by Dahlia Adler
Quinn says she’s doing really well in school and wants to know if I’ll be home for her graduation. I don’t really know what to say about that. It’s over a year from now, and who the hell knows where I’ll be in a year? Maybe I won’t even have all my limbs and shit. Maybe seeing me will just freak her the fuck out.
A stupid tear slips out of my eye without warning and I swipe it away so fast I almost scratch my cornea. You’re freaking her the fuck out now, Johnny, I want to scream at him. Where are you? Do you have all your limbs?
Shockingly, the letter doesn’t answer back. It just shakes along with the hand holding it, until I drop it onto the floor and pick up another one. The letters are all along the spectrum, depending on what kind of day he had, and my fingers dance around the box like they’re searching for buried treasure in a field of land mines. I’m hoping for the letter he wrote the day a sweet kid on the street handed him some sort of candy. That was his favorite day in all the letters.
Instead, I get the worst of the worst.
You fucking selfish bitch. I’m here because of you. Would you even give a shit if I died? You’d probably hate me even more for making you stick around in Charytan for one extra second for my funeral. You think you’re too fucking good for both our families, that you’re gonna run off to a big fancy school and become a big fancy lawyer…Lemme tell you a secret, Reagan Forrester. You ain’t gonna be shit.
I don’t even realize I’m crumpling the letter until the words disappear, but soon I’m squeezing it into a ball so tightly my knuckles turn white. Back when we were together, he used to tease me about my dreams of going to college, law school, beyond. I hated it, hated that he didn’t believe I could be more than I was, or take me seriously for what I wanted. But it was nothing like this cold, naked hatred. It’s a fine line between believing someone won’t succeed and actively wanting them to fail, and with this letter, Fitz leapt over. The worst part is, at the time, I assumed he was right.
I remember the day I got that letter. There was a tornado raging nearby, coming in our direction, and I’d saved the note for when the winds really came howling at the walls of the trailer. It’s not like we’ve got a safe lower level in which to take cover, and I thought having something warm and familiar would be comforting when the shit really hit the fan.
What a fucking joke that turned out to be.
The night I read that letter was the only night I could ever remember seeking out a hug from my mother. Of course, she took one look at my snotty, tear-stained face and told me to clean myself up first.
Instead, I left my parents behind in the storm and drove straight to Vic’s.
It should’ve been the night I learned to let Fitz go entirely, but it wasn’t. He kept writing for months after, and I kept reading, over and over again. It never occurred to me to stop, even though I didn’t write back to a single one. For so long, he was the only person in my life who gave a damn about me. How was I supposed to give that up cold turkey?
But he isn’t that person anymore. That person took me in out of a storm and let me pretend I was just upset over a fight with my mom, and gave me hot chocolate with chili powder and cinnamon, and has never, ever stopped being at my side no matter how many times she should have.
I’d been avoiding huge schools for fear of getting lost to Fitz, but we’d been lost to each other since the second I found out how he’d violated my trust. Meanwhile, Vic found me, and I’ve had a place with her ever since.
I look back down at the letter and whisper, “You’re wrong,” as I watch it disappear into my fist. Then I toss it into the trash and pick up the KU brochure on my nightstand. It really does look beautiful, and yeah, it has everything I could ask for. Plus, it’s five hours from home—fat chance I’ll ever come home anytime aside from Christmas, and that’s just fine by me.
Of course, it also has one other thing, but the jury’s still out on whether the presence of Dev Shah is a plus or minus. Vic’s probably right that it was entirely possible I could never run into him again…if I didn’t want to.
Do I want to?
My gaze drifts from the brochure to the box of letters sitting on the floor, the few loose papers scattered about.
Once upon a time, you made the decision not to let your life revolve around him, Vic had said about Fitz the day I applied. How can you let it revolve around him now?
The answer is that I can’t. And I can’t let it revolve around Dev either. I’ve worked damn hard to get out of this town, to get a real education, to go to a school with a beautiful campus, and real professors, and an endless library. Vic and I had wanted to find a place that worked for us both, and now maybe we have. Most of all, I have a ticket out—one I can afford.
