This is What Goodbye Looks Like

by Olivia Rivers

  “Yeah,” I say as I start after the pair. Seth makes Koda slow down, and as we near the dorms, I catch up to them.

  “You asked me why I came here,” I say. I grimace with every step I take on my throbbing knee, but I focus on keeping my tone even and stoic. “When we first met. You wanted to know what made me choose this school.”

  “I still do.” His entire body seems taut, every muscle tensed as we get closer to the dorms, and he gets closer to having to leave for home. But his tone stays gentle, almost concerned. “You never gave me much of an answer. And everyone who comes to Harting knows exactly why they want to be here.”

  I clear my throat a little. “My home kind of sucks right now, too. So that’s why I’m here.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  “I guess.”

  “Well, it doesn’t. You deserve a good home.”

  I don’t try to hide my surprise. It never occurred to me that he might want me to be happy.

  “Thank you,” I murmur.

  Koda veers to the right, taking Seth down the small path that leads to the senior boys’ dorm. But Seth only takes a couple more steps before stopping.

  “Do you want me to walk you back to your room?” he asks.

  It takes all my self-control to stop myself from answering “yes.” I don’t want to have to say goodbye, and even more than that, I don’t want to watch him look so absolutely miserable as he heads away.

  But he needs to go back home, and he needs to be with his family, or else things are just going to get worse for him.

  “No,” I say. “I can get back just fine by myself.”

  Seth nods. “Can you do me one more favor?” He bites at his lip for a second, then adds, “It’s not as big as the photo project, I promise.”

  “Yeah, sure.” I’ll do as many favors as he wants, if it will just make him stop looking so damn miserable.

  He makes a vague gesture to our surroundings. “Quit acting so shy with everyone around here. Harting might not be a real home, but if you don’t have an actual family to lean on, it’s pretty much the best thing you’ll get.”

  I don’t bother trying to hide my surprise, and I open and close my mouth a few times, struggling for words. “So,” I finally manage. “Does that make you my brother or something?”

  He smiles, his angular face making the expression sharp and gentle all at once. “No. No, definitely not.” He shakes his head and lets out a small chuckle.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “The idea of us being siblings.”

  I can’t help but smile with him, even though I don’t really get the joke. “What? You wouldn’t want to be related to me?”

  “Hell, no.” One corner of his mouth tilts up in a smirk. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve always thought incest was pretty disgusting.”

  He winks and heads off toward his dorm. I’m left standing there with my mouth dropped open, my confused thoughts just as numerous as the swirling snowflakes.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “He likes you,” Brie announces. She peers at her nails as she paints them a sparkly silver color, the tip of her tongue stuck out in concentration.

  I snatch up my copy of Robinson Crusoe from my desk and hold it up to the top shelf of our bookcase next to the closet. I’m re-organizing the shelves, mostly for Brie’s sake, since she’s been moaning about how I keep my books lined up in order of awesomeness. Too messy, she claims. I managed to convince her to not make me do alphabetical order, so now I’m organizing by the color of the spine. Trouble is, Robinson Crusoe has a dual-colored spine, white at the top and red at the bottom.

  “It goes with the reds,” Brie says, noticing my hesitation. “And he likes you. And I’m going to keep saying he likes you until you do something about it.”

  “Brie, we’re not having this conversation again,” I say, shoving the book on the bottom shelf with Inferno and my other red novels. If Brie says that’s where it belongs, I’ll trust her. Ends up, she’s even more of a book nerd than I am.

  Over the past couple weeks, I’ve discovered we both have a soft spot for British authors and classics, but other than that, our tastes are pretty different. Brie likes long novels with happy endings, and she doesn’t understand poetry. I like books that are short, as long as they’re not super sweet, and I’ve been reading more and more poetry lately, mostly so I can talk to Seth about it.

  “I’m just tutoring Seth,” I say, knowing it’s a lie even before the words leave my mouth. “That’s the end of the story.”

