by Olivia Lynde
"Are you ready to place your order?" she asks him alone.
The shameless witch! She's still not giving up?
Annoyed at the interruption, or at the waitress' rudeness to me, I don't know which, Seth looks at her coldly. "Please serve my girl first." The waitress seems to shiver at his frosty tone, and I barely manage to contain my smugness.
She recovers quickly, though. "Of course." She grins at him toothily and turns to me with a sickly sweet expression. "Are you ready to order now, Miss?"
I glance away from her. "Seth, can you please choose for us both? You've been here before and know what tastes good." Plus, I haven't had a chance to even open the menu, much less select something.
"Okay, Summer." Then he addresses the waitress. "We'll both have chili con carne and a basket of salty bread sticks." The waitress writes it down and leaves, but not before flipping her hair one more time.
Seth immediately goes back to scowling at me. "You and I match perfectly! We're two halves of a whole, so don't ever let me hear you say differently!"
I melt at once, moved by his fervor. He's right, of course. He and I—we are not the same, but we complement each other perfectly. We fit perfectly. I used to hold this as the absolute truth when we were children, and I don't know why I'm suddenly doubting it now. He's never given me any reason to do so.
Maybe my increased sensitivity is because of the change in our relationship; as much as I try to ignore it, I'm too deeply aware of the fact that my feelings for him are different than when we were children. The attraction I feel for him is a relentless fizz in my veins.
Wearily, I ask him, "Aren't you ashamed to be seen with me the way I'm dressed?" I clench my hands under the table cloth as I wait for his answer.
He looks sad now. "Sunny, I could never be ashamed of you."
I nod, trusting the sincerity in his voice. He really isn't ashamed of how I look, and I've done him wrong to even think, much less suggest, differently. The problem lies with me alone. I'm the one who was mortified because of how I looked tonight when his friends saw me, and I've projected my feelings of inadequacy onto him.
I'm angry with myself that I feel this way. I've been purposely wearing this kind of clothes for more than two years, they've always made me look barely one step removed from a street bum, and still I've never felt embarrassed. But now I suddenly do. So what's changed?
The answer is easy, for the difference lies here: before, I didn't care what people thought of me. Their disdain, their mockery, even the rare overtures of friendship—I remained untouched by it all, wrapped in my cocoon of emotional isolation. I erected this shell around me after my parents' death, and Seth was the only one who ever penetrated it completely. After his seeming betrayal, I retreated back to my cocoon, even reinforcing it with a few extra layers.
But now Seth is back and there is no cocoon anymore. There are no walls, or any emotional distance. When it comes to him, I'm all in. So even though, left alone, I still don't really care about anyone else's opinion about me... I do care about Seth's, and deeply. And it seems that, if I'm with him, it's unavoidable that I also care about how I reflect on him in the eyes of other people.
And dear heavens, but I don't want to be a bad reflection for him!
Maybe it's time to consider giving up my "uniform". Not for Seth; he really doesn't care how I look on the outside, for he's always seen straight to my soul. But for me, because now I find that I do care how I look. Besides, I know that I've been a coward far too long, hiding behind ugly clothes in order to avoid people. Taking the easy way out.
I bring the world around me back into focus and gaze into Seth's eyes. "I'm sorry for being such a wet-blanket. I guess I'm just not used to getting this amount of attention." He nods, and I know I'm forgiven for my earlier outburst.
Playfully, I start to scowl at him. "It's all your fault, you know, that so many people are eyeballing us! It's frankly outrageous how notorious you seem to be!"
Now he raises a sardonic eyebrow, seeming amused at my sulking. "Notorious?"
My glower dissipates into reluctant acceptance. "I guess I'll get used to it, eventually. But you'll have to be patient with me for a little while, okay? Until I adapt." A tentative grin plays at the corners of my lips.
