So Over It

by Stephanie Morrill

  “Uh, kinda.” I sounded surprisingly normal.

  “I guess they met up at a party or something. He goes to Florida State now but is home for the summer.” Jodi shrugged. “She sounded happy.”

  “Good. I . . . That’s good, I guess.”

  “Not that I approve of her partying and stuff, of course.” Jodi had clearly misinterpreted my bumbling.

  “Right.” I had to get out of there. Had to collect my thoughts. Stupid Sheridan’s for not having a public bathroom I could excuse myself to.

  “Skylar, I almost forgot,” Connor said. “Your iPod’s in my car.”

  I felt like Lois Lane being rescued by Superman. If Superman were five-foot-seven with auburn hair and an absurd amount of running pants in his closet.

  He jumped down from the truck and held out his hand to help me. When his fingers clasped mine, security enveloped me. And when I landed and he released me, a fresh wave of loneliness came.

  We walked away from watchful eyes, not speaking, not even glancing at each other until we reached his Tahoe. I sank to the gritty blacktop, not caring if I ruined my skirt. Connor crouched beside me, hovering in my space bubble but not touching.

  “Thanks for getting me out of there,” I said.

  “I don’t know if I need to say this or not, but I had no idea about Alexis and . . .” He wouldn’t say his name. We never spoke it. “Jodi hadn’t told me.”

  I waved away his remark. “I assumed.”

  “Well.” Connor took a deep breath, then exhaled long and slow out his nose. “Will you call Alexis?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “It seems like it’d be a good thing for her to know. What happened, I mean.”

  “I know.”

  Images of that night spun around my head—Aaron’s dark eyes, his mouth close to my ear as he whispered, “Let’s find somewhere quiet,” the flashing numbers of the alarm clock in the spare bedroom.

  I came back to the present when Connor’s fingers grazed my wet cheek.

  “Sorry.” I wiped away the evidence of my inner turmoil. “We should get back to the others.”

  “Hey.” His hand caught my arm as I attempted standing. “Take your time, okay?”

  I glanced in the direction of our friends. “They’ll get suspicious.”

  “So? We don’t owe answers to anyone sitting in the back of that truck.” He tugged at his collar. “Unless you and Eli are . . .”

  “No.”

  “Because when we showed up, it kinda looked like—”

  “I don’t care what it looked like. We’re just friends.”

  Connor nodded. He wiped his wet fingertips on his athletic shorts. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

  The question threw me. I blinked at him. “What am I doing tomorrow night?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugged. “I thought we could maybe hang out before you leave. It’s been awhile.”

  I laughed humorlessly. Of course.

  “What’s so funny?” Connor asked, his face creased with a frown.

  “It’s just so typical ‘Connor.’ I’m totally unappealing to you until you see me shedding a couple tears. Suddenly you’re swooping in to save the day.”

  His frown deepened. “It’s not like that.”

  “What’s wrong with Jodi? Is she too stable? Too sane? Doesn’t need you quite as much as she used to?”

  Connor’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “It’s not like we broke up because I stopped loving you. I felt like I needed to be there for Jodi, and you made it perfectly clear that wasn’t an option as long as we were together.”

  “Yeah, call me crazy. I don’t like my boyfriend hanging out with girls who are so clearly after him.”

  “You could’ve trusted me,” Connor said in a low voice. “You admitted you had feelings for her.”

  “Not like my feelings for you.”

  I could no longer keep my voice cool and detached. “You chose her.”

  Connor gripped my hands. “I’ve never regretted a decision like I do that one. Please, Skylar.”

  “Please what?”

  “Don’t go to Hawaii. Or at least don’t stay. Come back when Abbie and your parents do.”

  “You’ve got no right to ask me that.”

  “Maybe not. But I still want you to stay. I want you to be around this summer.”

  I pulled my hands from his. “I’ve been around since March. You could’ve done something then.”

  “I tried a couple times. You never wanted to talk to me.” “That’s because I’m over you.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m over all of it.”

