“Connor and I are having breakfast.”
Dad glanced at my hand halfway into the Cookie Crisp box.
“I needed a little something. The line at First Watch gets kinda long sometimes.”
He nodded. “Have an omelet for me, okay?”
“Yeah, sure.” I couldn’t end the conversation like that, on a lie about a breakfast date, and I hunted for a quick conversation topic before I rushed out the door. “You and Mom have fun last night?”
“Mm-hmm. The movie stunk, but your mom seemed to enjoy it.”
“Well, she’s a chick.”
He smiled. “True.” Then his smile faded and he cleared his throat. Looked like this wouldn’t be as quick a conversation as I’d hoped. “Skylar, when you came in the other day, your mom and I were arguing, and I know how unsettling that must feel. But please let me assure you that your mom and I are fine. We’re still working through things, but we’re fine.”
I repackaged the cereal with care. “Okay.”
“Arguing is normal. There’s always going to be tension between people, but it doesn’t mean one of us is going to leave or that we’re getting a divorce.”
“How do you know for sure?” I asked. I thought of Heather and Guy, of how she thought she’d loved him at the time but now didn’t think so. “How do you know it’s the right relationship?”
Dad frowned. “Are you speaking specifically about your mom and me, or is this a broader question?”
“Broader,” I admitted.
“Well, I guess you don’t always know. Until the relationship is tested. As hard as the tests are, that’s when you find out if you’re in it for the long haul or if it’s time to call it quits.” He smiled. “Your mom and I are in it for the long haul.”
It warmed my heart to hear him say that. I pecked his cheek. “I’m glad.”
“Enjoy breakfast,” he called after me.
I hoped I would.
Connor’s voice sounded gravelly but decently awake when he answered his cell. “I didn’t know when I’d hear from you again.”
“Yeah, about that. I’m really sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said through a yawn. “I shouldn’t have taken you to that parking garage.”
“You were trying to do what you thought was best. I just wasn’t in the mood to see it that way.”
He didn’t speak, but I could hear something kinda scratchy, as if he rubbed his unshaven chin. “I want to ask you something, but I don’t want to make you mad again.” I pulled alongside his curb. “Go ahead.”
“Really?”
“Why not?” I shut off the ignition and relaxed in my seat. “Hit me with it.”
“Is it that you don’t remember much about that night, or that you remember but don’t want to talk about it?”
Pictures flashed in my mind—Eli’s jealous eyes on Aaron and me, Aaron’s grin when he handed me my doctored drink, the blur of faces as he led me upstairs.
“Sometimes it feels like I remember every detail.” I pressed my fingertips to my forehead. “I wish they’d just go away.”
“Me too,” Connor said in the same gentle voice he used when speaking to Owen.
I sighed. “You hungry?”
“It’s too early to be hungry.”
“Well, I’m parked on your street and I’m starving.”
“Oh yeah?” A second later, Connor’s blinds raised and I saw an outline of him. “How long have you been out there?”
“Just a couple minutes. You wanna go to First Watch or something?”
“I don’t know. You think Eli and Molly will be there?”
“Marin. And I doubt it. Too early for him.”
“If he’s there, we’ll get our pancakes to go.”
“Deal.”
“I’ll be down in ten.”
“Ten? How long can it possibly take to pull on exercise shorts and a T-shirt?”
“Bye,” Connor said and hung up on me.
It felt nice to have things resolved and comfortable between us once again. No matter how short-lived it might be.
It’d barely been five minutes when Connor jogged out to the car. He smacked my forehead with a kiss. “My mom says hello.”
“Was the kiss also from your mom?”
“No, that was all me.” He buckled his seat belt. “Thanks for coming over. For suggesting breakfast.”
“Yeah, sure.” I grazed the key with my fingers but didn’t turn it.
“What’s wrong?”
I glanced at him. “You’re right that I should talk about that night. I’m just not ready.”
His hand cupped my knee. “That’s fine.”
“I don’t know when I will be.”
