A Midsummer's Nightmare

by Kody Keplinger

  And he walked out of the room.

  For a minute, I was pissed. Really pissed. He wanted everything, but what was everything? I was all over him, willing to do anything in that moment. Anything. What more could he ask for?

  Then I remembered what he’d told me in the diner after Harrison’s party. He didn’t want something cheap. He wanted a girl he liked, a girl he could have a future with. And he wanted me to be that girl. He had since graduation night, since we’d made out in the armchair and I’d named all the songs about blue eyes. Even then, he hadn’t just wanted my body. He’d wanted me.

  And after this summer, after I’d broken his heart, after he’d actually gotten to know me, he hadn’t changed his mind. I fell backward onto the pillows. Dumb, dumb, dumb.

  It took me a long time to stand up, but I did. There was something I had to do. Something I’d been afraid to attempt for weeks. But, finally, I felt like I could do it.

  I knelt down next to my duffel bag and began pulling out the wrinkled clothes, folding them up and placing them one by one in the drawers of the oak dresser.

  My dresser. In my bedroom.

  People cared about me here. Nathan, Bailey, Sylvia—I’d given them every reason in the world to hate me, but they didn’t. They’d tried so hard to make me feel welcome in this house, even when Dad had ignored me. And slowly, I’d come to care about them, too. Maybe I didn’t fit in, but they were willing to make room for me here. And I was ready to take them up on that.

  27

  “Enjoying your stay at your dad’s?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Been spending time with him and his new family?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “You like them?”

  “Yes. Very much.”

  Mom and I hadn’t spoken in weeks, and the one time I actually answered her call, she started digging. For insults. For bitch fits. For anything negative about Dad. It was the morning after I’d unpacked, after I’d decided I belonged here with these people. And Mom was reminding me exactly why I felt more comfortable here than in her house.

  “I bet you see them more than you see your father, don’t you?” she scoffed. “Good God. I mean, you’ve known them for five minutes, and he’s already leaving you alone with them all the time, I’d imagine. What if they’re psychos or something?”

  “They’re not.”

  “You don’t know that, Whitley. Your father has never had good judgment.”

  “Mom, they’re fine,” I snapped. “I like them, okay? Drop it.”

  Silence. I’d shut her up. But only for a second.

  “Honey, is something wrong?” Mom asked. “You sound upset. What’s the matter? You can tell me.”

  “No,” I said through gritted teeth. “No, Mom, I can’t tell you. I can’t tell you that Dad and I barely speak to each other. Or that I think he likes his new family more than me. Or that it hurts because I love his family, too. I can’t tell you. I can’t tell you anything because all you do is bitch! You bitch and bitch and bitch about Dad. All the time.”

  Hot tears were burning in the corners of my eyes. I tried to fight them. This was dumb. Crying on the phone with Mom was stupid and dumb. Because it wasn’t as if she gave a shit. Not about my feelings.

  “Whitley—”

  “Shut up,” I growled. “Just shut up. Hearing you complain about Dad isn’t helping me. It hasn’t helped me for the past six goddamn years. All you think about is him. How much you hate him. How much he’s hurt you. But you forget that I love him, that sometimes I’m like him. And I’m still here! So just shut up and think about someone else for a change. Like your own fucking daughter.”

  There was silence again. This time, she didn’t break it.

  I took a few deep breaths, rubbing my eyes with the back of my wrist. I couldn’t believe I’d just done it. I’d said all of the things I’d been thinking for years. But I hadn’t meant to. They just poured out. Gushed from my lips without my permission. Now that it was out there, though, it was kind of a relief.

  And kind of terrifying.

  “Mom, I have to go. I’ll talk to you later.”

  I hung up before she could say another word.

  Bailey’s cheerleading tryouts that week were a family event. Sylvia even took off work to make it to the three o’clock session. Though, in reality, there wasn’t much to do or see. Dad, Sylvia, Nathan, and I mostly just stood out in the high school’s ugly orange-and-blue hallway, waiting with our fingers crossed as Bailey and two dozen other girls auditioned behind the closed gymnasium doors.