  And I turned and marched away before he could say anything to convince me otherwise.

  “What’s wrong?” Eli asked as I put space between us.

  I finger-combed my hair as I scooted away. “We should go back to the party. Lisa and Madison will wonder where I am.”

  “They’re big girls. I’m sure they’re fine without you.” He grinned and moved to close the gap between us. “I, on the other hand—”

  “Stop.” I pressed my hand to his chest, keeping him at a distance. “This has to stop. This thing with us.”

  “And it will.” He brushed my cheek with the back of a crooked finger. “On Thursday.”

  “No. Now.” I looked into his eyes. “We can’t do this anymore.” Eli sighed and leaned into the backseat of the Land Rover. “Why do you always make this so complicated? I’m single. You’re single. What’s the problem?”

  “We shouldn’t be doing this.” I smoothed my hair over and over, as if doing so would turn the clock back to thirty minutes ago, when I mistakenly followed Eli out here. Why did I continue to falter in this specific area? Why couldn’t I say no to him?

  Most days I could. Just not when I had run-ins with Connor. Then I tended to lapse into being old Skylar, the type of girl who’d make out with someone just for kicks. At least I hadn’t been drinking tonight. Or did that make it worse, that I’d soberly decided to follow Eli? Or maybe not so soberly—I’d come to believe you could get drunk on pain.

  Eli studied me. “Is this about Aaron?”

  “No.”

  “I swear, when I see that guy again—”

  “Don’t do anything to him,” I said. “He’s not worth it.”

  Did Aaron even know what he’d done to me? And was he still doing it? Was he slipping Alexis roofies now? Or maybe he didn’t need them with her.

  “Maybe if you saw him again—”

  “I don’t want to. I just want to forget about him.”

  Him and everything else. I wanted to get on that plane Thursday morning and start a new life. The official line I kept giving people was that I’d come back in August before school started. I now believed this less and less. I wanted to stay there in Kapaa. What did it matter if I went to Kauai Community College versus Johnson County?

  “I just think—”

  But a loud rapping on the Land Rover window interrupted Eli. Both of us jumped.

  “Skylar?”

  Connor.

  I swallowed. “Uh, what?”

  “We have to talk.”

  I so didn’t want him to see me like this, flushed and rumpled from Eli pawing me.

  I glanced at Eli, who took this as an invitation to get involved. “Dude, Skylar doesn’t want to talk to you, okay? Why don’t you—”

  “It’s about Abbie.”

  3

  Connor’s face registered no emotion as Eli and I climbed out of the SUV. Eli didn’t look one bit ashamed. I felt like I may as well have had the word tramp stamped on my forehead.

  “What’s wrong with Abbie?” I asked.

  “Your parents called Madison’s looking for you. Apparently you’re spending the night at her place.” Connor shot an accusatory look at Eli. “When they called me, I said you’d come over for a little bit and that we’d be right over. I’m sure they’re wondering why it’s taking twenty-five minute
s to get from my house to yours. And why don’t you have your cell on you?”

  Getting in trouble with Mom and Dad didn’t concern me. They couldn’t do much to me now.

  “What’s wrong with Abbie?” I repeated.

  “I’ll explain in the car. We gotta go.”

  I didn’t even glance at Eli as I left, just trotted alongside Connor to his car. Up the hill, the house party raged on. Why had I wanted to come? Or had I wanted to come? After my spat with Connor at Sheridan’s, I hadn’t much cared about my commitment to avoid parties. After all, my days of walking the straight and narrow left me hurting far worse than my years of partying.

  “What’s wrong with Abbie?” I asked yet again as I buckled my seat belt.

  “Lance.”

  My inner claws came out like Wolverine’s. “What’d he do?”

  “Well, according to your parents, he came over to see Owen. I guess when Abbie wouldn’t let him, he said he’d sue for partial custody.”

  I rolled my eyes. “He won’t do that. This is, what? His third attempt to see Owen since he was born? He’ll never do a thing.”