  And I wish it was my current story, instead of being trapped in my dorm room, waiting around for my dad to call. He usually calls every Sunday afternoon, and I’ve been dreading it all day.

  “You tutor Seth almost every day,” Brie insists. “I mean, the dude’s bad at science, but he’s not that bad.”

  I bite my lip, not sure how to respond to that, since it’s completely true. Seth is actually pulling great grades in his Chem class, and we really don’t need to be meeting as often as we do. We’ve also been getting together for the photo project, and after reading Parker’s paper another time, working on the photos feels even more natural. We’ve gotten two more shoots done, so I now have photos for the sixth and seventh steps of the project. We took them in the cafeteria and the library, which seemed to fit the steps’ themes of friendship and introspection.

  Even though I technically have good reason to be around Seth so much, our times together are starting to feel more than just friendly. I know I should have put an end to it weeks ago, but...

  He’s Seth. He’s sweet and witty and smart, and I want to be around him, and it’s so messed up, but my whole damn life is messed up.

  Brie lets out a frustrated sigh when she doesn’t get a response from me. “Plus,” she says, “you’re helping him with Parker’s project. That means something.”

  I shoot her an exasperated look as I snatch up Little Women and shove it toward the yellows. “Oh, that’s right, I’d forgotten. Collaborating on the photo projects of dead relatives is the next big thing in romance. Seventeen Magazine totally said so.”

  “Don’t be snarky,” Brie says, wagging her nail polish brush at me. “You’re too pretty to be such a pessimist.” She goes back to painting, but her eyes suddenly narrow, and she pins the bottle of nail polish with a disappointed look. “This is sparkly. It’s supposed to be glimmery. The label says so.”

  I briefly consider throwing my book at Brie’s nail polish collection, but then tuck it safely in the shelf where it belongs. “Is there a difference?”

  “Yes, there’s a difference! Just like there’s a difference between Seth wanting help with his homework, and Seth wanting to make out with you.”

  “We are not kissing,” I say.

  “Yet.”

  “Ever.”

  My phone buzzes, and I slip it out of my hoodie pocket. An increasingly familiar warmth fills my chest as I see Seth’s name on my screen, along with the icon I’ve uploaded for his contact. It’s the first picture I took of him by the gate, with his head tilted back and the sun breaking through the clouds to shine on his face.

  His text message is another one of his incessant either-or questions, which he hasn’t bothered to stop asking, even though he’s officially run out of relevant questions.

  “Hot dog or banana?”

  I read over the text a couple times, trying to make sense of it. “How am I supposed to interpret that?” I text back. “Kinky or just plain weird?”

  His reply comes almost immediately. “Landon and I are going into town in a couple hours.”

  “So... kinky?”

  “Har-har. We’re going to the diner for half-off hot dog day. You and Brie want to come?” There’s a short pause, and then, “You have to order a banana milkshake with your hot dog. Town tradition. No exceptions allowed.”

  I smile a little at that. Hendrickson is chalk-full of these silly little traditions, although I have to wonde
r how many of them Seth just makes up on the fly. “If you order them together, why are you asking me to choose one or the other?”

  “You’re being difficult.”

  “Proper phrasing is important.”

  “Fine. Ugh. Hot dog AND banana?”

  “You seriously need to find a less kinky way to ask that.”

  “You’re impossible. Will you come or what?”

  “Oh my god,” Brie says, breaking into my conversation. “You’re texting him, aren’t you?”

  I offer her a shrug, and she rolls her eyes at me.

  “Seriously? You’re sitting there telling me how uninterested you are in him, and then two seconds later you’re wearing that goofy little smile. Come on. Just admit it. You like the guy.”

  I stare down at my phone, looking over our chain of texts from the last couple of weeks. It’s gotten way longer than I ever anticipated. Brie’s right—I like him. I more than like him, which is making lying to him about my identity even harder.

  “Look, I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “I know you think we’d be a good couple, but I’m not right for him. We’re just friends. Nothing more.”

