Sidney
“Wanna see the new house?” I hear Mom’s voice before I see her. The door slams and she comes bounding into the kitchen, practically yelling into the living room, where I’m curled up on the couch with a book. “You’re inside?” she says, clearly disappointed that I’m not fully embracing the day I’ve been given at the lake. It feels like she just walked in on me shaving my head or something.
“Too much sun this morning,” I say, turning so she can see my red chest, framed by the white straps of my tank top. “I loaded up on aloe, so hopefully I’ll be back out there tomorrow.”
Mom nods in approval.
I set my book down on the couch and follow her out to the car where Dad is waiting for us with the engine running. Across the yard I can see Asher in his kitchen, talking to his parents. Did they find a house, too? We follow the road that wraps around the lake for at least fifteen minutes, until we’re in a tangle of little side roads I don’t recognize.
“Where are we?” I ask, looking out the window at the water, trying to place our location on the perimeter of the lake. I’m disoriented by the faraway strip of trees and houses I can see past the homes in front of us.
“Pretty much the opposite side of the lake,” Dad says.
“In that little bay that dips in,” Mom adds approvingly. “The water is always calmer over here.”
My mother, always finding the silver lining.
I don’t say anything, because I don’t really have any opinions about the different areas of the lake, and I’m not sure why I even asked. All I know is my side of the lake. The side where the bottom is sandy, and the shallow waters stretch out farther than seems possible. We turn off of the main road and onto a dirt path that leads into heavy pine trees. I assume it’s a road until it finally empties out into a grassy yard. There’s a gray house ahead. Unlike Lake House A or B, this one looks more like an actual house and less like a cabin. It’s bigger, and newer. We pull up behind it, right next to a FOR SALE sign.
“Are we buying it?” I ask, before I can stop myself.
“We talked them into renting it while it’s on the market,” Dad says. “A Realtor may have to bring someone through once in a while.”
Mom cuts in. “But it’s a vacation home, and it’s been on the market for over a year, so chances are good we won’t be bothered too often.”
Dad nods. “Fingers crossed.”
“Cool.” I don’t know what else to say. I don’t plan on having a problem with any house they pick. It is, after all, my fault that we’re being kicked out of our house.
I follow Mom and Dad to the side of the house where a beautiful dark wood door leads into a little tiled entryway that dumps into a long room. To the right is the kitchen, and to the left is a round wooden table and white chairs. Behind it, a row of three windows looks out toward the lake.
The kitchen is twice the size of our old kitchen, with a little peninsula that juts out and three bright red metal stools. Beyond it is a large living room with skylights, and a three-season room to the left that leads out to a large two-tiered deck. Like Lake House A, this house is set on a hill, but we’re right on the edge of it, practically hanging over the water, set alongside a little jut of trees. To the left of the deck, a small beach area stretches out, and a dock cuts into the water.
On the opposite end of the house there is a master bedroom with bathroom on one side of the hallway, and a large bedroom on the other side. Beyond them are a laundry room and a large bathroom. At the end of the hallway are two more bedrooms. Everything in this house is in shades of white, blue, and gray, with pops of yellow here and there. Compared to the dark paneling and garage-sale furniture of Lake House A, it’s like looking into the sun, being surrounded by so many pale colors.
“This is ridiculous,” I say as I join my parents out on the deck. The sun is setting and the trees that stretch up across the hills on the opposite side of the lake look like they’re on fire. The house isn’t that fancy, but it’s a million times nicer than what I’m used to at the lake. There’s an attention to detail here that Nadine obviously never bothered with. This feels like a house someone might live in all year. It almost feels too nice for a vacation house. There’s something comfortable and low-stress about worn-in furniture and mismatched lamps. “We can afford this?”
I regret saying it. My parents don’t ever bring up money. I have no idea how much our usual cabin costs, but this one is at least twice as big and ten times as nice, so I can only assume.
