Forget Me

by K. A. Harrington

  She turned away and opened a cabinet. She pulled out a yellow bag and pressed it into my hands. “Sour Patch Kids,” she said. “Toni’s favorite, right?”

  I nodded and kneaded the bag of candy with my fingers. Whatever the conversation had been about, Mom wanted me to let it go. But I couldn’t. I had to try one more time. I took a step forward, closing the distance between us. “Is there something I need to know, Mom?”

  Her eyes darted to the doorway and back at me. “You were at Toni’s house earlier tonight, right?”

  “Yeah. We got ready for the party there.”

  “I’d prefer it if you did that here,” she said matter-of-factly.

  I gave her a questioning look. “Huh?”

  Mom lowered her voice. “The Klanes are kind of a mess right now. I’m sure you know that. And your father and I just . . . don’t want you in that environment.”

  She reached out and gently tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. “You know we love Toni,” she said. “She’s welcome here anytime.”

  Before I could formulate any follow-up questions, Mom brushed by me and went upstairs. Clutching the bag of candy in my hand, I thought about her explanation. Could that be it? They’d only been talking about not wanting me at Toni’s house? That wasn’t exactly a big secret.

  I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more.

  CHAPTER 9

  “I’m going to kill you.”

  I closed my locker door Monday afternoon and found Toni standing beside me. Even with her arms crossed and an angry scowl on her face, she wasn’t intimidating. I think there’s a rule that you have to be over five feet tall to be intimidating.

  “You know how many times Reece has mentioned our ‘date’ today?” She used finger-quotes as she said the word.

  “Two?” I said hopefully.

  “Try six. Plus he told the entire school. I’ve had people coming up to me all day asking about it.”

  I smiled sheepishly. “Did you use a different shampoo today? Your hair looks even shinier than normal. And you smell pretty.”

  She put her hand up. “There aren’t enough fake compliments in the world, Morgan.”

  I batted my eyelashes and made a pouty face. “How can I make it up to you?”

  “You can—and will—come with me on this godforsaken date from hell. And you won’t complain about whichever tool friend of his you get stuck with.”

  A double date was the last thing I wanted to do. But I had no plans Friday, no excuse, and I owed it to her. “Deal.”

  “You’re damn right,” she said, and sashayed away.

  • • •

  I had just finished packing up my equipment from Photography Club after school on Wednesday when Reece strolled in.

  “Morgan Tulley. What. Issss. Uuuup.”

  He couldn’t just say hi. He had to talk like a DJ who’d had one too many Red Bulls. “Hey, Reece.”

  “Whatcha doin’?”

  “Photography Club just let out. I’m organizing my files.” I clicked to close my photo of a vandalized wall, then closed my folder.

  “Any nude selfies in there?”

  I let out an annoyed sigh. “Really, Reece?”

  He laughed. “Come on. You know I’m just joking around.” He settled into the seat beside me. “So what does the Photography Club do?”

  I raised an eyebrow. Surely he wasn’t here for small talk, but I humored him. “Sometimes we have a prompt and we take photos based on that. Sometimes Mr. Durant, our adviser, works with us on the technicals. Sometimes we work on a concept. We critique each other.” I shrugged. “Lots of stuff.”

  He gestured toward the now dark screen of the monitor. “Are you compiling your pics to enter them in a contest or something?”

  “I’m working on my portfolio.”

  “Do you specialize in anything? Faces . . . bowls of fruit . . . your hot friends . . .”

  I pulled my backpack up onto my lap. A blatant hint that I was ready for this awkward conversation to end. “Abandoned places.”

  He gave me a mysterious smile. “Like Happy Time Mini Golf?”

  “Yeah . . . ,” I said warily. “I haven’t shot there yet, but I’m planning to, actually.”

  “Hmm.” He tapped on his chin.

  I narrowed my eyes. “Reece, what do you really want?”

  “Okay, so you know I’m taking Toni out on a date Friday night?”

  “Right . . .”

