He laughed and held up his hands, like it was possible to ward off her attack. “We watch football every Sunday night at my brother’s. You should come.”
Ivy’s heart pounded. Was he asking her out? She glanced at his face, trying to be sneaky while she searched his eyes, but they were just friendly, like always. “That’d be fun.”
She raced through the twenty minute drive home so that she could make it in time for dinner with Desee. While they sat at the table, dodging spaghetti noodles that Desee thought were way more fun to fling than to eat, Ivy filled her parents in on Vick’s phone call, dread in her voice, but no more tears.
“I just don’t think that’s right,” Jack said, shaking his head.
“I hope not.” Ivy sighed, managing to dodge Desee’s sauce-covered hands and guide an entire forkful of noodles to her tiny mouth. Desee sucked the noodles like a little cartoon character and Ivy laughed. Desee grinned proudly before opening her mouth like a baby bird, waiting for more.
“It doesn’t make sense,” Bev said. “People get divorced living in different states all the time. Why would this be any different?”
Ivy shook her head. “I’ll call on Monday. Hopefully I’ll find out something helpful then.” Ivy hated the way her voice shook. She hated how weak she was, and how scared. She hated that she never dared stand up for herself, and it had taken Vick hurting her baby before Ivy had found the courage to leave. Her poor dog, Sadi, still cowered and wet herself whenever someone approached her too quickly. All because Ivy had been too afraid to stand up to him. Somewhere, she had to find the courage to fight him. Or she’d never be truly free.
****
She’d never been to a play before. Even in high school, when she was supposed to go to get credits for class, she’d always snuck out, going to the local restaurant to raise havoc with her friends or do something else she shouldn’t have been doing. So going to a play at a university, where people paid money to see the performance, made her nervous. Add to that the fact that, unlike the football game, this time she had no one to go with. She was left drifting through the building alone, wondering if she was dressed appropriately or if she was even in the right place.
She didn’t know anyone in her class beyond recognizing them as they wandered into the theater. She stood in the foyer, looking first one way and then the next, unsure which way to go. The building was much newer than the others on campus, and beautiful, but also big. “Hey, Ivy, right?” The boy suddenly standing next to her had a British accent.
She blinked, caught by surprise. She’d seen him in class several times, but until now she was positive she’d never heard him speak. She was sure she would have remembered that accent. Realizing she was staring stupidly, she nodded. “Yes. Ivy. Sorry, I don’t know your name.”
“Drew. You look lost.” At least he didn’t seem offended that she hadn’t a clue who he was.
“Very.” She sighed.
“I happen to know this theater well. This way.” He offered his arm with a smile like he’d just stepped out of jolly old England, and she laughed and took it, trying not to cringe away from his touch. Not everyone that touches you is going to hurt you, Ivy, she told herself, aware that he could probably feel the tense grip she had on his forearm.
He led them to seats up in the balcony because, “You can see okay from here, but no one else notices if you’ve fallen asleep.” For the rest of the play, they compared notes on what they thought was happening. Shakespeare’s Greek plays were so tragic. And so confusing. Which shouldn’t have been funny at all, but somehow Drew made it hilarious. Ivy laughed so much her sides hurt, and she hadn’t done that for such a long time.
Chapter Six
Saturday Ivy woke up with a sore throat. By Sunday she had a raging fever and was certain she would die if she was forced to swallow one more time. She sent a text to Archer telling him she wasn’t feeling well and wouldn’t make it to watch football that night, and she was too sick to feel anything more than mild disappointment. Texting seemed to be a monumental task, and once it was done, she curled up in misery, uncertain whether she would leave her bed alive ever again.
Desee wasn’t used to being away from her mama so much and refused to stay out of the bedroom. For what had to have been the hundredth time, she snuck in and crawled up in bed with Ivy, cuddling against Ivy’s side. Ivy held her breath, trying not to breathe on her baby and share her germs. If this hurts me so bad, imagine how it would feel to a toddler. “There you are, you little sneak,” Bev said, poking her head through the door. “How’d you get up here again without me noticing?”
Desee clutched Ivy’s arm. “Mama!” she cried.