I pull out my phone and dial Vic, muttering, “Let’s just see who ain’t gonna be shit, John Fitzpatrick,” while I wait for her to pick up.
And as soon as she does, I say, “First possible day on the KU calendar. Let’s go visit us a college.”
VICTORIA
“Schedule KU visit…done,” I mutter as I cross the list item off in my purple leather-bound planner. “Schedule a silk-screening lesson with Miss Lucy’s friend…done. Buy new colored pencils? Done. Aaaand send Abuelita a copy of my portfolio…done.” Man, it feels good to cross things off a list.
I still can’t believe Reagan’s quick turnaround on KU, but it’s been two weeks since she called and had me set up the trip and she hasn’t backed out, no matter how many times I expected her to. I even held off on actually signing us up, just because I was so sure she’d change her mind. But if anything, she’s only gotten more excited.
I’m excited too…and nervous. Freckles and I haven’t really talked about the fact that I’m looking at a school five hours away, and my parents clearly aren’t having an easy time with it. Meanwhile, I’ve barely had time to think about it because I’ve been working so hard to get myself ready for this program. I went through Miss Lucy’s winter workshop, but I have to learn all these other things first. It’s scary, but it’s also pretty awesome.
My phone dings with a text—Steve. Should I get a bacon tuna melt going?
Whoops. I completely forgot I was supposed to go in to Joe’s tonight to hang out. I glance back at the planner. I still have math homework to do, and a skirt to finish stitching, and my nails need re-polishing…
But I should go. I know that I should. We probably don’t have lots of time left together, and he’s such a good guy…I’m not feeling up to my usual dinner tonight, though, so I text back, Maybe a cheeseburger instead. I’ll be there in ten. Then I close my planner, get the keys from my parents, and head out.
He’s taking an order when I get there, but he smiles briefly at me when I come in. I take a seat at the counter, where Rae’s making change for a guy I recognize from her trailer park. “Hey hey,” I greet her when she’s done, reaching over to yank her white curl. “Is there a cheeseburger waiting for me?”
“Switched it up tonight, huh?”
I shrug. “Felt like something different.”
She tips her head in Steve’s direction. “Does Freckles know that?”
“He’s the one I asked to place the order.”
“Not what I meant, Vic,” she says, exhaling sharply.
“Of course he knows.” I slide the chunky sea glass ring off my finger and back on again a couple of times. “I told him I got in the day it happened.”
“That’s not the same as him knowing you’re probably going,” she points out. “And considering the way he’s been talking about our trip there, I’m pretty sure he thinks it’s just for fun.”
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “What makes you say that?”
“The fact that he said, ‘I love that you guys just go on these trips for fun.’” She crosses her arms. “Why does he think this trip is just for fun, Victoria?”
“Don’t ask me.”
“I am asking you. Does he think you’re staying here?”
I shrug again. I’m no
t lying. I honestly don’t know what he thinks. Especially since I’ve never given him a straight answer about what I’m doing in the fall.
She sighs. “You need to tell him this is for real, and that you’re leaving.”
“Since when are you so confident that we’ll love KU?” I challenge. “What happened to ‘we’re just visiting’ and ‘who knows if we’ll even like it’?”
“Well, I got turned down for financial aid at Barnaby State, so I really freaking hope we like it.” She scrubs at a stain on the counter with a vengeance. “Apparently if you already have any sort of scholarship, you’re ineligible, and I have that thing from the English competition.”
“Wasn’t that, like, a thousand bucks?”
“Yup.” She scrubs harder. I’m pretty sure Formica’s gonna come off onto the towel soon. “So, I’m pretty much praying KU doesn’t suck, because I’m going there whether it does or not. And after you made me apply, you better be coming with me.”
