by Paula Stokes
I saw in his expression that he was telling the truth. I also saw that he was pissed. “I’m sorry,” I said. “But can you blame me? You know what they say. Once a cheater, always a cheater.”
“Who’s they?” Dallas asked. “Your mom?”
I winced. “Leave her out of this. It’s not like I told her what you did.”
“Why not? They also say that honesty is the best policy, right? But clearly that isn’t always true. Sometimes I wish I’d never told you. It’s only screwed everything up between us.”
“Don’t say that. Lying to me wouldn’t make things better.”
“Wouldn’t it? I get wasted at a party—one you could’ve been at, I might add—and end up doing something stupid.” Dallas lowered his voice. “I feel terrible and I confess everything, because I think you deserve to know the truth and that we’ll be able to get past it. But ever since that night, I feel like you don’t trust me at all.”
I hugged my arms across my middle. “It’s hard, Dallas, seeing all these girls practically drooling on you.”
“Well, I can’t exactly be rude to them.” He rested his head in his hands. “Maybe it was better when you didn’t come with me to these things.”
“So now you don’t want me around?”
Above our heads, thunder rumbled. Storm clouds painted the black sky gray.
“Oh, come on. You don’t want to be here. Before, you were fine just to send me off and then meet up later to do something we both wanted to do. But now you’re here because you feel like you have to watch me, right? This isn’t my girlfriend supporting me. This is my girlfriend keeping tabs on me.”
He was mostly right. If people at the party saw Dallas and me arriving together, if I was in some of the pictures that ended up on the KadetKorps Tumblr and Instagram accounts, it would amplify my presence in his life. It would make girls less likely to throw themselves at him, at least in theory.
“That’s what I thought,” he finished.
“It’s just that every time I see you with a girl, a little voice in my head reminds me that one girl persuaded you to cheat on me. And if one can do it, why not more than one?”
Dallas shook his head. “You told me you forgave me.”
“I did.” I blinked hard. “But forgetting is harder than forgiving.”
“Well, if you’re going to hold it over my head forever, then you should just break up with me,” Dallas said. “I screwed up and I hurt you. I will always regret that. But I won’t spend the rest of my life being punished for one mistake, no matter how big it was.” He waited for me to respond, and when I didn’t he threw up his hands, spun around, and stalked back toward the house.
“Dallas, wait.” I ran after him. My fingers closed around his forearm. I led him over to the custom playground equipment Tyrell had installed for his kids. We sat on a pair of tire swings, gently rocking back and forth. “It’s not just . . . what you did. It’s everything. A couple of years ago we both wanted all the same things, you know? College. Med school. Making the world a better place. The YouTube thing was just a hobby, something you did because you liked messing around on the piano.”
“Yeah,” he said. “And now everything is different. No one could’ve predicted this. I know you think it’s shallow, writing music, performing for people. But I think it’s also a platform for making the world a better place. I mean, look at what Tyrell has done for the city.”
Dallas had a point, not about me thinking his newfound fame was superficial, but about Tyrell making real changes to the city. Tyrell James had been instrumental in creating safe spaces for inner-city youth across St. Louis. He funded a number of after-school programs where local high school and college kids volunteer to teach sports, writing, art, filmmaking, etc., in areas where the more common after-school activities revolve around gangs and drugs.
“I don’t think it’s shallow,” I said. “But you’re right. I don’t have fun at these parties. I haven’t been coming just to keep an eye on you, though. I’ve been trying to be the girlfriend I thought you wanted me to be. I figured maybe if I compromised and tried to be more involved in your world, it might help fix things between us.”
“Genna, nothing between us is broken.”
“Not to you, maybe,” I said, my voice growing hoarse.
“I just want for you to trust me again. I want for things to go back to the way that they were.”
Another clap of thunder startled me out of the swing. A bolt of lightning split the night into pieces. There was a squeal from the hot tub as people started heading back to the house.
I peered up at the sky. “Are you trying to hang on to us because you want to hang on to us? Or is it because you’re worried about how a breakup right when your album releases might look? Are you worried I’ll tell people you cheated on me?”
Dallas’s face blanched ghost pale against the dark backdrop of Tyrell’s yard. “You did not just ask me that.”
“I’m sorry, but—”
“No. You know what? I can’t even believe you’re pulling this shit tonight.” He rose up from his swing and headed back toward the house.
“Dallas,” I called after him. “Where are you going?”
“I need to be away from you right now,” he called back over his shoulder.
I let him go. For a few minutes, I swung idly back and forth on the tire swing, waiting to be swept up in a storm that never arrived.
Then I returned to the safety of the laundry room, and Sable, but this time her doggie smile couldn’t lift my spirits. I grabbed my phone and sent Shannon a text.
Me: Dallas and I got into a fight :(
Her: That’s been happening a lot lately, hasn’t it?