  “Hopefully you can convince her of that. Sounds like she’s been crying hysterically for the last hour, which means Owen’s crying hysterically. Your whole house is going crazy.”

  I gnawed at my nails, which needed to be repolished anyway. I used to keep them in perfect condition, but somewhere around March I lost my motivation. “What about Chris? Do you think he’d help?”

  “He’s over there now. He went as soon as your parents called me, but Abbie’s asking for you.”

  I grimaced. “Stupid Lance.” This time last year, I’d been sneaking Abbie over to his house in exchange for gas money. If I’d known what trouble it’d cause, I’d have sucked it up and paid for my own gas.

  “Is your car around here somewhere?”

  I shook my head. “It’s at Sheridan’s, but that’d take too long. Just take me home and I’ll get it tomorrow or something.”

  I dug my cell from the bottom of my purse. Dead. Great. If I’d remembered to charge it that afternoon, maybe I’d have received the call from my parents in time to keep from following Eli out to his car. Which would mean I wouldn’t be trapped in Connor’s Tahoe enduring this deafening silence.

  “So.” Connor cleared his throat. “Eli.”

  “It wasn’t what it looked like.” I glanced at him, wondering if he believed this. If I’d seen him climbing out of the back of Jodi’s Mustang, I’d have laughed in his face and then given him a piece of my mind. But Connor just kept his gaze on the road and his hands in perfect ten and two.

  “You probably don’t believe that,” I said, when he’d been silent for too long. “But it’s true.”

  “So you weren’t making out with him?”

  I opened my mouth, prepared to lie, but no sound came out. Connor’s lips thinned into a hard line. “That’s what I thought.”

  “But we’re not dating.”

  He snorted. “That doesn’t make this better, Skylar.”

  I sank into my seat. Like I needed Connor to lecture me. I knew this thing with Eli and me was wrong, but if I said so, Connor would want to know why I kept doing it. He didn’t understand inconsistencies, and I didn’t want to explain to him how doing the right things had left my heart mutilated, but the wrong things were easy. I loved Connor, and he’d scarred me. The worst damage Eli could inflict was a bruise to my ego if he stopped coming around.

  “You should be careful,” Connor said, his voice tender. “You know how Eli feels about you.”

  I frowned. I’d expected a sermon on my virtues, not compassion for a reputed player like Eli Welling. “Eli understands the situation.”

  “Does he?”

  “Yeah. I’ve made it very clear.”

  “Well, you making it clear doesn’t mean his heart hasn’t gotten involved.”

  “That’s his problem,” I said as we stopped at a red light. Connor looked at me, his intense gaze setting my heart aflutter. “I don’t like the changes I’m seeing in you.”

  I crossed my arms tight over my chest. “Well, come Thursday, you won’t have to see them anymore.”

  He sighed, sounding as tired of the bickering as me. “Oh, Skylar. You know that’s not what I want.”

  But I couldn’t give him what he wanted. He liked a damsel in distress—which was why, I assumed, he didn’t mind hanging around me at the moment—but I couldn’t always play that role for him. And I couldn’t keep losing to whoever was.

  Another red light. I jumped when Connor’s hand covered mine.

  “No matter what does or doesn’t happen between us, I still care about you.”

  I pried my hand away and trained my gaze out the window. If I started to cry, I didn’t want Connor seeing. “Thanks for coming to get me,” I said in a stiff voice.

  In the reflection of the window, I saw him looking at me, his expression soft. “I’ll always come get you.”

  Connor and I found Mom and Dad in the living room. Mom paced back and forth, Owen cradled in her arms, as she belted out “Jesus Loves the Little Children.” Owen wailed much, much louder.

  Dad, who juggled a full bottle, pacifier, and several blankets, turned to us with a wild expression in his eyes. “What took so long?”

  “Where’s Abbie?”

  He nodded at the stairs.

