by McKayla Box
“There she is!” he says. “I hope you have something a little stronger than water in that pitcher, Nola.”
I laugh and shake my head. “This is all they gave us.”
As I fill the glasses on the table, my grandmother quickly introduces me to the other people sitting with them. I say hello, smile, and work my way around the table to fill each person's glass. I'm terrified that I'll spill the water, but I make it all the way around without a drop hitting the linen tablecloth.
I tell them I'll be back soon after I work on a few more tables. They all smile and wish me luck.
As we move around the room, there's a host near the front of the room on stage and she's auctioning off items that have been donated. Trips, vacation rentals, shopping sprees. The guests at the tables are overbidding on nearly everything and I can't imagine how much money the entire event will bring in.
I spend the next twenty minutes shuttling in and out of the kitchen, picking up fresh pitchers of water, and filling and refilling people’s glasses. People are friendly and ask my name, and some of them recognize the fact that I'm on the homecoming court. It's strange to have all of these adults so invested in homecoming, but I know a true homecoming is supposed to be about alumni supporting the school, so it makes sense in that way. It just feels like it's that on steroids.
I return to the kitchen to get another pitcher of water and Mercy is there doing the same. Dylan and Brooke have plates of food.
“We have your grandparents’ table,” Dylan says to me. “Follow us and we can do their table together.”
“And maybe slow the fuck down,” Brooke says. “My feet and hands are killing me. I am not cut out for hard work.”
The four of us cross the dining room toward my grandparents. I see Archer at the table to their left, along with Nick and Aidan. And I see Reese and Bree and Fallon at the table to their right. It's the closest I've been to any of them and I immediately think about taking a different route. But that seems dumb and I don't want either of them to think I'm afraid of them.
We reach the table and my grandfather is once again thrilled. “You're back! And you brought friends! Hello, ladies.”
They all exchange hellos as Dylan and Brooke go about setting their plates down and Mercy and I refill the glasses.
“I have to say, ladies,” the man across from grandfather says. “This is all quite a meal. And you are all so impressive.”
We murmur our thanks.
“Especially you, Miss Nola,” he says, reaching for his glass. “I think it's incredibly admirable what you're managing to do.” He looks at me. “I never knew my father, either, but it didn't hold me back. And it doesn't appear that it will hold you back, either. Bravo, my dear!”
I freeze in place.
It's like everyone freezes in place.
I look at my grandmother. Her jaw is set and she's staring at my grandfather like she's going to stab him with the butter knife. He, in turn, is the color of an apple, and staring at the man who was speaking.
I pry my eyes from my grandmother and take a look around.
All of them are looking at me.
My friends.
Reese.
Nick and Aidan.
And Archer.
All of them hear what the man said and it's so very clear what he was saying to me.
And now they all know that I've been lying about my dad.
They may not know about my mother.
But they know about my dad.
That I've never even met him.
Chapter 44
I immediately turn and head for the kitchen, the water pitcher shaking in my hand. My heart races and my face burns. If I could run, I would. But there's nowhere to escape to.
Mercy is right behind me. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” I say quickly.
“Well, well, well,” Reese says, entering the kitchen. “I guess little Miss Perfect isn't so perfect after all.”
“Straight up trash,” Fallon says, smiling next to her.
My hand shakes as I set the pitcher down on the counter.
“Fuck off,” Dylan says, coming in behind her. “The only trash in here is you, bitch.”
“Come on, Nola,” Reese says. “Tell us more about your daddy.”
I turn to look at her.
Archer is standing in the doorway, listening.
I look from him to her. “None of your business.”
“Oh, I'm making it my business,” she says. “You can count on that.”
“Can we count on you jumping in front of a bus?” Mercy says. “Because I think we'd all like to see that.”
But Reese isn't deterred. “I knew it. I just knew it. Not so perfect and also full of shit.”
She's not wrong, and it's exactly how I feel. I am not perfect and I've known that my entire life, but I've never felt less perfect than right at this moment.
And I am full of shit. Because I haven't been honest with my friends about anything about my life in Florida. Because I've been too scared and I haven't trusted them.
And now it might cost me.
“Folks!” one of the ladies says, coming in behind us. “It's not social hour! We need to keep moving! Let's go!”
I force myself to look up.
Archer is staring at me, expressionless.
Then he turns and walks away.
Chapter 45
The drive home from the country club is quiet. Mercy hasn't said a single word since we got in the car. I haven't said a word to anyone since we were all at the table. Because I don't know what to say. But the silence is like a razor that continues cutting into me.
“Did you have fun?” she finally asks.
“Sure,” I say.
She nods and we go back to being quiet for a minute.
“I'm sorry,” I say, finally, unable to stand it any longer.
She doesn't say anything.
“I lied about my dad and I'm sorry,” I say. “I never know what to say about him and everyone here has their mom and dad at home and I already feel weird living with my grandparents.” I pause to take a breath. “I don't want to make excuses, though. But I guess I am. I don't know.” I look at her. “I'm sorry for not being honest about it.”
