“You’re such a nerd,” I say, and throw my stuffed bear at her. She dodges it easily, crossing her eyes and sticking out her tongue before disappearing back out the door.
* * *
• • •
I get to work on the plans, just like Seeley told me to. I plaster links to the fund-raising site all over social media and text everybody I can think of to retweet, reblog, like, and share it. Seb messages me right away, telling me it sounds awesome and to let him know how he can help. I offer him a couple cupcake-selling shifts, and we pretty much chat all night about the park and stuff. I even remember to have him tell his mom that my dad says hi. All in all, not bad for a day’s work.
I text Seeley a few hours later for a status update, throwing in some cupcake emojis that I hope make her laugh. She texts me back a little while later that she’s still at the hospital, but it probably is another false alarm. She’s planning to crash at home since it’s getting late, but promises she’ll see me tomorrow either way. I text her back a bunch of thumbs-ups and silly faces to get her through and crawl under my covers wishing she was here.
* * *
• • •
It isn’t a false alarm, though. Not this time.
Seeley creeps into my bedroom in the middle of the night, well past midnight but nowhere near dawn, shivering hard with tears in her eyes. I know without her having to tell me. She spends the night curled up against me, her head under my chin, our knees slotted together, as she streams old shows on her phone.
She sneaks home around six a.m., afraid that her mom will freak if she goes to check on her and finds her gone. I get it. She calls me around nine a.m. to tell me she’s not going to work, and I don’t need to bother picking her up. Somehow, she seems better in the light of day and tells me all about how busy she is with funeral stuff, like ordering flowers and helping her mom pick out an urn. I sort of wonder if she’s in shock or if her grandma’s death really was a relief, but I figure that’s not something you really ask—that’s something you wait for the other person to tell you.
CHAPTER 23
I’m on my third gondola ride of the day when I see it.
I’ve been riding it on every break today, trying to process everything going on. I still can’t believe Grandma Bobby is dead, and I’m not at all convinced that Seeley is as fine with it as she’s pretending to be. So yeah, that’s why I’m swinging my legs in the warm summer breeze, spending my break pounding Gatorade and just kind of lazily watching the park below me while I clear out my head when, boom, there are Jessa and Ari totally kissing behind the castle.
Of course, because I’m me, I jerk up just enough to send my bottle flying and then watch in horror as it lands with a bounce right beside them. Ari and Jessa both look up, eyes wide and mouths falling open when they realize exactly whose Gatorade just interrupted their little make-out session. We make eye contact, and before I can stop myself, I’m sort of grimacing and waving. Oh my god. What is wrong with me? I jerk back, burying my face in my hands. Shit, shit, shit.
I wasn’t spying or anything, I swear, and god I wish I could unsee that, but I can’t. So here I am, in a little green gondola, being dragged back to the platform. I peek between my fingers long enough to see them racing through the park to intercept me, and I can definitely already make out the bright blue of Jessa’s dress on the platform as I come in for a landing. Damn.
Jessa is helpful enough to unlock the safety bar for me, but I wish the ride had kept right on going and swung me away from this inevitable mess. I walk out behind her, my stomach in knots, to where Ari is sitting on the wall with my bottle of Gatorade in his hand.
There’s no way to make a clean exit, so I stare at the ground instead, watching the ants race to and from the garbage can. I wonder if the little bit of sweetness is worth the risk of being trampled. Maybe sometimes it is, but I bet usually it isn’t.
Jessa takes a deep breath. “Are you going to say anything?”
“Can I have my Gatorade back?”
Jessa huffs and rips it out of Ari’s hand, shoving it into mine so hard it hurts. “That’s it?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Were you spying on us?” Her voice modulates somewhere between anger and fear, and I know the feeling. If I could find my voice at all, I’m sure that’s what it would sound like.
“Yeah, what the fuck?” Ari sneers.
I stand up a little straighter because, hey, I’m not the one cheating on my perfectly sweet boyfriend over here. “I wasn’t spying on you. I was riding the gondola.”
“Right, because everybody rides the gondola when they’re supposed to be working.” He pulls his cell phone out of his pocket, very un–Prince Charming–like. “Jessa, your carriage leaves in five minutes. You have to get over there.”
“You’ll take care of this?” she asks before bolting, seemingly satisfied by his single nod. I’d sort of think he was going to kill me based on her tone, except he’s dressed like Prince Charming and there’re about five billion sweaty people milling around us right now. I’m pretty sure I’m safe.
“All right.” Ari hops off the wall. “What do you want from us?”
I’m staring at him, sort of dumbstruck, because I don’t know. I cross my arms in a kind of pathetic self-hug. “What do you mean?”
“What’s it going to take for you to keep this quiet?”
I widen my eyes. “You think you can bribe me? Seriously?”
“I don’t know, can I? I barely know anything about you.”
I sigh, because come on. “We’ve literally worked together for two summers, Ari.”
“If you open your mouth about this, you’re going to ruin everything, for everyone.”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you even know what Jessa’s mom will do? And how do you think Nick is going to react?” Ari looks down at the ground. “A lot of people will get hurt by this.”
