“Popcorn!” she announced, halfway up.
Oliver snatched his homework back. “You know, maybe if you’d explain shit instead of just berating me when I get the answer wrong, I might actually learn something.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Elena said.
Oliver shoved his book and homework into his bag and hopped off the chair. He had better things to do with his time. “I’m done with this. I’ll fail Latin or I’ll figure out a way to drop the class, I don’t care. Even getting my computer back isn’t worth this abuse.”
“Abuse?” she said. “You’re feeling abused? You’re the one who showed up at my event on Friday and ruined my entire night.”
“Whatever, Elena, my telling you about our parents was no big deal. You said yourself you already knew about your mom and my dad. Unless you were lying about that.” He cocked his jaw as she squirmed under his gaze. “And besides, I was trying to be a good guy by telling you.”
“If that’s your attempt at being a decent person, good luck ever getting anyone to like you.” She folded her arms.
“Tell Harper I said good-bye. Oh, and propter means ‘on account of.’”
“Well, then translate it that way next time!” Elena shouted after him.
Home wasn’t any better. As soon as he stepped through the front door, his parents and sister greeted him from the living room. They were seated in a triangle of sorts—Dad and Regina perched on matching loveseats right across from each other, with Mom in a wingback chair between them. A cloud of gloom hung over all three of them.
“Oliver, good,” his mom said, clasping her hands in front of her. “We need to talk.”
He fixed his eyes on Regina, wishing they had the kind of telepathic magic other twins had. The only sense he got from her furrowed brow was that whatever his mom was about to say, it wasn’t good. He plunked himself next to his sister and folded his hands in his lap.
“It’s no secret your dad and I have had our issues as of late,” she said. “My staying in Florida for the past few months has been a trial separation of sorts.” She glanced at Trip, whose gaze was fixed on a water stain in the middle of the coffee table. “Your dad and I, we’ve decided it’s best if we divorce.”
Regina’s body tensed. “What?”
Their mom’s face was soft. “You know we haven’t been happy, honey.”
Oliver said nothing, even though his mom was right. She and Trip never fought much in front of the kids, but awkward silences, annoyed grumbling, and angry whispers filled most of their time together.
“You can work through this,” said Regina. “Go to counseling.”
“We’ve done that,” said their mom. “Of course we’ve done that. We’ve done all we can do.” She reached for Regina’s hand, but Regina scooted closer to Oliver, like he was her security blanket.
The close proximity of his sister took Oliver back to Florida. The weekends there had been torture. That’s when Regina and Oliver banded together to hide from the bickering, tension, and uncomfortable quiet that loomed over the forty-eight hours when their parents were forced to be in the same house each week. Oliver and Regina had spent every Saturday and Sunday completely on edge, tiptoeing around the undercurrent of stress that permeated their home. The twins used to hide in each other’s rooms, distracting themselves with computer games and other such nonsense, waiting for Monday to roll around. Maybe that’s why he and his sister were out of synch in North Pole. They hadn’t needed to rely on each other as much since the family moved here.
“You haven’t even tried living here,” said Regina. “You’ve been in Florida this whole time.”
“Honey, the fact that your dad and I are happier apart, doesn’t that say something?”
“Dad’s not happy,” snapped Regina. “Look at him.” She gestured toward her father, who was sitting on the other side of the coffee table. “All he does here is work and mope—”
“Your mother’s right, Regina,” whispered Trip. “This is for the best.” His red eyes suggested otherwise.
Regina shifted her raging gaze to Oliver. “What do you have to say about this?”
“I don’t know,” he said, still watching his dad, who was gray-faced and shell-shocked. “I mean, where will we live?” Dealing with logistics was way easier than working through emotions.
His mom said, “That hasn’t been decided yet, but I suppose you can stay here or move back to Florida, whichever you choose. We want to make this easy on you. That’s the most important thing to both your dad and me.”