  He rubbed his palms together, apparently nearing the point of all of this. “Do you have any, like, tips?”

  “On what?”

  “Impressing Toni.”

  I burst out laughing. “Reece, I’m not going to try to help you get into my best friend’s pants.”

  He groaned. “It’s not like that, Morgan. I really like her. She’s different.”

  “You’re just interested because she’s the only girl who doesn’t fall for your cool-guy act.”

  “Not true. You don’t buy my shit either, but I’m not after you.”

  My mouth opened.

  He held his hands up. “Sorry. No offense.”

  “None taken. Listen, Reece. You’re just not her type.”

  “So help me become her type. I’ve had a mad crush on the girl since the fourth grade. She’s just so cute and funny and . . .” He stopped, looking embarrassed. “I know she’s not taking this date thing seriously, but I want her to give me a chance. A real one. Come on. Help a bro out.”

  His eyes were so sincere that I actually felt bad for him. “Tips. Okay.”

  “Be totally honest.”

  Well, you asked for it. “Okay, first off,” I said, “don’t dress like a doucheface.”

  His mouth dropped open. “What does that even mean?”

  “She doesn’t like guys who dress like they’re going to a club. Leave the tight shirt at home.”

  He nodded. “Okay, that’s a good tip. What else?”

  “Don’t be yourself.”

  He balked. “What the hell, Morgan?”

  “You told me to be honest!”

  “Fine. Fine.” He ran a hand through his spiky hair. “Explain.”

  “You know how you are . . . with the swagger and the overconfidence. Just stop. Be a regular person.”

  “Like . . . a nice guy?” He said it like it was a fatal diagnosis.

  “Yes. Some girls like nice guys. You’d be surprised.”

  He took a deep breath. “Anything else?”

  “That’s a good enough start. Also, don’t douse yourself in cologne.”

  “I get it. I get it. Sheesh.”

  “You wanted to know,” I said, standing up.

  He stopped me. “Wait, there’s one more thing.” He had this silly grin on his face that filled me with suspicion. “Toni said you wanted to come along, too. Make it a double-date thing.”

  “Want isn’t the word I would’ve used.”

  He let out a giant sigh. “She’s forcing you. I figured that much out. But it actually works out well.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Turns out the guy I’m helping you stalk is interested right back.”

  I shook my head quickly. “What are you talking about?”

  “Evan.”

  Evan was . . . interested? A thousand questions churned in my head. “Did he contact you?”

  “Yeah. He wanted to know more about you.” He whispered conspiratorially, “Don’t worry. I didn’t tell him you were a crazy stalker.”

  “I’m not!”

  Reece waved his hand. “Whatever. I didn’t tell him anything about you making sure he was at the party and all that.”

  Well, that was good, but . . . “What did you tell him?”

  He shrugged. “That you’re a cool chick and th
at you’re single.”

  “And what did he say?”

  “He wanted to know if I could arrange a way for you to end up in the same place together. So he could get to know you better. So I invited him along Friday night.”

  I stared at a poster on the wall, just over Reece’s shoulder. But I wasn’t really seeing it. I was trying to figure this out in my head. It made no sense. Were my initial instincts correct after all? Did Evan know me? If so, how? And why did he have such a weird first reaction?

  “Morgan!” Reece snapped his fingers in front of my face. “Do you get what I’m saying? Dreamboy Evan is your date Friday night. Aren’t you happy?”

  I forced my mouth to work. “Yeah. I am. Thanks.”

  He smiled as he stood to leave. “It was so strange. I was thinking, you know, first you ask me to secretly hook you up with Evan. And then Evan asks me to hook him up with you. Not sure how I wound up being the middleman, but it’s like you guys are weirdly meant to be.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Friday night, we took Wingate Road from the center of town. Reece drove, with Toni in the passenger seat and me—the third wheel—in the back.

  “I offered to pick Evan up,” Reece said as we stopped at a light. “But he said he’d meet us there. I think he’s still scared of you.”

  Toni chuckled.