She nods slowly.
“I've always done it,” I say. “It embarrasses me. It always has. And when people assume things, sometimes it's just easier to let them assume. I know that's wrong and it's been bugging me for days because normally I don't care, but this time I care because I hated lying to you about it. And when I said I wanted to tell you something earlier when we were changing, that's what I wanted to tell you. I know you might not believe me, but I swear. I was going to tell you right then and then we got interrupted. And then that guy said whatever he said at the table and I wanted to cry because it wasn't me that got to tell you. And I really, really don't want you to hate me, but I understand if you don't.”
“I don't hate you,” she says. “I was just...surprised.”
“I know,” I say. “And that's completely my fault and I'm so sorry. I just...” I look out the window. “I just always feel like I'm going to be judged because I don't have a dad.”
“I'm definitely not judging you,” she says. “And I'm sorry if I did anything that made you feel that way.”
“You didn't. It's all me. I swear. It's all me.”
She pulls up to my grandparents’ house. “You don't have to be embarrassed about it, Nola. It's not your fault and it's not why I like you. I like you because I like you. We're friends.”
“Thank you,” I tell her. “I am so grateful that you've been nice to me since day one. I thought I was going to be one of those people who hides under the bleachers to eat her lunch.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “Never. And I really am sorry about your dad. That has to be really hard.”
I nod. “It is. It always has been. And thanks.”
“Don't let Reese get in your head,” she says. “She doesn't matter. She
's not your friend and all she wants to do is stir the pot. If she's shitty about it, oh well. The rest of us aren't judging you. You have to trust us.”
I nod. “I do. I will.” I lean over and hug her. “Thank you so much. And I'm so sorry.”
“Stop apologizing,” she says, hugging me back. “And you don't have to thank me.” She pulls back and puts her hands on my shoulders. “You can always tell me the truth.”
We hug again and I get out of her car, wiping at my eyes. I watch her drive away.
And I know I have to tell her about my mother, too. I don't want that hanging over my head like my dad's story. Because hers is far worse and it's the one I'm truly afraid of.
But fear isn't a reason to lie about it. I need to get past it and trust Mercy and my friends.
That just feels easier said than done.
Chapter 46
My grandfather can't apologize enough when I get home. I know he's truly sorry and I don't want to rehash it all over again, so I assure him it's fine and that everything is okay. My grandmother isn't pleased, but I'm not sure if that's because my grandfather blabbed to his friend or because the story is out there. Either way, I assure them that I'm okay and that I'm not upset or angry. I shower, do a little bit of homework, and head to bed early.
Mercy picks me up the next morning and I'm surprised when someone is waiting for me in the school parking lot.
Nick.
“You have a second?” he asks when we reach the sidewalk.
I look at Mercy and she raises her eyebrows.
“Won't take long,” he says.
“Okay,” I say. “Mercy, I'll text you in a bit.”
She nods and heads into school, taking a glance over her shoulder before she goes inside.
“What's up?” I ask.
He shoves his hands in his pockets. “You need to listen to me.”
“Uh, okay. Why exactly?”
“I don't like to get involved in shit,” he says. “It is so not my thing. But I'm making an exception here because...I don't really know why. But I am.” He pauses. “You can't lie to him.”
“Lie to who?” I ask.
“Archer.” He shakes his head. “You can't do it.”
“I'm not trying to.”
He makes a face. “Come on. Look, I don't know what that shit was yesterday at the dinner and it's none of my business. But it's pretty clear that some stuff you told him doesn't wash. I don't know why. That's your deal. But I'm telling you, you can't lie to him. And we don't know each that well, but my friends are cool with you, so that's good enough for me. So I'm telling you this as a friend.” He shakes his head. “Don't lie to him. Not if you like him.”
The embarrassment I felt last night comes rushing back and I look down at my feet.
“I'm not trying to cause any drama here,” he says. “But seems like you like him. And I know he likes you. So if you don't want it all to blow up, don't lie to him. About anything.”
I look at him. “Okay. Thanks.”
He nods.
“Can I ask why?” I say. “I mean...duh. I get it. Don't lie. And I had this conversation with Mercy last night. It's stupid. I never meant for it to be a thing, but that's my fault. But why is it such a big deal to him?”
He looks at the parking lot for moment before turning back to me. “You guys talked much about his family?”
“A little, I guess. Not a ton. I know his mom died.”
“Bingo,” he says. “But I'm not comfortable explaining it all to you. It's his thing to tell. If you really wanna know, you'll have to ask him.”
“Okay,” I say, confused.
“And, look, there was some other shit, too,” he says. “He and Reese went out for awhile and she cheated on him.”
“For how long?” I say, a knot forming in my gut.
“How long were they together? Was like two years ago and not for long,” Nick says. “Not something you should obsess on. He knows what she is. She's not a threat. At all. Even if she thinks she is.” He snorts and shakes his head. “But she did cheat on him. She did lie to him. And that was sort of the start of it. And after everything that happened, he just has zero tolerance for it.” He pauses. “But you have to ask him about the details. Not my story to tell.” He shrugs. “I just thought you should know.”