“I’m sorry, baby,” Ivy gasped. “We just don’t want you to get sick.”
“Mama! Please?” Desee sobbed.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” Ivy whispered.
Bev took Desee out of the room, shutting the door behind her. Ivy shuddered at the thought of Desee being in this much pain, and as she lay there in her bed watching her cherubic little angel reaching desperately over Bev’s shoulders for her mama, tears stained Ivy’s cheeks. In her feverish delirium, Ivy was sure she was going to die and never see her baby again. Please don’t let me die. If I die, who will protect her from Vick?
A few hours later, Bev peeked in again. Ivy forced an eye open, but that was the most she could do. She’d been in pain before; good grief, she’d been in the hospital before with broken bones and crushed cheekbones, but for some reason this was kicking her butt something fierce. “We’re just going to run some errands with Desee. We’ll be back in a couple of hours,” Bev said, coming in to lay her hand on Ivy’s forehead. She shook her head and mumbled about needing to get Ivy to the doctor and left. Ivy stared at the unicorn poster on her ceiling and prayed for sleep, but it wasn’t coming.
Her phone beeped — a text message, and if her whole body hadn’t hurt, her heart would have sped up at the hope that it was Archer. But it hurt for her heart to beat at all, let alone quickly, so she willed it to beat normally, or even slower than normal, if possible, as she checked the message. It wasn’t from Archer — Gunner was writing to see if she was okay and if she needed anything. I’m good, thanks. Lying via text message didn’t count as lying, did it? She paused and then continued typing, You’re such a good friend.
An hour later, when she was finally dozing off, her phone buzzed again. Half-groaning as she watched sleep disappear through her fingers, and half-hoping it was Archer, she rolled over and reached for the obnoxious little device that seemed intent on making her miserable. “Hello?” she croaked.
“Ivy?” Ivy blinked. Her mom sounded frantic. Never a good sign.
“Hi, Mom.”
“We have sort of a problem.” By the worry in Bev’s voice, Ivy was willing to bet it wasn’t sort of anything.
“What’s wrong?” Talking hurt. She wished her mom would just tell her what was going on so Ivy could go back to trying not to die.
“We, uh, locked Desee in the car. And the spare key is there the house.”
Ivy squeaked, which was as much noise as she could make, and even that brought tears to her eyes. “Where are you?” she gasped.
“We’re at the mouth of the canyon. At Playground Sports. We stopped to show Desee the swing sets, and then we put her back in her car seat —”
“Where’s the spare key?” Ivy croaked, cutting her mom off mid-explanation. Playground Sports was about a half-hour away. If she wasn’t speeding. She was already trying to struggle to her feet by the time her mom answered, “It’s in the mudroom, above the washing machine in a jar.”
“I’m on my way.”
“Are you sure? Can you drive?” Ivy leaned against the wall as the room spun. Nope. Not sure.
In the background, she heard Jack’s voice. “She’s crying. We’ve gotta get in there somehow.”
Ivy gritted her teeth. “I’m coming. Just try to keep her calm.” She shoved tennis shoes on and stumbled down the stairs, terrif
ied of driving and terrified for Desee, trapped in the car in the cold. By the time she made it to her car and put it in drive, she’d forgotten her fear of driving and could only think of her baby, crying and scared and trapped in the car by herself. “I’m coming, baby. I’m coming.”
Ivy slammed down on the gas pedal, shooting out of the driveway. Her tires squealed as she spun around the corner and onto the highway. By the time she reached the freeway she was going fast enough to lose her license if she got caught, but all she could think of was Desee, and her foot didn’t let up. She roared into Playground Sports’ parking lot fifteen minutes later, alarmed to see a crowd gathered around her parents’ SUV. She was out of the car before she had put it in park, almost falling as a wave of dizziness threatened to take over, and hit the unlock button on the spare key as she crashed against the hood of her own car.
Bev swung the SUV door open, making cooing noises. “She’s okay. She’s okay!” Bev called over her shoulder.
