by Micol Ostow
“Second, you are going to complete the penguin project on Thursday and work the remainder of your shifts this week at the Fishy Wishy. And you are going to apologize to Steve. Because of your selfish behavior, other people had to take up the slack. Who do you think had to cover your shift when you disappeared?”
Eliza nodded. It hadn’t occurred to her that in addition to worrying the Echolses, her disappearance was inconveniencing Steve.
“Finally, you may keep your mobile, but you are going to adhere to a strict schedule. You cannot be on the phone after ten P.M. or during school hours—and that includes text messages. Are we clear?”
“Yes,” Eliza said, wiping at her cheeks as her tears began to dry. She would spend the rest of her days communicating solely via smoke signal if it meant that she could stay.
“Eliza,” Estelle said, “you have no idea how worried we were. You just vanished, and though we had your note, we didn’t know where you were or who you were with. I am personally very hurt that you’ve felt it necessary to take such advantage of our kindness. We have tried to provide you with a very comfortable, friendly environment and to give you a good learning experience. But you’ve treated our home like a youth hostel, a place you can come and go from with little or no regard for the rest of the family. You are a part of this household, and as such you should respect the other members of the home the same way you would like them to respect you.”
Eliza had no answer. Estelle was right, and she knew it.
“Now dump your clothes in the washing machine and go get a shower and into bed. I think you’ve had quite enough for today.”
Eliza had to agree.
Eliza did as she was told. As she washed her hair in the shower, she thought about everything that she had experienced so far and how different she felt today than when she’d arrived a couple of months earlier. She had learned to pitch a tent. She had learned to surf! Well, sort of. Her friends from D.C. would never believe it. But the truth was that any worries about being too sheltered and protected in D.C. were long since forgotten. She’d had her fair share of adventure. Probably just a little more than she’d care to repeat for a while.
She knew that the Echolses had a point and that, in skipping out, she had crossed a line. She deserved punishment—but what if she wasn’t allowed to spend time with Jess and her friends anymore?
What if she wasn’t allowed to see Macca anymore?
Even if Macca and Jess weren’t the best influences, she’d miss spending time with them.
She dried off, changed into a tank top and shorts, and climbed into bed. She was staring at the ceiling, contemplative, when there was a knock at the door.
“Eliza?” It was Estelle’s voice.
“Come in.”
The door opened, and Estelle came in with a tray of tea and a couple of cookies. She put the tray down on the bedside table, took the chair from the desk and pulled it up next to the bed, and sat down.
“I thought you might like a snack before bed.”
Eliza was, in fact, starving. She reached for a cookie.
“Thank you. They picked me up right before dinner.”
“Well, this should hold you until the morning.”
Eliza chewed thoughtfully, considering her next statement.
“Estelle?”
“Yes?”
“I’m really sorry.” It wasn’t much, but it was honest.
“I know, dear,” Estelle replied as she poured the tea into the cup. “I think we’ve all been there, and I can’t say I don’t understand, but you have to think about our position. Your parents wouldn’t be too pleased to find out we had no idea where their daughter was, don’t you think?”
“I know…I just didn’t want to miss out on…well, on everything, you know?”
“By ‘everything,’ do you mean the boy from the college formal?” Estelle peered at her slyly.
Eliza blushed. “Yeah, Macca. Well, Hamish MacGreggor, but everyone calls him Macca.”
“Maybe this boy isn’t the best influence on you right now?” Estelle suggested gently. “He had to have known that you weren’t meant to be sneaking out, and yet he encouraged you to run off with him.”
Eliza didn’t have a response to that. Macca was hardly a bad boy—more like a sweetheart—but she could see where Estelle might have a different opinion on the matter. Besides, sweetheart or no, he had been the one to suggest running off together for the weekend. Not that Eliza had needed much convincing.
“You’ll learn,” Estelle said with authority. “Bad boys aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. Watch your step.” She smiled gently, taking some of the sting out of her words.
Eliza nodded. “I will. I promise.”
She meant it, she realized. She was going to watch her step. She wasn’t going to do anything more to jeopardize her time in Australia. It was a promise to Estelle, but more than that?
It was a promise to herself.
Chapter Twenty-Two
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: walkabout
Okay, truth time. My Bonnie-and-Clyde routine wasn’t exactly the brightest idea I’ve ever had.
Here’s the thing—I know you’re friends with Parker, so I hope it’s not weird for you to hear this, but the truth is that I have fallen head over heels in like with a boy I met down here. His name is Macca, and he asked me to go away with him to Bells Beach.
I knew your parents would kill me if they found out, but I couldn’t say no. I mean, you only live once, right?
Needless to say, your parents freaked. They even sent the police after me! Talk about humiliating.
But once I got home, and we got to talking, I have to say—they were pretty cool. We’ve got some new rules set up for the remainder of my stay, but they aren’t going to tell my parents about what happened. Personally, I can’t believe it. It’s not exactly “all’s well that ends well,” but I will take what I can get—trust me.
So when you have a chance, you have to fill me in on your latest adventures. Have you told my father about the sit-in yet? How did he react?