  “Very funny.” I crossed my arms and looked out the window. “Where are we going anyway?”

  Reece’s eyes flicked to mine in the rearview. “Happy Time Mini Golf.”

  “Awesome!” Toni turned in her seat. “You’ve been wanting to go there. Do you have your camera with you?”

  “No, but I can plan out some shots.” I smiled. Reece had chosen the place specifically because he knew I’d like it. Maybe he wasn’t so bad.

  “See that beauty up there?” Reece let up on the gas and slowed past a house up on a hill, surrounded by a black iron gate. We had a lot of nice houses in town, but this one was even bigger. It reminded me of Evan’s house in Littlefield. “Some night we’ll party there. It’s the King Mother of houses.”

  “King Mother is a contradiction,” Toni said.

  Reece gave her a playful look. “Fine, it’s the Queen Mother. No one lives there right now, I think, so I doubt there’s a security system. But that gate around the property is locked, and there’s no side street nearby to easily hide all the cars. One of these days, though, I’ll figure out the best way to conquer it. And we will party!”

  Toni snorted. “Such lofty ambition you have. And to think some people want to cure cancer.”

  “There will be plenty of time for that once I get out of River’s End,” Reece said. “But for now . . . a guy’s got to have a short-term goal.”

  I had to hand it to him, Reece was good at organizing. He worked with what we had. City kids had rooftop parties. Country kids took over barns. We had empty places.

  Minutes later we parked in the lot for Happy Time Mini Golf. I twisted in my seat to quickly take in every corner. No sign of Evan.

  “He’ll be here,” Reece said, reading my mind. “I’m going to get the stuff ready.”

  He got out and popped the trunk. Toni reached for the door handle, but I put my hand on her shoulder and said, “Wait a sec.”

  “Don’t worry,” she said, turning to face me. “I’m here. So if the guy’s a weirdo, we can just—”

  “It’s not that,” I interrupted. “It’s Reece.”

  “We already know he’s a weirdo.”

  “No. Just . . .” I sighed. “I know this isn’t a real date and you’re not into it, but do me a favor and be nice to him.”

  Toni rolled her eyes. “Jeez, Morgan. Did you think I was going to be rude all night? I’m not a stone-cold bitch, just a room-temperature one.”

  “I know. It’s just . . . he’s actually not that bad. Keep an open mind.”

  She looked at me like I’d sprouted a second head. “Focus on your own fake date and I’ll worry about mine.”

  “Heads up!” Reece called from outside.

  A plain, gray sedan pulled into the lot and parked beside us. My muscles tensed as I saw Evan behind the wheel. Knowing the size of the house this guy lived in, I’d been expecting him to drive something a little more flashy. But I was kind of glad that he didn’t. He killed the engine and got out, wearing jeans and a black fleece jacket.

  “Time to go!” Toni said, and bounded out of the car.

  I followed wordlessly, my throat feeling suddenly tight. I had no idea why Evan wanted to see me again. I kept my eyes on the pavement as I stepped toward him, admiring the hardy weeds that pushed through the cracks. When I was close enough to see the cuffs of his dark jeans, I looked up.

  I had to hold back the gasp that wanted to escape from my mouth. Flynn’s cheekbones, Flynn’s nose, Flynn’s mouth. Memories flashed in my mind. I tried to focus on the differences. Evan’s hair: shorter and a lighter shade than Flynn’s. His eyes: the same color as Flynn’s, but these seemed to hold more life in them. More curiosity. And there was that dimple.

  “Hey,” he said with a cautious smile.

  “Hey,” I said back.

  This was . . . awkward. Do we shake hands or what?

  He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his fleece, taking away that option. But then he took a step closer. Just one. Like he was testing the waters. And he never for a second took his eyes off mine. Like he was waiting for me to do something. What, I didn’t know.

  Well, two could play this game. I could act just as standoffish. I stood mutely, never breaking my stare.

  “I’m Evan,” he said, ending the silence.

  “Morgan.”

