“Shit,” I say again. “Shit, shit, shit.”
“April?”
I look up. Mom and Dad are standing in the doorway to their office, staring at me from inside the store.
“What in the world are you doing?” Dad asks.
“Trying to get inside! The door was locked, and you guys weren’t answering your phone—”
“So you decided to break into a window the size of a doggy door?” Mom says. “Why didn’t you just wait?”
I try to shrug, but it’s hard to do when you’re holding up your entire body weight with your arms.
With Mom and Dad’s help, I’m down from the window a few minutes later. I follow them inside and sit in the leather desk chair in front of their ancient desktop. “So what’s up?” I ask. “What do you guys need?”
“Just wait a second,” Mom says. “We have to turn on the lights so people know we’re open again.”
An hour later, I’m still waiting. Mom and Dad buzz around in the store, alternating between muttering to themselves and arguing in low tones as they fuss with a display near the front window. I’ve offered to help more than once, but each time I try, they shoo me away and tell me to be patient. I’m about to volunteer again just to have something to do, when my cell phone buzzes in my bag. I pull it out, thinking it might be my sister calling to apologize, but it’s a text from Eric. I sigh with relief. I make sure my parents aren’t going to choose this exact moment to finally tell me what I’m doing here, then I open the message.
Great seeing you last night. You should wear that more often
Last night? I didn’t see Eric last night. Which means—
My heart plummets to the bottom of my stomach. Jenn was right. He’s seeing other people.
Sure enough, another text comes through almost immediately. Sorry, wrong chat. Hope you’re having fun with your sister!
My eyes fill with tears. What did I do wrong? Until this afternoon I thought everything was going so well. Except clearly it wasn’t, because last night he hooked up with whoever that text was meant for, probably minutes after he asked me if I could come over. How did I not see this coming? Eric’s popular and hot and on the freaking soccer team. Of course I couldn’t hold his interest. I toss my phone onto the desk. I’m such an idiot.
Mom comes to the office door. “April, do you know where— Are you crying?”
“No,” I say, quickly wiping away my tears. “What’s up?”
Mom looks unconvinced, but doesn’t push. “Do you know where your sister is?”
I grind my teeth at the mention of Jenn. “Not here.”
“Obviously,” Dad says, joining us. “If she were, you wouldn’t have come in through the back window like a poorly trained cat burglar.”
“Very funny,” I grumble.
“What happened?” Dad says. “I thought you were together.”
“She dropped me off and left.”
Mom narrows her eyes. “That’s all?”
Dad leans against the doorway and crosses his arms. “April, it’s not like your sister to ignore us. If she dropped you and left after we specifically asked you both to come help us, then something must have happened. You must have—”
“What?” I demand. “I must have what?”
He looks to Mom, who gives her head a little shake. “Nothing,” he says.
“No, tell me,” I press. “What were you going to say? That I must have pissed her off? Made her leave?” I look at Mom. “It’s always my fault somehow, right?”
She raises an eyebrow. “Well? Is it?”
“No!” I say. “All I wanted was to spend the day with her, and then she had to ruin it by being a selfish jerk, like it’s my fault she lied to everyone about college. But it’s not!”
“Hold on,” Mom says. “What did she lie about?”
Oh god.
“Nothing,” I say, shaking my head. “Never mind. It’s not important.”
I try to stand up, but Mom steps in front of the chair. “April, what did she lie about?”
“You should ask her.”
“We’re asking you,” Dad says.
I squeeze my eyes shut. I want to take the words back so badly. As furious as I am with Jenn, I never meant to tell Mom and Dad her secret.
“April!”
I open my eyes. Mom and Dad are staring at me, their foreheads creased with worry, and it occurs to me that it’s the first time they’ve looked at me like that in a long time. It figures it took talking about Jenn to make it happen.
“Please,” Mom says. “Tell us what’s going on.”
“Jenn isn’t going to community college in the fall,” I say, defeated. “She’s going to Stanford.”
Mom sucks in a sharp breath. “That’s not possible.”
She turns to Dad, who’s already on the phone. “She’s not answering,” he says. “Why isn’t she answering?”
“I thought she was going home, but maybe she’s still driving?”
Dads starts to pace the tiny office, and Mom sinks into the second desk chair. “I don’t understand how this could happen,” she says. “Are you sure?”
“She told me this morning.”
“She has to answer her phone eventually,” Dad says, still pacing, “and when she does, she is grounded.”
Mom rolls her eyes. “She’s eighteen, John. You can’t ground her.”
“Yes, I can!” Dad says. “As long as she lives under my roof, I can ground her.”
“And when she sneaks out, then what?”
Dad scoffs. “Jenn wouldn’t do that.”
I glare at him. “So even though she lied to you, you’re still acting like she’s some kind of saint? I can’t believe this.”
“Not now, April,” Mom snaps, cutting me off. “We don’t need to ground her, John. There’s still time to fix this.”
Dad stops pacing. “Fix this? How are we going to fix this? She’s already accepted!”
