One Small Thing

by Erin Watt

  Mom purses her lips in thought.

  Dad still looks skeptical.

  “It’s only six hours away from here,” I tell them. “And I’m not even asking to attend there. I’m asking for a school visit.”

  Dad glances down at the contract again. “It also says that we’ll give you back your phone if you’ve been compliant with all our rules.”

  “Yes. It’s hard to contact you if I have a problem at school or on the way home.”

  “And you want to go back to the animal shelter.”

  “Yes.”

  “Since when do you want to be a vet?” Dad asks.

  “Since last night,” I confess. “It was an epiphany.”

  Mom’s lips twitch as if she’s trying not to smile, but then she can’t fight it anymore, and a huge grin spreads across her face.

  My heart squeezes, because it’s been so long since I’ve gotten such a big smile from her. And her eyes are shining with pride.

  “You know how much I love animals. If it was up to me, we’d adopt every stray that showed up on our doorstep.” From the moment I saw my very first dog at the age of three, I’d begged my parents for a pet. A dog, cat, fish, hamster, anything. But our house has always been staunchly pet-free.

  “So last night I sat down and really thought about what I want to do after high school and what I love most in the world, and I kept coming back to animals. I want to work with animals.” I shrug. “And I’m good at sciences, so I think I’d do really well at vet school.”

  “I think you would, too,” Mom says, and my heart nearly explodes with happiness.

  Dad is slowly coming around, too. He scratches the bridge of his nose and studies me carefully. “If we agree to this—” he gestures to the contract “—we have your word that you’ll follow the rules? That means no lying about your whereabouts, no parties unless we give you permission, none of that nonsense.”

  “None of it,” I promise. Then I hesitate. “Also, I didn’t put this in the contract, but I’d really like my door back.”

  There’s another brief silence.

  Mom, still smiling, picks up the pen that Dad was using to fill out his Saturday crossword. She scribbles something on the contract and slides it my way.

  “Initial here,” she says solemnly.

  My face feels like it’s going to crack in half, I’m smiling so hard. Under the list of privileges I’m asking to get back, she’s written DOOR.

  Next to it, I scribble EJ. Mom initials it, too. And then all three of us sign the contract.

  “I’m going to make a copy,” Dad announces, scraping back his chair.

  I can’t contain my laughter. “What, in case I destroy the one and only copy and you need to hold me to it?”

  “Yes,” he says tartly, but his eyes are dancing with laughter. For one amazing moment, he’s the father I had before Rachel died. The father who made cringeworthy puns and couldn’t go five seconds without busting out in a huge smile.

  Once he’s gone, Mom reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze. “You’ve surprised us this morning.”

  “I surprised myself.”

  “I’m proud of you for doing some soul-searching and coming up with these decisions.”

  My throat squeezes. “Thank you.” I pick up my glass of orange juice and take a huge gulp, hoping she didn’t hear how choked up I sounded.

  But I think she did, because her gaze softens even more. “Did you still want to find a present for Scarlett today?”

  I nod eagerly while drinking my OJ.

  “Okay then, tell you what. Go upstairs and get dressed and we’ll leave whenever you’re ready.”

  * * *

  The mall is super busy for a Saturday morning. Then again, I can’t remember the last time I woke up before noon on Saturday morning, so maybe this is how the mall always is at 10:00 a.m.

  Mom and I wander around aimlessly for a couple of hours. She buys me a hoodie from American Eagle, and I buy Scarlett a pretty scarf from Forever 21. Scar’s obsessed with scarves. She’s got like a hundred of them, and I know she’s going to love this pink-and-gold one with its tiny skulls with flowers for mouths.

  It’s around one o’clock when my stomach starts growling. “Oh my God, if I don’t eat something, I’m gonna pass out,” I declare.

  Mom rolls her eyes at me. “Aren’t we melodramatic?”

  “Nope, we’re hungry, Mom. Famished.” I grin and point in the direction of the food court. “Can we eat something before we head home?”

