“I—” From somewhere deep in the house, I heard Ben’s voice and froze.
Her gaze traveled from my shoes to my shorts and T-shirt and stopped on the Twig logo just under my right shoulder. “Oh, you’re from the garden shop.” Her voice was light, with a hint of humor hidden inside. “So you’re the one who got Ben on this gardening kick. Good for you. I’ve been telling him he needed a hobby other than just tinkering with computers.” She turned and called over her shoulder. “Ben, the woman from the garden shop is here.”
She turned back to me. “Thanks for helping him with his project. I was a little worried about him getting here and being bored out of his mind.”
Footsteps crossed the wood floors inside, then I saw Ben’s face and something inside me cracked. His eyes were wide, and his smile was tight and uncomfortable.
She reached an arm around his waist and squeezed. “I’ll let you two talk shop. I’m going to see if I can convince Nick to throw me some pitches out back.” She turned to me. “I used to play softball. Believe it or not, I’m still pretty good with a catcher’s mitt. Oh, and I’m Marissa, by the way.”
She thrust her hand out toward me. I had no choice but to take it. “Jessie.” Her grip was firm and she let go quickly. Then she reached up and ran her fingers through Ben’s hair and kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you out back.”
Ben closed his eyes.
“Nice to meet you, Jessie,” Marissa called on her way through the house.
When she was gone, he moved toward me. “Jess—”
But I took a step back. “No. Don’t.”
“Jessie, wait. It’s not . . .” He groaned. “It’s not what it looks like.”
But I was already pounding through the grass to my car. He followed close behind me. My hands trembled and I remembered the spray bottle. The stupid weed killer. I turned and thrust the bottle at him.
“Jessie. Stop.”
But I couldn’t. My breath was ragged and my throat was thick. I yanked open my door and climbed in. He grabbed the edge of the door before I could close it. “She just showed up. She found my flight information and was waiting at the airport when we got in.”
He was still talking, explaining, but my mind went back to when I’d called him all those years ago. When I hoped he still loved me. Loved me enough to fight for me. But he didn’t. Then or now.
“I can’t.” I stared at the steering wheel. It was easier than looking into his eyes.
I knew I was being irrational. We’d made no vows, no declarations to each other. As my eyes filled, I realized that though it—he—had only been a hope, a yearning, I’d wanted it more than I’d wanted anything in a long time.
I squeezed my eyes closed. “Marissa is here now. She’s happy to be here with you and Nick. Go back inside and enjoy your family.” Then I closed my door.
He remained there next to my car while I wiped my eyes, then backed up and drove off. He was still there when I glanced in my rearview mirror one last time.
CHAPTER 30
If you have a flower overgrowing its desired boundaries, consider containing its roots. You could try planting it in a pot or bucket under the soil, or adding a border around the plant, partially under the soil to keep the roots in check. If the plant continues to overgrow despite your attempts at control, be aware that it may just need extra legroom.
—ANNE P. SNIDER, FINICKY FLOWERS
EVAN
For a while now, deep down I’d felt like two different people. One Evan wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around her life: her mom with her broken heart and her flowers and smudges of dirt on her cheeks. Her spirited grandmother with her denim jackets and fluffy meringue and strange forgetfulness. Her old house with its creaky hardwood floors, her cozy bedroom with the stacks of books and soft blankets. Life was good and familiar. Dependable in its everyday sameness.
The other Evan wanted more. She wanted to stretch and push and press. She wanted breathing room. She wanted to do things she wasn’t supposed to do just to see what would happen. She wanted to test her own limits and blast everything wide open.
The real Evan saw the dangers to both those extremes. In one, I’d become my mother—maybe taking a peek at parts unknown but always returning to what I knew. In the other, I’d probably just hurt her. I knew there had to be a balance—a way to walk the line without falling into the depths on either side—but I had no idea how to find that. So I mostly did nothing. I just took life as it presented itself to me. I didn’t ask too many questions, and I didn’t press too hard against the walls.
Then school started.
Ruth was in several of my classes, which was fun. With my work at Twig and her family’s last-minute end-of-summer vacation, I hadn’t seen her much in the weeks leading up to school. On the first day we spent most of Alabama history and biology sending discreetly folded notes back and forth—I made sure to sit right in front of her—recapping the last bit of our summer.
I was shocked to find out she’d spent a lot of time with a boy named Parker during her trip to visit family in Biloxi. On torn pieces of notebook paper, Ruth told me all the important details: he lived next door to her cousin Darleen, he wanted to be a missionary in Africa just like she did, and he shared her obsession with Sherlock Holmes.
You’re smitten, I wrote.
I think I’m in love, she wrote back, which almost made me burst out laughing. Sweet, obedient, devout Ruth in love with a boy she didn’t know a month ago made about as much sense as ice skates in Alabama, but her next note shocked me more.
Have you heard about the party Friday? It’s at some field just outside Perry. Maybe we should go.
That she’d heard about the party was one thing—not to mention the fact that I hadn’t. That she wanted to go was on a whole other non-Ruth level.
