by Cat Patrick
“So?” Chris says when I approach. “You were saying?”
“First,” I tell him, twisting the cap off my water to take a sip. “Why is your shirt on inside out?”
He chuckles, pulling out the fabric like he’s surprised I’d ask. “Because it’s an Electric Freakshow T-shirt.”
“Uh …” I look around. “Then you’re in the right place.” I lean my hip against the condiment counter, taking another drink.
“Yeah, I know,” he says, picking at the hem. “I just think Electric Freakshow is overrated.” He smiles at me. “Music major, remember?”
“Then why are you here, and more importantly, why are you wearing one of their shirts?”
He pauses then, his smile fading slightly. He darts a look in the direction of the seats but then shakes his head. “Misguided date.” When I raise my eyebrows, he waves it off. “She already left,” he adds. “But not before her boyfriend showed up and tossed his drink on me. I couldn’t drive home smelling like beer, so my friend gave me a shirt. And although I appreciate the gesture, I have a moral responsibility to not advertise a mediocre band, so I turned it inside out.”
I decide not to hold his Freakshow slams against him.
“What about you?” Chris asks. “Who are you here with?”
Joel.
At the thought of him, I take another hurried sip of water. Chris takes a bite of pretzel, and it’s clear we’re both kind of stalling. I smile at him. “You’re such a music snob,” I say.
“I really am. What about you? Are you—”
Someone grabs my elbow, and my heart leaps in my throat because I think Joel has found me.
“Coco?” Natalie says. I turn and see her standing there, sweaty and out of breath, with a surprisingly upset look on her face. She’s holding a bundle of outerwear. Her jacket’s on top, and it looks like it has blood on it.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, looking around.
“Some guy elbowed Emma in the nose,” she says. “He was dancing and flailing his arms around, and he accidentally hit her—she thinks it might be broken. She’s in the bathroom, but she’s bleeding everywhere. I think I need to take her to the hospital. Eric tried Joel’s cell, but he’s not picking up. I don’t know what to d—”
“I’ve got a car here,” Chris says, stepping forward. Natalie looks at him, surprised.
“Are you a friend of my sister’s?” she asks.
He nods. “We go way back,” he says, looking at me.
“Right?”
“Totally,” I say. “He’ll take us. I’ll go with you. I’ll text Joel and tell him we left.”
I’m aware of how excited I am to leave, despite the fact that I’m headed toward a night at the hospital instead of back to a concert with my … boyfriend. The word makes my stomach lurch, and I decide it’s the last time I’ll ever use it to describe Joel. But rather than tell him, I’m going to run off with Chris—I’m going to run away.
EIGHTEEN
GO
The show’s already started when we finally get to the city—Simone apparently needed time to perfect her look. In carefully knotted braids, a too-tight EYE CANDY T-shirt, hot-pink arm warmers, and fuzzy boots, she’s all sorts of adorable even when she’s scowling at the full parking lots we pass. Finally we find a space; there’s a collective exhale throughout the car—especially from Joel, who’s been silently brooding in the backseat the entire way.
“You look great,” Simone says to Natalie after we’ve all climbed out and are adjusting our clothes. Nat’s in contacts and my denim skirt with tights, and I’ll admit that she does look really pretty. “Now you, on the other hand,” she says to me, motioning to my Electric Freakshow T-shirt and jeans, “this is not the fashionista I raised.”
“Sorry,” I say, grabbing a Clinton zip-up hoodie from the front seat. “I didn’t get the memo about the dress code.” I look over at Joel and see him looking between our car and the venue, impatient like he’s a forlorn groupie or something.
Simone and I lock eyes and then laugh. Joel Ryder—God, all the nights I wished to be doing what I’m doing now. And now everything’s changed—we had nothing to talk about on the ride to the city. I wonder if we ever did.
We stash our valuables in the trunk and lock up. My sister is on the phone, telling Teddy to meet us at the south parking lot. I nearly lose it when she says, “Of course I think Phil’s cool.” She laughs like it’s a stupid question. She’s going to be so blindsided.