I snort. “Well, I guess you guys should have considered that before you decided to have an affair.”
“An affair? What are we, thirty-five?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Please don’t do this to us.”
“What about what you’re doing to Nick?”
“We messed up, it’s wrong, okay? I know that. But you don’t understand—if this gets back to Jessa’s mom . . . Listen, I don’t care what you do to me, or what I have to do for you, but please, don’t tell anyone about this. We didn’t mean for this to happen. You try being Prince Charming and Cinderella and not falling in love.”
My lips quirk up all on their own accord. “You’re in love with her?”
“I don’t know.” He looks a little sheepish, but then something crosses over his eyes, a mix of determination and defeat. “Please don’t ever tell her I said that.”
“Ari . . .” I feel compelled to comfort him, even though I shouldn’t. I mean, falling for a girl with a boyfriend is almost as ridiculous as . . .
. . . forcing your BFF to pretend to be your girlfriend to get closer to a guy. Oh. Right. No position to judge over here.
“Are you going to tell Nick? Please, I’m begging here. Don’t.”
“I don’t know.” It’s not a lie. I really, truly don’t. “It’s the right thing to do, isn’t it? I mean, I should?”
Ari shakes his head. “Are you asking me if telling my girlfriend’s boyfriend that she’s cheating on him with me is the right thing to do? Because I’m probably not the person to ask.”
I tug the elastic band off my wrist, pulling my hair back into a sloppy bun to buy myself more time. “I wasn’t actually asking you. I was thinking out loud.”
“Well, what did you decide?”
“I didn’t yet. What do you mean about her mom?”
“Nothing, forget it.” He runs his hands through his hair. “Look, you don’
t know what to do, right? Don’t do anything, then. You don’t have to.”
I push my shoulders back, trying to scrape up enough confidence to cope with this scenario. “You know she’s with Nick! Why would you even try to get with her? It’s gross and desperate, and . . . I don’t even know, super wrong.” Wow, I am terrible at this.
Ari drops his chin to his chest. “You’re right, okay? You win. And you can hate me all you want, but please keep this between us.”
“Why doesn’t she break up with Nick if she wants to be with you so bad?”
“She doesn’t want to be with me.” And I can tell by the way his hands squeeze into fists that he didn’t mean to say that.
“But you’re Ari Seimer,” I say, like that’s important. Because to me it is, or it was, and maybe if I say it enough it’ll go back to being true. Finding out these people are no better than me, and actually might even be a little worse, is kind of like expecting a sip of Sprite and finding out you got water instead.
“I don’t even know what that means,” he says.
I look away, because how do you explain to someone that they’re basically top tier when it comes to amusement park hotties without sounding like an asshole? “I just didn’t think someone like you would have trouble getting a date.”
He puffs out his chest like he’s offended. “I don’t. Do you want to see my phone? Girls blow it up all day.”
“Okay, well, now you just sound like a jerk.”
“I’m making this worse, aren’t I?” he says all low and bitter, kicking a rock into the bush behind us with a little sidestep. I forgot that he played soccer. I forgot that he was a person outside of a prince. He doesn’t even go to my school anyway; he goes to Jessa’s on a soccer scholarship, which, hmm.
“How long have you been, you know.” I wave my hand between us, hoping he doesn’t make me say it.
“I dunno, since seventh grade?”
My eyes go wide. “You’ve been sleeping with Jessa since seventh grade?”
“What? No! I thought you meant how long have I been into her.”
“Okay, first, wow, but second, how long have you guys actually been, you know, acting on it?”
“Does it matter?”
“I don’t know? Maybe?”
“Since last fall.”
“Is that why she kept dumping Nick?”
Ari shakes his head. “There’s more to it than that. You’d have to understand her family to—”
“Okay, I changed my mind. Stop talking now. I have no idea what to do with any of this information.” This was so much easier when these people weren’t, well, real people.
He runs his hand over his face, and I can already see Jessa’s carriage slowing down from here. Sure, she has a few more kids in line for a turn, but it won’t be too long before she’ll be back, and I definitely, without a doubt, don’t want to be here for that. “I’m gonna go.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet, but I won’t say anything until I do.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me yet.”
* * *
• • •
A bit later, when we’re all back in the breakroom getting our stuff out of our lockers, and I’ve changed the last of the garbage cans, Jessa approaches me. She stands beside me quietly, leaning against the locker next to mine while I grab my bag and stuff all my belongings inside. It’s sort of creepy.
“Can we talk?” she asks.
“I’m kind of all talked-out right now.” And it’s true, I am. I glance over to where Ari is sitting at one of the tables, lacing up his shoes, slowly, obviously trying to drag out the time either to eavesdrop or to catch Jessa before she leaves.
Nick chooses this exact moment to wander in, slinging his arm around Jessa and leaning in for a kiss. It’s quick and chaste, and she looks at me while he does it. I look away, turning back to my locker to grab the last of my belongings.
“You guys aren’t talking bake sale without me, are you?” Nick looks mock wounded, and it hurts to watch knowing he’s one sentence away from looking like that for real.
