by Julie Cross
Claire follows beside us. “Want me to take her back to the apartment above the bar?”
The offering is tempting. Very tempting. But I know how to sneak Haley in through the basement door at her house. I know her parents are sound asleep because they’re teachers and get to school at, like, five in the morning. “Nah. I’ll drop her off. It’ll be fine.”
“You sure?” Claire stops not too far from my mom’s minivan and waits for me to answer.
I open the door and shove Haley into the passenger seat. She slumps over, closing her eyes, with her legs still hanging over the edge, preventing me from shutting the car door. I give Claire a nod and she leaves us, walking behind me and heading toward where Leo and Jamie are standing in the parking lot.
Haley swats at my arm when I try and get the seat belt around her. Then she’s all wide-eyed and panicked, clutching my arm. “I can’t go to sleep. I keep having dreams about the antlers…they’re stabbing me.”
I tug at the seat belt again. “Come on. Just put your feet in the car.”
I’ve done this with her before, so I know what’s coming. Which means I’m not in the least bit shocked when Haley starts sobbing uncontrollably. When she gets like this, sometimes she hyperventilates. She freaked out once while we were studying for a world history test freshman year and I thought she was dying. Luckily my mom was home to teach me the breathing-into-a-paper-bag trick. I don’t have a paper bag tonight, so I have no choice but to calm her down.
“Antlers… The crown?” I guess.
Haley nods between sobs. “I’m gonna lose. And everyone will see pictures of me losing. And you’re going to win, Tate, and we’re not even gonna get married. I’ll have to look at your picture in town hall forever and be like, I love him and he hates me.”
I rub my temples. Claire was smart to take off.
“Haley, relax or you’ll pass out.”
She begins listing every test, assignment, cheer practice, and Juniper Princess commitment she has this week, and she’s speaking so loudly and in such a rushed voice, I don’t even hear Claire drive off.
Finally Haley stops crying for a few seconds, giving me an opportunity to get a word in. “You’re gonna make yourself crazy with all this stuff you’re doing. Is it worth it?”
She wipes her face with her T-shirt and swallows. “You’re really not going to the ball with me, are you?”
I hesitate and then shake my head slowly.
Haley pulls in a shaky breath but nods. “I didn’t even want to break up. I thought we were taking a break. What’s wrong with me? I mean, you used to love me. I know you did.”
For the first time since Haley broke up with me, I feel the ache in my chest I’d expected long ago. Heartbreak, maybe. But more because I can’t do it. I can’t be this person she thinks I am. And that means we can’t have back what we used to be together. “Nothing is wrong with you. You’re perfect, I promise. Just not for me.”
And even saying that makes me wish it weren’t true. But that’s the thing. It was always easy with Haley. Until it wasn’t. But I don’t think it’s supposed to be easy. Not real love. Haley would say that we’ve been through so much together, but really, what would that be? Losing our virginity? Her mom finding out about said virginity? That was a bit rough, but nothing like…
Nothing like standing in that parking lot with Claire, realizing my arm was broken in three places. Again, I’m reminded of the fact that I don’t have to pretend with Claire. We may be dancing around something at the moment, but when it comes to real things, important things, she knows me.
With a heavy sigh, I close the car door and then hop in the driver’s side. It takes a while to get Haley inside her house and eventually in her bedroom, which is always a complete disaster, but I manage to navigate strewn items on the floor and make my exit without getting caught.
Later, at home, while I’m struggling to finish my trig homework, I pull out my phone and send Claire a text.
ME: got Haley home. No parentals woken
CLAIRE: good
ME: so…about that hanging out thing. When can we?
CLAIRE: idk. It’s late
ME: not now. But sometime
CLAIRE: Maybe it’s not such a good idea
My heart picks up, palms sweaty. I almost chicken out and play it cool, but then I remember once again that I don’t have to pretend with Claire.
ME: what’s wrong?
CLAIRE: nothing. I’m just…I don’t know. Need some space
My heart sinks. I stare at her words for way too long and finally type a reply. The only response my pride and self-preservation will allow.
