“Not a problem,” she told him, basking in the warmth of his embrace. “Lot of pressure on you back then.”
He’d grinned, kissed the tip of her nose and gone inside the tent.
She’d run into him only once more, in the summer, when they’d both been pumping gas at the convenience store. He was two pumps over when she’d pulled in, without noticing him at first. He’d called her name and waved, a genuine smile on his face. Her heart almost beat out of her chest at that moment. She’d silently pleaded for him to walk over, but he didn’t. He jammed the gas cap onto his truck, waved, shouted, “Got to run! Catch you later.” Later hadn’t come.
They’d been friends since sixth grade and Liza had seen him grow from a hostile, broken little boy into a defiant wild adolescent and, ultimately, into a pretty stable guy. She’d watched from the fringes of his life for a solid year, and now hoped he might see her in a new light—Liza, the girl who loved him.
She saw the blue pickup turn the corner, and stepped back from the window. Her gaze followed it down four blocks, where it parked in front of the Ink Spot. She watched Roth hurry inside.
“Go on,” Gracie said, “or I’ll drag you down there myself. I’ve been thinking about getting a tat. What do you think?”
“You’d faint at the sight of the needles.” Liza grabbed her coat. Gracie was right. If she was going to go down there and face Roth, she should go ahead and do it. She struggled into her coat.
“Call me, however it turns out, good or bad,” Gracie said, before the door closed behind Liza.
Outside, Liza took deep breaths of the cold air to steady her nerves. Her case of nerves was more than just trying to get together with Roth again. Other things troubled her. Liza had secrets—two that she’d sworn to herself she’d never tell anyone. First, she’d been the person who’d shaken the cola can, causing it to spurt foam in Morgan’s face. Even though it had been the event that had washed away Morgan’s blindness, it had also slammed Morgan with horrible and disturbing memories no one should have to confront. Liza was truly sorry about the escapade. She knew that Morgan was out of Roth’s life because she was off at college. It was weird to know that in some ways she’d saved Morgan, because her sight came back, but also got rid of her, so maybe Roth would now need his old friend back. Her guilt … her secret to keep.
She wanted a cigarette, then remembered she’d quit smoking three months before. She turned north on Main Street, toward Max’s shop, clutched her coat to her throat as a chill dove down her blouse. She was going to have to remember to bring a wool scarf tomorrow.
There was another secret. That one she would also take to her grave. If she told anyone, she’d find herself in the center of a maelstrom. Or perhaps retribution. Her fear of both was real. Liza had been the tipster who’d vindicated Roth, the one who’d sent the anonymous email to the police from the library’s public computer. She had shifted police and FBI interest to the two ninth graders after learning their names and tracking them at school for weeks, covertly watching their actions and cocky “I’ve got a secret” attitude. She had been the one who’d seen them pacing outside the school on the day of the bombing. She’d not considered it at the time, but in hindsight, she recalled their looks of glee when the atrium exploded. She’d seen them exchange high fives with each other when the front of the school erupted with screams and smoke and sounds of falling rubble and with kids swarming out of the building, scrambling for their lives. She’d been too shocked and traumatized herself to remember much except the exodus. And her heart had been in her throat when she watched Roth rush into the building to help.
It had taken months for her to recall the details of that terrible day. Although she vaguely remembered mentioning that she’d seen two boys to Roth, her brain still hadn’t put their behavior into sequence. But when blogs and accusatory words showed up on websites that focused police attention onto the boy she loved, Liza’s memories fell into place completely. If they’d never put the blame on Roth, Liza might never have remembered their actions and self-satisfied smirks while Edison was falling down. She might not have put it together.
Liza’s stroll had brought her to the front door of the Ink Spot, and now her heart was going crazy. She still had an opportunity to turn and retreat. She prayed for courage. This was it. The big moment. Would Roth welcome her? Would he be polite but standoffish? Would he be indifferent? She fixed a bright smile on her face, took a few more deep breaths. It was amazing what a girl would do for love.
Liza opened the door.
Lurlene McDaniel began writing inspirational novels about teenagers facing life-altering situations when her son was diagnosed with juvenile diabetes. “I saw firsthand how chronic illness affects every aspect of a person’s life,” she has said. “I want kids to know that while people don’t get to choose what life gives to them, they do get to choose how they respond.”
Lurlene McDaniel’s novels are hard-hitting and realistic, but also leave readers with inspiration and hope. Her books have received acclaim from readers, teachers, parents, and reviewers. Her bestselling novels include Don’t Die, My Love; Till Death Do Us Part; Hit and Run; Telling Christina Goodbye; True Love: Three Novels; and The End of Forever.
Lurlene McDaniel lives in Chattanooga, Tennessee.
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