Ashlin shifts in her seat, avoiding my eyes. “What do you mean?”
“She’s been acting like a total bitch to me ever since homecoming. Is it because I got queen and she didn’t?” I bite my bottom lip. “I’ll give her my tiara if she wants it that badly.”
Ash finally looks up at me. “Lil, it’s not because of that. It’s because you kissed Reeve onstage at the dance.”
My mouth drops. “I didn’t kiss him! He kissed me!”
“But you let him. In front of everybody.”
I feel like I’m going to cry. “Ash, I didn’t want him to! He basically forced me. You know I don’t even like him. And . . . why is she mad at me and not Reeve?”
Ash gives me a sympathetic shrug. “He’s her first love. He’s her Reevie. She’d forgive him for anything.”
“But it’s not fair,” I whisper.
“Tell her you’re sorry,” Ashlin suggests. “Tell her you’d never think of Reeve like that.”
I frown and rock back in my seat. Maybe that would make it better, but I kind of don’t think so. “That’s the thing,” I say. “I shouldn’t have to.”
* * *
CHAPTER THREE
* * *
MARY
IT’S THE END OF THE week, and I’m on my way out of school when I hear Kat scream from the parking lot. It’s a playful scream, not a scared one or anything. I glance around and spot her a few feet away, cigarette clenched between her teeth, trying to pull a flannel shirt off some guy.
I recognize the guy, sort of. I don’t know his name, but I always see him wandering aimlessly around the school grounds. I don’t think he has any classes. Or if he does, his teachers must be pretty liberal with their attendance sheets.
Kat could be on the Jar Island wrestling team, she’s so light on her feet. She keeps moving, bouncing on her toes, twisting left and right as she works the back of the flannel up over the boy’s head. I bet her brother, Pat, taught her how to do that.
The guy is unsteady, and also it seems like he doesn’t exactly know how to fight back against a girl. Kat definitely takes advantage of it. She stays aggressive, tugging and pulling until she has most of the flannel free, distracting him by poking him in the ribs or pulling out the rubber band that’s holding back his shoulder-length hair. It doesn’t take long before all he’s left clinging to is one tiny bit of sleeve.
Kat plants her feet like she’s preparing for a serious game of tug-of-war. She warns him, “It’s gonna rip if you don’t let go, Dan.”
“All right, all right,” the guy—Dan, I guess—finally concedes.
Kat lets out a howl of victory and does a spin, whipping the flannel around over her head like a lasso. “This is a teachable moment, Dan. When I want something, I take it. End of story.” Dan’s face turns bright pink. I bust up laughing because she’s so crazy.
Kat must hear me, because immediately she looks over to where I’m standing. She nudges her chin my way the slightest bit. I smile back, and am about to climb on my bike and ride away, when Kat does something surprising.
She holds up a finger, like I should wait for her.
It happens so fast I wonder if maybe I imagined it. We haven’t really ever done this before. Acknowledge each other in public, out in the open. I guess we can now, since our whole revenge plan is over. But I take out the book I need to read for English class and flip through it, so I don’t look obvious. I watch as she grinds out her cigarette.
“Come on, Kat. Give it back.”
Kat puts it on over her sweatshirt. “But I want to wear it. I promise to bring it back on Monday. And then it will smell like me.”
He pretends to be annoyed, but I can tell he likes her by the way he gives in so quick. “You want a ride home?”
“Nah. I’m gonna walk. But can I bum one more smoke?” She doesn’t wait for him to give her a cigarette. She takes it and tucks it behind her ear.
Then she heads over toward the bike path.
I put my book away and start walking slow, pushing my bike along, waiting for her to catch up. We probably should still be careful.
“You hanging in there, Mary?” she asks when she gets close.
“Yeah,” I say with a sigh. “Pretty much.”
“Did you see Reeve much this week?”
“Not really.” I tuck my hair behind my ears and keep my eyes on the ground. “Hey. Um, I heard some people talking, and they said Reeve might lose all his football scholarships because of his injury.” I feel my lip quiver as soon as the words are out. “Is it true?”