ME: I’m here if u change your mind
An hour passes. I fall asleep with my phone still in my hand. When I wake up to move my books off the bed, I check it again. No response from Claire.
Chapter 19
–Claire–
From the steps leading up to the apartment above the bar, I spot Tate and Jake Hammond flying toward Juniper Falls Pond on snowmobiles. They park near the pond and hop off, Tate with a drill in his hand and Jake with a tape measure. For a moment, Tate looks over this way and I quickly conceal myself, sliding to the far side of the steps. He really does seem like he belongs here, on that pond with whatever varsity hockey players he’s hanging out with. But I know that’s not completely true. I know Tate shares some of my I don’t belong here feelings because we talked about it that night in the car, last fall.
My gut twists. I blew him off. I’m sure he’s confused as hell, but I’m a disaster. And Haley loves him and he obviously still cares about her if he made the effort to get her home safe a couple of weeks ago. A couple of weeks. Has it really been that long? God, I need to get over this and focus on paying those bills, on getting myself back to school.
“Are these stairs safe?” the middle-aged woman says from behind me. She’s finally ended her phone call, after making me stand here in the cold for nearly ten minutes waiting to show her the apartment. “Have you had the fire department inspect them?”
“No.”
“No, they’re not safe? Or no, you haven’t had them inspected?” she demands.
I sigh. I already know how this will end. I turn to face her, plastering on a smile. “How about we check out the actual apartment?”
She exhales, shaking her head. I glance at the time on my phone. I’m supposed to be at Haley’s house for band practice in forty-five minutes. I have a feeling that won’t be a problem considering this woman is already dissatisfied with the stairs.
When the lady brushes past me, I’m forced to put Tate in my line of sight again. For a second, I let myself imagine us back in that booth at Benny’s, my hand on his knee, his fingers brushing my palm gliding over my wrist—
“You’re going to unlock the door, I assume?”
“Oh, right. Of course.” I peel my gaze from Tate and head up the rest of the steps.
Once we’re inside the apartment, she complains about the heat—and yeah, it’s not working at 100 percent, can’t seem to get the temperature above sixty-two—then she opens the cabinet under the bathroom sink and gasps.
She closes the doors again and rights herself. “I don’t do mildew.”
With that warning, the woman stomps out of the apartment and clambers down the steps. I stare at the cabinet doors, not really too excited to open them. I debate going across the street to ask Tate to check it out for me but even if we were on friendly terms at the moment, I don’t think I could bring myself to engage in such a cliché girlie act. I take a deep breath, squat down in front of the cabinet, and slowly open the doors.
I have to flip on the light and get a closer look to see the problem, but when I do, I can’t help groaning. Shit. This is the last thing we need right now. I slam the cabinet doors shut and exit the bathroom and the apartment.
Aunt Kay and Mom are in the bar right now, and I really don’t feel like telling them about another failed apartment showing. So instead of going insi
de to get one of their car keys, I decide the nearly one-mile walk to Haley’s is worth not having to face them.
Everyone is already in the garage when I arrive, the band equipment set up. Roger and Artie are in the middle of a debate about guitar strings. I keep glancing their way, waiting for my chance to get Roger alone.
“So…” Haley says to me, and she’s got that look like she’s about to sign me up for another committee. “We’ve decided that you need to be the keyboard player. And lead vocals.”
“That’s what I’m here for.” I look over at Roger again and then stand behind the keyboard, powering it up.
“I mean for the ball,” Haley says. “I know you’ve got a lot going on and you’re heading back to school in January, but this would be before all that. Plus, Roger’s crew says they’ll split the two grand with you—”
The music book I’ve just picked up slips through my fingers. “Two grand? For playing at the ball?”
She nods, a smile on her face. “I really pushed to make the music budget a priority this year. So that’s a yes?”
“Uh, yeah. Duh.” I mean, how could I say no to that? But wait… “Lead vocals? Roger’s got a great voice. I don’t think—”
“Shared lead vocals,” Haley clarifies. She pats me on the shoulder. “You’ll be great. I’m so excited about this band.”