Jessa looks down at the floor. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Somewhere behind her, a chair slams into the table so hard I jump. I can’t believe it didn’t break, or maybe it did. I can’t tell with “Nissa” currently blocking my view. I almost feel a little bad for Ari; watching this has to suck.
“Ari, man.” Nick wrinkles his forehead, craning his neck around to see. “You okay?”
Ari shoves the door open. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Nick watches him go and gives Jessa another kiss on her temple. “Seriously, what are you thinking cupcake-wise, though? It seemed like everybody really dug the flavors we brought in.”
“I don’t know.”
“We don’t have much time to figure this out, Elouise,” he says.
I push past them, but they both follow. I pick up the pace, but then so do they. Time to change tactics. I turn to face them so quick we almost smack into one another. “Soon, okay? We’ll talk soon. But I have to go. Seeley’s grandma died last night.” And sure, maybe it’s not totally right to use other people’s dead relatives to get out of awkward situations, but desperate times call for desperate measures and all.
The smile drops off Nick’s face. “Oh man, is that why she’s not here?”
“Yeah.” I shift the strap of my bag up a little higher on my shoulder, the weight of the conversation combining with the weight of my life in uncomfortable ways.
“Sorry, Elouise,” Jessa says. Nick looks at her like she’s the cutest thing and rubs his hand up and down her arm. I turn my head and look away, because I know what she’s really apologizing for, what she really means, and I don’t know what to do with that at all.
CHAPTER 24
Me: You were right about Jessa
Seeley: I figured
Me: How’s your mom?
Seeley: Hangin in there
Me: . . .
Seeley: Why is your front door locked?
A grin stretches out across my face. I didn’t think I’d be seeing Seeley for a couple days with everything going on. I race down the stairs, smashing into my dad and spilling his soda all over both of us.
“Elouise!” he yelps.
“Sorry,” I say as I bolt past him, flipping the lock on the door and whipping it open. I’m just in time to see Seeley smoosh a giant mosquito on her arm, leaving a smattering of blood and wings in its wake. I can relate, Mr. Mosquito—it’s been that kind of day for me too.
Seeley leans around me to peek at my very wet, very annoyed father. “What’d I miss?”
I step outside, shutting the door behind us. “He locked the door on you.” I smirk. “He can handle a little soda on his shirt. Wanna go for a walk?”
She nods, shoving her hair out of her face. It’s a dark brown color now, instead of purple, and I wonder if her mom made her dye it back for the funeral or if she did it all on her own. I touch it without thinking, and she smiles. We hop down off the front porch and out onto the deserted street. It’s almost nine o’clock, which means everybody in my neighborhood is either inside for the night or working on it. I glance over at her, our feet falling into step as our sneakers thump the pavement.
“You okay?” I’ve been wrestling with cleverer, nicer ways to ask her that since we started walking, but none of them seemed right.
“Yes? No? Maybe?” She twists her lips up into a sad little smile.
I nod and go back to studying the ground as we walk. I’ve never known anybody firsthand who has died before now. When my mom left, her whole side of the family basically disappeared along with her. My dad’s an only, and his parents died when I was a baby, so that really didn’t leave anybody else.
“I think it’s okay not to know.” It feels like t
he right thing to say, and also I know it’s true because sometimes I don’t know how I feel about my mom. I can get how stuff like loss and love can be really complicated, how it can tie a person up in knots.
We follow the street as it meanders past all the houses, turning into a little cul-de-sac with a park at the end. I climb onto the bright red merry-go-round thing and lie down, staring up at the stars as the cool metal presses into the fabric of my tank top. Seeley grabs one of the handles and runs around, getting a good spin going before jumping on right next to me.
Some of my hair gets stuck under her knee, but I don’t say anything. I know she’ll move soon enough. And she does, lying down to watch the stars shine above our heads, a sleepy smile fixed on her lips.
“I don’t think I’m sad enough.” She waits until the world has stopped turning, or maybe until we have, to say this. I can’t be positive, distracted as I am by the way the moonlight glints off her eyes as she’s trying not to cry.
I inch closer to her. “It’s not a contest.”
“Shouldn’t I feel really bad? Like really, really sad?”
“You’re crying now.” I don’t think she even realizes it. She paws at her cheeks and looks back at the sky.
“I’m only crying because I’m not sad.” Her breath hitches, and then the tears start coming in earnest; big, fat, ugly tears rolling down her cheeks, complete with snuffling breaths and boogers.
I let her be until she starts to slip deeper into it, and then I climb over the bar between us and wrap my arms around her, holding her tight until she melts against me. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” I rub my hand over her back as she sobs into my shoulder.
“It’s not okay!” she shouts. A tiny stream of snot drips down her lip, and she inhales hard before wiping at it. “It’s not okay, Lou. Nothing is okay.”
“I know,” I say quietly. “I only meant you can feel sad, or not feel sad, or even feel sad about not feeling sad; anything you want. It’s all okay, I swear. It’s all totally in the realm of like a normal reaction.” But she shakes her head, and I know I’m not getting through.
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