  She thinks it over, then shakes her head. “I have a better idea.”

  Intrigued, I follow her in the direction opposite the food court. We pass a block of jewelry stores, a Foot Locker and a Guess, and eventually come to a stop at the other end of the huge complex in front of one of my favorite restaurants. My friends and I always grab lunch here when we come to the mall. They have the best ham-and-cheese omelet on the planet.

  “Eggcellent?” I say happily. “You rock, Mom.” I hold up my hand for a high five.

  She slaps it with her palm, and my spirits soar even higher. I can’t deny this is one of the best days I’ve had in a long while, and I’m shocked that it’s with my mother. We haven’t seen eye to eye for so long that it feels almost foreign now to actually enjoy each other’s company.

  “Let’s get a table,” I say, but Mom doesn’t follow me to the front doors. “Hurry up, slowpoke.”

  “Actually, I think I’ll leave you to it.”

  I stare at her in confusion. “What?”

  She winks at me, then checks her watch and says, “Your friends should be here any minute. Why don’t you grab a table while you wait?”

  My jaw drops to the shiny tiled floor. “Are you serious?”

  “I called Lisa when you were in Forever 21 and suggested that maybe Scarlett would like to meet you here at the mall for lunch. She’s picking up Macy and Yvonne on the way.”

  I practically bounce with excitement. Lisa is Scar’s mom, and Scar is on her way here with our other friends. And I can’t believe this was my mother’s idea. I can’t wait to tell—

  I try to shut my brain down before it can finish that thought.

  I can’t wait to tell Chase.

  How sick is it that that’s the first thought I had? That I want to tell Chase that his advice worked. That acting like an adult resulted in my parents loosening the reins a bit. That my dad smiled at me today. That my mom is actually encouraging me to see my friends when mere days ago she was forbidding me from leaving the house.

  “This is amazing. You’re amazing.” I lunge forward and throw my arms around her.

  She hugs me back tightly and then releases me. “Have fun, Beth. Lisa said Scarlett will be able to drive you home.”

  The moment Mom’s gone, I let out a squeal of joy. Several passersby turn their heads in my direction, but I don’t care if they think I’m a crazy person. I have a life again! I’m getting my phone back soon. I’m allowed to volunteer again. I get my door back. I’m about to see my friends.

  This fucking rocks.

  Inside the restaurant, I order a chocolate milkshake while I wait for my girls. The first sip of chocolaty goodness tastes phenomenal. Or maybe it’s the flavor of freedom that’s making my taste buds dance.

  “Ahhhhh!”

  That’s Macy’s opening line when my three friends hurry up to my booth.

  “You’re freeeeee!” Yvonne chimes in, while Scarlett slides onto the bench beside me and smacks kisses on my cheek.

  I giggle and try to bat her off me. “Chillax, Love Machine. You’ll ruin my makeup.”

  “You don’t wear makeup,” she retorts, rolling her eyes.

  “Which we should totally hate you for,” Yvonne chides as she and Macy sit across from us. “Nobody is allowed to have skin that smooth and flawless w
ithout the use of BB cream.”

  The waitress comes over and takes their drink order. We all take a break from chatting to study our menus and figure out what we’re going to eat. I decide on a burger and fries to go with my milkshake. While Macy and Yvonne are still deciding, I discreetly slide Scarlett’s gift onto her knee under the booth.

  “What’s this?” she whispers.

  “Just a bestie present,” I whisper back. “Open it when you get home.”

  She beams. “You da best, Beth.”

  I mock gasp. “You called me Beth!”

  “Did I? Nah, you’re imagining it.”

  I poke her in the ribs. “You totally did.”

  The four of us joke around and gossip until our lunch arrives, and then we keep joking and gossiping even as we’re eating, not caring that our mouths are full and everyone’s probably staring at us in disapproval. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this relaxed around my friends. At school, the tension that Chase’s presence creates is always looming like a dark cloud over our heads. At home, I don’t have a phone or a door or any privacy to talk to my friends.