I watch her walk away, grabbing her clipboard to jot down notes. After hearing her a couple of weeks ago, sobbing and listing everything she needed to do, I almost want to ask her how she does it. How does she put on the I’ve-got-it-all-under-control face for everyone? And I want to ask her if anything happened with her and Tate. She looks happy. Maybe they got back together?
I hate the punch-in-the-gut feeling that follows that thought. I should be glad if that’s happened. She loves him.
Haley tells us it’s time to get started, so I have to set aside my questions for Roger. She starts off by having each of us suggest a song we could sing well that wasn’t on the set list. Roger surprises me by picking “Blurred Lines.” I don’t even have to think about my choice.
“‘Feeling Good,’” I tell her. “By Nina Simone.”
It’s a song I’ve loved to sing for as long as I can remember. One Jody and I would belt out in her living room. I have a flash of New Year’s Eve six years ago…Tate lighting fireworks, this song playing through a speaker resting on the Tanleys’ snow-covered grill.
I have this sudden ache for Tate, to have him around. Which doesn’t even make sense. It’s not like I’ve been around him much since I got back home, but something about him…he’s my constant.
But when we finally begin rehearsing the song I picked, the one filled with dozens of warm memories, my entire mood shifts.
A hint of that fire, the adrenaline rush I used to get regularly, hits me. Performing, just thinking about being onstage again, the hard work of rehearsals, the hours spent backstage waiting for your turn to practice, the butterflies during auditions—God, I miss this feeling. More guilt punches me, but I shove it aside for now and pour my heart into this song.
When we finish, both Haley’s dad and Roger are staring at me like I’ve grown another head. Artie is the one to speak first. “Your pitch is killer.”
Roger shakes his head and proceeds to tune his guitar. “Not killer. Perfect. It’s perfect.”
My face heats up. “I got a little flat in the second verse.” I shuffle sheet music around, not wanting to look at any of them.
Haley’s dad clears his throat. “Band director here. Don’t insult my professional integrity. Roger’s right, it was perfect. A year at Northwestern and you’re beyond all of us.”
I duck my head. I’m not. Plus, I don’t want to think about what that year away cost me. Time with my dad.
Haley seems to sense my shifting emotions because she claps her hands and tells us to move on to the next song.
But now I’m stuck in that place where I can’t completely love this because I know what it’s taken from me.
Chapter 20
–Tate–
“So, when are you and Claire going to be done with the secret looks and secret everything?” Leo asks.
My body tenses. I really don’t want to talk about Claire right now. “She said she needed space.” I adjust my helmet and wait for someone to take a shot. We are here to play hockey, right? “That’s code for not gonna happen, last I heard.”
Jamie scratches his head. “Space?”
So far “space” has translated to I’m ignoring you but trying not to make it look like I’m ignoring you.
I glide side to side in front of the goal, trying to smooth out the ice on the pond. Jake moves in a blur in front of me, preparing to shoot. “Come on, Ham, don’t hold back. Not here.”
Jake spins in one direction, hops over the puck, and then shoots from the side opposite to his normal shot. Leo and Jamie both release a loud cheer. I pull off my helmet and stare at Jake. “What the hell, Hammond?”
“Show me the intergalactic moves,” Leo begs. “I need a new trick shot.”
It’s a testament to Jake’s ability that he has no problem teaching his shot to Leo. Probably because he’s got a dozen more, and if those don’t work, there are a hundred more on standby. Senior year for Jake is gonna be amazing.
We play for a while longer, mostly because I’m pushing them to keep going. Last night’s game went okay for me. The cold gets to us after a while and we end up huddled in front of a small space heater Jake brought from home.
Roger’s Critter Crusader van pulls up near the pond. He hops out and walks toward us.
“Uh-oh, what’dya do, T-Man?” Jamie says.
“Nothing.” Still, I’m tense as Roger approaches us. I’ve probably done something.
“Need a ride?” he asks.
“Sure,” I say, grabbing my stuff.
