The Problem with Forever

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  was closer and I hadn’t even heard him move. “Mouse?”

  Class was over at this point, and I should really head home, but I...I didn’t want to leave. Not yet. There was something peaceful about this place despite the distant hum of traffic and bleating horns. I shook my head.

  He stared at me a moment and then walked over to the old stone picnic table and sat. I joined him after a minute. Neither of us spoke for a long moment, and it was like falling down a rabbit hole. How many times had we sat side by side in the past?

  My tongue came unglued from the roof of my mouth. “Do you think it’s weird?”

  “What?” he asked, propping his elbows on the table behind him. He leaned back, his lashes lowered.

  “This. Being here like...like no time has passed.” Warmth crept into my cheeks. “It’s just weird.”

  He was quiet again. “Yeah, it’s weird, but in a good way. Right?”

  “Right,” I murmured.

  Rider knocked his knee off mine. “I’m glad we’re here, though, to experience this weirdness.”

  The warmth increased as the corners of my lips twitched into a small grin. “Me, too.” He held my gaze for a heartbeat and then flipped his attention to the graffiti-covered wall. I drew in a shallow breath. This was the perfect chance to ask him about how the last four years had been. There were so many questions. “How long...have you been with Hector’s grandmother?”

  His brows furrowed. “About three years.”

  “And the...group home before then?”

  “It wasn’t that bad,” he replied, stretching out his legs. “Not many kids.” He laughed softly, under his breath. “I was actually surprised when I was sent to live with Mrs. Luna. I was almost fifteen. Like what’s the point?”

  I got what he was saying, but he was lucky, because not many people wanted to take on a teenager who’d been in the system their entire life. It was surprising that he found one that did. “You’re happy with...Mrs. Luna?”

  “Yeah...” He squinted as he moved his fingers, opening and closing them. A raindrop hit the table. “She’s good people.”

  I waited for him to say more, to elaborate, but he went quiet in the way that made me question what he said. I opened my mouth, but he looked over at me. Words scorched the tip of my tongue.

  His voice was so low it was barely above a whisper when he spoke. “Do you ever... Do you ever think about that night?”

  Muscles in my stomach knotted, and I shook my head, which wasn’t a lie. I did everything in my power not to think about that night. Except last night my brain had decided to give me a play-by-play recap.

  “Do you?” I whispered, unable to look at him.

  “Sometimes.” There was a pause as he slid his hands along his jeans. “Sometimes I think about other nights, you know, when that asshole would get drunk and his friends would be over.”

  Every part of my body tensed, and I didn’t dare make a sound then, because I knew what other nights he was referencing.

  “And sometimes I hope that every one of them, including Henry, is dead.” He laughed without humor. “That makes me a horrible person, doesn’t it?”

  “No,” I said immediately. “That doesn’t make you a horrible person.” My mouth dried as my thoughts raced back to those nights when Henry’s friends would be in the house. Some would look at me in ways no man should look at a little girl. Then there were some who looked at Rider in the same way—some that had gone for him. The others would’ve gotten me if it hadn’t been for Rider. “Did they ever...?”

  Rider shook his head. “No. I was always too fast and they were always too drunk. I was lucky.”

  I wasn’t sure that made him lucky.

  “We should head back,” he said, pushing to his feet as another drop of rain fell to the cracked asphalt. “It’s about to start pouring.”

  Standing, I followed him to the Honda. My movements were stiff. As Rider got into the car and closed the door, I turned and stared at the painted brick wall. The graffiti might just have been letters, a bright flower, a woman’s face or a little boy staring up at the sky with no hope of a different tomorrow, but each piece of art had a story to tell. Each of them spoke without words. And while I’d tried for years to do the same, I wasn’t a painting on a wall.

  “My name is Mallory...Dodge.” I drew in a deep breath, speaking to no one. “And I like...I like reading. And I don’t like...I don’t like who I am.”

  Chapter 11

  We didn’t make it to the Harbor to meet Ainsley until noon on Saturday since Carl wanted to make breakfast and do the whole caring-is-sharing routine, which was a Saturday staple unless he or Rosa got called into work.

  Carl had made his famous waffles—famous in his own head—but they were special to me. Special because I’d never had this before them. Waffles with blueberries and strawberries every Saturday morning. Special because I knew there were too many kids to count that weren’t experiencing this and never had.

  Halfway through breakfast, the idle chatter between them turned serious and it was directed at me. It was Rosa who spoke first, after her second full cup of coffee. “So, the school called us yesterday.”

  With a forkful of waffle and strawberry halfway to my gaping mouth, I froze. So much for my promise to Rider about not getting in trouble.