  I tried not to feel bitter. I mean, my dad only saw me two and a half months out of the year, and he barely noticed me then, yet he was going to his not-even-stepdaughter’s cheerleading tryouts. Tryouts he couldn’t actually witness. But, yeah, I did my best to push that feeling away. This was Bailey’s day, and being selfish would make me both a crappy friend and sister.

  Sylvia twitched nervously beside me, letting out her breath in long, low bursts. Her foot tapped against the tile floor, and she stared straight ahead, unable to be distracted by the rest of us. Christ, she was more stressed about this than Bailey had been. Just looking at her made me anxious.

  “So, Nate, did you watch the game last night?”

  I glanced to my left. Dad was trying to distract himself. That or make up for the boredom of standing in this ugly-ass hallway. Either way, he was employing Nathan. His new son. The athlete he’d always wanted. Nathan was going to his old college, playing his favorite sport, doing all the things he’d urged Trace and me to do.

  No wonder he didn’t need us anymore. He had the child he’d always hoped for now.

  My eyes slid over to Nathan, standing on the other side of my father. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets, and his foot bounced in the same rhythm as Sylvia’s. For a second, he met my gaze, and I had to turn away.

  Things had been weird for us since the kiss a few nights ago…. Well, weird for me, at least. Nathan went on like everything was normal. Smiling at me. Laughing with me. Making his usual jokes and comments. Like we hadn’t made out yet again. Like we were still just friends or stepsiblings or whatever the hell we had been. Like nothing had changed.

  And I guess, technically, nothing had.

  Not for him, anyway.

  But for me, everything about our relationship had changed. I’d been kind of confused before—lusting after your soon-to-be stepbrother is really awkward and all—but now… now it was so much worse. Because ever since he’d left my bedroom Friday night, I’d been thinking about what he had said. The things he’d implied.

  He wanted me.

  And I was pretty sure I wanted him, too.

  Believe me, falling for your future stepbrother is way, way more confusing than simply wanting to jump his bones.

  I didn’t know if I should tell him how I felt, though. Tell him that I’d grown to want a relationship, a commitment, and that I wanted it with him. Part of me knew I had to. Because ignoring my feelings and letting him slip through my fingers could only lead me to a lot of regret. To be honest, I’d never felt this way about a guy before. I’d be an idiot to let him get away.

  On the other hand, I was scared. Really scared.

  Not just of this whole relationship idea—though that was a new concept for me—but of what it might do to my family.

  My family. The Caulfields had become my family. Even if Mom and Dad were clueless and Trace had moved on, I still had the Caulfields. And I didn’t want to mess that up.

  I hadn’t made up my mind yet. And, in the meantime, just making eye contact with Nathan made me jittery. Made the confusion roll over in my stomach and settle into my belly like a pound of lead. I couldn’t pretend it wasn’t there. I couldn’t live like this much longer.

  I needed to decide on something soon.

  “Yeah, the game was good,” I heard him tell Dad, but I could have sworn I felt his eyes pressing into the back of my head. “Two extra innings. Pretty intense.”
/>   “Oh, here they come,” Sylvia gasped as the gym doors swung open. Her hand immediately grabbed hold of mine, squeezing it like I was her own personal stress ball.

  “Ow.”

  “Sorry,” she murmured, loosening her grip a little. “I’m just so…”

  “Me, too.” I squeezed back and smiled at her. “It’s fine.”

  One by one, the auditioning girls exited the gymnasium, all in varying states of excitement or dejection. A few even came into the hallway with full-blown tears streaking their cheeks, and they ran instantly into the arms of their waiting parents. Christ, I hoped Bailey wouldn’t be like that. I couldn’t take crying. Especially if it was from her. I’d be tempted to go in and kick the preppy blond judges’ asses.

  “Here she is,” Dad said, stepping up beside me as Bailey came out of the gym, an unreadable expression on her face. “How’d it go, Bailey-Boop?”

  Bailey didn’t say anything. She looked at each of us for a moment, not quite a smile but not quite a frown on her face.