No matter what happens, just keep the image of me in the backseat of a divvy van fresh in your mind—it couldn’t POSSIBLY be worst than that, could it?
Eliza
The drive back to D.C. was suffocating. The air was thick and heavy with tension, like wet cotton. Billie gazed longingly out the car window as they whizzed along silently, watching the scenery float past in a fuzzy gray blur. That was the way things felt in her head: Fuzzy. Gray. Blurry.
No one spoke.
They dropped Heather at her house, then headed back to their own. As Mr. Ritter pulled the car into the driveway, Billie scrabbled at the door handle. She couldn’t spring fast enough from inside the contained atmosphere of the car out into the fresh air. Once outside, the air enveloped her, cold and welcome despite the humidity. She stood, taking in deep, steady breaths, aware that she possibly seemed like a psychotic yogi. It didn’t matter.
Mr. Ritter coughed to himself, pocketing his car keys, and strode into the house. Mrs. Ritter paused, eyeing Billie’s impromptu meditation. “Are you coming in?”
Billie paused for a moment, then shook her head. “In a bit.” In this sort of mood, there was only one way to lift the fog. “I think I’ll have a short walk,” she said as she buttoned her coat around her.
Mrs. Ritter nodded and followed her husband inside. Billie started out, then pulled out her cell phone and dialed.
An hour later, Billie and Parker were seated in front of two steaming cups of coffee at their favorite hangout in Adams Morgan. She’d been grateful when, upon hearing the story of her disastrous weekend, he’d insisted that they meet up. Just being around him was calming.
She sipped at her drink, and then sighed heavily.
Parker placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. It was a warm hand, and it felt quite nice on her shoulder, truth be told.
“It’s not as bad as it seems right now,” he said with quiet certainty.
“Not as bad? How could it possibly be worse? Wait—don’t answer that. I don’t want you to jinx me.” She certainly couldn’t afford a jinx. In fact, the ways things were going, she realized she herself might actually be the jinx.
She inhaled sharply again. “It’s just…I’m so humiliated,” she went on. “I mean, I admire Mr. Ritter so much. I came here expressly to work for him! And all I’ve done is to let him down.” She glanced down at her feet. “That’s not even the worst part,” she added, reluctant.
“No?” Parker prodded.
Billie shook her head, miserable. “The worst thing?” She lowered her voice like it was a secret. Which, maybe it actually was. “The worst part…is that I think he’s wrong.” She looked away. “I really do.”
Her eyes widened with guilt. This was heresy, treason of the highest order. She almost couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. Almost.
Parker was silent for a minute, compounding Billie’s guilt. Surely he thought she was a terrible person. Shallow, naïve, and self-centered. Surely he was sorry he’d come to her rescue.
There was a sound from Parker’s direction. For a moment, it was muffled, but then Billie realized…it was… was it—laughter?
It was! It was muffled, choked, and sputtering, to be sure, but it was laughter, nonetheless. He was laughing. At her abject pain and humiliation. At her.
She stiffened. “It’s not funny.”
“No, of course not,” Parker agreed, drawing himself up taller and clearly trying to pull himself together. The corners of his mouth twitched, giving him away.
“It’s not!” Billie swatted at him with her gnawed-down fingernails. “Quit it.”
Parker shook his head and wiped at the tears that were forming in the corners of his eyes. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I swear, I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing with you… Or, I would be, if you were laughing.” He cocked his head at her thoughtfully. “Are you sure you don’t want to try laughing?”
She giggled. She couldn’t help it.
“See?” Parker smirked at her. Then he grew more serious. “I understand why you feel bad, I honestly do, but the truth is that you have strong convictions. And you owe it to yourself—and to Mr. Ritter—to be true to those convictions. I’m sure, at the end of the day, that he’d agree with me. He’d rather see you fight for your beliefs than go along with him just to get along. He has to admire your passion.”
Parker leaned closer to her, holding her gaze with his own. “I know I do.”
Suddenly Parker’s features took on a softened expression, and he leaned in toward her. It almost looked like—well, like he was going in for a pash!
Billie’d barely had time to process the realization when Parker’s lips were pressing against hers. She was so taken aback that she opened her mouth to protest, causing their teeth to clang together awkwardly. “Ouch,” she said, righting herself, and banging her forehead against his in the process.
“Ow, indeed,” Parker said, rubbing at his forehead wryly. “That wasn’t the smoothest kiss I’ve ever had.” He looked slightly embarrassed.
Billie hadn’t had enough snogs in her lifetime to really compare notes, so instead she concentrated on willing the fiery blush creeping up her neck back to her normal flesh tone and her heartbeat back down to a normal rhythm. She was completely caught between wanting him to kiss her again and knowing he shouldn’t.
“What was that?” she asked, once she’d regained some semblance of composure. It was all she could manage; Parker’s unexpected advance had pulled the words right off of the tip of her tongue.
“I…” Parker looked uncertain. “That was a kiss?”
“No, I mean, that much, I understood,” Billie said, increasingly flustered. “But…why?”
“What do you mean, why?” Parker looked extremely confused. “Billie, I like you. I thought you liked me. Don’t you think it means something that I’m the person you called to talk about what was going on with you and Mr. Ritter?”