He smiles back, relieved. "It'll all be fine if you just give it some time. I'm sorry about all the scrutiny, but that's just how people are, especially in small towns. All we can do is ride it out. Sunny, I don't care about any of these folks—only about you. And I'm with you, okay? So you don't have to be afraid of anything."
Overcome with a rush of affection for this beautiful, thoughtful boy, I impulsively reach for his hand on the table and lace my fingers with his.
"Who's afraid?" I ask teasingly. "I'm just annoyed by all these gossipy busybodies! They should mind their own business."
I frown a bit. "By the way, Seth... Umm, when we showed up here together, holding hands... I think maybe your friends and the other nosy parkers got the wrong idea. You know, about us..." I trail off suggestively and peek at him, but find his expression has become unreadable.
"About us...?" he queries calmly.
"You know, about us being together-together." I'm all flustered now.
His expression opens up a bit, betraying wariness. "And if they thought that, why is it a problem?"
"Well, it's not true." I'm confused by his attitude. "We're best friends only."
I think he's about to say something else, but the waitress arrives with our order, and Seth contents himself with giving me a mysterious look.
"We'll continue this conversation later."
I gulp nervously.
Then we dig in, and the food really is delicious.
* * *
It's late evening, around 9 P.M., and Seth has driven me, at my insistent request, back to the Andersons' residence. He's parked on the street in front of the house, and we're sitting in the car, arguing softly with each other.
"I don't want you to spend the night away from me," he's telling me in a fierce tone.
"Believe me, Seth, neither do I, but what choice do I have? I've already been gone all day, and last night too, for that matter—only I hope they don't know about that. What's more, Jessica saw us together earlier and she's surely awaiting my return. If I don't go back tonight, I'm positive she'll make some serious trouble for me with Louise and Greg."
"Then let me go inside with you. Just for a few minutes, to make sure you'll be okay."
"Uh, Seth? Really? You want to throw gas on an already explosive situation?"
He grits his teeth, seeming utterly frustrated. At last, he gives in. "Okay, Sunny, have it your way. But I'll wait outside for fifteen minutes, so if you need me for anything at all, I'm here. Also, we have to exchange phone numbers, and I want you to call me the minute you're alone and tell me how everything went."
I grin at him affectionately. "Okay, worrywart!"
He gives me his Smartphone, and I key in and call my number, then return his phone. Taking my own brick mobile out, I save his number. When I gaze up again, I find him staring fixedly at the screen of his Smartphone. Then he raises his head and gives me a strange look.
"Is anything wrong?" I ask, baffled.
He shakes his head slowly, still staring at me intently. "No. Nothing's wrong. It's just... You still have the same number that you wrote in that letter to me from four years ago."
I look at him sadly. "It's the same number I've always had since I bought my first cell phone with the money you gave me." I hold up my trusty brick mobile. "This phone, actually. Regardless of whatever else I had to do without, I never gave up my cell phone, and I always made sure to top up the credit for my prepaid card regularly so that the number wouldn't expire. Just in case—"
"—that I might call," he finishes painfully.
He raises his hand to my face oh-so-slowly and traces my features with infinite tenderness, and I nuzzle into his warm touch, loving it infinitely. But I let myself enj
oy it just for a few seconds out of time.
Then I clasp his wrist and draw it down, and I lean in and give him a quick kiss goodbye on the jaw.
When I turn to the door to open it, he stops me by placing his hand on my arm. "Call me if you have nightmares." He looks utterly torn at having to let me go.
I nod just to reassure him, but I have no intention of following through on his request. There's no "if" about it; I always have nightmares when I don't sleep with him. But I won't keep him from his rest just because I can't get any.
"Talk to you later," I promise softly.
Then, heart heavy at having to separate myself from him, I alight from the car and walk to the house entrance.
* * *
The house is dark and quiet except for the sounds of the TV coming from the entertainment room next to the living area. I pop my head in there and see Greg relaxing on the couch with a beer, watching sports.
"Hi, Greg. I'm home." My voice sounds nervous even to my own ears.