  The way he watched me made me feel like a display in a museum. Like he was trying to figure me out, see into my head.

  I stared back.

  Toni cleared her throat. “Okay, this isn’t weird at all.”

  “Yeah, let’s play.” Reece pointed at the sky. “We only have an hour until the sun sets.”

  As if suddenly remembering there were two other people here, Evan looked around. “Why did we meet here?”

  Reece patted him on the back. “I figured we’d let our out-of-towner experience one of River’s End’s traditional pastimes. Welcome to Happy Time Mini Golf.”

  Evan gave us a puzzled look and pointed at the giant sign that said, For Sale or Lease Commercial Property. “It’s closed.”

  “Don’t worry.” Reece walked back to the trunk. “I’ve got that covered.” He pulled out four golf clubs and a plastic bag with a bunch of balls. He held a club out to Evan. “Welcome to River’s End. Where everything’s closed.”

  Evan looked at each of us in turn and grinned. “So you just bring your own clubs and play?”

  “Yep,” Toni said. “No one cares.”

  “The clubs are my dad’s,” Reece explained. “The balls are all white, so we have to play through each hole one by one. But it’s free and we have the place to ourselves.”

  Evan nodded, looking impressed. Toni grabbed the bag from Reece and started looking through it. Even though all the balls were the same, she wanted to choose hers.

  I looked back at Evan and caught him staring at me. “Have you ever done this before?” I asked. “A blind date?”

  With a sly smile, he said, “Is it blind?”

  “Well, I don’t know you,” I said, filling the last word with meaning.

  “But you came up to me at the party.”

  “And you ran away.”

  His eyes flashed in amusement. Part of me had expected him to have Flynn’s voice—the lips were the same. But Evan’s voice was different. It was confident, almost playful. Flynn had a deeper voice, but had always spoken softly, like every word was a secret. Toni asked me once why he always had to be so “mumbly” that she could barely understand him. But I understood him.
>
  Or I thought I had.

  “You know what would make this even more fun?” Evan said it loud, as if to the group, but his eyes were only on me.

  “What?” I answered.

  The side of his mouth lifted up. “If we had a friendly wager.”

  “Like strip mini golf?” Reece said. “I’m in!”

  “Gross,” Toni muttered.

  I gave Reece a look that said, Tone it down. Then I turned back to Evan. “What did you have in mind?”

  “A game. To get to know each other better. Like Truth or Dare but only Truth. Whoever wins the hole gets to ask a person in the group one question, and they have to answer.”

  I gave him a carefree shrug. “You’re on.”

  Toni laughed. “Oh, Evan. You’re in trouble. All your secrets are going to come out tonight.”

  “We’ll see,” he said, still looking right at me.

  “You’ve underestimated how competitive Morgan is,” Toni warned.

  “And she’s underestimated how good a putter I am.”

  Reece whistled. “This should be interesting.” He led us through the busted front gate to the first hole. Motioning to Toni, he held his arm out. “Ladies first.”

  Toni mock curtsied and readied herself at the tee. Bricks surrounded each green. Some cigarette butts and gum mottled the turf, but it was mostly playable. This hole was simple—kidney shaped with a boulder centered on the turf as an obstacle. Someone had spray-painted a penis on the rock.

  “I like the graffiti,” I said. “It adds to the ambience.”

  “Classes the place up,” Evan agreed.

  Toni scowled. “Quiet on the green. I need to concentrate so I can win this hole and ask the first question.” Then she winked at me and completely blew the shot. It ricocheted off the boulder and bounced onto the next green.

  She smiled. “Whoops!”

  That’s my Toni, I thought. Master of subtlety.

  A few more whoopsies later, she finally maxed out at six strokes and gave up. Reece motioned for me to go, being the next lady and all. I crafted a strategy to aim at the bricks to the right of the boulder, hoping the ball would bounce past it and into the hole. I glanced up. Evan was watching me carefully, as if studying my putting strategy would answer whatever question he had in his head.