My brother and Phil are waiting on the curb at the end of the lot, Teddy texting someone on his phone while Phil looks more normal than I’ve ever seen him. I think he might even have used hair gel.
“Coco,” Teddy calls as we cross the road toward them. I wave and we all rush over. “Chris isn’t coming?” he asks.
I try not to wince at the mention of his name. “There’s something I have to tell you,” I say. “Although I need you to dial down your protective brother meter first.”
He puts out his fingers and turns an imaginary knob, grinning at me like I’m crazy. “Done.” In his other hand his phone lights up. “Hold on,” he tells me.
Oh, sure. Let me just keep this secret in all night. I glance over to where Natalie and Phil are laughing about something, standing next to each other like old friends. It occurs to me that they are. That we all are. And that if Gram could see us now, she might even be a little proud that we showed up here together.
I lower my eyes, feeling the final break from my grief. Gram might even be a little proud of me.
“Sorry about that,” Teddy says, putting his phone away before throwing his arm over my shoulders in an unexpected show of affection. “I’ve been trying to find a ticket all day,” he says. “I thought I had a lead.”
“Awesome,” I say absentmindedly, looking over at Simone and Joel, talking to each other. She makes him laugh—actually laugh—and I wonder if maybe—
“Wait, who were you trying to get a ticket for?” I ask my brother, and he smiles like he’s never smiled before.
“Doesn’t matter,” he says. “Now, why did I have to dial down my homicidal rage?”
I’m suddenly freezing, the outside air biting into my skin. I shake my head, totally lost on what to say. “Teddy, I saw Chris with another girl. I went to see you last Sunday, and they were together in the elevator. She’s the same one who’s been calling him, and they were together. You were right about him.”
“You mean Maria?”
“Do you know her?” I raise my voice, confused. Simone comes over to see why I’m getting worked up, standing protectively close to me.
“Coco,” my brother says. “Chris came to see me last Sunday. He wanted to explain himself to me—to clarify his intentions. And he did, and …” Teddy looks down, embarrassed. “I feel like an idiot for acting like I did. I mean, it’s not like I haven’t hooked up a time or—”
“Please don’t elaborate,” I say, holding up my hand.
“Sorry,” my brother says. “Well, anyway, it ended up sort of cool. Chris asked if I had a girlfriend because he thought I should meet someone. He brought me down a few floors to meet this girl Maria. He thought we’d like each other.” Teddy grins. “And we do. We’ve been hanging out. She’s the one I’m getting the ticket for, actually.”
Stunned, I stand there as Teddy runs his hand through his hair. “I swear,” he says. “Chris was like some deranged cupid. You must have dropped off the food when we were down in her room. And then I guess you saw them when she was walking him out. I thought you knew.”
“Deranged cupid?” My heart squeezes tight as the realization settles in. “Yeah,” I say, running my palm over my face. “That sounds like Chris. And no, he didn’t tell me. I sort of—well, I sort of freaked out and told him to never call me again. I thought he was hooking up with her.”
Next to me Simone murmurs something close to “Oh, snap” before stepping to my brother’s side like they’re about to have an intervention.
; My brother’s jaw practically hits the ground. “Caroline,” he says, taking my shoulders. He sounds exactly like my father. “That guy is nuts for you. And I think I might actually mean nuts. He had a whole speech prepared for me—a speech, Coco. Who does that? Did you seriously dump him?”
I shrug, feeling heartbroken but maybe a little hopeful. “I thought you hated him,” I say in a small voice.
“No.” Teddy shakes his head. “Not anymore. And if I knew you were torturing him, I would have told you sooner. Why would you be so stubborn? Why not just ask him what he was doing there?”
“Because …” I pause and look up at him. “I ran away instead. Dumb, huh?”
“For the record,” Phil says from behind us, “I still hate Chris Drake.” When I turn to him, he smiles. “He could do so much better than a nut like you.” I reach over to punch his arm. When I flip back around, I find Simone watching me.