Shannon didn’t know Dallas had cheated on me. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust her—I knew she’d keep it a secret. But Shannon used to live next door to me before her parents divorced, and the two of us were almost inseparable from first grade until sophomore year. Then I started dating Dallas and she admitted she was a little jealous of the time I spent with him. Things had improved between the two of them over the past year, but he still wasn’t her favorite person. If she found out he cheated on me, she would have told me to break up with him, and I didn’t feel like explaining to her why I wasn’t going to, how what he did was different from what my dad did. Dallas had gotten drunk and caved to temptation—a one-time thing. My dad had given up on his marriage and fallen in love with another woman behind my mom’s back. And where Dad had lied about it for months, Dallas came clean right away.
But Shannon wouldn’t have seen it that way. She would’ve told me I needed to have more self-respect. And maybe that was true. Maybe by staying with Dallas, all I did was prove to him that he could treat me like crap if he wanted to.
Me: I think it might be over.
Her: Is it because he’s taking a year off before he goes to college?
I started to shake. As far as I knew, Dallas and I were supposed to be starting at Wash U together in the fall. After that, we both planned to attend med school together and then try to match for a residency in the same city. If Dallas was taking a year off, our whole lives would be off track.
Me: Where did you hear that?
Her: IDK. I probably read it online somewhere.
Me: Well this is the first I’ve heard of it.
Her: Well then it’s probably not true.
Me: I bet it is and he just didn’t tell me because he knew I’d be upset. I don’t know if we can survive this.
Her: You’re just saying that because you’re upset now.
I looked away from my phone and sucked in a deep breath. I let it out, slowly, calmly. My shaking dissipated.
Me: What if I’m not upset? What if I feel like I’m seeing things clearly for the first time in months?
Her: What kind of things?
Me: I don’t want to talk about this via text. If I come over in like an hour and a half, will you still be awake?
Her: Sure. Or if not, just go ar
ound back and knock on my window.
Me: Thanks, Shan.
Her: Anything for you, G.
I headed back to the great room, where Dallas was sitting on the sofa smashed between two girls I’d never seen before. One of them had her hand on his leg, playing with a fraying thread on his jeans. He looked up at me with an expression just daring me to say something, but I bit my tongue. I wasn’t interested in seeing myself on YouTube as “Dallas Kade’s psycho girlfriend.”
“Hey,” I said sweetly. “Can I talk to you for a couple of minutes?”
The girls glared at me as Dallas slid out from between them and followed me through the dining room and into a back hallway.
“Are you really taking a year off before you go to college?” I asked.
Dallas didn’t say anything for a couple of seconds, but the look on his face—surprise, discomfort, guilt—was all the answer I needed. He cleared his throat to speak. “Uh, well, the thing is—”
“How could you?” I asked. “How could you make this decision and share it with other people and not me? You promised you would never lie to me, Dallas.”
We’d made a pact to always tell the truth back before we ever started dating. We were fifteen at the time and Dallas was walking me home after Premed Club. He was so proud because we’d been doing microbiology and he’d figured out the unknown organism before I did, but when I didn’t respond to his gloating, he knew something was wrong.
“What is it?” he asked. “You’ve been acting weird all day.”
“My parents are getting a divorce,” I said. “My dad’s leaving.”
“Like leaving leaving?”
“He’s moving to Montana or something. I don’t know. I quit listening after the part about how he’d fallen in love with another woman.” I choked back a sob. I had refused to cry for my father, my father who I caught humming under his breath while he was packing.
“I’m so sorry, Genna.” Dallas took my hand.
I looked away. “Whatever, you know. If he wants to leave, then he should leave. I just wish he hadn’t lied about it.”
“Everybody lies sometimes,” Dallas said.
“I don’t,” I snapped.
“Yes you do. What about all day at school when I asked you what was wrong and you said nothing?”
He had a point. “Well, at least my lies aren’t to cover up anything bad that I’m doing.”
“Let’s make a pact,” Dallas said. “Right here. Right now.”
I remember we were coming up on the train tracks we had to cross to get to my house. We had stood and watched as the brick-red boxcars of a freight train rolled past.
“I promise I will never lie to you,” Dallas said.
“I promise I will never lie to you.” I held my hand out, pinkie extended.
“Pinkie swear, huh?” he said with a grin. “Serious business.”
“Serious business,” I agreed.
“Pinkie swear,” I now reminded him, as he slouched back against the wall of Tyrell’s house.
Dallas rubbed at his temples. “I didn’t lie. I just didn’t want to tell you anything until it was definite, because I knew you’d be . . . disappointed. My parents and I talked it over and we all think me taking a year off before I start college is a good idea. That way I can do a good job promoting the album and staying engaged with fans without potentially sacrificing my grades.”
“But don’t you think there will be a second album?”
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “I don’t know, Genna. So far, I only signed for one. I love making music, but not enough to skip going to college and exploring other opportunities when I’m ready.”
“But we were going to go to med school together,” I said. “And what about matching for a residency?”
“That’s a million years away,” Dallas said. “Who knows what could change by then? We might not even still want to be doctors after a couple years of college.”
“Well, I know I will,” I said hotly.
“Even if we do, maybe you can take a year off after college and we can still apply for med school together.”
“I’m supposed to take a year off because you suddenly aren’t sure if you want to be a doctor?”