“I don’t know!” Mom says. “I’m just saying we shouldn’t panic—”
The front door opens, and two men walk in hand in hand. I expect Mom and Dad to stop arguing and go help them, but if anything their arguing gets louder.
“I know why she did this,” Dad says. “It’s because you pushed her to work so many hours in the store. She probably felt overwhelmed.”
“So this is my fault?” Mom demands.
“Um,” I say, “you guys?”
“That’s not what I said,” Dad says. “What I said is that if she hadn’t been working so much, she might not have wanted to leave.”
Up front, one of the customers leans in and whispers something to the other. I can tell by the look on their faces that they’re uncomfortable. My cheeks flush. This is so humiliating. “Dad, you should probably lower your voice—”
“I will not,” Dad says. “Not until your mother admits that she’s putting words in my mouth.”
“But—”
“Hush, April,” Mom says. “We don’t need your input right now.”
“But, Mom—”
“April!” Dad says. “For once, can you please just stay out of this?”
The customers turn around and leave. I sink back into my chair and watch Mom and Dad continue to battle. They’re both standing now, their faces inches apart. Is this what it’s like for Jenn every day? Running interference between our parents while strangers wander around the store, judging our dysfunctional family? No wonder she wanted to get away from here. I want to get away, and I’ve only been here for a little more than an hour.
I can’t leave, though. Not yet. Not with my sister’s angry words echoing in my head—Poor April actually has to contribute for once. I don’t want her to be right. I don’t want to be the selfish one. I want to make things better for my family, not worse. Especially after hearing what Mom told Aunt Harriet in the hall, about how sometimes she wishes she and Dad would split up. I can’t let that happen. I won’t.
“Excuse me,” I say, standing. “Mom, Dad?” I w
ait for them to stop, but they keep arguing. I clear my throat and speak louder. “Do you guys still need someone to cover the store? Because I can . . . I want to help.”
“What?” Dad says, turning to look at me. His face is surprised, like he forgot I was here entirely. “Oh, no. You can go home. We only needed Jenn anyway.”
I flinch at his choice of words, but he doesn’t notice. His attention is on Mom again. I grab my purse and head for the front door, not waiting for them to say goodbye.
My heart feels heavy in my chest as I walk the mile and a half home, like it’s weighing me down to the ground. I want to talk to Jenn. I want to tell her I’m sorry, that I didn’t realize things were so bad. But there’s no chance she’ll listen. And even if she did, I’m afraid of what else I might say. Because even though she has a right to be mad at me, the last hour has made it as clear as it’s ever been that without her . . . our family doesn’t stand a chance.
CHAPTER 20
JENN
Tom picks up his chopsticks and squeezes them in his right hand. The copper ring his dad got him for his seventeenth birthday shines in the dim restaurant lighting. “Thanks for coming early.”
“Sure,” I say.
My phone buzzes in my purse, and I switch it to silent. Mom and Dad keep calling me, probably trying to figure out why I’m not at the store, but I don’t care. All my attention is on Tom, and making him tell me why—why he didn’t return my calls all day, why he finally texted to ask if we could meet at four instead of six thirty, why he looks like he’s about to break those chopsticks in half.
“I was glad to get out of the house again anyway,” I say when it’s clear no explanation is coming.
He rests the chopsticks on the little porcelain stand in front of him, then takes off his glasses and polishes them on the thick linen napkin. “Parents not taking it well?”
“I haven’t told them yet,” I say sheepishly.
Tom leans back in his seat.
“I’ll do it soon, though! I promise. In fact, I’ll do it right after we eat, when I get home.”
He puts his glasses back on. “Good,” he says, but his tone makes it clear he doesn’t believe me.
“Actually, will you come with me? Please?”
Tom hesitates just long enough that I know I’m not going to like his answer. “I don’t know,” he says at last. “This is between you and your parents.”
I nod like I understand, but I don’t. Tom wanted me to tell them the truth weeks ago—months, really—but he knows how impossible they are. That’s why I thought he’d say yes. I needed him to say yes.
The waiter approaches the table. “Welcome to Sakana Sushi,” he says. “Have you been here before?”
“Yes,” I say, smiling at Tom. “This is our favorite restaurant. Right?”
He nods again, but doesn’t smile back. What is wrong with him?
“Great,” the waiter says, “then you know everything is either prefix or Omakase—chef’s choice. Can I get you something to drink?”
We each order an iced tea, and then he leaves. Normally Tom would start talking immediately—he can’t stand those couples who sit at tables together, looking at their phones instead of talking to the people across from them—but instead we sit in silence while he fiddles with the soy sauce bottle.
“Have you finished packing?” I ask when the quiet becomes too much.
“This afternoon,” he says. “My parents spent twenty minutes trying to convince me to bring the heavy rug from the attic for my dorm room. Then Peaches peed on it, and that pretty much put an end to the conversation.”
“That cat is a menace.”
He smiles. “Yeah. I’m going to miss her.”
We settle back into silence. I unwrap my chopsticks and break them apart. I don’t know what’s going on between us, but I’m tired of tiptoeing around it. If there’s something wrong, we need to talk about it.
“I missed you today,” I say. “I tried texting and calling, but you didn’t answer.”