“It would be a bit of an adjustment,” Mom says, leaning on the railing next to me, her eyes fixed on the lake. Her voice sounds cautious. Maybe this isn’t a done deal. Maybe I shouldn’t get my hopes up. I look out across the water, trying to make out where our old house would be on the horizon, but everything looks like a mass of green and blue from this distance.
Behind us a door slams, and I hear voices inside the house. I hear Sylvie first.
“Did they find a house, too?” I say in Mom’s direction, before they reach the deck and it becomes rude to ask.
“They did,” Mom says, her voice full of relief.
I smile, glad that Asher and I didn’t ruin everyone’s summer. Maybe this can all still be salvaged after all.
“Where?” I ask as Sylvie steps out onto the deck, followed by Greg and Asher.
Mom pushes her hair back from her face and looks to my dad, who takes a step toward my mom, like they need to be a united front. But a united front for what?
Asher pushes through the door from the three-season room and his lips are tipped up in the faintest hint of a smirk. He looks like he’s about to sneak off to find my purse and fill it with earthworms. But he stays right where he is, just outside of the door, and greets me with a tip of his head. “Hey, roomie.”
My heart sinks. Drops to my feet and rolls right off of the deck and into the lake. “Excuse me?” I’m talking to Asher, but I’m looking at my mother, who is giving Asher a sideways scowl.
“We were getting to that,” she says, a smidge more irritated than I’ve ever heard her with him.
Asher looks appropriately scolded, and shoves his hands into his pockets. “Sorry, Ms. Walters.” Ms. Walters? What a little suck-up.
“Seriously?” It’s the only thing that will come out of my mouth—I can’t even form a full sentence. All of the words have left my head.
“Obviously you’re not sharing an actual room.” She shakes her head at me, like I’m being ridiculous, even though I’ve only said one word. “This is the best-case scenario. We can’t find anything else on short notice and together we can afford this.”
I look back out at the lake and let it settle over me. Seven weeks in the same house as Asher Marin. Not just dinners together, but probably breakfasts and lunches, too. A shared television, and deck, and yard. A shared bathroom, maybe. Access to my … everything. I’ll have to buy padlocks for my dresser drawers. Maybe something industrial to lock up my unmentionables.
“My room is off-limits,” I say, fixing Asher with a stare.
“Of course,” Dad says, a little more aggressively than I was expecting. I think he and I have different concerns regarding what Asher could do in my bedroom. Behind my mother, Sylvie is nodding her agreement.
Asher has wandered over to the side of the deck closest to the yard, and I sneak a glance at him. He’s already looking at me, his face emotionless. “Of course.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and raises his brows at me. “Same goes for you.”
I cut him a glare and my eyes dart over to my parents. This is the most we’ve ever let on about our … issues … in front of them. “Of course.”
Mom squeals and Sylvie does a giddy little jump in place. Dad and Greg nod in approval, clearly proud of themselves for finding a solution to what could have been a disastrous end to everyone’s vacation.
“This place is going to be like a freakish college reunion soon,” Asher mutters as he walks past me. “Let’s go pick bedrooms.” He says it
so casually that I’m waiting to hear what teasing comment comes next, but nothing does.
I follow him off of the deck and back into the house, which, even at dusk, is luminescent. We’re halfway down the long white hallway when Asher finally speaks again. “I don’t care which one I get, so you pick.” He stops in front of the two rooms at the end of the hallway, one on the left and one on the right.
“We’re sharing a bathroom? What kind of fresh hell is this?”
“The kind where we don’t have to go home and sit in our normal houses for the summer.” He nods toward the bedroom door to my left. “Don’t be a baby.”
I fight the pout I was about to give him and I can see the smirk forming as I twist my mouth into what I’m sure is an absolutely demented-looking smile.
“You can lock your bathroom door from the inside,” he says. “Not that I plan to creep into your room.”
