by Anna Michels
“Mmmm,” he mumbles from underneath his arm.
“Are you asleep?”
No answer. I sigh and struggle to my feet, suddenly having to pee. Maybe if I can go to the bathroom, find a drinking fountain, and walk around a little bit, the world will stop trying to fall out from underneath me.
I stagger to the small building housing the park’s public restrooms and duck inside, holding my breath against the smell of urine and bleach. One of the light bulbs in the ladies’ room is burned out, and I can barely see well enough to get some toilet paper off the roll. There are spiderwebs in every corner, and the flush of the toilet echoes off the cinder-block walls.
I wash my hands quickly in freezing-cold water and hurry out of the bathroom, feeling sick from the smell.
“Hey.” A voice floats out of the shadows, and I jump.
“Hey?” I squint and see the outline of a skinny guy slouching against the wall.
“Do you have a light?” He steps forward.
“Uh, no. Sorry, I don’t smoke.” I turn away, but the ground spins underneath me, and I stumble.
“Whoa. Are you okay?” The guy has his arms underneath my shoulders, supporting me as I sway. I’m disoriented and can’t quite figure out which way I need to walk to get back to Mel and our friends.
“Thank you.” I lean into him and let him help me down to a sitting position. “Oh my God. I did not mean to get so drunk.”
“Tell me about it.” He’s beside me on the ground, a warm, comforting weight against my side. “Let’s just sit here for a minute. I’ll stay with you until you’re feeling better and can find your friends.”
I let my body relax. “Honestly, I wasn’t even going to come out tonight. My friends dragged me.”
He laughs. “That’s always the way the craziest nights start out. I’m the drummer for Chronic Dehydration. We just finished our set.”
“Oh man, you guys were amazing.” I lean into him. “Thank you again for taking care of me. I think I’ll be okay soon.”
“No problem.” He puts his arm around me and rocks lightly back and forth in time to the song the band is playing.
I close my eyes and let my head loll onto his shoulder. “This is nice.”
“Mmmhmm.” It takes me a moment to realize he’s nuzzling my neck, his arm dropping from my shoulders to circle my waist. I can smell his tobacco breath, feel the edge of the cigarette box in his pocket against my thigh. His lips are on my jawbone, light and soft.
“Wait,” I mumble, my body so heavy, I couldn’t move even if I wanted to. “What’s your name?”
He brushes the back of his hand against my arm, and I shiver. “It’s Thomas.”
I lift my head and look at him, his eyes deep and dark. I can’t even tell what color they are. My phone vibrates in my pocket. “Thomas,” I whisper, leaning closer, my lips nearly brushing his. “That’s perfect.”
I don’t know how long I’m with Thomas, but by the time I break away and stumble back toward the concert, my mouth tastes like old cigarettes.
It’s eleven fifteen, more than forty-five minutes since I left to go to the bathroom. I have seven texts, all from Mel.
10:32 P.M. hey, where’d you go?
10:45 P.M. vee?
10:50 P.M. i’m back by landon’s blanket. come find me.
10:55 P.M. are you mad? can you at least let me know you’re okay?
11:01 P.M. vee??!?! pls call me.
11:04 P.M. i’m really starting to freak out.
11:10 P.M. if i don’t hear from you by midnight, i’m calling the cops.
I try to run and text at the same time, but my hands are so unsteady, I almost drop my phone.
I see Mel standing up and scanning the crowd, Brianna next to her.
“Mel!” I call. “Mel!”
She turns and runs toward me, and we crash into each other so hard, I can’t breathe for a moment.
“Oh my god, where were you?”
“Sorry.” I squeeze her. “I was just over there.” I gesture to the bathrooms, already regretting Thomas.
“Stay here,” Mel says, pulling away. “Stay right here and don’t move.” She jogs back over to Brianna and Landon, hugs them quickly, and comes right back to me. “I’m texting Seth to meet us at the car. He’s out looking for you.”