  This is the best day ever.

  Or at least it is until Yvonne brings up Chase.

  “Okay, so I know we’re not allowed to talk about Charlie Donnelly,” she starts.

  “Who said we’re not allowed to talk about him?” I interject.

  Her gaze darts in Scarlett’s direction before returning to me.

  Sighing, I glance at my best friend. “You’re telling people not to talk to me about him?”

  “Of course I am,” she says hotly. “Every time anyone brings up his name, your face goes white like a ghost and you look like you’re going to throw up.”

  “Actually, you did throw up,” Macy reminds me.

  “Yeah, from shock.” I shrug. “But now that I know he’s at Darling and there’s not much I can do about it, I can’t let him affect me anymore.” Except he does affect me, more than my friends will ever know. I think about him constantly.

  I turn to Yvonne. “What were you going to say about him?”

  She takes a long sip of her soda before speaking. “My sister’s home from college this weekend and she was out with her friends last night and all this stuff about Charlie came up.”

  I frown. “What kind of stuff?”

  “Well, okay, you know how Taylor’s friends with some girls from Lincoln, right?”

  Taylor is Yvonne’s older sister, and I have no idea who her friends are, but I nod in spite of that.

  “They’re two years older than us, like Taylor, and one of them knew Charlie back in the day,” Yvonne goes on. “Her name’s Maria—I don’t know if you guys ever met her.”

  “Why would we have met her?” Scarlett says. “You just said they’re two years older than us.”

  “True. Whatever. Anyway, Maria lives in Lincoln and she was friends with Charlie. They hung out in the summers, and I guess they hung out the other night. Thursday night,” Yvonne says, giving me a meaningful look. “She was at Karl’s party.”

  “Kav,” I correct.

  “Whatever.” She takes another sip. “Charlie went to that party, too. Did you know that?”

  Macy gasps. “Oh my God, did you see him when you were there?”

  “No,” I lie. “But I didn’t stay very long at all.”

  “Well, that’s a relief,” Scarlett says, reaching over to squeeze my shoulder. “Imagine he tried hanging out with you at a party?”

  “Or if he made a move on you?” Macy adds with a gasp.

  I swallow a lump of guilt. Been there, done that. Except it was me who wanted to hang out with him at that first party, and me who made the move on him. The truth sits on the tip of my tongue, and I’m so tempted, so tempted, to spill all the dirty, horrible, wonderful details.

  I want to tell my friends that I had sex for the first time. I want to tell them how confused I am about Chase, how I think I might have feelings for him but I don’t know if it’s because the sex bonded us or if I actually like him.

  But I can’t say a word. I’m terrified they’ll judge me. Or worse, that they’ll judge me, hate me for it and then tell the entire school what I did. Or even worse than that, tell my parents.

  So I keep quiet and listen to the rest of Yvonne’s story.

  “So Charlie was there hanging out with Maria—”

  Is Maria the gorgeous girl who Jeff was rude to? I wonder. Suddenly I hope not, because the idea of Chase spending time with such a beautiful girl brings a spark of unwanted jealousy to my belly.

  Argh. I have to stop this.

  “—and he told her that he was at another party last weekend, he didn’t say where, and that he met a really cool girl there and—”

  “What?” I exclaim. My cheeks begin to scorch. Chase brought me up to his friends? He said I was cool?

  He might not have been talking about you, a voice in my head warns.

  That triggers another jolt of jealousy.

  “Seriously?” Scarlett says angrily. “He’s been out of jail for, what, a second, and he’s already making friends and hooking up and acting like he didn’t do anything wrong? He’s a killer!”

  Her outburst sends several heads swinging in our direction.

  “Sorry,” she whispers sheepishly.

  “No, I’m with you,” Yvonne says. “I thought the same thing when I heard that. Also, according to Maria, Charlie used to be a player before he got arrested. He was always the life of the party, and he hooked up with a ton of girls and apparently he was a sweet-talker. Like super smooth.”