I let out a little snort as we walk into the first bedroom. It’s a pale blue-gray with yellow-and-white-striped bedding and little lamps with shades wrapped in lace. There’s a huge painting of daffodils on one wall and a mirror trimmed in shimmering white shells. At the foot of the bed is a long wooden box with a wicker lid. I run my hand over one of the dark blue pillows scattered on the bed. “I’ll take this one.”
“Sure you don’t want to look at the other one?” Asher asks, glancing toward the open bathroom door.
“Why, did you do something to it?”
“Maybe I did something to this one.” His brows hitch, and he shoves his hands into his pockets. “You’ve never seen this room before.” He smiles. “You wouldn’t even know what was wrong.” He looks around the room. “It could take you days to figure it out. Weeks, maybe.”
I shake my head at him. “I’m good. I like this one.” I sit down on the bed and bounce a little. “This window faces the lake.”
Asher shoves his hands into his pockets again. He looks like he’s about to say something, but then he turns and walks through my bathroom door, closing it behind him.
I lay back on the bed and watch the fan spin in slow circles over the bed. This room smells so fresh and clean it’s unnerving. I take a deep breath and try to find any of the musty lake smell I’m used to, but all I smell is the fresh linen candle on the bright white nightstand, and the lingering smell of Asher. I walk over to the bathroom door and twist the lock roughly. This is the last time he’s going to be in this room, even if I have to barricade my door.
DAY 10
Sidney
When I see the piece of paper lying on my bed, my first thought is that we didn’t even make it twenty-four hours in this house without Asher invading my room. My second thought is that I need to do a full sweep to figure out what he’s done. Everything on my dresser looks normal. Usually if Asher messes with my room, the telltale sign is him messing around with all of the crap I keep neatly organized on my dresser. He finds some sort of sick pleasure in leaving things in complete disarray. I think of my bathroom items and know I’ll need to check that out, too. But first, the paper.
It’s a postcard-size piece of white paper with Five Pines written across the top in dark blue—from one of the little notepads Nadine puts in every room of her houses. I collected them all when we left and shoved them in my bag—the most ineffective, passive-aggressive screw you of all time. Though it did make my vindictive little heart happy to put them in the kitchen drawer of our new house. Ha. In your face, Nadine—I stole your stationery.
I grab the paper off of the bed and read the words written in neat blue pen.
Meet me at midnight on the dock.
Asher. I mentally add the signature, because while his name isn’t there, the list of people who could have left the note is short. Cryptic notes aren’t really Sylvie’s or Greg’s style, and if Mom and Dad wanted to talk to me they’d just do it. No need for midnight meet-ups and mysterious notes. Plus, even if there was a full roster of suspects, I’ve gotten enough ransom-style notes from Asher to recognize his handwriting. Between dinner and then our first campfire here, I wonder when he had time to sneak in here. But just as quickly as I think it, I remind myself that we live in the same house now and he’s just one room away. I locked the bathroom door, but I had never expected him to be bold enough to just come right into my bedroom from the hallway. It’s a whole new ball game now. One where we have a frightening amount of access to each other. I suppose I should be thankful that we’re sharing a shower, so there’ll be no more Kool-Aid in my future. Note to self: never shower first.
By eleven thirty I have the rest of my room unpacked. Kara texted me and convinced me to go to another party next weekend, since I tanked our last plans by forcing us into a last-minute move. I should just go to bed. Avoid Asher’s mysterious meeting, and crash. After a full day of packing and unpacking two families’ worth of stuff, I’m exhausted.
Don’t go. It buzzes in my brain like a dying lightbulb, warning me this absolutely can’t be good. Don’t go, don’t go, don’t go.
But at 11:59 I’m not lying in bed, I’m slipping on my shoes and traversing the wooden stairs down to the dock. There’s one light pole by the walkway, but we haven’t figured out where the switch is yet, so it’s pitch black beyond the small halo of light that surrounds our deck. On the set of wooden stairs leading to the dock I stub my toe on an uneven step and barely catch myself from falling. Maybe this is Asher’s secret plan—let me tumble down the stairs and roll to his feet. Possibly unconscious.