Kat shrugs. “Maybe. But maybe not, you know? It’s not like he lost a leg. It’s a break. And not even a bad one at that. My brother broke his femur once during a dirt-bike race. Now his left leg is half an inch shorter than his right.” Her voice is strangely sober. I feel her eyes linger on me; it’s like she’s waiting to see if I’m going to break down. I lift my chin and manage a weak smile, even though I know I’ve got tears in my eyes.
Then it’s Kat who looks away. She steps off the bike path and rips a handful of browning leaves off a low-hanging tree branch. “It’ll all be okay. Trust me. Reeve will figure something out. The kid always does.”
I nod, yes, sure, because what else can I say? I’ll figure things out too. I managed to survive the week. That’s something.
I decide it’s best if I change the subject. “Who’s that guy you were talking to?” I ask her. “Do you like him?”
“Please. Dan?” Kat rolls her eyes. “Mary, I don’t need any boy drama, not when I’ve only got, like, seven months left on this island. He’s a temporary cure for my boredom.”
If only it were that easy. Finding a boy to like, one who’d like me back. Kat’s had all this experience with boys, and I’ve never even had a first kiss. Probably because deep down I’ve been pining over Reeve this whole time, hoping he might finally think I was worthy of him.
There I go again. Thinking about Reeve, even when I’m trying not to. It’s like a sickness.
“What are you doing tonight, Mary?” Before I can answer her, Kat says, “I’m heading to the mainland to see a show at my friend’s music shop. They’re a deathcore band, called Day of the Dogs, and they do this whole call-and-response thing with the audience where you have to scream at the top of your lungs. I know you’ve got a crazy set of pipes.” She says this as a joke, referring back to the way I screamed on homecoming night, but neither of us laughs. “You should come. It could be good for you. Release some of whatever shit you’ve been bottling up inside.”
I don’t know what deathcore is, and though I appreciate her inviting me along, I think I should take things easy for now. “I’ve got so much homework to catch up on. I probably won’t be able to go out for a long time.”
Kat stares at me for a second, and I feel her putting two and two together. She turns her back to the breeze and tries to light her cigarette. “Okay, Mary. Look. I know you’ve been in a funk ever since homecoming. Things didn’t work out exactly how we wanted them to, and I get it, it sucks. After my mom died, I, like, refused to speak for six months.” She sucks in a few drags and then checks the end of her cigarette, to make sure it’s lit. “You know about my mom, right?”
I nod. I think maybe Lillia mentioned it once, in passing. Cancer. But Kat’s never brought her up before. And a little part of me feels happy that now she has, that she feels okay sharing something so personal with me.
“Yeah, I thought probably, but I wanted to make sure.” She takes a long, deep drag and sprays out smoke. “So, anyway, that wasn’t a healthy way for me to deal. Shutting down like that. It wasn’t good for me. You can’t be sad forever, you know? It wasn’t going to bring my mom back, that’s for damn sure. At some point you have to move on.”
I stop walking. “How do I move on?”
She pinches the cigarette between her lips and shoves her hands in her pockets. “You should, like, I don’t know. Join some clubs or something. Try to be more involved in school stuff. Bide y
our time until graduation.”
“Like what kinds of clubs?”
Her face scrunches up. “I don’t know, Mary! Clubs aren’t my thing. It’s whatever you’re interested in. You got to put yourself out there. Make some new friends. Focus on the things that make you happy. I don’t mean to sound like a bitch, but you need to get a life, because you’ve got another full year here before you graduate.”
She makes it sound so simple. Maybe it is. “I know you’re right,” I say. “It’s . . . it’s hard.”
“It doesn’t have to be, though.” Kat leans up against a tree. “You just do it, and you don’t let your feelings get in the way.” She pats her chest. “I hardly ever think about my feelings. You know why? Because if I sat there and cried over every single bad thing that’s happened to me, I’d never get out of bed.” Her eyes find mine, and she looks at me deeply. “I swear to you, it’ll get better. You’ve just got to make it through this part.”
I pull my coat around myself. Kat’s right, I know it. I know better than to wallow like this. I lost a whole year of my life after I tried to kill myself over what Reeve did. I can’t let that happen again.