“What? No. At least, I don’t think so....” Billie said, confused. Did it? “Or, I mean, of course I like you,” she added hastily, seeing the slightly hurt look on Parker’s face. “But just as a friend. I mean, I called you as a friend. I wouldn’t make, you know, a move, on someone else’s boyfriend—especially not someone whose house I’m currently living in.”
And that was it: the whole truth. It didn’t matter whether or not she and Parker had chemistry (which, if she was going to be really, truly honest with herself, they did). He was Eliza’s boyfriend, even if they were on a sort-of break. It didn’t matter that Eliza was off flirting with another boy down in Melbourne; Billie didn’t think that Parker knew about Macca, but she sure wasn’t going to be the one to tell him.
Which meant, then, that Parker was strictly off-limits.
Even if he was a good kisser.
“I don’t know what’s going on with Eliza and me right now,” Parker ventured, looking embarrassed and vulnerable.
Billie bit her lip. “Maybe that’s another great reason why you shouldn’t be getting involved with anyone else,” she pointed out gently.
She knew she was right.
Why, then, did she want nothing more than for Parker to kiss her again?
Parker’s eyes narrowed. “Is this about Adam?” His voice was low.
“What?” Billie couldn’t believe it—Parker almost sounded…could he be...jealous?
“It’s not about Adam,” she said.
In the moment, she knew it was true. Adam was cute, and just thinking about him made her blush, sure, but kissing Parker had sent a surge of electricity down her spine. Even as inexperienced as she was, she had the distinct feeling that electricity trumped blushing.
“So, does that mean you’re not going to bring him to Mr. Ritter’s gala fund-raiser?” Parker went on.
Billie looked at him. “Parker, we’re working the fund-raiser. It’s hardly like a date-type situation.” Or so she’d thought. It would never have occurred to her to bring a date to the banquet
“I guess not,” Parker said, looking pensive. After a beat, he stood. He offered her a crooked smile. “I think I’m going to go home now, if you don’t mind. I’d like to preserve what little dignity I have left. Are you all right getting back by yourself?” He pulled on his coat and zipped it up.
Billie nodded, wishing as she did that she could make him understand that he had nothing to be embarrassed about. She watched as he gathered his things and left the café, as his figure grew smaller and smaller in the distance. She wished that she could do the same. Wished that she could just outright disappear. That seemed the only solution to the tangled mess she’d created.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t going to up and disappear, much as she might want to. She was stuck with the mess. And she’d have to be the one to clean it up. One way or another.
Sunday was unbearable, with everyone going wildly out of their way to pretend that everything was 100 percent perfect and hunky-dory. Mr. Ritter made eggs for breakfast, and while Mrs. Ritter of course didn’t do much more than push them around her plate, the uncomfortable group settled themselves around the breakfast table and did everything in their respective power to be cheerful and bright.
When Billie finally escaped the breakfast table and got Heather on the phone, her friend was unsympathetic to her latest tale of woe.
“Um, I’m sorry, Billie, but duh! Did you not realize that Parker totally has the hots for you?”
Huh? Was it possible? Had Parker really had feelings for her all along—and everybody knew it except for Billie?
She really did have a lot to learn about guys, it seemed.
Still, she protested weakly. “Not the hots,” she insisted. “More like…the warms.”
Heather sniffed into the phone. “Whatever. He lurves you. Own it, sister.”
“Lesson learned, I guess,” B
illie said. “But he’s Eliza’s boyfriend. Kind of. It’s too weird.”
“Fair enough, but didn’t you say that Eliza was dating someone in Australia?” Heather asked.
“Yeah, but still…Now that she and I are pen pals, I just don’t know.” Could she e-mail Eliza about it? Was that too awkward?
Heather sighed. “Okay. I guess it’s not a bad idea to proceed with caution. But you two would be so cute together.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Billie said. “Now all you have to do is come up with the perfect way for me to broach the topic with Eliza.”
“I’ll work on it.” Billie could hear the doubt in her friend’s voice.
“See? You don’t have a clue how to handle the situation, either,” Billie pointed out, her stomach sinking slightly. For a moment there, she’d allowed herself the hope that Heather would be able to sort this all out in a way that meant more e-mails from Eliza and more kisses from Parker. But no such luck, apparently.
“You don’t need to rub it in. I’m on your side.” Heather paused, and Billie could almost hear her friend twirling a dark curl around her fingertip. “So what are you going to do about the sit-in, then?”
“What are my choices?”
“I guess…either do it and write the article, or don’t?”
Billie had been so distraught at the way things had gone with Mr. Ritter that it hadn’t even occurred to her that there were still decisions to be made regarding the Green Gorillas.
“I’ll save a space for you in the paper, if you decide that you want to go through with it,” Heather said kindly.
“I just don’t know.” She really didn’t. Billie realized that this was the perfect example of a lose-lose situation. If she did go through with the sit-in—never mind the article—Mr. Ritter would never forgive her.
But if she chickened out? Backed down from what she believed in?
Well, if that happened, she just might never forgive herself.