“I’m here whenever.”
The thought brought a smile to my face.
21
I’d been at the mall most of the morning, shopping for nothing in particular. As I realized I’d somehow walked past Fossil, a familiar and unwelcome voice said, “Skylar?”
I turned to find Jodi in line at Auntie Anne’s Pretzels. She abandoned her spot to come see me. “What’s going on?”
I dangled my bags. “Shopping.”
“Right. Me too.” She held out her unburdened arms. “Unsuccessfully, though.”
“You looking for something specific?”
“A dress for Heather’s wedding. I found one I really liked at Nordstrom, but they didn’t have my size and couldn’t promise it for another four to six weeks.”
“Bummer.” I took a step backward, mentally kicking myself for wandering down this way. “Well, I’ll—”
“You want a pretzel?” Jodi smiled. “I’m not really hungry, but they always smell so good. Remember how in eighth grade you’d always get cinnamon and sugar and I’d get a salted one, and then we’d split them?”
“Kinda.” I moved another step backward.
She either didn’t notice that I wanted out of this conversation or didn’t care. “I heard you and Connor are back together.”
I blinked. “Yeah, I know. I told you.”
“Oh, right. Well, I think it’s great.”
“No you don’t.” I couldn’t believe I’d just said that. I shifted. “At least, I wouldn’t have thought it was great if it was you guys.”
Jodi’s smile grew. “Okay, so I overstated it with ‘great.’ You know, I wish I could be more like you. Just say whatever I felt and not care what others think.”
I snorted. That hardly described me. Maybe once upon a time I’d been like that, before Aaron. Before I’d become a Christian . . . But it shouldn’t work like that, should it? Embracing God should have made me more authentic, not less.
“Can we talk?” Jodi interrupted my train of thought. “Like a real conversation? I feel like we haven’t had one since . . .” She shrugged. “Since you started dating Eli, I guess.”
I hesitated.
Jodi apparently noticed. “I don’t need us to be friends again, Skylar. I don’t expect that. It’d just be nice to resolve things between us. Before I leave town.”
That didn’t sound so bad, a little closure on everything that had transpired in the last year.
“There’s a Panera downstairs,” I said.
Jodi looked happy, but like she didn’t want to show it. As if her happiness might spook me. “Okay, sure.”
As we headed down the mall, I imagined we looked to everyone else like two normal high school girls out for a day of shopping. Last summer, they’d have been right. We used to giggle as we browsed, making eyes at the college guys who’d come home for the summer. It seemed a lifetime ago, which I hoped meant I’d made more progress toward changing, toward reinvention, than I felt I had.
In the short line at Panera’s bakery, I assessed my options for coffee drinks tasting nothing like coffee. Behind me, Jodi groaned.
I turned and found her looking straight ahead. “What?” “Sarah Humphrey,” Jodi said under her breath. “I totally forgot she works here.”
I frow
ned at Sarah, who hadn’t seemed to notice us. Even though it’d been nearly two years since Jodi lopped off her ponytail (and, okay, Jodi might have had some help from me), Sarah still wore her hair in a blunt, short style. Her hair looked nicer now than it had all those years she wore it long. Really, we’d done her a favor.
“I feel horrible for what I did to her,” Jodi said.
“Maybe you should tell her that.”
“I did back in the spring, but it’s only seemed to make her hate me more. And of course she’s slowly but surely trying to poison Alexis against me.”
I tried to connect the dots but couldn’t. “Are her and Alexis friends?”
“Well, you know, Sarah’s boyfriend is Nate. That tall, lurchy guy who hangs out with Aaron.”
“Aaron Robinson?” My voice cracked like a twelve-year-old boy’s. I hated how his name kept springing into conversations. I had no chance to guard my reaction.
“Yeah.” Jodi looked at me funny. “You didn’t know that? Don’t you remember when they crashed my party last year? Sarah’s the reason they came. According to Alexis, they came to ‘teach me a lesson,’ but I barely saw her that night, so I’ve got no idea what she’s talking about.”
