The only person who needed convincing tonight was me, and Evie had already helped with that. She convinced me that I didn’t have to be my worst enemy. Tomorrow, however, I would face the one who could be both of ours, and I only hoped the strength she helped me find tonight would last until then.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Evie
It took a while, but I persuaded Chase to stay in the car while I walked up the long, curving driveway to the back of my house. He was sweet and wanted to make sure I got in all right. I knew the idea of letting me go alone was a difficult one. It was a reminder of the awful progression of events the night he had left me to walk these very steps with Shane.
I hurried in the dark, my skin prickling beneath my coat. Part of it was worry. Would Shane show up again? Was he already waiting for me around back? The other part of that peculiar feeling inside me was Chase. It was tonight and everything we talked about. He was so real. So sweet. I wanted him to kiss me in the dark of the front seat. I wanted to be close to him.
When he’d held me in his room, his arms were tender, warm, and made me feel like I was floating away from the world—including the headache waiting for me back at home.
A soft glow greeted me as I stepped up onto the back porch, and for once, I got a little excited. Maybe my dad decided to end his night early and come on home. He’d spent so many late nights at his office that I didn’t get to see him much. There was nothing normal about my parents’ balance between work time and home time. It was ridiculous that I never knew when to expect either one. Sometimes I wondered who the adult was under our roof, except when I tried to pull what they did. Like not letting them know where I was on a school night. Like tonight. That was when I got the clearer picture of who was in charge.
With my key barely in the lock, the door flew away from me, and my mother, red faced and livid, stood in her bathrobe, hands on her hips.
“Where on earth were you? Do you know what time it is?”
Like I said, they were unpredictable.
I shrugged past her and made for the fridge.
“Answer me,” she insisted behind me.
She was more uptight than ever tonight, disheveled and agitated in her pink robe and bare feet. Her face was wiped clean of makeup, which was unusual, although some smudgy shadows still clung to the skin beneath her eyes. It gave the impression she had been crying and hadn’t done a very good job covering it up. I’d never seen my mother cry, although I was sure I must have at some point. She was always so stiff and unbreakable to me. There were times I seriously wondered if she could allow herself to be emotional at all.
“I was finishing a paper that’s due.”
“That only says what you were doing, not where you were doing it. Or who with.” There was a brittle edge to her voice, and, judging by her accusation, I was sure she had been planning on catching me doing what every mother fears—that I would be caught with a boy.
Only that didn’t make sense to me.
Every time our conversations turned toward school, nine times out of ten, Shane’s name was brought up. She always reminded me how I should be lucky to have a boyfriend like him, how lucky I was to have his friends as my friends. My mother encouraged our dates. She pushed me to spend time with him whenever possible. Why would she suddenly become suspicious of me now?
Part of me wanted to tell her the truth, just to see how she would react. I could tell her I was with a boy, at his house, in his room—only not the way I knew she assumed. I wanted to hear the change in her voice when she learned it was someone other than Shane, someone without many friends, someone outside of the tight-lipped, tight-assed Whitley circle that dominated this town. Wouldn’t that sit well?
“I was at the library, Mom,” I lied. I just couldn’t bring myself to pull Chase into this.
I grabbed my bag, weary from all that has happened over the last few days and yet, still feeling the rush from being with Chase tonight. Emotions were colliding inside me. I couldn’t decide if I should go to bed and pass out for the night, or jump up and down. I started for the stairs. I needed a shower. I needed my pajamas. I needed to lie in the dark of my room and let tonight come to a mind-numbing, cataclysmic head.
Her sob made me pause and look over my shoulder. So foreign and detached, it practically hovered in the air between us, until it came again, and I allowed myself to realize the noise actually came from my mother. Her body slowly melted from a standing position into the chair at the kitchen table, where she hid her face in her hands and began to cry.
I stepped closer, cautious, curious, my heart tearing in half as I watched her shoulders shake, and I reached my hand out and placed it on her back, feeling the thin bones of her frame beneath my touch.
“Mom?”
Between breaths, she played with the cuff of her sleeve, trying to control the meltdown. This broken barrier between us was so unexpected I wasn’t sure how to comfort her.
“Is he good to you?” she asked.
Confused, I stood next to her without answering.
“Shane? Is he good to you?”
My hand immediately flew up to my hair and I began to comb it over my cheek, even though she still stared at her sleeve, lost in an unexplainable gloom. Thankfully she didn’t give me time to answer. She didn’t give me time to lie.
“There are men who will say you are everything to them . . . everything . . .” her voice wavered, then faded for a moment. “Those are the ones you don’t trust, Evie, even though your heart tells you otherwise.”
My mom had never talked this way to me before. I’d never witnessed her deepest thoughts, her fears, her worries. My mother was a woman who never revealed anything, especially what hid inside. When she gave advice, it was to prove she was right about a one-sided decision.
Usually one she made for me. There was never room for negotiation. I was never given the impression that I could choose what I wanted for myself, and have it coupled with the possibility of actually having it.