Her tone is joking, but I’m not sure she is. Which is okay, because it all works with the plan. We’re gonna go to KU together. We’re gonna be roommates. I’m gonna do the design thing, and she’s gonna do the pre-law thing, and it’ll be great. It’s not like I’m really thinking of sticking around here for—
“Hey.” A peck on the cheek interrupts my thoughts and then Steve is rushing past, calling orders to Hector, putting away menus, and filling up sodas. “Did you get your cheeseburger?” he asks over his shoulder.
“Not yet, but—”
“Hector,” he calls out, switching cups and levers without missing a beat. “Is that cheeseburger ready?”
I don’t understand Hector’s mumbled response, but I guess Steve takes it as a yes because he finishes filling the cup and then he’s off again—a multitasking, people-pleasing speed demon. He drops off my burger, takes out the tray of drinks, and is back at my side to hand me the ketchup before Reagan can even grab menus for the family that just sat down.
“So what made you go for the cheeseburger tonight?” he asks with a smile once Rae’s gone.
It’s a normal question, but after the way Reagan twisted it, all I can hear is hidden meaning. “A girl can only have so many tuna melts, I guess.”
He doesn’t respond, just watches me eat for a minute, and then Hector calls out an order and he’s gone again. I glance around the diner and see Rae narrowing her eyes at me as she takes orders, and I sigh and turn back to my burger only to see Steve has returned to the counter. “How is it?” he asks.
“Good.” At least I think it is. I haven’t really tasted it. I take a huge bite to make up for it, and end up nearly choking until Steve pushes my glass of water at me. I gulp it down while staring at my fries, avoiding the concern I know is in his eyes. “Clearly I’m very enthusiastic about it,” I say weakly.
“Everything okay?”
I nod and take another sip of water. “Yeah, I just—”
“Hold that thought,” he cuts in apologetically as the sound of a glass shattering and then a baby screaming fills the air. He dashes off, leaving me with a plate of food I’m no longer in the mood for. Instead, I pull my phone out of my bag and write a quick e-mail to Javi, just to say hi.
He shocks me by responding almost immediately. Bula, Hermana! I’ve got webcam access! Can you chat?
Looking up, I see that Rae and Steve are both too busy to care if I leave. I e-mail Javi back that I’ll be at my computer in ten minutes and let them know I’m leaving.
“Already?” Steve looks surprised and sad, even though he’s barely talked to me since I got there. “I’m sorry,” I say, “but I need to talk to my brother. I’ll see you…” I trail off as I remember the list of things awaiting me in my planner. “Friday night? You’re off then, right?”
He starts to answer, but Reagan cuts him off. “Right,” she says firmly, so I know automatically that A) he wasn’t, and B) she was and she’ll be covering for him. Just then, the kid starts to scream again, and, wincing, I peck them both goodbye, tell Rae to eat my burger, and head back home.
“Where were you?” Javi asks as soon as we’ve got our webchat set up.
“Just Joe’s with Steve and Reagan.”
“Steve’s that Freckles kid?”
I roll my eyes, glad he can see me and catch the full effect. “Yes, Javier—Steve is that Freckles kid.”
“You’re still hanging out with that guy?”
“Apparently so.” I sweep my hair up into a ponytail and twist it into a bun on top of my head. “I like him,” I add defensively, a little too late, and I know it.
“This is the guy who goes to Mom and Dad’s school, right?” I nod. “So, does this mean you’re reconsidering going there?” How am I somehow giving this impression off to everybody? I open my mouth to respond, but Javi doesn’t even give me a chance. “Because that’d be pretty awesome! Think about it. If you and me carpool to school together, Mom and Dad will basically have to get us a car, right? And we can totally take that place by storm. The Reyes sibs, back in action—no one’ll know what hit ’em!”
My brain is spinning now, trying to process the words coming out of his mouth as he keeps on going about classes and parties and clubs, and finally I manage to cut him off with a “Wait!”
“What’s the matter? You afraid I won’t let you pick the car? Don’t worry, Vicky, I’ll—”
“No, not that.” I thrust up my palm to his face on the screen. “You’re going to CCC? Like, this fall?”