  Connor stayed on my heels as I jogged up. “You can go now,” I said over my shoulder. If he heard, he didn’t care. I expected to find Abbie throwing one of her infamous fits. I assumed it’d be like the last time Lance attempted to pay Owen a visit. Abbie’d trashed her room. She tore out everything that reminded her in the least of Lance—a poster for a band they’d seen together, clothes he’d liked, a picture frame he’d bought her that I’d always thought hideous—and marched the whole lot of it to the curb with the rest of the trash waiting to be collected.

  Instead, an eerie silence filled the upstairs. I froze at the top of the staircase, one hand grasping the banister. Why was it so quiet?

  By the time I reached the end of the hall, I couldn’t even hear Owen crying. Chris sat cross-legged on the floor of the bathroom. The door into the shower and toilet was closed. “Catching up on your reading?” I asked in a wry voice. He tossed the latest issue of Jane toward Abbie’s room and used the counter to pull himself to his feet. “She stopped talking to me a half hour ago. Since the two of you took your sweet time getting over here, I didn’t have much else to do.”

  I rapped on the door. “Abbie?”

  Nothing.

  “Abbie?”

  Chris’s words thundered. She stopped talking to me a half hour ago.

  I yanked at the locked doorknob. “Abbie!” I thought of her parade of sour remarks, of all her emotional breakdowns since March. Of hanging my razor on the wall that morning after I’d shaved my legs. Of our first trip to Hawaii, when Abbie was four and wanted to see how long she could hold her breath in the ocean water.

  I pounded on the door with my fists. “Abbie! Abbie!”

  My fingers, taking on a life of their own, scrambled around the top of the doorframe. Didn’t we keep the key to this stupid door up here? I had to get inside now. Even knowing that what I might see in there could haunt me for the rest of my life, I needed to—

  “What?” Abbie demanded as she thrust open the door. “Is it too much to ask for a little privacy?”

  I grabbed her close, sobbing into her copper waves.

  The day’s events marched through my mind as we stood there. Connor and Jodi, their heads bent together at Blockbuster. Aaron’s name being spoken so casually. Connor admitting how he regretted his decision, that he still loved me. Climbing into the Land Rover with Eli. And now Abbie and those horrible images I couldn’t scrub from my mind.

  Abbie clung to me, her tears wetting my neck. “What if they take Owen from me?” she whispered.

  “They won’t.”

  “But what if—”

  “You�
�re his mother. And Lance is a tool.”

  I reluctantly let Abbie pull away. She wiped at the mascara stains beneath her eyes, smearing black granules across her temples and into her hairline. With a slight smile, she said, “Guess we scared off the boys.”

  I turned. Connor and Chris had gone, and it left me with a strange sadness. I had no reason to see Connor between now and Thursday. When would I see him again? And when would I no longer care when I saw him again?

  “I just want Thursday to come so we can get out of here for a little bit,” Abbie said, fingers raking through her frightful hair. “I’m sick of Lance just showing up whenever he wants. Of—” She frowned and cocked her head as Owen’s screeching grew loud enough to reach us here at the opposite end of the house. “How long has Owen been crying? He sounds hysterical.”

  She took off down the hall, her face etched with a mix of concern and urgency.

  I pressed my back into the wall and glared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. A fatigued girl stared back. Briefly this world-weary girl had been a stranger to me, but not these days. She’d been hanging around since spring break when Eli popped in for a surprise visit, a bottle of Bacardi stashed in his jacket. When I invited him in, I apparently invited her in as well. And she’d stayed.

  I couldn’t look at her anymore and slid to the bathroom floor. Could I leave her here and start over in Hawaii? Or would she follow me? Or, worse, hang around here until I got back and—“Hey.” Connor leaned against the doorframe and smiled his crooked smile.

  I blinked at him, not wanting to feel this relief at the sight of him. “I thought you left.”

  He shook his head and sat beside me. Like Eli had so many hours ago at Sheridan’s, Connor let his leg settle against mine. It warmed me through, thawing parts of me that had remained frosty from our breakup. Tears came.

  “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  My mouth curled, a mixture of amusement and sadness. “You know what I’m talking about?”

  “You don’t want to live like this anymore.”