I’m 100 percent fine, but the way everyone is freaking out and the thought of Seth running around looking for me is too much. I take a deep, shuddery breath and run the back of my hand across my face.
“Vee, are you okay?” Mel grabs my arms.
I nod, suddenly desperate for a breath mint or a stick of gum, anything to get the stale taste of tobacco out of my mouth. At that moment everything hits me at once—the fact that I just made out with a perfect stranger yet am somehow upset about being labeled a slut, the idea of Dad and Kaylee moving halfway across the country, the way I yelled at Killian when all he was trying to do was show me how much he cares. I cling to Mel, my wet face against her shoulder, and she holds me as I cry. Brianna rubs my back soothingly, and Landon stands nearby, hands in his pockets, his eyes trained on the ground.
“Come on,” Mel says after a few minutes, slipping her arm around my waist and propelling me forward. “Let’s go.”
We sit in the dark car until Seth runs up and dives into the backseat. He asks me all the same questions Mel did, grabbing my shoulders and staring at my tear-stained face. I have to tell him I’m okay a dozen times before he believes me. Mel drives us back to my house, which is dark and silent, my mom and Jeffrey in bed. Seth hugs us both before jogging across the street to his house. I see the thin outline of his body silhouetted against his front porch light until Mel and I are safely inside.
Mel walks me upstairs and sits on the closed toilet seat while I take a scalding-hot shower, scrubbing at every inch of my skin. For once I’m glad the mirror fogs over every time someone takes a shower because it means I don’t have to face myself once I get out. Then I brush my teeth and rinse with mouthwash until Mel makes me stop.
“Thank you,” I whisper as I finally get into bed and Mel pulls the sheet up under my chin, tucking me in tightly. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Mel.”
“Shhh,” she whispers. “It’s okay.” She sits with me for a while, until the glowing red numbers on the clock next to my bed read: 2:00.
“You should go,” I mumble. “Your mom is going to flip out. I’ll be all right.”
“Okay,” Mel says. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
I must fall asleep because I don’t remember feeling the bed shift as she got up, or the soft click of my bedroom door shutting. I don’t dream, and I don’t move until nearly ten the next morning when I wake up in a pool of sunlight, my arms pinned to my sides under the tight sheet Mel folded around me.
The night comes rushing back in a flood of regret, and I jump out of bed and hang my head over my wastebasket, dry heaving at the memory of the smell of cigarette smoke.
“You’re okay,” I whisper to myself, staring down at wads of mascara-stained tissue and the wrapper from a pack of fruit snacks I ate the day before. “You’re okay.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Noel Callenbaugh
At Battle of the Bands
3/l0
Oliver (Mark’s brother)
Also at Battle of the Banks (on the hand)
l/l0
Thomas
Again, the fateful night at Battle of the Bands
-l0/l0
A few days later I drive Jeffrey over to Dad and Lila’s house. I bought a card for them and made Jeffrey write Congratulations! on the inside. Whatever this new job is that Lila’s taking, wherever they need to move—it’s an opportunity for our family, and we need to be happy for them. Even if the thought of being so far from Kaylee is like a stab in the heart.
“Jeffrey! Veda!” Lila answers the door, and Kaylee comes running when she hears our names, throwing her arms around my knees. “Come in.”
Dad’s watching TV
in the living room, his feet up on the couch. He mutes the TV when we walk in and stands up, hands on his hips. “What’s going on?” he asks, his gaze shifting from me to Jeffrey and back again. Lila sidles up next to him and slips an arm around his waist.
I nudge Jeffrey, and he holds out the envelope. “We just wanted to say congratulations on your new job,” he says, and I’m proud of how strong his voice sounds. “We’re really excited for you. And we’ll miss you.”
Lila gives a little gasp and turns her face into Dad’s chest. He rubs her back in slow circles.
“Thank you so much,” Lila says, turning back to us and taking the envelope from Dad’s hand, carefully ripping it open. “This really means a lot.”
Kaylee tugs on my hand, and I lift her into my arms. “We’ll get to go on a plane to visit you sometimes,” I tell her. “It’ll be an adventure.”