  Finally, Bailey moved. She walked straight toward me and, without warning, wrapped her arms around my torso in one of the tightest hugs I’d ever experienced. She almost squeezed the breath out of me. She was pretty strong for such a skinny kid.

  “Um… Bailey?” I said, patting her uncertainly on the back. I was afraid she was going to start crying into my cotton T-shirt. “What…?”

  “Thank you,” she said. After a second, she let go, her face glowing with pride. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I MADE IT!” She did a little jump in the air and touched her toes—probably something she’d used in her tryout—and let out a whoop so loud I thought I heard the ceiling tiles rattle. “I made it! I made it! They picked me!”

  “We heard you the first time,” Nathan said.

  “But once is so not good enough,” she countered. She turned to face me again, her eyes shining with excitement. “Thank you, Whitley. I couldn’t have done it without you. You really helped me with my routine these past couple weeks.”

  “Bailey, I just sat there and watched you,” I reminded her, reaching out to ruffle her hair. “You did all the work, kid.”

  “Congratulations, baby!” Sylvia exclaimed, throwing her arms around Bailey.

  “I’m so proud of you, Boop,” Dad said, patting the top of her head. “Great job.”

  I’m not jealous, I told myself. I’m happy. Happy for Bailey. Screw Dad. This is about her, not him.

  Bailey looked embarrassed, her cheeks turning bright pink.

  “Oh, what the hell!” Nathan said, tossing a wink at me, Harrison-style. “Group hug in Bailey’s honor.”

  “You’re not serious,” I muttered.

  “Oh, no, Nathan. Please—” Bailey tried, but it was too late.

  Nathan collapsed onto her, his arms encircling his sister and mother. Dad followed suit within seconds, and it was my father’s hand that grabbed my arm, pulling me into this hideous display of affection. His arm wrapped around my shoulders, squishing me into the group.

  “God, you guys, stop it!” she shrieked beneath us. “This is so embarrassing. People can see.”

  I would have agreed with her. Normally, at least. I would have run from awkward, weird, sentimental things like this. Screaming, most likely. But suddenly, this felt less disgusting and more… real. Solid. Right.

  With Dad on one side of me, his arm around my shoulder, and Sylvia and Nathan and Bailey, all of us squished together, all of us connected, it felt okay. Good, even.

  I felt Nathan’s hand reach out for me, his palm moving to the small of my back. Like a reminder. Or maybe a reassurance.

  These people were my family. They’d be here for me no matter what. No matter what people said, what mistakes I made… or who I fell for.

  And just then, I made up my mind.

  The paper felt hot between my fingers. Slick, too. Probably wet from the sweat on my palms. So gross. But whatever. I wasn’t backing out now. Not when I was this close.

  My fist clenched around the Post-it as I knocked on Nathan’s bedroom door with my other hand. My heartbeat sped up dramatically, and for a minute I thought I might have a nervous breakdown. This should not have been so hard. I mean, I’d been talking to guys for years. Flirting with them. Hooking up with them. This should have been easy.

  “Come in.”

  I exhaled and pushed open the door. He was sitting on his bed, wearing a Battlestar Galactica T-shirt and reading an X-Men comic book. I couldn’t help smiling a little, despite my nervousness. Who would have guessed that a nerd would be the one to rope me in? A hot nerd, but still definitely a nerd.

  “Hey,” he said, putting the comic aside. “What’s up?”

  “I… um…” I looked down at my clenched fist. The yellow corners of the note poked out between my fingers. “It’s about the other night. What you said… in my room.”

  “Oh.” He sounded surprised. I looked up to find him staring at me, his eyes wide. He shifted, sitting up a bit straighter. Like he was just as anxious as I was. How ridiculous was this? We both knew rejection wasn’t waiting for us. We both knew how the other felt—because I was sure he could see right through me. So why was this so scary?

  I looked down at my feet, avoiding his gaze. “I… well, here.” I tossed the Post-it onto the bed like it was scalding my flesh or something. I was so eager to get it out of my hand. So eager to have everything out in the open.

  He leaned over to pick up the crumpled piece of paper, and I waited with bated breath as he read. Waited… waited…

  “I don’t get it.”

  Goddamn it. Of course he didn’t.