  She sighs. “Yeah, whatever. But can you at least tell him you’re not interested? Because I don’t want him to get his hopes up. The last thing he needs right now is a broken heart.”

  “There’s no need to worry about that,” I say. “He’s not interested in me, really.”

  “He’s refusing to let Landon comment on your looks, because he says he imagines you as being perfect, and he doesn’t want anyone to ruin that image. I’d say that qualifies as interested, Lea.”

  “And delusional,” I mutter.

  “You are so weird,” Brie groans. “You do realize most girls would die for an opportunity to date him, right? I mean, not only is he hot as hell, but he’s impossibly sweet, and he’s blind.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Being blind is a turn-on for most girls?”

  “Well, duh. Getting to wear sweatpants and no makeup all the time, and never hearing a single complaint? That’s called an opportunity of a lifetime.”

  I smirk and shake my head. “Sorry, Brie, but it’s not happening.”

  “Fine,” she says, drawing the word out into a whine as she gives me a pouty look. “But just know that you’re no fun. At all.”

  I hold up my phone and waggle it. “Seth’s asking if we want to go into town with him and Landon to grab dinner,” I say. “A very platonic, very boring dinner with no fun and hot dogs.”

  Brie perks up at that, although she makes a face of exaggerated disgust as she says, “He’s totally going to make me order one of those banana milkshakes. They suck.”

  I smile a little, slightly surprised that the banana milkshake tradition is actually a real one, and text Seth that we’ll come. Outside, sleet has been pattering against the window for nearly an hour, and my stomach turns a little at the thought of driving in this weather. But I still don’t want to turn down his invite.

  Seth texts back telling us to meet in the parking lot in an hour, and I don’t even get a chance to reply when my phone starts vibrating with an incoming call. I groan. It’s not like talking to Dad is optional, but that isn’t making me dread this conversation any less.

  “Is that your dad?” Brie asks, already moving toward the door. I’ve never asked her to leave our room—it still feels like I’m borrowing this dorm from her, and it’d just be weird to boot her out. But she picked up pretty quickly that my conversations with Dad are mostly unpleasant, so she’s usually nice enough to give me privacy.

  “Yeah,” I say.

  “Cool.” She waddles toward the door, her toes spread awkwardly as she tries to keep her freshly-painted nails from touching. “I’ll pop over to Hannah and Maddie’s room for a bit.”

  “You don’t have to go,” I say, just like I do every time. Honestly, I half-wish she’d stay, just so I’m less inclined to argue with Dad.

  “No, it’s not a problem.” She holds up her own phone and points to it. “I need to check in with my family, anyway. But just try not to get disowned while I’m gone, okay?”

  I stick my tongue out at her as she hurries outside, and she flashes me an apologetic smile right before the door closes behind her. I tap the “answer” button on my phone, holding it to my ear right before it hits voicemail. “Hi.”

  There’s a long pause on the other end of the line, and then a quiet voice says, “Hey, Little Lee.”

  All the air rushes out of my lungs. Dammit. I should have double-checked the caller ID before I picked up, although it’s not like I had any reason to expect Jeremy to call now. But my brother’s soft voice is unmistakable, even though it’s taut with anxiety. I force myself to breathe, but the air I draw in just seems to fuel the anger uncoiling in my chest.

  “Do not call me that,” I hiss.

  Another pause. “But I’ve always called you Little Lee,” he mumbles.

  “And you’ve always been the big brother I could count on. You’re not that anymore, so don’t you dare use that name.”

  He clears his throat. “So...how are you?”

  “Jeremy, is there a point to this call?” I demand. “Because I’m not just going to chat with you like everything’s normal. You haven’t called me in six weeks.”

  He lets out a ragged sigh. “I’ve been...busy. I have school. And a job.”

  “Know what you also have? A family. Camille’s still in a coma, by the way. Dad says you never call home, so I’m assuming you haven’t even bothered to check on her.”

  “I call her hospital twice a week,” he says, but his tone is more pleading than defensive. “I tell them I’m Dad and ask for an update on her. So I do know how she’s doing.”