“So, Linus,” she starts with a smile. “What do you want to do about Joel Ryder?” I only realize then that Joel’s already gone inside. Simone adds, “I’m not sure he can compete with Cupid.”
“No, I don’t think he can. Of course, Chris might hate my guts and never want to speak to me again, but I don’t think that’s a good enough reason to hang out with Joel.”
Simone nods and then reaches to pull me into a hug. “Remember that time I told you to start fighting for yourself?” she says close to my ear. “This is one of those times. There will always be other Freakshows.”
I straighten, smiling at my best friend before taking a deep breath, preparing like I’m about to jump off a cliff. “Guess I should make a call,” I say, almost hoping she has a better idea.
“I guess you should. I’ll take the gang and meet you inside.” She smiles. “Or not, depending on your plans.”
“Please pray to the gods of broken relationships for this to turn out okay.”
She laughs. “I will. And hey”—she points to the moon—“there’s a full moon tonight, so weird shit is bound to happen.” Simone winks and then turns to grab my sister by the arm to lead her inside, content with Natalie as her replacement wing-woman.
“You’re going to call him and apologize?” Teddy asks mockingly. “Wow, Coco—you’re so mature.”
“Bite me.”
Teddy laughs and reaches to tug on the end of my ponytail before he turns to disappear into the crowd to meet the others inside. I’m freezing but too nervous to even feel it at this point.
My heart is pounding in my chest as I consider what the best way to grovel and beg for forgiveness would sound like. I can tell Chris about my sister and Phil—hoping he finds it funny. Or maybe even go the sympathy route and tell him about the fight at school last week. I quickly drop that idea, deciding that funny hurts a lot less to talk about. When I have a solid “Hey there, handsome” opener, I dial Chris’s number.
The phone picks up on the first ring, startling me. He doesn’t say anything, but I know he’s there because I can hear him breathing. His caller ID just totally wrecked my game, and I begin talking before I can even stop myself.
“I’m an idiot and I’m sorry,” I say. Wow, not the best start.
Silence.
“Yes,” I say, not sure where to go if he’s going to be so unresponsive. “I should have asked what you were doing with Maria instead of running off. I assumed the worst, and for that I’m so sorry. I should have called you sooner—I wanted to—but I was too scared. And I’m scared right now because all I want is for you to say something so I don’t ramble on and make this even more awkward.” I pause, lowering my voice when a few people walk past me on the sidewalk. “Christopher?”
“Why can’t you just trust me?” he asks, low and controlled. “I’ve never lied to you. Why do you always assume the worst?”
Straight to the point. I forget the cute things I wanted to say, the jokes that would break the tension. Instead I feel the tears sting my eyes, the truth so much harder to say.
“I guess I expect to be disappointed. To be disappointing. That’s how I felt for a long time, and when my gram died—I thought the best parts of me died with her. You asked what I was crying about that night at the party, and I’ve never told you. It wasn’t just that my gram was gone; it was because I wasn’t there for her when she needed me most. And I’ve spent more than a month hating myself for it. I tried to start over, but I couldn’t escape the guilt.
“But then there was you. Your terrible jokes and your quiet singing. Your beautiful eyes and the way you try to fix things. I was wrong—you don’t disappoint me. You amaze me.” I sniffle, wiping the warm tears that slide down my cheeks. “God, Christopher,” I say. “I’m so stupid in love with you that I don’t even know what to do about it most of the time. Can’t you just—”
“Caroline,” he cuts in. I close my eyes, waiting for him to berate me. Tell me that I’m a bad girlfriend and maybe an even worse friend. “I am horribly in love with you, too.”
He doesn’t go on, and he doesn’t have to. Right now, all I want is to see him strumming his guitar, talking carelessly about anything and everything. I just want him.
“You still there?” I ask, wrapping my arms around myself against the cold wind.
“Mm-hmm. But, hey, can you not break up with me again? I ended up reinjuring my leg running after you.”
“Bad?” I ask, feeling awful.
“Kind of,” he replies. “But I’m sure it’s nothing a crime fighter can’t fix.”