“Mind swinging by the junkyard on the way home?” Roger says. “Didn’t you say you were looking for a carburetor for the snowmobile?”
“Yeah.” I’m surprised he remembered that. I mentioned it to my mom this morning. He had just been passing through the kitchen on his way out. I switch my skates for boots and get into the Critter Crusader van with Roger.
“So…” Roger says. “You guys play out at the pond a lot? It’s not too cold?”
I shrug. “Sometimes it’s too cold. But it’s fun. You know, no boards to run into, really different game.”
“Huh. I don’t know, I’ve never played much hockey. Or skating.”
“Oh, right.” I nod like I get it, but I can’t imagine growing up around here without playing hockey. I mean, did he always want to be an exterminator? I can’t ask that.
“Did you do any other sports?”
Roger’s reply is cut short as he slams on the brakes, his eyes huge.
The van comes squealing to an abrupt halt. A man with tattooed arms nearly gets sideswiped by the hood of Roger’s van.
My heart jumps up to my throat, and Roger releases a string of swearwords. The man is already taking off, not deterred by his near-death experience. Once I’ve caught my breath, I give the guy a closer look and realize he’s not dressed.
Well, aside from the white boxer briefs covering his ass.
One half of his body appears to be hurrying down the street, while the other side gets dragged behind him.
I sit upright again after having been thrown forward. “Isn’t that Mr. O’Connor…?”
Roger pulls the van over to the side of the road and throws it into park. He hops out and I follow quickly behind him.
“What do you think he’s doing out here?” I ask. The Davin O’Connor I know doesn’t walk around in his underwear in the middle of winter. We’re at least a mile from Claire’s house.
Roger shakes his head and grabs his phone.
“Mr. O’Connor!” I shout, jogging to catch up. Cars are coming toward him, and he seems oblivious. Maybe he sleepwalks? When I reach him, I touch his arm, and he spins to face me, his e
xpression livid and wide awake. He jerks out of my grip and continues on to wherever he’s going.
“Davin,” Roger says, cutting him off from the front. “Where are you headed? We’ll give you a ride.”
His face contorts and he spits out a bunch of sounds that don’t make any sense but seem to take a great deal of effort. Wait…he can’t speak? Why hadn’t Claire ever mentioned this? Or her mom. We talked about Davin while I fixed the sink.
He moves past Roger and is off again. I shift uncomfortably in my spot. This seems like a much-too-personal inside look into Claire’s family, and I’m not sure she’d want me around for it. Especially given her I need space claim.
Roger goes after him again, but I stay firmly in place watching the two of them.
Sheriff Hammond pulls up beside Roger and rolls down the window. They exchange words, and I finally move in that direction. My hands and face are freezing. I can’t imagine how cold Mr. O’Connor must be in just his underwear.
More cars rush past us and then slow to a stop, taking in the situation. Most of them stare and then move on, but a couple of people roll down their windows and ask if we need any help. Meanwhile, Claire’s dad seems determined to go somewhere.
By the time Roger and I reach him again, the sheriff has turned around and a gray SUV is barreling toward us, jerking over to the side of the road. Both Claire’s mom and her aunt tumble out.
Claire’s mom is crying, arguing with Sheriff Hammond, or at least she’s emphatically explaining something.
“He gets up and he forgets everything. Thinks he needs to go to work,” she says.
Roger finally steers Claire’s dad toward the SUV. Instead of wide-eyed and angry, he now looks shrunken and lost. I hang back, putting a few feet between us, not wanting to get in the way.
“You left the damn pain pills out in plain sight,” Claire’s aunt Kay yells at her sister-in-law. “He probably took too many again. Or he got into the liquor.”
“You were supposed to be in the room with him!” Mrs. O’Connor shouts. She glares at Kay and then lets out a frustrated sigh before pulling a cell phone from her purse. “Claire, honey, he’s fine… No, you will not! You know he wouldn’t want you to see him like this… He isn’t naked…not completely… I don’t know if he took too many pills… Yes, I realize I can count them!”