“You want to make this easy on us? Too late for that.” Regina jumped up and glared at Oliver, like all of this was his fault. “Why aren’t you more angry or sad or something, you robot?”
He frowned. Regina always burned hotter than he did emotionally, but directing her furor his way was unfair. “I’m in shock.”
“Well, snap out of it.” She literally snapped in front of his face, and he brushed her hand aside. “This is really happening. Our parents are splitting up. They’re tearing our family apart.”
“We’ve been apart, Regina,” said their mom. “Not much is going to change—”
“Everything is going to change.” Tears streamed down Regina’s face.
This hubbub and all its raw emotion were too much for Oliver. He latched onto one tiny glimmer of hope in this gigantic mess of garbage. “Can I have my computer back?” he asked. Maybe his mom was feeling so guilty at this point, she’d give him anything he wanted.
“Are you kidding me right now?” Regina said.
His mom frowned. “I don’t think so, honey,” she said. “Your grades have improved and your dad says you’ve been doing better socially without it. I think we should keep this little no-electronics experiment clipping along.”
A cold sweat creeping down his back, Oliver rose.
“Oh, now you’ve finally pissed him off,” Regina said, folding her arms across her chest. “Poor Oliver can’t have his computer back. It’s the only stinking thing he cares about.”
“Are we done here?” he asked, eyes locked on his mom. He removed all emotion from his voice. Sure, he was angry and frustrated and sad, but Regina couldn’t know that. Not after her robot comment.
“I suppose so,” said his mother.
Oliver marched up to his room and shut the door, slowly, quietly. He left the lights off and listened to the hum of nothing in his room. The silence threatened to strangle him. A knot in his throat, he opened up his Stash Grab app and messaged the only person he could talk to, proud_hoser. “My parents are getting a divorce.”
Chapter Ten
Elena sat down to watch Pitch Perfect 2 with Harper after Oliver left.
“I don’t see why you two can’t be civil to each other,” Harper said, her mouth full of popcorn. “I mean, it’s not like you have to pledge your undying love or propose marriage or anything, just treat each other like human beings.”
“I hope you’ll tell him this, too,” said Elena.
“I will and I do,” Harper insisted.
“Because I’m not the only jerk here.”
Harper patted her on the leg. “You’re not the only jerk.” She raised her eyebrows, and Elena understood the silent “But you are a jerk,” in that statement.
That was Elena’s cue to leave. She pulled on her running shoes. “I’d better get going before it gets dark.” Her mom had dropped her off at Harper’s, but Elena had wanted to run home. It was a good seven miles from Harper’s house in the golf resort to Elena’s place in town.
Harper waved good-bye, her focus now on a fictional life-or-death a capella tournament.
Elena’s friends and family always made fun of her for running outside in the dead of winter, but Elena loved it. This was the best time for an outdoor run. The cold air slapped the life into her, gave her clarity. She dashed out Harper’s front entrance, ran past the abandoned log cabin next door, and kept going and going and going until her phone buzzed. Elena slowed to a stop. Ther
e was a Stash nearby.
She grinned. This was true contentment: a life-affirming run and the Stash Grab competition, where she was currently sitting in the top five. Elena was so close to winning the plane tickets that she could almost feel a sandy beach between her toes. She clicked on the tiny virtual Stash, and the question popped up: Stan Stashiuk has a birthmark on his back. Which state does it resemble?
Elena grinned. She knew this one. It was basic Stash trivia. His birthmark was shaped like Illinois.
She typed the answer, and Elena’s mood brightened even more as the little Stash disappeared behind her avatar at the bottom of the screen. This game was kind of stupid, but she loved the rush that accompanied her success. Stash Grab was something she had control over, something she was good at. It gave her purpose, too. She wanted to win. She wanted to go on spring break with Harper. She was tired of missing out.
She took off running again, using the abandoned golf cart paths as her running track. When she was nearly to the entrance of the resort, her phone buzzed again, and once more she slowed to a halt.