  Some of my anger drifts away at that news, but it’s quickly replaced by even more hurt. He’ll check on Camille, but not me?

  Jeremy lets out a small sigh when he doesn’t get a reply from me. “And I don’t call home, you’re right,” he admits. “But I did talk to Dad earlier today.”

  “Seriously?” I say, not bothering to hide my shock.

  “Yeah, seriously.”

  “You said the next time you spoke to him, it’d be when you guys were bunking together in hell,” I remind him. “ You said that to his face.”

  “I know what I said, Lea. Believe me, I remember.”

  Of course he does. I’ll never forget the rage on both their faces when they had that final argument. Jeremy had been living at home and commuting to his private college, which was only about twenty minutes from our house. After the accident, he wanted to move away and live in the dorms. Dad wanted him to stay, to keep my brother within his reach, to keep everything whole, just like it’d always been.

  I don’t think either of them expected the explosive argument to send them so far apart. At worst, I think Dad figured Jeremy would rent an apartment and commute to school from there. He never expected my brother to transfer to the University of Denver, get a job, and completely strike out on his own half-way across the country.

  “Did Dad convince you to come home?” I ask.

  “Lea, I am home. It’s nice in Denver. I have a girlfriend, and I have a job, and I’m getting decent financial aid for school, and one of my friends even set me up with an internship at his uncle’s tech firm. I start next month.”

  I grit my teeth. “Well, that sounds just peachy.”

  “It is,” he insists, ignoring my sarcasm. “I can breathe out here, Lea. There’s no one trying to strangle me with secrets.”

  “If everything’s so wonderful, why couldn’t you spare two seconds to pick up the damn phone and return my calls?”

  He lets out a long breath, and I can picture him closing his eyes, his forehead crinkling just like it always does when he’s upset. “Why do you think, Lea?” he mutters. “Because I finally managed to scrounge up something close to a normal life. And I knew if I called you, it’d just spark more family drama.”

  I don’t know what to say
to that, so I just close my eyes and press my fist against my forehead. I want to start shrieking at him, but if I do that, it’ll just be more proof that Jeremy’s right. That our family is messed up. That I’m messed up. That nothing can ever fix the messiness, no matter what I do or how hard I try.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner, Little Lee,” Jeremy says, his voice softening. “That was wrong of me. Really, really wrong.”

  I swallow back the jagged lump in my throat, and my voice is shaky as I ask, “What made you call now?”

  “Like I said, I talked to Dad. And I just...” His voice suddenly goes ragged. “I figured you’d need someone to lean on. And I know I’ve been a really shitty brother the past few months, but I’m here for you now, okay? I’m right here.”

  “I’m in Vermont,” I snap. “We’re hundreds of miles away, and you’re definitely not ‘right here.’ And you know what? I’ve been doing just fine without you, so don’t pretend like I desperately need you just because you suddenly want to make up for being a total douche.”

  He meets my outburst with silence. I pinch the bridge of my nose and heave in a deep breath, forcing myself to sound calmer as I say, “You scared me. I thought you were going to completely cut me off like you did with Mom and Dad. I thought you’d ditched me.”

  “Never, Lea,” he says, his voice breaking a little. “I was being selfish and stupid, and...yeah. I should never have ignored you for even a second. I’m sorry. Really.”

  I loosen my grip on my phone, knowing I’ll break it if I keep holding it this tight. “Our family has a really bad habit of doing that, don’t we?” I mutter. “Being selfish and stupid.”

  “Stop it,” he says. “Stop it right now. I can tell you’re feeling guilty again, and you shouldn’t.”

  “I could have told the truth,” I murmur. “I could have given the Ashbury family some peace. They know I lied. That has to be torture for them, to know Parker never got justice.”

  Jeremy lets out a long, exasperated sigh. “Yeah, you could have told the truth, but not without directly disobeying Dad, and not without making everyone in our family hurt even more.”