Jack came over, putting his arm around Ivy. “Are you okay?” She nodded, swallowing hard. Now that the adrenaline had subsided, the pain and sickness was back. “Um… how fast were you going?” He lowered his eyebrows at her and she forced a smile.
“You don’t want to know,” she said, trying not to wheeze like some weird diseased person.
****
Monday morning, Jack bundled her up and dragged her to the doctor. “You have a nasty case of strep throat,” the kind man with white hair and spectacles told her. He had a southern drawl and he was big — like he had maybe been a Texas football player in his younger days. He gave Ivy a prescription for antibiotics and a warning to stay away from everyone for twenty-four hours. She curled up in bed and cursed the fact that she was missing school.
Where you been? Ivy smiled at the text. Gunner, checking up on her.
Dying. Almost better though. It was true, the antibiotics were working wonders.
Seconds later, her phone beeped again. How long you grounded for? Ivy grinned. Gunner had a rare ability to make her laugh. All the boys did, even Jay in all his orneriness, but Gunner was especially good at it.
I’ll be ungrounded tomorrow morning, but I think I’m skipping school. Again.
It was a half-hour later, while Ivy was watching cartoons with Desee, that her phone beeped again. Game night at your house, tomorrow night. Ivy felt her heart heal a little more. They were great, amazing friends, these boys of hers.
Can’t wait.
The next morning, when Ivy had most of her voice back, she looked up the number for the judicial court in Alaska. Her fingers shook as she dialed, and her voice wavered as she asked the clerk who she should talk to. “Well, I can probably answer your question,” the woman said. Her voice was efficient but not frightening, although none of that mattered if one had a still-unnamed phone phobia.
Ivy explained her situation, finishing with, “My ex — er, soon-to-be ex-husband says our baby has to live in Alaska for the two months prior to the court date for it to be under Alaskan jurisdiction. But I don’t want to live in the same state as he does, if I can help it.”
“And you already have a court date set?” the woman asked.
“Yes. In a month.”
“Well, it’s a complicated situation, and he might be right, but that doesn’t mean you have to move back here. All it means is that you might have to file for divorce in the state the child is living in. But, since you have a court date, I would keep it and see what the judge says.”
“Okay. Thank you so much.” Ivy hung up feeling better than she had in days. Hope. There was hope on the horizon.
****
Gunner was the first to show up. Ivy opened the door in baggy red sweatpants and an oversize black sweatshirt, her dark hair pulled up in a messy bun. Oh yeah, I look gorgeous. But she didn’t have enough energy to make herself presentable. “Hey.” She smiled, but her voice still sounded embarrassingly froggish.
Gunner stepped through the back door, carrying several board games in his arms. “Everyone else is coming. They had to stop and get ‘drinks.’” He rolled his eyes.
Ivy looked up, alarmed. “They aren’t bringing them here, are they?”
Gunner quirked an eyebrow at her but shook her head. “Not that I know of.”
Ivy shrugged, shaking her head. “My ex used to drink. He was a… mean… drunk. I swore I’d never have alcohol in the house if Desee was home.”
Gunner set the boxes on the coffee table and sat on the floor next to them. “That’s a good plan. Where is she? We’ve been hanging out for months, and I’ve never met her.”
Ivy nodded toward the stairs that led to the bedrooms on the second floor. “She goes to bed at seven. I try to plan my schedule for when she’s sleeping.”
Gunner nodded as he leaned back on his elbows and studied her. “Ah. I see. You’re a great mom, you know that?”
Ivy felt color rush to her cheeks. “I — I try,” she stuttered. They sat in uncomfortable silence for a few more minutes. Ivy tried to figure out how to ask if Archer was coming without sounding like a giddy teenager. She hadn’t heard from him since she’d told him she wouldn’t be able to come watch football Sunday.
“So what’s going on with your divorce? Is it over yet?” Gunner asked. He was picking at a thread on his pants, not looking at her, but Ivy could see the tense set of his shoulders.
Please don’t judge me, Gunner. I’m doing the best I can, Ivy thought. He didn’t have a thing against divorce like Jay did, as far as she was aware, but he seemed awfully uncomfortable with the conversation. “No.” She sighed. “I thought it would be over by Christmas, but now I’m not sure. There are jurisdiction issues.”