She looks at me seriously, her blue eyes wide. “Plane,” she says.
Lila wipes her eyes and smiles. “Hey, are you guys hungry? I just made brownies.”
Jeffrey pushes his bangs out of his eyes. “Yeah, definitely.” He follows Lila back to the kitchen, and Kaylee wiggles out of my arms and races after them.
Dad hasn’t moved, his face impassive.
“I’m sorry for running off at the reunion,” I say, lowering my voice and bracing myself for his reaction. “I’ve had a rough summer.”
Dad nods. “I think we all have.” He clears his throat and awkwardly swings his arms back and forth. “Look, Vee, we should have told you and Jeffrey about the move first. That was a mistake on my part.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s been a stressful decision. Lila is”—he lets out a long breath—“nervous about it.”
I glance toward the kitchen. “Is she okay?”
Dad looks at me. “She has some problems, Veda. I’m sure you’ve noticed a thing or two going on with her.”
I nod.
“But I love her.” Dad’s voice cracks. “She’s getting counseling. And this is a big step for her career.”
“I know.” I play with the hem of my shorts. “But I’m still sad you’re leaving. And so is Jeffrey.”
“I honestly didn’t think you’d care.”
I look up at him. “How could we not care? Our baby sister and our . . . our dad are moving halfway across the country.”
The look that crosses Dad’s face is half joy, half pain. “Well, I’m going to miss you guys,” he says. “You know, I didn’t ever want to leave you. Everything that happened wasn’t because you weren’t good enough.” He holds his arms out wide. “God knows, Lila and I aren’t perfect either. We’re just a better fit than your mom and I ever were.”
I nod and look down at the floor, not sure where to go from here.
“I could have tried harder,” Dad says finally. “To try to work things out with your mom. And to not be so hard on you.” His voice is gruff. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry about that.”
“It’s okay, Dad.”
I think the last time I hugged my dad was at his and Lila’s wedding, but when he puts his arms around me, it’s like I’m a little kid again—like no time has passed at all.
Jeffrey chatters nonstop on the way home about how he and Chaundre might take Kaylee to the beach one last time before summer is over, if Chaundre can get permission from her parents, and speculates about whether he’ll be able to go to San Francisco for Christmas break this year. I don’t tell him about my conversation with Dad—that’s one they should have together too. Jeffrey needs a dad and even if ours isn’t perfect, he’s all we’ve got.
As we’re driving down the road back to town, we pass a tall guy running along the side of the road, his strides long and even. I honk the horn as we roll past, and raise my hand to wave. Ryan squints and smiles when he sees it’s me. Without thinking, I press my palm to my mouth and blow him a kiss. He blows one back.
I can check R off the list, I realize with a jolt. I don’t even know how many letters I have left, but the end of the summer is right around the corner.
At home I park the car in the driveway and open the garage door for Jeffrey to go inside. “I’m going over to Seth’s for a minute,” I say. After talking things out with my dad, I feel like anything is possible. I need to talk to Seth about Mel, tell him what’s really going on. Seth and Mel are my best friends. If I don’t do everything I can to make them happy, what kind of person does that make me?
Seth opens the door just a few seconds after I ring the bell, as if he were expecting someone.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey.” He looks surprised to see me but steps outside and pulls the door shut behind him. “Recovered from the other night?”
“Yeah,” I say, pushing a strand of hair out my face. “But I think I’m done drinking for a while. I just wanted to talk to you for a minute.”
Seth nods and sinks on the doorstep, folding his black denim-clad legs underneath him. I sit down on his right side, my usual spot.
It has been a long time since Seth and I hung out on his doorstep. We used to sit here for hours, not doing anything in particular. We’d watch the occasional car go past, peel the bark off sticks that were lying nearby, scratch little drawings into the concrete with the chalky white rocks that line his mom’s flower beds. I can’t remember when we stopped doing this. What did we talk about the last time we sat on this step together, and what happened afterward that turned it into the last time?