  She placed her fork on her plate, next to the waffle crumbs. Her plate was otherwise clear. Mine looked like a syrup lake. “Actually, a Mr. Santos contacted us.”

  I closed my eyes.

  “We both spoke to him,” Carl added, and the waffle I’d so recently shoved down my throat turned sour. “He explained you had an issue yesterday in class during an exercise in public speaking.”

  Opening my eyes, I lowered my fork. I was so no longer hungry. And I was so... I shifted in my chair, uncomfortable.

  “He said that another classmate spoke up for you, said you were feeling ill and that’s why you left,” Carl continued. “Now, he also told us it was Rider who covered for you.”

  Oh, God.

  I wanted to crawl under the table.

  “We’ll talk about that in a moment.” Rosa held up a hand, silencing Carl. “You weren’t feeling ill yesterday, were you?”

  Lying would probably be better than throwing my failure onto the table in front of us, but I shook my head. Silence stretched out, and I pressed my lips together as I shifted my gaze to my plate. They had to be so disappointed. One week into school and they’d already gotten a call concerning me.

  “It’s okay.” Rosa reached over, placing her hand on my arm. I looked up. “Carl and I expected there were going to be some bumps in the road. We knew speech class wasn’t going to be easy. You knew that, too.”

  She was right. That didn’t make admitting my failure any easier.

  “The school knows,” Carl said, drawing my attention.

  “Knows...knows what?”

  Folding his arms on the table, he leaned forward. “We spoke to the administration back when you were registered, letting them know you might have some difficulties.”

  My jaw nearly hit the table. “You...did what?”

  “We didn’t go into detail, Mallory, and we only met with your teachers, the principal and Mrs. Dehaven, one of the counselors,” Rosa explained. “It’s just so they could keep an eye on you, just in case anything happened that we needed to know about.”

  Only everyone! Oh my God. Skin tingling and itchy, I sat back in the chair. I stared at them without really seeing them. All I could see was all these people knowing about my difficulties the whole week when this was supposed to be a fresh start.

  “They needed to know,” Carl said.

  That was stated like it was a fact, and I begged to differ. My tongue untangled.

  “We worked out a deal with Mr. Santos during yesterday’s call,” he continued, and my tongue went right back to the roof of my mouth. “He completely understands, Mallory. I want you to know that. He understands how difficult it will be for you to ge
t in front of that class and speak.”

  I might’ve stopped breathing.

  “Speech is a requirement for graduation, but they’ve made concessions for students before,” Rosa said, her voice soft. “And Mr. Santos was more than willing to do so in this case.”

  I stiffened. “But—”

  “He agreed that instead of you having to give your speeches in front of the class with the rest of the students, you’ll have a set time to give them only to him,” Carl explained, and I might’ve been having an out-of-body experience. “That way you’ll be able to keep up with the assignments, but on your terms.”

  Rosa patted my arm. “This is good news.”

  “This...” I shook my head, at a loss. “Everyone...will know.”

  Carl frowned.

  “The kids in my class will know...that I can’t do it and that I’m getting something...they aren’t. They all...have to stand up there and I don’t? I need to...do it.”

  He tilted his head to the side. “Honey, what you need to do is pass the class.”

  “What I need more is to...be normal, and giving the speech just to Mr. Santos isn’t the same thing,” I protested as I glanced between them. “I can do this.”

  “We know you can. Eventually,” Rosa said, and I jerked back in my seat. Eventually. As in they didn’t believe I could do it now. “But right now it’s baby steps. You’ve already made tremendous strides the past four years. It’s okay to proceed with caution after so much change. Okay?”

  I wasn’t okay with any of it, but the burn of the fight was reduced to nothing more than a simmer as I lowered my hands to my lap. “You never had to...intervene like this for Marquette, did you?”

  Rosa and Carl stared back at me.

  I didn’t know why those words flowed out of my mouth. No idea. I wanted to take them back.

  Carl drew in a deep breath. “We didn’t.”

  My fingers twisted together in my lap.

  Rosa stood, picking up her plate and Carl’s. “You done?” she asked me, and when I nodded, mine was swiped off the table.

  “That was nice of that boy to cover for you,” Carl stated, and my gaze flew to his.

  “That boy?” I asked.

  “Rider,” he corrected, and my shoulders tensed. “Mr. Santos said he left class to check on you. He didn’t come back.”

  Oh jeez, could I just start today over and never get out of bed? I wished I was upstairs, finishing the owl I’d started to carve last night. Nothing numbed me out quicker than working with soap. It had helped after everything with speech class and Rider. I’d carved out the tiny body, etching in tiny feathers and small, flat ears.

  I drew my attention back to the topic at hand. “He...he made sure I was okay.”

  Carl studied me. “Have you been spending a lot of time with him?”