And how do you propose we go about that? I reached up to scratch my head, then dropped the note on her desk. Mrs. Hughes stared at me, but I just smiled.
Gina’s going, of course, she wrote back. Gina was her sister, a senior this year who, as such, had three years of professional rule bending under her belt. You could spend the night with me and we could get a ride with her.
I turned around in my seat. Ruth was grinning. “Seriously?” I mouthed.
“Miss Ashby. Eyes forward, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I cornered Ruth the minute the bell rang after class. “You’re serious about this?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“It’s—we’d get in a lot of trouble if anyone found out.”
“Then let’s make sure they don’t find out.” She hoisted her bright-red backpack onto her shoulder.
I opened my mouth, then closed it. This new Ruth was baffling. “Okay, but . . .”
She grabbed my hand and pulled me out the door and down the hall. “It’s a new year, Evan. Don’t you feel it? Anything is possible.”
When she said it like that, I did feel it. I did.
After that, everything fell into place. The football game that night was away, so we didn’t have to worry about transportation to and from the game. I asked Mom if I could spend the night with Ruth, and of course she said yes. Ruth begged Gina to let us ride with her to the party. Gina put up a fight, but Ruth told her if she didn’t take us, she’d tell their parents that Gina was going to an unchaperoned party with boys, music, and possibly alcohol. Gina had no choice but to consent to bringing her little sister and her friend along.
I ran into Nick as I left the cafeteria on Thursday. And by “ran into Nick,” I mean I bumped into him so hard I dropped my lunch tray. Thankfully, the tray was empty.
He picked it up off the floor for me. “Easy,” he said, handing it back. “You could kill someone with that thing.” He’d been walking out with a few other guys, but when he stopped, they continued on without him. He didn’t seem to mind.
“Sorry. Just didn’t want to be late to biology.”
“No problem. How’s your first week been?
”
“Not too bad. Yours?”
He shrugged. “It’s fine. Different school, different kids, but somehow it’s still the same.”
It felt funny seeing him in a new environment. Here at school he seemed bigger. Taller, maybe. And older. All the nervousness that had leaked away over the summer came back hard.
He gestured down the hall with one hand and started walking. I walked with him, trying to think of something interesting to say.
“Are you going to the party Friday?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Thinking about it. You?”
“My friend Ruth and I are going.”
“Think your mom will be okay with that?”
“Well, we, uh . . .”
“You’re not going to tell her.”
I bit my lip. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
“Better be careful there.”
The bell rang, scattering everyone down the halls and through classroom doorways.
“I will. It’ll be fine.” I glanced behind me toward the staircase. I was late, but then again, he was too. I adjusted my backpack and tried not to look as jittery as I felt.
He gave me a half smile before heading down the hall to his class. “I’ll keep an eye out for you then.”
I had some ideas of what the party would involve, though I didn’t know exactly what to expect. Would there be any other ninth graders? Would I be able to find Nick? Would Mom find out I wasn’t just spending the night with Ruth? The unknown bothered me, but I did my best to pretend I was fine with everything. After all, this was the Evan who wanted to push and reach and live. It felt different than I thought it would—more daunting, somehow. Intimidating.
We piled into Gina’s car just after dinner. She’d told her parents we were all going to a friend’s house for a back-to-school movie night. A little unbelievable to me, but her parents didn’t question it.
“Is that what you’re wearing?” Gina asked me as she cranked the engine of her white Camry.
I’d worn a top Mom had bought me on our shopping trip. I loved it—the background was a deep emerald green and it had these little white lily pads all over it. It was also super thin and flowy, which was great since it was still roasting even with the sun down.
“What’s wrong with it?” I ran my hands down the sides of my white shorts—not too short, but shorter than I was used to—and straightened the camisole I’d worn under the flowy top.
“Nothing,” Ruth said, glaring at her sister. “You look great.”
As soon as she’d gotten in the car, Ruth had changed from her usual knee-length skirt to a pair of denim shorts and a snug gray shirt. I was surprised to find she actually had a figure under all the modest clothes she usually wore.
She twisted around in her seat, her dark-brown hair making a wild, curly halo around her head. “It’s going to be a great night.”
By the time we arrived at the field, it was already full of cars. Music pumped out of speakers—a mash-up of country, rock, even some Beatles.
“I’ll meet you back here at ten thirty,” Gina said as we climbed out of her car. “And not a minute after. Don’t think I won’t leave without you.” Then she was gone, leaving us with no idea what to do.
“Well, let’s . . . explore, I guess,” Ruth said.
We stayed to the edges of the field—the center was a massive crush of people, everyone shouting, dancing, and moving together to the music and some hidden beat of the group itself. Car after car overflowed with laughter and yells. People we didn’t know smiled at us as we walked by, calling out hellos. We passed a truck with huge tires, its tailgate down to reveal a cooler with a spigot pouring out bright-pink liquid. One of the guys handing out red Solo cups stopped us. “Your hands are empty.” He filled two cups and handed them to us. “Enjoy.” Ruth glanced at me, then reached out and took one, so I did too.