I take a deep breath, willing my hands not to start shaking. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. Maybe because once Seth knows what I’m about to tell him, everything is going to change. “When we were at the beach that day . . . I should have told you Mel likes you.”
“What?” Seth looks at me, his green eyes expressionless.
I clasp my hands together. “She doesn’t just think of you as a friend anymore, Seth. She hasn’t for a while.”
He shakes his head slowly. “How do you know? Did she tell you?”
“Not exactly.” I shrug. “You’re both my best friends. I see the way you look at each other, and also the way you’re somehow both completely oblivious to what the other one is thinking. She didn’t have to tell me. Just like you didn’t have to tell me how you felt about her.”
Seth closes his eyes and runs a hand over his face. “Vee . . . I don’t know how I feel about her.”
“What?” I study him, every detail of his face completely familiar and totally new to me at the same time. “Why don’t you know?”
“I thought I did,” Seth says. “I thought maybe this year when we went back to school I might finally get up the courage to tell her.” He looks embarrassed. “And then when Mel told me about your Twenty-Six Kisses thing, everything from back then between you and me just came rushing back. I thought I was over you. You’d been with Mark for so long, and it didn’t even bother me anymore. But thinking of you with someone new did.” He swallows hard. “It still does.”
“Seth . . .”
Frustrated, he slaps his hands against the concrete, wincing at the pain. “Everything in my life seems to come back to you, Vee. Just tell me—why would you go out and decide to kiss every guy in Butterfield, but not me? How did you think that would make me feel?”
I twist my fingers together and stare out at the street. I’m trembling. “I thought you wanted to be with Mel,” I say. “Seth, I didn’t think you had feelings for me anymore.” I lock my gaze on him, willing him to believe me.
He drops his head into his hands, his fingers tangling in his long hair. “So, how many guys has it been now?”
My mouth goes dry. This was not how this conversation was supposed to go. I was supposed to tell Seth about Mel, he would be happy, and I would wish him all the best and get back to the drama of my own life. “I don’t know,” I say. I remember all the times Seth reached for my hand and I pulled away, how we never really talked about where things stood between us. I never even tried to give him any kind of explana
tion about why I didn’t like him the same way he liked me.
Seth shakes his head and rubs his temples. “So, what now?”
The whole history of our friendship hangs between us, and I realize—really realize for the first time—how shitty it was for me to just ignore the fact that Seth liked me and I didn’t like him the same way. How I’ve probably let him agonize over me for much longer than he would have if we had just talked about it and gotten everything out in the open.
“Seth.”
“What?”
“I’m still missing S.”
His body goes completely still, and his eyes find mine. He grabs my wrist and stares at my face for a long moment, then pulls me to him and cradles my face in his hands. It has been so long since I looked at Seth—really looked at him, the way I used to when my parents were divorcing and he was the only person in the world who I felt understood anything about me. It’s amazing how, no matter how old you get, your eyes don’t change. The Seth who was in love with me but didn’t know what to do about it is staring at me, five years after I pushed him away.
This is a kiss that has been waiting to happen for a very, very long time. And it feels absolutely, completely wrong. I freeze, my mind racing, not sure how to react without hurting Seth’s feelings (again) and ruining things between us (again). But I’m yanked back to reality by the sound of a car motor in the street—a very distinctive motor. The Buick.
Mel pulls into Seth’s driveway, her face a deceptive mask of calm as she climbs out of the car. She walks over to us, shaking her head, and my heart drops. There’s no way to explain this away, no way to convince Mel it was anything less than a betrayal.
“You didn’t have to kiss him on the lips,” she says to me, her eyes dark. “The cheek, the hand. The elbow, for God’s sake. You know any of those would have gotten you your S. Or,” she goes on, “you could have just found someone else, someone named Sean or Sam, someone who your best friend doesn’t—” She stops short as her voice breaks.
Seth stands up. “Mel.”
She presses her lips together and shakes her head, refusing to even look at him.