“Thank you.” I say it and I truly mean it, from the bottom of my heart. Because there is one big difference between then and now. Now I have friends looking out for me.
* * *
I do homework until I can’t stand the sight of my textbooks, and then I go for a walk down to Main Street. A ferry pulls into the dock, and the first vehicle to drive off is a school bus packed full of football players. The windows are painted with different numbers and trash talk like DROWN THOSE GULLS!
Sheesh.
I guess we’ve got a football game tonight.
I make my way over to the field. I don’t plan to stay for long, but it’s easy to find a seat in the bleachers. There’s about half the crowd, maybe even less, that showed up to cheer on the team at homecoming. I guess that’s what losing your star player will do. The first game after homecoming weekend, after Reeve got hurt, we lost. Badly. Our backup quarterback, Lee Freddington, didn’t complete a single pass.
A group of cheerleaders is huddled together, practicing their “De-fense! De-fense! De-fense!” clap. I figure we’ll be hearing that cheer a lot more now that our team no longer has an offense. The rest of them mill about casually on the sidelines, like this is a practice and not a game night. Rennie’s sitting cross-legged on the grass, looking at her phone. Lillia and Ashlin are near the players’ bench, talking to each other. Lillia sees me and beams me a smile. I smile back.
The announcer welcomes the opponents, and then our cheerleaders line up and make their way toward the field-house gate, to greet our team as they take the field. I watch Teresa Cruz navigate her way to the front of the pack. I guess since she cheers for Lee Freddington, she’s more important now.
Rennie sees this, and she positions herself right in front of Teresa.
Reeve is the first one out of the field house. He has his jersey on and a pair of warm-up pants, the same thing he wore to school today. As soon as he appears, everyone in the bleachers stands up and cheers for him. It’s not the level of enthusiasm that Reeve got at the start of the season. This is more muted applause. Respectful. A courtesy.
Reeve tries to go as fast as he can on his crutches, but the ground is soft from the rain we got this week, and his crutches sink into the turf. The faster Reeve tries to go, the deeper he sinks, and it slows him down.
The other players burst out of the locker room. They try to stay behind Reeve, letting him still be their leader, but Reeve is going so slow they bottleneck behind him.
Then along the side of the pack comes Lee Freddington. He passes right by Reeve, as if he isn’t even there, and takes the lead. It’s like Lee Freddington grants them all permission, because then the rest of the players pass Reeve too. Reeve ends up being one of the last in the pack, with Alex, PJ, the team trainer, and the water boys who have to lug the coolers. I can see Reeve getting more and more frustrated. At one point the toe of his cast drags against the field, filling the space between it and his toes with clumps of grass and dirt. His face turns bright red, like he’s about to boil over.
I stop clapping and sit on my hands. It’s stupid. I know it probably makes me weak. It’s just that Reeve is so completely unprepared for this. He doesn’t know how to handle being on the outside. He’s so used to being the center of it all. It’s almost painful to watch; it’s as if the moon and the stars have been banished from the heavens and forced to be mortal like the rest of us.
I wanted Reeve to get in big trouble, to lose what made him feel so confident, so superior to everyone else. And he did deserve what was coming to him, I know that deep down. But a part of me wishes it never had to get to that point. That we didn’t have to break him for him to learn his lesson.
The first quarter of the game, we play as terribly as expected. Lee Freddington gets the ball back at the start of the second quarter. On his first chance to pass, he almost gets tackled by the other team. Our coach calls a time-out and starts yelling at the guys on defense.
I watch Reeve seek out Lee Freddington on the sideline and give him some tips. He’s been doing this all game long. But Lee hardly looks at him. He barely even makes eye contact. And not because he’s embarrassed. Because he thinks he doesn’t need the help.
Right before the time-out ends, Lee Freddington walks over to Alex Lind. He drapes his arm over his shoulder and seems to whisper something. Reeve is watching this, his jaw set.