The customer who’d blocked us from Sarah’s view shifted to the cash register, exposing us. Sarah stared, her pretty face drawn into a hard expression.
“Hey, Sarah,” Jodi said in a friendly yet not-too-chipper voice. “How’s it going?”
Sarah didn’t move a muscle.
“Um, okay. Well, I’d like a vanilla cappuccino—”
Sarah stalked away.
“Let’s just go.” Jodi tugged at my sleeve. “I don’t want to deal with her.”
But Sarah turning her back on Jodi—on us—had lit something inside me. “No. I’ve been looking at those pumpkin muffins, and I’m gonna have one.”
The other bakery worker, middle-aged and likely a manager of some sort, finished at the cash register and noticed us. “Has someone helped you girls?” He glanced around, as if he’d find Sarah.
“There was someone here,” I said. “A girl with short blonde hair, but she just walked away.”
He frowned. “I’m so sorry about that. What can I get for you gals?”
“I’ll have a black-and-white latte and a pumpkin muffin. My friend would like a vanilla cappuccino.”
“Sure thing.”
He rang us up, slid my muffin across the counter, and after another apology, assured us our coffees would be right out.
“You probably just got her in trouble,” Jodi whispered as we slid into a table for two.
“Good,” I said in a normal voice. The place crawled with people. No way could Sarah hear this conversation. “What’s wrong with her? I mean, yeah, you probably shouldn’t have cut off her hair—”
Jodi sighed and nodded.
“—but that was a long time ago, you’ve apologized, and . . .” Ugh. How’d that saying of my mom’s go? The one about the pot calling the kettle black? That sounded pretty close, although my mom’s pots were cobalt Le Creusets and our teakettle was stainless steel. “And I guess I shouldn’t come down so hard on Sarah when I haven’t been the picture of forgiveness.”
Jodi’s eyes widened. “Well . . .” She didn’t seem to know what to say. “Don’t worry about it. I never really expected you to forgive me for everything I did this year.”
“But everything turned out okay. I mean, Connor and I are . . . you know. Great. And even if things hadn’t turned out like I wanted, I’m still supposed to forgive you.” I sighed. “It turns out I really suck at forgiveness.”
“Me too. Especially when it comes to forgiving myself for everything.”
“Yeah.” I cut my muffin in half and pushed part of it her way.
She smiled. “Thanks.”
Two coffees in paper cups slammed onto our table. Sarah bared her teeth at us in some sort of fake smile. “Drink up. Made ’em myself.” She stalked away.
A giggle bubbled up from inside me as I looked at our coffees. “Okay, I’m so not drinking that.”
“Yeah, there’s no way.”
We smiled at each other. Maybe we really could be friends now. If we could get beyond her having a mad crush on my boyfriend.
I picked at my muffin. “Have you talked to Connor recently?” Last Saturday, when I’d asked him about Jodi, he’d told me they weren’t talking, but I couldn’t resist hearing her answer.
“No,” she relieved me by saying. “I told you, I’m out. I leave for Vanderbilt in a month, and you guys . . . Well, things are how they’re supposed to be. I didn’t always understand you two being together, but I see it now.”
“Do you? Because sometimes I’m not sure I do.”
“Remember the night we met him? You hated him.”
“Oh, I didn’t hate him,” I said, embarrassed.
“You did! You thought he was so obnoxious. I could tell.”
“Well, maybe a little. But mostly I was just leery of guys. It’d been—” It’d been less than twenty-four hours since Aaron roofied me. But of course Jodi didn’t know that.
“It’d been what?” she asked.
“It’d been a weird night.”
“I’ll say. I couldn’t believe it when I found out you were dating Eli. When Alexis called and told me, I thought she must be playing some sort of prank.”
“Unfortunately, no.”
Jodi cocked her head. “Yeah, so what’s the deal? And don’t give me that line about his Land Rover. We both know your dad would’ve bought you a fleet of Land Rovers if you cared so much. So why’d you really get together?”