“Did he say anything yesterday?” I ask. “After the dinner?”
“Not really,” Nick answers.
The first bell rings and people start moving toward the building.
He looks at me. “But he heard it. So he's thinking about it. Guaranteed.”
Chapter 47
“I owe both of you an apology,” I say.
It's late morning and we aren't in class. We're in the gym for a pep rally. The band is playing and I can barely hear myself think. But I'm leaning across Mercy to get to Dylan and Brooke.
“You don't owe us shit,” Dylan says. “For real.”
“Yes, I do,” I say. “That wasn't cool of me and I'm sorry.”
Brooke smiles at me. “Mercy gave us the bare details. And if it makes you feel any better, my parents are married but hate one another. Half the time, my dad doesn't come home from work. Marriage in name only.”
“And I'm pretty sure my mom is gay,” Dylan says. “But hasn't told anyone. She has this one girlfriend that's she super tight with. And there's just a funky vibe and everyone in my house knows, but no one says anything.”
“My family is totally normal,” Mercy says. “Weirdos.”
We all laugh.
“Okay, that's fine,” I say. “I mean, it's not all fine and I'm sorry you're having to deal with that stuff. But I just want you to know. I just don't always know how to talk about not knowing my dad and sometimes it's just easier to let people assume whatever they assume. But I'm sorry for not telling you guys.”
Dylan grabs my hand and squeezes it. “You're fine, girly. Let it go. We still love you.” She grins. “And we'll love you even more if you get us up to Archer's suite at The Veranda.”
We all laugh again as the band moves to another song. I'm glad they aren't angry with me, but I still feel guilty for making up a relationship with my dad. And I'm still feeling guilty over not divulging the truth about my mother. But part of the reason that I've landed in Del Sol is because of how people treated me over my mother's actions and that feels like an even bigger step than admitting I don't know my father. It's still there, though, and I'm not sure how to manage it.
Every single seat on the bleachers is filled. There are balloons and streamers hanging above us. The football team is down on the floor in their jerseys, milling about, attempting to look cool. There is a mic set up in the center of the floor and Rebecca is behind it, talking excitedly with several other girls. Then she motions to the band director and the music dies down.
“Welcome Vikings!” Rebecca shouts into the mic. “And welcome to our fall homecoming pep rally!”
The majority of the gym cheers and she waits for it to quiet.
“We've got some super cool stuff here for you today,” she continues. “So let's get it started!”
For the next twenty minutes, she introduces coaches and players who do their best to say something coherent into the mic and to draw applause from the crowd. The football players perform a relay race with the cheerleaders. Some teachers do a lip-sync routine. It's amazing to me how pep rallies are the same no matter the high school they occur in.
“Alright,” Rebecca says after the lip-sync routine. “Now, it's time to get to what you've all been waiting for. If I can get the members and nominees from this year's homecoming court from all classes to please come down to the floor at this time.”
Brooke and I make our way down to the bleachers to the floor. Reese is already there in her cheerleading outfit, glaring at us. Nick and Heath are there in their jerseys. Archer is on the other side of Nick, looking bored.
Rebecca introduces the royalty for each of the younger grades and they are given their crowns to put
on.
“And now for our homecoming king and queen for this year,” Rebecca says. “First, our king.” One of the girls next to her hands her an envelope. She tears it open and unfolds the card. “Heath Rogers!”
The crowd cheers and he holds up a hand, waving to them.
“Gross,” Brooke whispers in my ear.
“How?” I ask.
“Football players,” Brooke says. “Everyone loves the quarterback.”
Rebecca places a big crown on top of his head and then steps back to the mic. “Okay. And now, finally. This year's homecoming queen at Del Sol High.” The girl hands her another envelope and Rebecca tears it open. She unfolds the card, takes a moment to read it, then leans in closer to the mic. “Nola Murphy!”
I stand still, thinking I've heard her wrong.
Then Brooke hugs me.
Reese stares at me like I've peed on her leg.
People in the bleachers are cheering.
She said my name.
I'm the homecoming queen.
I look at Brooke. “What the fuck?”
Brooke laughs. “Congratulations!”
Rebecca pulls me forward and puts the crown on my head. It's heavy and awkward and I have to reach up to hold it in place. Then Heath comes up next to me.
“Congrats,” he says.
“Fuck you,” I say.
“Okay,” Rebecca says. “We need to get a couple of quick pictures.”
“If you put your arm anywhere near me, I will absolutely rip your balls off,” I whisper to him. “Do not touch me.”
“Wow,” he says. “Still angry. What a shrew.”
“And what a rapist you are,” I say. “Touch me and I tell everyone what happened in your car. The actual story.”
His smile flickers for a moment and he looks around, like he's trying to figure out if he's been caught. Then the fake smile returns. “You're a bitch, you know that?”
“Yeah, I know it,” I say, forcing a smile on my face for the camera. “Don't you fucking forget it.”