A second later, our team rushes back on the field. Lee leads the huddle, and when the ball snaps, he pulls his arm back like he’s going to really go for it. Way downfield, Alex Lind is outrunning another player. Lee throws the ball, a tight spiral, and it lands right in Alex’s arms.
Touchdown.
I get up to leave while PJ kicks the extra point. As I pass by the sideline, the cheerleaders are lining up to do their individual player cheers for that play. Teresa Cruz steps to the front, and I see Rennie charge up and grab her by the sweater.
“What are you doing?”
“Lee threw a touchdown. I’m doing his player cheer.”
Rennie gives her a look like she’s an idiot. “Alex caught a touchdown. He’s the one who scored the points.”
Teresa huffs. “But we always do the QB cheer—”
“Reeve’s our quarterback. Lee is second-string trash.”
Rennie steps up and shouts Reeve’s cheer so loud I see him shrink on the bench.
Rennie thinks she knows what Reeve needs, but she doesn’t have a clue. He doesn’t want everyone looking at him. Not anymore. Now all he wants is to be left alone.
I get up from my seat and begin my walk home. That’s exactly what I’m going to do. Leave Reeve alone. Even more than that, I’ll rewire my brain so that I don’t think about him, don’t feel anything for him. It’s the only way.
* * *
Back at the house, I find Aunt Bette in the living room. She’s in the dark, sitting on the floor with candles burning all around her. Wax is pooling in puddles on the hardwood. My dad would flip out if he saw that. He always says the floors are his favorite part of the house. They’re cedar, the most beautiful strawberry-blond color.
“I’m home,” I say, stepping into the room.
Aunt Bette startles. Now that I’m closer, I see that she has a piece of linen spread out in front of her. It’s covered with piles of dried leaves and herbs. She’s putting them into small bundles and binding them up with twine.
She finishes tying a knot before she says, “I didn’t know you left,” annoyed, like I’m interrupting something important.
“I went for a walk.” And then I add, “Sorry,” even though I don’t have anything to apologize for. I point down at the bundles and ask, “What is that stuff?”
With one hand Aunt Bette grabs a sprig of something and rubs a leaf between her fingers. “Ancient herbs.” It looks like rosemary. Or maybe thyme? I can’t tell.
>
“O-kay,” I say. “Well, good night.”
At the foot of the stairs I spot a teacup on the floor. Inside is one of the bundles lit on fire. It’s burning red embers and letting off a twisty curl of smoke up to the hallway ceiling.
What in the world?
My head starts to throb.
Coughing, I call out, “Um, Aunt Bette? Is it safe to leave this thing smoking in the hall?” I worry that I sound like a patronizing jerk, but really. It’s kind of unnerving. And I’m feeling sick.
Aunt Bette doesn’t answer me. Whatever. I step around it, careful not to breathe in any of the smoke, and make my way to my room.
* * *
CHAPTER FOUR
* * *
KAT
AFTER TALKING WITH MARY AFTER school, I go home, make Dad a microwave dinner and hammer a bowl of cereal, and then head to the ferry. The sun has gone down, and the wind is stinging. I zip my sweatshirt up to the neck and pull the hood tight over my head. I should have started wearing a coat weeks ago, but I hate the one I got last year. It was a peacoat, charcoal gray, a real navy-supply one. I found it at the thrift store, but it wasn’t lined, and the wool made my skin itch. Maybe, if I get to the mainland early, I can stop by the thrift store and see if they have something else.
Down at the ferry landing it’s the opposite of what it’s like in the summertime, when the parking lot is full and there are lines of people queued up to climb aboard. It’s totally dead, except for a few delivery trucks and a couple of cars. Most of the workers I know have left for the season, so I’ll probably have to pay for my ticket. I go up to the window, but the ticket guy is friends with my dad and refuses to take my money. Which is awesome. It happens a lot for me, but I’m grateful each and every time.
I’d freeze my ass off if I sat on the observation deck, so I find a seat inside in the café. There’s a table of four old folks drinking tea and thumbing through a book of birds, marking down the ones they saw today. I turn on my music and close my eyes. I swear to God, I hope I die young, because I can’t ever imagine myself doing that shit.