This time there wasn’t a Stash in the area. It was a message from Stashiuk4Prez. Elena’s cheeks flushed. How dare he interrupt her run? Her finger hovered over the delete button, about to erase her entire conversation with Stashiuk4Prez, AKA Oliver Prince, but curiosity got the best of her. Biting her lip and grumbling at her own weakness, she clicked on the text.
“My parents are getting a divorce,” it said.
Numb, Elena slowly lowered the phone back into her pocket. She should ignore this. She should butt out and not get involved. He’d sent this to proud_hoser, not to her. This message was not meant for Elena Chestnut’s eyes.
But, she thought, as she exited the resort and ran down Holly Road to her house, Oliver was reaching out to this specific girl for support. His life was already pretty shitty at this point, and how much deeper would it sink his mood if the girl he liked completely ignored his very important, very personal message?
This was an opportunity for Elena to practice civility. This was her chance to prove she wasn’t the evilest witch in town.
She paused on the corner of Holly and Spruce and wrote him back, “That completely sucks. I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks,” he said. “You’re the first person I told. It feels more real all of a sudden. My mom and dad are splitting up.”
Elena’s heart beat faster, a lump in her throat. If his mom and dad were divorcing, what did that mean for her own parents? What if Oliver had been right? What if her mom and his dad were having an affair? With shaking hands, she asked, “Do you know why this is happening?”
He said, “It’s not a shock or anything. They’ve been unhappy for a long time. It’s just…a lot of emotions right now.”
A touch of relief entered Elena’s body, which was then replaced by guilt. She shouldn’t feel happy that his situation had nothing to do with her mom and dad. She told him, “You know you can talk to me,” and, oddly, she meant it.
He said, “It’s a mix of things, you know? I’m sitting here alone in my room and I’m sad and hurt, but also relieved. And then I feel guilty for the relief.”
“Why do you feel guilty?” Instead of turning toward home, Elena hung a right on Spruce and headed into town. If she was going to have this conversation, she might as well catch some Stashes in the meantime.
“My mom said I can stay here in North Pole with my dad, if I want. I guess I feel guilty because I’m glad. I don’t want to leave.”
Before she’d known that Oliver Prince was the one on the other end of this dialogue, Elena would’ve said something like, “I don’t want you to leave.” Now she said, “It’s good they’re letting you make your own choices.”
He didn’t write back immediately, and Elena figured he was probably trying to decipher her message and its lack of lovey-dovey treacle. When he finally responded, he said, “Let’s talk about something else. What are you doing?”
“I’m in town catching Stashes,” she said, though she regretted it right away. What if he came out looking for her? She sighed. Oh, well. Then the cat would be out of the bag. “I just caught a hundred pointer outside Joyeaux Noel.”
“What was the question?” he asked.
“Something about Dolores Page’s kids who are all named after reindeer,” she told him.
“Have fun,” he said.
Elena kept going, running up and down the streets of North Pole, hurtling over snowdrifts, galumphing through the sludge. When she was out in front of Danny Garland’s house, catching a Stash about his neighbor’s cat, she got another message from Stashiuk4Prez.
“There’s a two-hundred point Stash in the park.”
Elena froze. What did this mean? Was he waiting for her at the park? Was this his way of forcing a meet-up? Elena glanced around. She was just down the road from the park. Was Oliver Prince there waiting for proud_hoser? And how would he feel if Elena showed up instead? How would he feel if no one came?
Shaking from guilt, Elena ambled toward the park. What should she do? Should she reveal herself or not? Her goal had been to use the two-block walk as a chance to make up her mind, but her decision was no clearer by the time she reached the playground.
Hiding behind a tree, Elena’s eyes swung to each corner of the park. The place was deserted, an empty plot of land covered by a vast blanket of snow. She detected no sign of Oliver or anyone else. Elena stepped out from her hiding spot and tiptoed toward the playground, feeling exposed as she crept out into the open. That’s when the Stash popped up. Elena’s eyes swept the area again. Still no sign of Oliver. She read the question.