“Yeah, of course.” He shrugs like it ain’t no thang. “You knew that.”
“How would I know that?” I blurt. “You never told me that. You never even told me when you were coming home!”
He laughs. “It’s a twenty-seven-month program. How long did you think I was gonna be here? I’m not moving to the damn country. And going to CCC next semester’s just the easiest way to readjust. I’m gonna go part-time, catch up on some basic classes, do some more traveling, and figure out where I’m gonna go after that.”
The way he says it, it’s as if there are no possibilities and all possibilities in this plan, all at the same time. How completely Javi, to simultaneously sound like a lazy butt and a master planner. And even though I’m sort of furious with him for totally failing to tell me until right now, I’m also dying to do everything he says, right down to getting a pair of red-white-and-green fuzzy dice for the car.
But that would mean staying, and I’ve already decided I’m not doing that, right? Staying means leaving Reagan, and no dorms, and no sororities, and no new boys…but going means leaving Javi, and Miss Lucy, and Steve.
“What’s with you?” Javi asks, screwing up his face. “You look like steam’s about to come out of your ears.”
I had plans, I want to scream. I had plans and you’re screwing them up! But the truth is, if I really had plans—firm, unbreakable plans—then I wouldn’t have run home to talk to Javi; I would’ve just hung around until I could tell Freckles it was over and that I was set on going to KU. And I certainly wouldn’t be thinking about whether our shared car should be a convertible.
“Nothing,” I mumble instead, grabbing a pencil and paper from the side of my desk and half-heartedly sketching a motorcycle jacket that’d go perfectly with the new wheels I have in mind. “Just thinking about things.”
“Hey. Vic.” I look up, meet his dark, concerned eyes. “It’s just an idea, okay? No pressure. You do what you have to do for you. I know you and Reagan have this… thing. I just know you and Miss Lucy have a thing too, and now you and this Freckles guy…”
“I know, I know,” I say with a groan. “Trust me—I wonder what I’m doing with myself every freaking day.”
“You’ll figure it out,” he says dismissively. “Meanwhile, just have fun. He sounds like a nice kid, and you and Rae have that visit coming up. I’m sure it’ll all become clear eventually.”
He juts out his chin. “What’s the thing you were drawing just now?”
“Oh, it’
s nothing. Just sketching.” I hold up the jacket to the camera. “You made me think of a new driving wardrobe.”
To my surprise, he shakes his head, laughing. “That’s your idea of nothing? You don’t even know how talented you are, Hermana. Forget what I said. You’re wasting your talents in that town as it is. You should be going to that fancy fashion school you used to talk about.”
He means FIT, which he knows full well isn’t an option; even if I were good enough, there’s no chance in the world I could convince Reagan to go to New York. “Javi. First of all, the only reason I can do this is because Miss Lucy’s been working with me like crazy, and second of all, stop sending me mixed messages!”
He just laughs again, and I want to yell at him that my life is not a joke, that my future isn’t for his amusement. Of course, that’s exactly when he whips around, says something to someone I can’t see, and then comes back to say, “I gotta go. Other people are waiting.”
I have no choice but to say goodbye and hang up. I know by now I should be used to the fact that no one I talk to has the answers I want, the answers I need. But they’re out there. They have to be. Because if they aren’t, what the heck am I doing with the rest of my life?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
REAGAN
“No way. This is way too long a drive to spend listening to boy bands.”
Vic huffs out a breath. “We agreed, half and half, remember?”
“Hasn’t Freckles taught you the value of any good music? Almost three months of you guys ‘hanging out’ and he can’t even bring you over to The Beatles?”
“The Beatles are boring,” she whines, even as she smiles at the mere mention of Freckles’s name. It still takes some getting used to, seeing them together. When I first realized Freckles had a crush on her, I thought he had about the same chances I did of my mom ever looking for a job. But Vic’s changed a lot in the past few months, and she’s gotten good at surprising me.
Unfortunately, her taste in music remains atrocious.