He looks up, confused. After a few seconds his brow clears. "Ah yes, Summer, you were... out today? Err... did you have a nice time?"
He didn't even notice that I was gone all day, did he? I force a smile. "Yes, it was fine." Then, warily: "Where's everyone else?"
"Louise attended a fundraiser in Grand Rapids today, and she hasn't yet returned. Jessica is at home; upstairs in her room, I believe."
"Okay. Thanks, Greg."
I'm bewildered. I was expecting Jessica to prepare something horrible for my arrival at the house. Maybe she didn't because Louise was out all day?—her mother is often her helper and abettor in her nastier schemes against me.
I head upstairs, reach my room, and enter. I turn on the light... and freeze in absolute shock as my breath escapes me in an agonized whoosh.
Chapter 19
Dazed, appalled, disbelieving, I look around me. Oh my God, how could she?!
I'm surrounded by the remains of everything that I owned in this world. My closet and drawers stand open and empty, and all my clothes and books are scattered on the floor—slashed viciously. Numbly, I pick up my favorite tank top and insert my hand through the big diagonal rips running down its silvery front. I lurch a step forward, only to stumble over a detached sneaker sole and some plastic bits from my music player.
Sweet angel of mercy, how can anyone be so sadistic as to wreak such destruction?!
Light-headed, I reach for the book I almost stepped on: it's my precious copy of Pride and Prejudice—torn from cover to cover. Turning around, I pick up a few random clothes off the floor. There's not even a single one of them left untouched.
Then my eyes fall on the bed, on something peeking from underneath a ripped sweater, and I lose my mind. Oh God, oh God, please no! Not my box of mementos!
But my prayers go unheard.
With shaking hands, I raise the sweater remains from the mattress and throw them aside. As I focus on the bed comforter, the knife stuck in my heart twists cruelly.
The dried flower I'd kept for more than ten years, a gift from Seth on my first day of school, has been ground to a small pile of papery dust. The little teddy bear Seth gave me when I turned nine, a joking nod to the huge one I used to carry everywhere when I was much younger, has been hacked to pieces.
And dear heavens, please no!
My hand touches on a childhood photo of me and Seth standing shoulder to shoulder with fishing rods in our hands, both of us smiling hugely at the camera. I burst into soul-rending sobs. A big rip trails midway through the photo, splitting my image from Seth's, and the part where my eyes used to be has been gouged out.
Through blinding tears, I squint at the other photos... but they've all been cut in the same pattern, without one single exception. All my pictures with Seth—cherished reminders of our happy childhood which I've taken out so often during my years alone, when I needed comfort—are gone. All gone.
I collapse to the floor. I wrap my arms around my body as if trying to keep myself together, because I feel like I'm coming apart.
"I see you found the little surprise I left for you."
The she-devil has entered silently through the door I left open, and her words cut venomously through my choking sobs. "I told you not to mess with what's mine, whore. You didn't listen, so I messed with what's yours."
Then, with a last satisfied smirk and a cheery "Enjoy!", she flounces from the room.
Staring after her, I realize that I've stopped crying. Instead I'm overcome with virulent hatred. I never knew I could loathe like this, but swear to goodness, in this moment I could gladly slice her eyes out like she did mine in my precious photos. I want to tear her hair out and scratch her face. I want to break her apart, like she did all my things... And I can do none of that because then my life here in Rockford would be over.
But I can do the next best thing.
Without drying my tears, I leave the room and go downstairs. To Greg.
When he notices me, he pales, stands up, and rushes to me. "Summer, what happened?" He seems genuinely concerned.
"Greg, please, I need you to come to my room and see something."
With no hesitation, he starts walking, leading the way back upstairs. The moment he enters my bedroom and his eyes fall on the all-around destruction, he freezes. He stares, takes it all in.
"Who did this?" His voice is a stunned murmur.
"Jessica."
A shudder passes through him. "I am terribly sorry, Summer. I will take care of this." Then, rage filling his expression, he turns on his heel and leaves.