  “Think about it,” I insisted.

  “It’s your cell number,” he said, staring down at the yellow square of paper. “Whit, I already have your number. It’s programmed into my phone. Why do I need—”

  “It’s a symbol,” I groaned, rolling my eyes. “Come on, Nathan. Don’t make me say it.”

  He read over the digits a few more times before I finally saw a light flicker behind his eyes, and he looked up at me, that familiar smile spreading across his face. “So, you…?”

  “Yeah,” I said, exasperated. “Why else would I be here?”

  Before another word could escape either of our throats, he slid off the bed and walked toward me. It felt so natural as his arms wrapped around my waist and he pulled me into him. Like we fit together. It all came so easily. The way his lips found mine, even with both our eyes closed. The way his palm seemed to meld perfectly against my back. The way my arms fit around his shoulders. Like pieces of a puzzle, and this time I belonged.

  In a lot of ways, this was my first kiss. My first real one, at least. The first one that actually meant something. It was everything I’d hoped for at Bailey’s age. Before the parties and the boys got involved. The kind of greedless kiss I never really thought I would find.

  But here it was. Right in the middle of what, up until very recently, I’d considered the worst summer of my life.

  Maybe it wasn’t such a nightmare after all.

  28

  The photos didn’t stop popping up on Facebook. Ever since the night at the Nest when I’d finally decided to ignore the stupid shit people were saying about me, I hadn’t checked the page or even asked Nathan about it. I didn’t want to care about it anymore. Still, Sylvia had pulled me aside after dinner one night to check in.

  “Are you okay? I know the page is still up. Are you sure you don’t want me to pursue this, Whitley?”

  “I’m fine,” I said. And, for the most part, I meant it. “It probably was cyber-bullying, but I’ve stopped letting it get to me, so I’m pretty over it.”

  She nodded and touched my arm. “I’m glad, but let me know if you change your mind. I just want to be sure you’re okay.”

  And, really, I was. Nathan, Bailey, Harrison—they’d all shown me that it wasn’t important what the idiots in this town thought of me. They loved me, and that’s what mattered.

 
As Sylvia walked away, though, I wished she hadn’t been the one talking to me about this. It had always been her. But it needed to be Dad. I wanted him to discuss the issue with me instead of just blowing it off.

  The next morning, after a new picture appeared online, I got my wish. Just not in the way I’d hoped.

  The photo had been taken at the Nest. On Tuesday night, the day after Bailey’s tryouts, Nathan, Harrison, and I had decided to take her out to celebrate.

  As soon as we got to the Nest, the four of us found a booth close to the dance floor. Bailey was bouncing up and down excitedly, her little white sandals tapping along to the music. I didn’t think she’d stopped smiling since the tryouts. And it was pretty goddamn contagious. We all had grins smeared across our faces because of her.

  “Bailey, sweetie, I love your dress,” Harrison said as he slipped into the booth beside her. “You can really pull off pastels. I’m so freaking jealous.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You know,” I said to her, “Harrison is a real fashionista. He’d probably be good help on that shopping spree you were talking about earlier. The one after your birthday? If you’re still up for it, I mean.”

  “Um, of course I am!” she said. “Harrison, my birthday is this Monday. Can we go shopping sometime that week? Before Whitley leaves on Friday? You have to come.”

  “Shopping? I’ll be there.” He looked across the table to Nathan. “You coming with us, babe?”

  I couldn’t help but smile at Nathan’s lack of reaction to being called “babe” by another male. Any other guy might have freaked out. Or at least raised an eyebrow. It didn’t seem to faze him, though.

  “Bailey doesn’t want me picking her clothes,” he said. “I’d be trying to put her in turtlenecks and long pants all year long. Hiding as much skin as possible.” He nodded at his sister. “I don’t like how short that little cheerleading skirt is, either.”

  “You’ll get over it,” she replied.

  “I doubt that.”

  “Come on, sweetie,” Harrison said, grabbing Bailey’s wrist. “Dance with me. Let’s show everyone in this club those moves you’ve got. We’ll have every straight boy in Hamilton begging for your number by the end of the night.”