  “I didn’t apply to college.”

  “What?” He takes a step back. “You didn’t?”

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do next year, but I’ll probably be around here or whatever, so I thought you should know.”

  “Riley, that’s fantastic.” Tom leans in again, pulling me in for another kiss. He brushes his fingertips against my neck, and I shiver with pleasure. “That’s so amazing. I can’t believe it.” He presses a light kiss on my lips and another on my cheek.

  “Tom?” I need to get this out before I forget. “I also wondered if you could help me with something.”

  “Anything,” Tom whispers, his breath warm on my ear.

  “I want to find out how to get in touch with a doctor at the UCSF program. All I know is that his name is Dr. Matt.”

  “Dr. Matt, huh?” Tom laughs. “Sure, no sweat. But first I need something from you.” He puts his hand on the back of my head and pulls me close.

  I nod. “Anything.”

  “Shut up and kiss me.” He presses his lips against mine, teasing me, and I feel my body respond. I don’t know how long we stand there, making out on the street for the whole world to see, but I don’t care.