I shrugged, wishing myself thousands of miles away. On a stretch of beach in Kauai where no one knew who Eli or Aaron were. Where no one would ask me questions.
But I’d come back for this reason—to remember. To remember so I could move on.
I remembered sitting at First Watch with Eli the morning after, same as I had with Connor just a few days ago. “I can’t believe I let him get away with it,” I had said, doing my best not to cry into the pancakes he’d bought me that I’d barely touched. I’d eaten enough to remove the acidic vomit taste from my mouth, then stopped.
Eli covered my hand with his own. “It’s not your fault.” “I drank way too much.” I pressed my fingertips to my temples. I’d had hangovers before, but never like this one. “I don’t know why. I guess I was trying to impress him.”
“I think it was more than drinking.”
I cracked open my eyes, letting in light that felt like a knife to my brain. “What do you mean?”
In a hushed voice, he said, “I think he maybe drugged you.”
“Drugged me?” My mushy brain made vain attempts to process this. “Like, he put something in my drink?”
Eli nodded.
“Are you just making that up, or did you actually see something?”
“I saw something.”
“What?”
“Pills.” He swallowed. “Little white ones.”
“Like roofies? Aren’t roofies white?”
Eli nodded.
“And you saw him put them in my drink?”
He swallowed and nodded again.
I buried my head in my hands. “How could I have been so stupid? I’m always so careful about who I get drinks from.” “You’re not stupid,” Eli said, taking my hand. “You’re wonderful.”
“Skylar?”
I blinked a few times, finding myself not at First Watch with Eli but at Panera with Jodi. Between spacing out and now, my head had started to throb.
Jodi seemed to be waiting, and I remembered now that she’d asked about me and Eli, about why I’d started dating him.
“I guess it was a right-time, right-place kinda thing.” Honest but vague. My specialty these days. “I regret it. And I’m sorry I dated him when I told you I wouldn’t.”
Jodi shrugged, but the shadows on her face told me how I’d hurt her. “Like you said, it was a long time ago.
And everything’s worked out okay.”
I picked at my muffin, no longer hungry. I wished for a warm, soothing drink of my latte but didn’t dare. “You think she spit in them?” I asked, nodding at our untouched cups.
She smiled. “Probably. And then drugged them.”
The back of my neck tingled. I waited until I was sure I could keep my voice even and casual. “Why do you say that?”
Had that sounded casual enough?
She laughed. “Oh, I hear rumors about that guy she’s dating. That he’s the one to go to if you wanna get hooked up.”
“That guy she’s dating,” I said slowly. “Like, Aaron’s friend?”
Jodi nodded. “That’s the one.”
22
Since my conversation with Jodi that morning, I couldn’t think about anything but Sarah’s boyfriend, the go-to guy. Could I assume Aaron got the roofie from him? When Aaron came to talk to me, was the pill in his pocket, waiting for just the right time?
And why did this make any difference to me? It didn’t change what’d happened, or who I was now. It meant nothing.
And yet the questions lingered.
“You okay?”
I blinked and forced my mind back to the here and now—the waning sunlight, the hard bleachers, whining cicadas.
I matched Amy’s wide smile. “Yeah. Just zoned out, I guess.”
“You’ve been doing that a lot tonight.” She gestured to the field. “Connor’s on third.”
Sure enough. Last I remembered, there’d still been several batters in line before him. “Oh. How’d I miss that?”
“Is there something you want to talk about?”
I shrugged and peeled my hands off the bleacher. They ached from gripping the edge so hard. I must have looked like a psycho sitting there with white knuckles and glazed eyes.
I double-checked our surroundings. Two other wives and sets of kids had come to watch the game, but the women stood at the base of the bleachers, involved in their own conversation. Their kids, plus Cameron and Curtis, screamed and ran and did all the other things kids did.
“I assume you know things with Jodi and me have been kind of weird for a while. I saw her at the mall today and we talked.”
“How was it?”
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