“Oh my God. I am never wearing that again.”
“We’ll see.”
“Can you still drive?” I ask. “I think I’m going to bail on this Electric Freakshow concert, and maybe we can play fight in your room or something. This time I’ll have the advantage.”
“Electric Freakshow?” He groans. “Caroline, you can do so much better.”
I laugh. “All right, Mr. Music Major. Can you come and get me or not?”
“I’m already on my way.”
NINETEEN
STAY
“Let’s go,” Chris says, motioning toward the exit after we retrieve Emma from the bathroom. She’s got the bleeding under control, but she’s still holding a wad of paper towels under her nose just in case. We follow Chris; he makes a call to whoever else he was with and explains the situation.
Outside, the winter air blasts me in the face, making my cheeks tingle and waking me up inside. I suck in the cold air and it stings my lungs, but I hold it there before I let it out.
“Tell me about yourself,” Chris says quietly as we walk. “I mean, other than the stuff that’s posted online.”
“I hate the song ‘Sweet Caroline,’ so don’t sing it.”
He grins. “I can do better.” We stop at the car, and I look and notice the moon for the first time tonight—so big and full that it casts everything in a hazy, gray glow. I meet Chris’s eyes over the hood of his car, and he winks. Natalie and Emma get into the backseat, Emma saying that she hopes her nose isn’t going to be crooked.
But I pause and glance back at the concert arena. I was supposed to be here with Joel; I was supposed to be happy with Joel. Except that I’ve been miserable with him. Gram told me to be careful who I love—to never give them too much. I see now that maybe she was warning me about the sort of situation that happened with Joel.
And although I’ve spent the last week sure that Gram would be ashamed of me, I remind myself now that this is Gram I’m thinking about. She’d love me no matter what.
I climb in the passenger side and Chris cranks the heat, letting the car warm up. I watch him, studying his expression, his movements. He’s so different from Joel, and somehow that’s so comforting that when he looks over and smiles warmly, I lean my head back against the seat and just smile back.
Natalie must have noticed my easy rapport with Chris during the ride to the hospital because when we pull up at the ER drop-off, she shocks me by cutting me loose.
“You can go back to the show,” she offers.
“I … ,” I begin, glancing at Chris. He’s not even trying to hide his elation. “I’m not interested in going back,” I say. Chris’s face falls a bit. “But I don’t really want to hang out at the hospital either,” I quickly add, and turn to Chris. “Can you drive me to Clinton?”
“You’re staying at Dad’s tonight?” Natalie asks, confused.
“I’ll call him and see if I can,” I say. “Chris lives in Clinton—he goes to school there.”
“Oh, I see,” Nat says, nodding. “And that’s cool with both of you?”
Chris and I nod like bobble heads, and she leaves to help Emma. I roll down the window and call after her.
“Nat!” She turns and faces me. “I’ll tell Dad you’re staying tonight too. Just call him when you’re done here so he can come get you.”
“I will. And thanks,” she says, smiling. “Even with all this,” she says, waving at the ER behind her, “it was one of my favorites ever.”
“Mine too,” I say. Then, “I love you, Natalie.”
“I love you, too, Caroline,” she says easily. “See you soon.”
I glance over at Chris; the look on his face is nothing but sweet. Resolved, I wave good-bye to my sister and let him drive us away.
The first snow of the year starts falling just as we pull onto the highway. It’s a light dusting: the kind that makes you want to sip cocoa by the fire, not the kind that forces you to stock up on supplies. Chris cranks up the heat another notch and I relax into the headrest. It’s strange how you can meet someone and they can make you feel lighter—the stress I’ve been carrying isn’t completely gone, but it’s not so heavy right now.
Like someone cut the strap on my backpack of bricks.
I watch the sign that says CLINTON 43 MILES float by in the hazy air. With the full moon so bright, it’s hard to see the stars, but I search for them anyway.
“See any constellations?” Chris asks quietly. “I have a telescope in my room if you want to—” He stops and looks over sheepishly. “Not that I’m trying to get you back to my room. I just—”