I don’t see him on the dock until I’m about to kick him with my foot. I let out a little squeak when I realize the dark spot is his body. He’s sitting on the edge about halfway down, his feet dangling into the water.
“You scared me,” I mumble, standing awkwardly next to him as he drags his feet through the water like a little kid seeing the lake for the first time. He doesn’t get up, so I slip my shoes off and squat down next to him, sitting down carefully on the old wooden dock.
“You rang?” I say quietly, because my voice feels riotous in the dark stillness of the night.
“I wrote, actually.”
I spread my hands out in front of me. “And here I am.”
There’s a long beat of silence as we both fidget our feet in the water, our eyes firmly fixed on where they’re submerged. My eyes have finally adjusted to the dark, and I sneak a glance up at Asher, who sucks in a long breath, like he’s about to confess to something horrible. After all we’ve done to each other, it has to be truly awful to have him this nervous.
“I want to call a cease-fire.”
I don’t say anything. I’m not sure I heard him correctly. Maybe I did stumble down the stairs, and this is me, in an unconscious otherworld where Asher isn’t Asher. Maybe I’m dead. Or this is a dream.
“A truce,” he clarifies.
“I know what a cease-fire is. I’m not an idiot.”
“I would never call you an idiot.” Asher sounds annoyed. Maybe he’s as tired as I am.
“Why?”
“Because we could be doing better things with our evil-genius-style skills, Sid.”
Asher never calls me Sid. Unless you count the night he was drunk—the night he kissed me. It sends a warm fuzzy ball into my stomach that makes me uncomfortable and a little nauseous. “What do you propose?”
“I propose we combine forces against a common enemy.”
The only other people around are our parents, and I don’t see it going over well if we turn our attention to them. “I can’t sabotage my mom’s shampoo, I still need my parents to help pay for college. And my shampoo,” I say. “That crap’s expensive.” I hold a lock of hair in my fingers. “I have to buy sulfate-free shampoo, and special conditioner, and these special extra-soft towels, just to keep this hair in check,” I say matter-of-factly, stopping myself from the nervous ramble that is waiting just behind my lips.
“Nadine,” Asher murmurs, and I turn to look at him, not sure I heard him correctly. “We call a truce on all of our crap with each o
ther. And we focus on making Nadine’s summer without us so much worse than it ever was with us there.”
“That’s…” I think about it for a minute—let it marinate in my brain a little. It’s immature. So childish. “… super spiteful,” I scold, and his face drops a little. I turn my eyes to the water and then back at him. “I like it.”
He smiles and I can’t help but do the same. “So you’re in?” His voice is hopeful and surprised.
“I’m in.”
Asher
“Should we talk details?” Sidney asks. “Is this a permanent cease-fire? Or for certain hours? Or just when we’re together on a mission?”
I snort at the word mission. I guess I’m not the only one in my own imaginary one-person army around here.
“And are we talking all summer, or just until Nadine is thoroughly punished?” I’m not sure Sidney has taken a breath yet. Or blinked. “And what is the goal with her, anyway? Do you think we should—”
Here we go. “Sidney?”
“Asher?”
My name holds the same amount of disdain as usual, except it’s coming from right next to me, as opposed to our usual sparring distance, so it stings a little more.
“It’s been ten seconds since I suggested this. We don’t need a detailed strategy just yet. Can you calm your control-freak brain for two seconds?”
She narrows her eyes at me, but it seems like she’s having to try a lot harder than usual to look annoyed with me. Maybe it’s all in my head. “You’ll appreciate my attention to detail now that we’re on the same side.”
I hold my crossed fingers up in the air between us and she rolls her eyes. “I’m counting on it. Otherwise, what else can you really offer?”
Meet Me at Midnight Page 10