  I have to stifle a laugh, because whatever Chase used to be back then, he sure as heck isn’t now. A sweet-talker? Hardly. He has no problem being painfully blunt and telling me things I don’t want to hear. Life of the party? Yeah, that’s why he’s always holed up in some corner at every party he’s at.

  Being locked up obviously changed him. It turned him from a boy who wanted to hook up and have fun to a guy who’s now appreciative of everything he has. A guy who can find one small thing every day and be eternally grateful for it.

  The Chase that Maria knew three years ago is gone. I didn’t know that Chase. I know the quiet Chase. The serious one. The one who smiles so rarely that when it happens, it’s like witnessing a solar eclipse. And it’s beautiful. I love it when he smiles. I—

  Misery wells up in my throat. Argghhhhhhh. This. Needs. To. Stop.

  “Are you okay?” Scarlett demands.

  I bite my lip, wondering what on earth my expression is conveying that’s put so much urgency in Scar’s voice. “I’m fine,” I assure her. I take a breath. “But...you’re right...maybe I don’t like talking about him.”

  “See,” Scarlett says, turning to glower at Yvonne. “I told you it’s a sensitive subject. We are not talking about that creep anymore.”

  I pick up my milkshake and drain the rest of it, but the cold, sweet liquid can’t wash away the lump of unhappiness still lodged in my throat. Not talking about Chase is easy.

  Not thinking about him? A whole other story.

  20

  I wake up the following morning with the biggest smile on my face. Last night, Dad knocked on my door—my door!—and informed me that he and Mom decided I could drive myself to the shelter today. In my own car.

  I swear, my life is getting so much brighter I’m scared it might all be a dream. But I’m wide-awake as I get dressed, as I scarf down a quick breakfast, as I hop in my car—my car!—and plug my phone—my phone!—into the car charger to load some tunes.

  Today is going to be a good day. I veered off course these last few months, but I finally feel like I’m back on track.

  When I arrive at the shelter, however, I’m faced with a dose of disappointment. After hugging me tightly and saying how happy she is to have me back, Sand
y informs me that I can’t interact with the animals today.

  “No doggy love?” I say glumly. “Why not?”

  “We have these new insurance and liability forms that all volunteers are required to sign. In your case, we need your parents’ signatures since you’re a minor. I would’ve emailed them to you when we got them last week, but—” she shrugs “—I didn’t think you were coming back. Your father was pretty firm on the phone that you wouldn’t be.”

  “Luckily, he changed his mind,” I say with a happy smile. “And it’s fine—I’ll give everyone extra pats and kisses next weekend.” I tuck the set of papers inside my messenger bag. “I’ll bring these home and have my mom sign them.”

  “Great. Then today you get to pick up dog poop.” Sandy grins. “Probably not how anyone would want to spend their weekends, huh? Especially in senior year.”

  “Actually, it sounds awesome,” I tell Sandy. “I’ve decided I want to be a vet, so the more I’m around animals, the better. Even if it’s just picking up poop.”

  A big grin spreads across her face. “Yeah, picking up dog poop for free is exactly how I spent my senior weekends, too. Every party ends up being the same, right? The same couples hooking up. The same fights breaking out. Everyone acting like high school is their last moment on earth.”

  She could be talking about my empty life.

  “Anyway, we’re building a new dog kennel in the back, but we need to clear the brush and get rid of all the trash and poop out there. Since you’re wearing pants and a sweatshirt, you should be well protected.”

  I look down at my old leggings that are starting to pill after repeated washings and the oversize Darling High hoodie that’s faded so much it’s hard to make out half the letters. “Sounds like a plan.”

  Sandy hustles me down the hall to the storage room, where long metal shelves filled with shovels and boxes and bags line the walls. She arrows to the back, grabs something and returns. “Here, you’ll need these.” She hands me a pair of blue-and-black work gloves.

  I slip them over my fingers. They’re a little long, but I don’t want to complain. I’m lucky they gave me my job back after my father quit on my behalf without warning.