“That’s terrible,” Gunner said, his face falling in disappointment.
Ivy frowned, all kinds of confused. It did suck, but why did he look like a kicked puppy? “It could be worse. I’m healing. That’s why it’s so great to have friends like you guys. There’s no pressure to date or anything. Just good friends.” She hoped he hadn’t heard the lie in her voice because clearly her heart had other ideas, no matter how much her head tried to stay in control. He nodded, looking away.
Headlights shone through the window, bouncing off the mirror on the wall, and Gunner jumped to his feet. “I’m gonna make sure they leave the alcohol outside.” He disappeared before she could say another word.
“Everything okay in here?” Bev poked her head around the corner.
“Yeah, Mom. We’re just getting started.”
“Hi, Mrs. Bleu,” Gunner said, waving as he came back into the house, sliding the door closed behind him.
“Hello, Gunner. It was sure nice of you to come cheer Ivy up. This has been hard on her.”
Ivy smiled, looking from her mom to Gunner. “It’s true.”
“I’m happy to help. However I can,” he said, his light green eyes meeting Ivy’s before skipping away.
“Hey, sickly,” Austin said, good-naturedly shoving Gunner out of the way as he came through the door.
“Hey, stranger. It’s been a while.” Ivy waved. Her mom said hi and disappeared as more boys came in — Jay followed Austin, and Archer came behind him. Ivy wished she’d spent more time making sure she didn’t look like a homeless person.
Gigi came in last. “Wow. It’s like a get-well party for Ivy!” she exclaimed. Ivy hadn’t seen Gigi for several days, and after months of hanging out almost every night, Ivy had missed her. She brought light into Ivy’s life, and Ivy needed all the light she could get.
It took several minutes of arguing before they could decide on a game to play. Ivy lay on the floor and waited for them to decide. “You look miserable,” Archer said, sitting next to her and watching the others argue.
“Yeah, kinda.” She rolled her head to the side to look at him. “But I’m glad you guys are here.”
“Me too. I missed you.” Holy Hannah, his eyes were pretty. Were boys allowed to have pretty eyes? His eyelashes —
“Hey! Are
you guys playing or what?” Gunner snapped.
“Ivy, since you’re the sick one, you get to go first.” Austin handed her the dice with a grin.
“Awesome,” she rasped. “Prepare to lose, all of you.”
They might have lost, if Ivy had been able to stay awake through the game. She wasn’t sure when she fell asleep, sometime after her parents came to say goodnight, but before she had conquered enough territory in the game to be an emperor. She woke up to the world rocking gently, but her drugged brain couldn’t quite comprehend what was going on. She forced one eye open enough to see Archer and realize he was carrying her like a baby up the stairs. To her bedroom. If she hadn’t been drugged and exhausted and mostly asleep, her heart might have leaped out of her chest at the mere thought of Archer in her bedroom, although the fact that she shared a room with Desee did put a damper on things. However, she was too drugged and exhausted and mostly asleep, so she was just grateful for his help.
Archer laid her on her bed, pulling the blankets up around her. “Get well soon, Ivy,” he whispered, running his knuckle across her cheekbone, oh-so-gently. And then he was gone, and Ivy felt like she would never be able to sleep again, replaying the memory of him tucking her in over and over, because that’s what girls do. For about five seconds, and sleep did, in fact, reclaim her.
****
She went back to school the next day, still weak but feeling tons better. “Hey, Ivy.” Drew, the boy she’d sat with at the play last weekend, slid into the empty seat next to hers right before Greek History started.
“Hi.” She smiled, grateful that she only sounded a little bit like a frog now.
“I was beginning to think I’d offended you in some way, and you were skipping class to avoid me.” His accent was thrilling, and Ivy had a hard time paying attention to what he was actually saying with that accent. She wanted him to keep talking just so she could hear him talk, but he paused, waiting for her to participate in the conversation.
Her brain raced to come up with an answer that didn’t involve unintelligible mumbling. “Not at all. I had strep.” Ah, there. Good job, Ivy. Actual words.
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