“A lot of people take gap years. It’s no big deal. Why are you being like this tonight?” Dallas asked. “This album release is really important to me. Can you just try to be supportive for the next couple of hours?”
“I don’t know.” I gnawed on my lower lip. “I can’t stop looking around at all these girls and imagining each of them as the girl you hooked up with. Is she here?”
“No,” Dallas said flatly. “If you really want to know—”
Someone coughed gently from the doorway to the dining room. Tricia, Tyrell’s assistant. “Everything okay?” she asked.
“Sorry, Tricia,” Dallas replied. “Everything is fine. I’ll be back in a couple minutes.”
I held my breath as I waited to see if he was going to finish his sentence and tell me about the girl.
He turned to me. “We should probably talk about this later.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “You’re right. Now is not the time or place. Can we maybe just get out of here?”
Dallas looked at his phone. “It’s eleven-thirty. Even if we leave right now, it’ll be after twelve-thirty by the time we get home. Plus, it looks like it’s going to rain and I’m not sure I’m in any condition to drive. I was thinking we could just crash here and head home in the morning.”
I fidgeted, thinking about how I told Shannon I was coming over. “I really want to get home.”
Dallas sighed. “You can have your own room if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“It’s not that. I just shouldn’t have come here with you. I hate that this is your special night and I’m wrecking it. Maybe I can just call a cab.”
“A cab from here to your house would be like two hundred dollars,” Dallas said. “We can go if you really want to.” He yawned. “But I should probably slam a quick cup of coffee first.”
“I can drive,” I said quickly. “I haven’t drunk anything at all.”
“It’s a bigger car than you’re used to.”
“I have a MINI Cooper. Every car is a bigger car than I’m used to. It’ll be fine—I’ve driven my mom’s car plenty of times,” I said. “I’ll drop you off at home, take the car to my house, and then I can get it back to you tomorrow.”
“Fine.” Dallas tossed me his car keys. “I just have to say good-bye to a few people first.”
“I’ll wait for you outside.” I headed for the front door.
CHAPTER 10
Someone knocks on my own front door, interrupting the memory that’s been coalescing in my brain. Maybe Shannon decided to skip swim practice and come by anyway. It wouldn’t be the first time she’s blown off her responsibilities for me.
But when I open the door, it isn’t Shannon. It’s a girl wearing khakis and a polo shirt with a number five emblazoned just below the collar. She tosses her stick-straight blond hair back from her face in a way that makes it cascade across her shoulders. Definitely a move she’s practiced before. A cameraman hovers behind her, looking as if he’s trying to maintain a safe distance from me.
“What are you doing?” I ask. “Don’t you have to stay down there?” I point at the curb. I managed to avoid all the reporters on the way home from school by circling around and cutting through the backyard, entering the house through the garage. It never occurred to me they might just come knock on the door.
“Hi, Genevieve!” The girl’s voice is unnaturally cheery, like she’s here to interview me about my National Merit Scholarship instead of my dead boyfriend. “I’m Ashley Losito from Channel Five News. I just thought now that you’re feeling better and back to school that you might want to share your thoughts about what happened?”
“No comment,” I say. In the back of my mind, the memory of that night is still filling itself in, a piece at a time, and I just wan
t this girl to go away so I can focus. I see Dallas leave Tyrell’s house. He gets into the car. I pull away from the curb and head for the highway.
I start to close the door on Ashley and her perfect blond hair.
She sticks her foot in the crack. “Is there anything you want to say to Brad Freeman, the man who almost killed you?”
“No comment,” I repeat.
“What about Dallas’s fans, the Kadet Korps? Surely you have something to say to them.” She’s still got one foot inside my house, but she quickly repositions her body so her cameraman can get us both in the frame. It makes me think of Ciara trying to take a selfie with me.
“Don’t touch me,” I snap, as her arm brushes against mine. “All of you need to get a life. Get off my porch.”
In my head, Dallas and I are driving. The road is dark. Rain starts to fall.
“Genevieve. Why are you getting angry?” Ashley asks. “We’re on your side. We just want to tell your story.”
“I said no comment!” The memory is fading now. I lift a hand to my forehead as if I can manually grab hold of it. With my other hand, I reach toward Ashley Losito, intending to push her backward so I can shut the door.
“What are you doing?” She steps back quickly.
From the depths of my brain I hear Dallas ask the same thing. Genna, what are you doing? I analyze the sound of his voice, the volume, the sharpness, the velocity of his speech. He sounds . . . terrified. But why? There’s a flash of an image. Lightning illuminates the car’s interior. Dallas is wide-eyed and reaching toward me. Beyond him, I see dark pavement and a ravine running along the side of the road.
Ashley decides to press her luck. “Are you remembering something? What’s the last thing you remember before the accident?”
“Just leave me alone!” I push Ashley backward with both hands.
Startled, she bumps into her cameraman and they both almost end up on their butts in my mom’s rosebushes. I slam the door, lock it, and slide the dead bolt into place. Then I head for the safety of my bedroom.