But this advice she was gave now felt like both a warning and a confession rolled up into one. She spoke with a foreign softness through her tears, but the room felt as if she had screamed at the top of her lungs. Every word pulsed, poised tightly in the air.
My mother rose with an awkward brittleness from her chair and stood in front of me, red-eyed, red-nosed, looking desperate and fragile—much more like a stranger to me than the woman I’d spent the last few months resenting.
“Those are the ones you should never trust, but it’s always too late. By the time they decide to pull the rug from under you, you’ve already invested so much.”
Was she talking about Mr. Gracen? Is that why she looked this way tonight? He must have broken it off. He must have broken her heart.
I thought of my dinner with Dad, the way his sullen eyes looked at me from across the table.
He was trying to save our family. He was making up for the nights he spent away from us, while my mother, self-absorbed, and so concerned of what others thought, forced him there.
My eyes drifted to a large bulky shape next to the door, and I lost focus.
“Whose suitcases are those?” I asked.
She pretended to avoid my question, fumbling for another tissue. Was she leaving my dad for Mr. Gracen?
She’s not answering me. She’s leaving us.
Why hadn’t my dad said anything to me? Was that what he meant by ‘just the two of us’? I assumed he was talking about dinner. My mother’s words didn’t match what was playing out between us tonight. It didn’t match her tears or the sad, frenzied panic she had settled into. It didn’t match her warning against who I gave my heart to.
“They’re your father’s,” her voice hollow and detached.
Something inside me snapped.
“This is your fault! He’s leaving because of you! Now you won’t have to parade around with Mr. Cuff Links in private anymore. Are you happy now?” Hatred poured from my lips. There was no stopping it. I had never r
aised my voice to her, I had always been too afraid, but this was different. My mother was ripping our family apart.
“Evie,” she intervened quietly, not enraged and raving like I was. She wasn’t going off the deep end to defend herself. Instead, she let me vent until every last trace of anger and alarm bled from me. Finally, I quieted down and gave her the chance to speak.
“Your father is the one having the affair.”
No. No. No. I shook my head. “But he . . .”
“The late nights at the office, the dinners away from home—it’s been going on for a while now.” Her tissue had thinned and shredded into pieces all over her robe, and I watched as she continued to pull what was left of it apart between her fingers. The only stability around here was that they were together, it made everything else in my life seem tolerable.
“But, I thought you meant Mr. Gracen when you were talking about not trusting.”
She shook her head and reached into the pocket of her robe for a clean tissue, “You thought
I was having an affair with Marc? Evie, that’s almost laughable.”
“It didn’t seem very funny to me.” I paused to think. “It seemed very possible.”
I watched, mesmerized, as my mother found a way to smile after having been so miserable just a few minutes ago.
“Well, I’m sorry I gave you that impression, especially the other day. Marc’s quite a charmer, but, unfortunately, I was talking about your dad.” She sighed heavily. “Maybe I was the one who drove him away? I wanted so much for us.”
My mom looked up at me. “I just wanted it all to be perfect. Now I can see that it wasn’t, no matter how hard I made it look like it could be.”
“So, all this,” I said with the wave of my hand, “the house, the school, the board meetings, was to make him happy?”
“Ridiculous isn’t it?”
All this time, I thought she was the reason he was never home. It never crossed my mind that she was the one trying to give him something to come home to.
“I guess I went overboard trying to keep him. I just couldn’t let myself believe it was over. Evie, your dad’s been moved out for nearly four months. We’ve both been lying about his late hours to keep you from knowing the truth. I realize now we should have told you long ago.”
Four months . . .
“Mom,” my stomach was somewhere on the floor. “I’m sorry for those awful things I said.”
My mom wiped her nose and shook her head. “I actually deserved everything you said. It was what I made you believe. I guess I was so determined to make this work that I went after it too hard. It made me look like a real bitch, didn’t it?” she allowed a dry, husky laugh to escape her throat.
She rose to her feet, wrapped her arms around me and gave me an unexpected squeeze. She had always seemed too busy for hugs, but now, as I hugged back, I felt how tiny she really was—and how much I missed her.
“I tried to make everything in your life perfect because mine was falling apart, hoping you wouldn’t notice. But I didn’t do such a good job, did I?”
“Mom,” I started, but she placed her finger over my lips, hushing me.
“I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being too much of one type of mother and not enough of the kind you need right now. And, I’m sorry about your dad, because if I can be honest, I’ve driven you to favor him over me these last few months. I just hope I haven’t done too much damage between us.”
I hugged her back, although awkward, it felt right. She was so full of startling honesty. It felt strange that she was willing to finally let me recognize she was human and not perfect.
I pulled myself away and walked over to the stove, taking the kettle to the sink. The tea Chase’s aunt made me earlier had been comforting, and I knew my mom needed something right now. I didn’t know what to say to her—words between us, nice words, had been so hard to come by for so long now. But, I could at least do this, no matter how small the gesture.