“What is Sam Anderson’s favorite movie?”
Elena laughed. This was a question tailor made for her. Except, did they want to know the movie he always said was his favorite movie (A Few Good Men), or did they want to know his actual favorite movie? She went for the latter. “Mission: Impossible III.”
The Stash disappeared behind her avatar.
She hesitated for a second, sensing hidden eyes watching her every move, then she messaged Oliver. “Thanks. I caught one by Danny’s house, if you’re looking.”
“I am,” he said. “There’s one in the deli section at the grocery store, but you’d better hurry. Ludlum’s is closing soon.”
Relief flooded her system. He wasn’t trying to meet her. He was simply trying to help the girl he liked win Stash Grab.
Grinning like a fool, she took off toward Evergreen Street and the grocery store. She got to the deli just in time, and she caught the Stash, despite stern frowns of disapproval from the owner, Bob Ludlum, who was angry at her for not buying anything.
“Yeah, Bob,” she shouted on her way out, “like you’ve never ‘just browsed’ at Chestnut’s!”
She caught another Stash in the arcade and another outside the gun shop. Adrenaline coursed through her body. She had reached the point of invincibility. She hadn’t felt this good in weeks, maybe months. She messaged Stashiuk4Prez, forgetting momentarily that he and Oliver Prince were the same person. “There are a million Stashes out tonight. We are kicking so much ass!”
As Elena jogged down Main Street, she waved to her fellow North Pole residents. Sam and his buddies hovered outside the video store. An elderly pair—was that Frank and Dolores Page?—kissed in the moonlight under a streetlamp. As her curfew, ten thirty, approached, Elena checked her spot on the Stash Grab leader board. She was near the top—number three. Then she skidded around the corner by the bakery and nearly tripped over her own boot when she saw Oliver Prince hovering outside the Chinese restaurant, which was rebelliously called “The Chinese Restaurant” and not something Christmasy, like “Away in Lo Mein-ger.”
He had his phone out as well. The two of them stared at each other for a beat, then Elena glanced down as her phone buzzed. “Tonight was exactly the distraction I needed. Thank you.”
She looked up, but Oliver Prince was gone.
Elena trudged home. Did he know?
Was that last message his way of saying “I see you?” That couldn’t be it. How would he know? Why would he even suspect? She chuckled to herself. She’d been completely nice and civil to him all evening. That was not on-brand for Elena Chestnut.
At home, Elena found her parents in the living room, sitting next to each other on the couch, a foot of space between them. They weren’t watching TV; they were staring at the door, like they were waiting for Elena to come home. The scene took her breath away, and the word “divorce” pounded in her head.
Elena took her time pulling off her boots in the hallway. When she stepped into the living room, her mom and dad straightened up, all business. “Elena, we want to be honest with you.” There was a sharpness to her mom’s voice.
Her mom pointed to the chair across from them, but Elena didn’t take it. She stayed where she was, gloves in hand, and folded her arms across her chest.
“Honey,” her dad said, “the business isn’t doing well.”
Elena resisted a, “Well, duh.”
Her mom drew in a deep breath. “We’ve been having trouble paying our bills.”
“That’s why we went to Wisconsin to see your aunt,” her dad said. It sounded like they were reciting lines from a play. Elena wouldn’t have been surprised to learn they’d been practicing this since she left for Harper’s house that afternoon.
“We asked to borrow money but she said no.” Elena’s mom frowned. “She said the business was going to go under no matter what we did.”
Elena exhaled. At least they were starting to be honest with her. That was progress. And at least they weren’t talking about splitting up. “What about the money from Friday night?” When they’d arrived home from Aunt Patti’s earlier this morning, Elena had been so excited to tell them about the big night at Chestnut’s after the Stash Grab Dash. They hadn’t seemed super jazzed then, and they didn’t now.
“It’s not enough,” said her dad.
Any Boy but You (North Pole, Minnesota) Page 12