“Oh. I was packing and then spending some time with my parents, and I guess the day just got away from me.” He clears his throat. “How was your day with April?”
“It started off nice. Then it deteriorated.”
“What happened?”
“April happened. I told her about Stanford in the morning, and then she spent the rest of the day pouting. She also said some really mean things about my friends forgetting me when I move away, and then accused me of abandoning our family.” I crumple the paper chopstick wrapper in my hand. “Can you believe that?”
Tom makes eye contact for what feels like the first time tonight. “Yeah, actually. I can.”
I jerk back in my seat.
“I’m not saying she’s right,” he says quickly. “Especially the part about your friends. That’s ridiculous. But I understand why she’s angry with you.”
I roll my eyes.
“I’m serious, Jenn. You kept this huge life change from her for a really long time, and she’s probably upset that you didn’t take her feelings into consideration.” He clears his throat. “Like, you just expected her to support you, no questions asked. And, sure, that’s what relationships are about sometimes, but people aren’t only there to make you feel good, you know? You can’t expect them to listen to your problems and call it a day. You have to give back.”
“Are—are we still talking about April?”
Tom swallows, and shakes his head. “No. I don’t think so.”
The waiter comes to the table. An eternity passes as he pours iced tea from a decanter into each of our glasses, then places a small flower in mine. Normally, I love this part, but I just want him to go away.
“Are you ready to order?” he asks.
“Can we have a few more minutes to decide?” I ask.
The moment the waiter disappears, I lean forward. “Is that why you didn’t return my texts and calls today? Because you’re annoyed with me for not ‘giving back’?”
“No,” Tom says. “Well, yes, that’s why. But I’ve also been thinking about things, and . . . I think we should talk.”
“We are talking,” I say, my voice rising. “So what is it? You think I’m not supportive of you? That I don’t listen?”
Tom glances at the table to our right. A couple are quietly sipping their green tea. There’s no way they aren’t hearing every word we say.
Tom lowers his voice. “I’m saying that we spend a lot of time talking about you and your family and how awful they are—”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t realize you weren’t interested in hearing about my life and my feelings. How silly of me.”
“Don’t do that,” he says. “Don’t put words in my mouth. You know I always want to hear how you’re feeling. But sometimes it seems like all you want is an audience.”
“That’s not true. I ask for your opinion all the time—”
“But do you ever actually listen?” he says. “I told you months ago that you needed to tell your family the truth about moving, and you ignored me. In fact, I seem to remember you telling me I should mind my own business.” Tom laughs harshly. “Do you know how frustrating it is to be asked for help and then treated like you’re being nosy?”
I pick up the small flower from my iced tea and fiddle with the petals. “I shouldn’t have said that,” I say. “It wasn’t fair. Or true. I’m sorry. Really.”
Tom sighs. “I know you are. But, Jenn, it happens all the time. You ask me for advice on dealing with your family, I give you my opinion, and then you ignore it and do the same thing you’ve always done—try to fix things for your parents instead of actually communicating what you’re feeling. Then you come right back to me and it starts all over again, and nothing gets better—between them, or for you.” He takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes, then puts them back on. “Sometimes I wonder if you really care all that much about them, or if you just like being the victim.”
I drop the flower onto the
table between us. “I cannot believe you just said that to me.”
“I’m sorry,” Tom says. “I shouldn’t have. I’m just upset.” He takes a sip of iced tea and clears his throat. “I guess what I’m really saying is that I’m tired of being caught in the middle. Do you understand?”
“Yeah . . . I do.” I take a deep breath. “The good news is that we’re about to move, so the problem is going away.”
Tom shakes his head. “I don’t think moving away is going to solve things, especially once they find out you’ve been lying. I think it’s probably going to get worse.”
“If you don’t want to deal with me and my parents anymore, and you think things are going to get worse once we leave, then . . . what are you saying?”
Before he can answer, the waiter returns to the table. “We need another minute,” Tom says. “Or . . . maybe five minutes?”
The waiter looks back and forth between us. Can he hear the blood rushing in my ears, feel my heart pounding in my chest?
“Of course,” he says. “Take your time.”
The waiter walks away, and Tom turns back to me.
“I’m not trying to hurt you,” he says. “I’m really not. But we’re starting a new chapter of our lives, and as much as I love you . . .” He looks down at his hands, and his eyes fill with tears. “I think maybe we should—”
My breath catches in my chest. “Oh my god. Are you breaking up with me?”
His face crumples. “I don’t want to,” he says. “I really don’t.”
This can’t be happening. I won’t let it. I reach across the table and grab his hand. “Then don’t. Don’t do it. We can work on this. We can fix it. I can fix it.”
“There’s nothing to fix, Jenn. It’s just how you are—”
“Then I’ll change!” I say. My hand starts to tremble in his. “Tom, please.”
He squeezes my hand tightly. “You shouldn’t have to change for anyone, Jenn. I just need space.”
“You mean you need a break,” I say. “No problem. For how long? A week? A month? We’re going to be really busy when we first get to school, so it might be a good idea to focus on settling in. And then, once we do—”
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