Everything in me told me not to drink it—or at least to ask what was in it. But I shut down that rational voice and took a sip anyway. Whatever it was tasted like cough syrup and I almost spit it out, but I managed to get it down. The second sip was only slightly better.
Ruth’s face was happier than I’d ever seen it. “This is amazing.” She had to talk loud over the noise. “So many people! Do you think they all go to Perry?” Someone bumped into her and she held her cup away from her so it wouldn’t slosh.
I was happy too, or at least I think I was. Freedom and anticipation and fear all mingled together to make a potent mix that flowed through my body and made my stomach jumpy. Something in me—probably the part that didn’t want to test any limits—whispered that this wasn’t the best idea, but I kept walking, kept smiling, kept sipping.
At some point I lost Ruth. She was right there beside me, then I turned to say something to her but she was gone. I thought I saw the back of her head over someone else’s shoulder, but when I tried to push my way to her, she disappeared again. About that time another red Solo cup made its way into my hand. I took a sip—it was the same pink stuff, but by now it had lost most of its bitterness. It was sweet, but not too sweet, and had a pleasant tang. In fact, it was pretty much the best thing I’d ever tasted.
I kept pushing through the crowd, trying to find Ruth, but finally I gave up. Surely I’d run into her at some point. I was dancing with some guy to some song about a wagon wheel, singing loud even though I only knew a few of the words, when someone tapped me on the shoulder.
I whirled around expecting to see Ruth, but the quick movement sent my head spinning in a dozen directions. I reached out to grab the nearest solid thing, and my hand connected with a strong arm. It was Nick.
He wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “You’re coming with me.”
“Hey, man, she’s with me.” The guy grabbed my other arm, but Nick pushed him off.
“Dude! What’s up with this?”
“What are you doing?” Nick asked me, ignoring the guy’s frustration. He bent and spoke near my ear. “Did you know that guy?”
I shook my head but stopped when the dizziness returned. “No idea. But he was nice. I think.”
“Right.” He led me through the crowd, pushing away arms and shoulders as they blocked our way. I clung to his hand, then his arm. He was my knight. My prince. All the things I’d always thought were so sappy and ridiculous. He’d said he’d keep an eye out for me and he did. He found me. I was dopey with happiness.
Finally we broke out of the tight knot of people. The air was fresher on the outside, like liquid in my parched throat.
“Come on.” He gently pulled me toward the entrance gate.
“Where are we going?”
“I parked near the exit. I’ve been to enough parties like this to know sometimes you have to make a quick getaway.”
I was about to question him—get away from what?—when we arrived at his car, parked under a big tree right next to the gate. It was much quieter here. A few people sat on the hoods of cars nearby, but it was nothing like the sweaty mass in the middle of the field.
Nick reached in his open window and grabbed a water bottle. “Here.” He handed me the bottle.
I uncapped it and took a sip, then shook my head. “My stomach feels kind of funny.”
“A couple doses of hunch punch will do that. Let’s try sitting.”
We found a couple of empty chairs and sat down. My stomach settled a bit, and I straightened my legs out in front of me.
“How do you feel?”
“Great.” I blinked a few times. The trees were moving a little, like I was looking at them underwater.
He laughed quietly. “Yeah, I bet.”
“Did you have any of that pink stuff?”
“Nah. I take a pass on drinks that come from the back of someone’s car.”
“Truck. It was a big truck.”
“Even better. You should probably avoid them too. You never know what could happen.”
“Nothing will happen.” I settled farther down into the chair and rested my head on
the back. “You’re here, right?”
“What if I hadn’t found you? Did you even know that guy’s name?”
“Of course. It was Will. Or Phillip . . .”
“Evan.” His voice was urgent and I turned to him. I forced my eyes to stay open, though they were trying desperately to close. “I’m serious. You can’t do this again. If you’re going to come to parties like this, you have to be careful. Where’s your friend, the girl you came with?”
“I . . . I don’t know. She was there, then she wasn’t . . .”
“You two need a better plan. You have to watch out for each other.”
“What are you talking about? It’s just a party. People having fun. Don’t you like to have fun?” As I talked, my words seemed to slide together. I worked my lips, trying to get them to pronounce everything right, but it was useless. I reached up and felt them with my fingers. They felt normal to the touch, though I could have sworn they were three times their usual size.
“Yes, I like to have fun. And I’m sure you do too, but this isn’t the right kind of fun. Not everyone’s going to watch out for you like I will.”
I smiled at him. “You will. You’ll look out for me. You’ve been so . . .” I stopped. My thoughts were bouncing like Ping-Pong balls. “I like that you’re here. You’ve made everything . . . better. Everything in my life. You’re the prince.” I bit down hard on my lip, embarrassed that I’d let that word slip out.
He laughed. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t laugh at me. I’m serious, I—”
He laughed again, but it was softer. “I’m sorry. I am. And I get it. You’re not too bad yourself, kid.”
Just then two guys called to Nick as they approached. They were laughing and jabbing each other in the shoulders like guys do. I’d never understood that. Girls never did that.
“Hey, man, what’s up?” one of them said.
Nick turned to me. “Scott.” He pointed to the taller of the two. “And Billy. They play baseball.”
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