  “Just...in speech,” I said, feeling a little guilty about not telling the actual truth. I smoothed it over with something that was true. “But I’ve been...sitting with a girl at lunch who is in my English and speech class. Her name is Keira.”

  “That’s really good to hear.” Rosa’s back was to us as she dumped the crumbs into the trash. “Does Rider not share the same lunch schedule?”

  “No.” I doubted they’d appreciate knowing Rider had skipped class to spend lunch with me earlier in the week.

  Carl was still staring at me like he was trying to read my thoughts. “Is he interested in you, Mallory?”

  “What?” I blinked once and then twice.

  Rosa spun around, her gaze fixed on him.

  “Is he interested in you as more than just a friend?” he repeated.

  Oh, my...

  Oh my Lord...

  My face was going to melt off. “He has a girlfriend!”

  It was Rosa’s turn to blink.

  “He does?” Relief colored Carl’s tone. “Well, then...” He trailed off as he sat back, smiling. “I think it’s time we got cleaned up and hit the road.”

  I stared at him.

  Rosa stared at him.

  Then we got up and we cleaned up, followed by hitting the road. They didn’t bring up Rider or school after that, but the moment I saw Ainsley once we arrived at the Harbor and they were out of earshot, that was the topic of discussion.

  We were sitting on one of the many benches facing the Harbor while Rosa and Carl were checking out a fund-raising fair several yards away. A cool wind blew off the bay, tossing Ainsley’s long blond hair across her face.

  Ainsley was gorgeous. Like one of the universally pretty girls that no one would describe otherwise. With blue eyes and a perfect set of cheekbones to match a pert nose, the only thing more beautiful than her looks was her personality. Seriously. Ainsley could be feisty and mouthy, but she was sweet to the core. Unless provoked. Then it was a different story. In the beginning, when we first met in homeschooling class, she had been incredibly patient with me, drawing me into conversations that most had given up on a long time ago, but each week all of us kids were brought to learn together, she made the effort.

  At first it had been strange to have a friend. For so long it had just been Rider and then it had been... It had been no one. Talking was still difficult sometimes since I only got to see her about once a week, sometimes twice, but she was possibly the best thing to happen to me after the Rivases.

  Plus, she could wear a romper without looking like an overgrown toddler. Today she wore a light blue one with a darker blue cardigan and she looked adorable. If I ever put on one of those things, I would willingly lock myself in my own room.

  “I’m glad you told them about Rider,” she was saying, but I really wasn’t following why she was relieved, because I wasn’t. Angled toward me with one leg dangling off the bench and the other curled in, she kept her voice low just in case we had company. “Because what would you have done if they showed up at school and saw him?”

  I seriously doubted they’d randomly show up at Lands High, but since they’d already called the school to make sure people were keeping an eye on me, there was a chance one of their spies could’ve told them about Rider. When I’d told Ainsley about that and the deal Carl had made with Mr. Santos, she totally understood my mortification.

  “I kind of...wish I didn’t...tell them,” I admitted.

  Ainsley didn’t get uncomfortable once during my long pause. “Telling them is better!” she whisper-yelled, and I grinned. “Look, you know I’m not the paradigm of honesty over here, but I’m just saying I think it’s smart of you to be up-front with them.”

  It was smart for a ton of obvious reasons, but there was being smart and then there was being smart, and the latter meant I should’ve kept Rider a secret for now.

  She paused. “Though I wouldn’t tell them about him being at the house.”

  I rolled my eyes and grinned.

  “But the whole point of telling them is so you can, you know, invite him over without having to lie about it,” she reasoned, her blue eyes hidden behind oversize sunglasses. It wasn’t that bright out, but she’d been complaining lately about how sensitive her eyes were getting to light. We’d joked about her turning into a vampire. “And I know you want to spend more time with him.”

  Biting down on my lip, I cast my gaze out to the bay. The water rippled slightly. Farther out, boats drifted. I did want to see more of Rider, especially outside school. There was so much we hadn’t talked about, and I... Well, I just wanted to be around him.

  “Mallory?” She nudged my arm with hers.

  I looked over at her, unsure of how to put all of that into words. It would require effort, and right now the sound of my own voice was as shrill as the squawking mallards in the water.

  A moment passed. “Do you not want to get to know him again?”

  Know him again. Such a strange phrase. I squinted. “I do.”

  She caught a strand of her hair and tossed it off her face. “But?”

  “But it’s...weird.” I smoothed my hands over my thighs. “I mean, thin
gs are...the same between us but different. Like he’s...he’s moved on and I...”

  “You’ve moved on, too,” Ainsley said softly.

  Had I? Some days I felt like I had come a long way since that life of fear and hopelessness, but there were other days when it