I grabbed two mugs from the cupboard and set them on the counter, then pulled the little tags from the tea bags before dropping one in each, letting the strings hang over the sides. I heard the faint crumpling of another tissue being pulled from her robe. The kettle would sing soon and we would sit, we would talk, and maybe even cry again, but at least it was a start to getting to know each other all over again, and somehow move forward with everything life had thrown at us.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chase
It was Friday. Eighth period. And I was avoiding Evie.
We made an agreement not to speak to one another, today of all days, which absolutely sucked. Based on her idea from last night, if things were to go smoothly tonight, I would have to appear as insensitive and remote as Shane and the others. Neither of us could afford to show what we shared last night.
But today, it was all I could think of.
In the five seconds our eyes met in the hallway on the way to first period, I wondered if she was having as hard a time as I was. Did she wish she had never touched my skin? My scars?
Did she regret last night at all?
Last night Evie haunted my mind. It made me realize after tonight, she would be the only person that would matter to me.
I sat at my desk tracing circles over the cover of my notebook with my stubby pencil and forced myself to picture how tonight might play out. I would prove Evie’s fears wrong. I would find some way to bring Shane down, prove I could stand against him, and get the girl in the end.
It wasn’t the movies, but, hey, it could happen.
Neighboring conversations floated around me. Things were strangely normal today; last week kind of normal. Like how I couldn’t talk to Evie as openly as I did yesterday, or the day before that, when her eyes would meet mine before quickly turning away, like she was trying to stop herself from thinking of acknowledging me.
Jake stuck his head inside the doorframe and whistled softly to get my attention. Poof. Normalcy was disrupted. “Mitman,” he waved me over.
I looked up and stared at him as if someone else’s last name was Mitman. The whispering behind me ceased. In fact, everything moving, shuffling, or rustling, came to a stop to watch me reluctantly rise from my desk and make my way over to the doorway.
“Change of plans,” he whispered, and handed me a slip of paper.
I took it, feeling eyes behind me. Funny how everything begins with a note around here, I thought to myself.
“You’ve got a GPS, right?” Jake asked me.
“Yeah, of course,” I wondered where he was headed with this, but suddenly grateful I had used my Christmas money to buy a Garmin. I bought it more for Aunt Claudie than myself, but of course, I was the one who ended up using it most often.
“Well, you should be able to find it then.” His eyes spanned the room behind me, knowing each ear was strained and ready to devour anything that wafted over toward them. “My mom’s got the flu, so the house is out tonight. I think the backup plan will work just fine instead.”
I stared down at the paper in my hand; felt it moisten the longer I held it. I wanted to open it, but decided to wait—that would make tonight more real, make it feel like it was coming faster.
Jake turned and left without any further information about his cryptic invite, and the walk back to my seat felt long—like everyone I walked past had the ability to read what was concealed inside my hand before I could. Even after placing it in my pocket, I could feel it there, heavy, reminding me the few hours left of daylight would soon fade, and then I’d be forced to go along with the plan. I felt the silent looks across the desks, and wondered, if I closed my eyes and listened, would I be able to hear what they were thinking?
I had the gut feeling Shane was on to me and I was being set up.
The loudspeaker overhead sounded with echoing static: we would continue the rest of the period in the auditorium for an impromptu assembly. With a unified groan, we all rose to our feet, grabbed our belongings, and shuffled to the
front of the room while Mr. Shepherd tried to retain some semblance of order.
“No pushing, people. You learned how to form a line in Kindergarten!” He yelled over the ruckus. Oddly, he grumbled right along with the rest of us, clearly not happy with the change in plans.
We filed into the auditorium, which still smelled of new paint and upholstery after last year’s remodeling. It was an impressive space, vast and elegant, and we were soon seated in an orderly fashion that moments ago seemed impossible. My class took up two rows, one behind the other, in the center of the auditorium facing the stage. The blue velvet curtains hung in heavy folds over the shiny stage floor, splitting softly where the two panels met. Beyond the slice in the fabric were precisely arranged rows of metal stands and chairs where the orchestra practiced for the yearly concert.
Around me a sea of rounded heads bobbed and leaned toward one another. Everyone wondered why we were assembled, and while the speculations were plenty, I didn’t bother to pay attention to everyone else’s why’s and what if’s. I was too busy scanning each and every blonde-haired head for Evie.
Headmaster Whitley stood at the podium watching with firm, guarded eyes as the last of us settled into our seats. Our voices hushed as we watched him adjust the height of the microphone, which made the auditorium echo as he cleared his throat, testing the sound.
I had a bad feeling about this. It wasn’t often we were called out of class. Most assemblies were pre-scheduled events that allowed us at least a few days to prepare for being bored. I always got away with popping my buds in and zoning out, as long as I remembered to take a brochure from the guest speaker at the door. But I didn’t have my tunes to fall back on today, and something told me I wouldn’t be able to recap by reading about this afterwards.
My eyes ran along the curving rows of seats facing the stage and finally settled on Evie, leaving my heart to race the instant I spotted her. She was a few rows over between Tara and another girl, playing with the strap of the purse she held in her lap, pretending to be bored. But I knew better. Evie was just as nervous about tonight as I was, perhaps even more so. I was certain this assembly was making her edgy.
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