A few moments later I hear a nearby door hitting the wall with a mighty crash and Greg shouting. "What the devil did you think you were doing, destroying Summer's things? Have you lost your mind?"
"Daddy!" Jessica sounds outraged. "That whore stole my boyfriend!"
"And does that, in your mind, justify you taking a knife and slashing all of that girl's possessions?! A girl who is an orphan, for God's sake—"
"So what if—"
"—who doesn't own very much in the first place, so what she does own is very precious. Are you completely devoid of human empathy?"
"Don't defend her, Daddy! The dirty whore went into my room and stole something from me!"
Seems like Jessica discovered that the letters were missing and put two and two together. But jeez, I can't believe this girl's nerve, claiming that I stole from her. Those letters were never rightfully hers, the grubby thief!
"What did she take?" Greg asks, more quietly now. I get it: unlike an accusation of stealing a boyfriend, one of actual thievery can't be so easily swept aside.
"She took something important!" says his daughter.
"What did she take, Jessica?" Greg sounds as if he's losing all patience.
"She took something, doesn't matter what—"
"Are you lying to me right now?! I am taking you to task for what you did in Summer's room, so you're making false claims to defend your behavior? Are you that far gone?"
Satisfied that I've heard enough, I close my door, muffling their voices.
I look at my watch: thirty minutes have passed since I arrived at the house, so Seth must be long gone by now, unfortunately.
I start picking up the slashed clothes and books from the floor, from the bed, and gather them in a neat pile beside the closet. Then I take the now empty box of mementos from the floor and fill it up with what's left of its former contents. In the process, I start crying again.
A few minutes later, I hear a knock on my door. I wipe my tears hurriedly and open the door. It's Greg, looking awkward.
"I have talked to Jessica, but she refuses to apologize to you." His lips are thin with displeasure. "Therefore, I apologize on her behalf, and I assure you that she will take her punishment for what she has caused here tonight." A lengthy pause follows this pronouncement. He shuffles his feet. "You will need to replace the items that were destroyed."
He sticks his hand out to me, and I see that he's holding five hu
ndred-dollar bills. Wow, he must feel really bad about all this if he's offering that much. But even if he gave me ten times the amount, it still wouldn't make up for what I've lost; my keepsakes were irreplaceable. I stare at the bills, inwardly repulsed.
Then I look at Greg's sad eyes and sigh inwardly.
What Jessica did isn't his fault. He's a good man who doesn't deserve for me to give him a hard time as well. And I do need to buy new clothes seeing how I have nothing left besides what I'm wearing right now. Pride won't clothe me, nor will it keep me warm.
So I force myself to take the money. I even manage to choke out, "Thank you."
He nods and turns to leave. And I'm struck by a burst of inspiration.
"Greg!" When he glances back at me, I let my heartbreak rise to the surface, impossible for him to ignore. "Greg, I keep seeing the image of all my stuff torn to shreds, and it makes me sick. I don't think I can sleep in this room tonight... Please, Greg, I'd like to call a friend and ask to spend the night at her place." I need to be with Seth now, and I'm not above manipulating the situation to achieve this.
My foster hesitates, but then his face softens. "All right, Summer, if that is what you need to do."
He leaves, closing the door behind him.
I go to my bed, raise my knees to my chest, and call Seth's number.
He answers on the first ring. "Sunny?" His voice is anxious.
"Can you come pick me up at the house?"
A sharply indrawn breath, then: "I'll be there in ten minutes."
"Seth, please stop a couple of houses down on the street. I don't want Greg to see you. Just give me a call when you're here."
I hear a rushing sound in the phone, as if he's already on the move. "Okay, Sunny. See you in ten minutes."
I hang up and get ready to meet him.
* * *
Seth has parked the car further down the street like I asked him to, but when I walk to him, he isn't waiting for me in his BMW. Instead, he's pacing restlessly outside.