“She works crazy hard,” I begin. “She loves nursing, but she chooses her shifts based on my cross-country schedule so she can cheer me on at meets. She treats me to ice cream at this shop in Spokane, Sweet Peaks, after grades are posted each semester. She taught me to ski when I was five, specifically so my dad couldtake me to the slopes on the weekends; she wanted us to have something in common so we could bond, I guess. And she walks after dinner every night. She likes when I come along. So even if things are hectic, we count on that time together, you know?”
“Not really,” Piper says, but not sadly. “How long was she married to your dad?”
“Uh, zero days. They were set up by friends for one of my dad’s fraternity pledge dances and had a fling. They’re nothing alike—Davis can be a pain in the ass—but they get along okay for my sake.”
“It’s nice that you decided to spend the summer here even though you and your dad aren’t super close.”
“That’s kind of the point, though. To get to know him better while giving my mom space to rock her master’s program. Plus, Sugar Bay doesn’t suck.”
It’s true—I like Sugar Bay, and I want to have a better relationship with my dad, and my mom’s glad to have extra time to focus on school. But I left out a big part of the story.
The biggest part of the story.
Piper studies my face, like she senses I’m not being entirely forthcoming. I should tell her about Whitney. There’s no reason not to. The longer I hold off on mentioning her, the shadier I feel and the heavier the secret becomes. But talking about the worst month of my life on a perfect Saturday morning…
I can’t do it.
Instead, I tell Piper more about cross-county, the responsibilities I’ll have as captain during my senior season, and Silas andRicky, teammates who make what might otherwise be a lonely sport a lot of fun. I tell her about the fishing excursion I took with my dad. I tell her about my nights at Blitz Brews and the staff members I’m really starting to like. I crack her up telling her how Davis almost broke his neck trying to outpace me on a treadmill in the gym yesterday.
She brushes donut sprinkles from the picnic table’s weathered surface. “Do you think you’ll make it through a whole summer with him?”
I flash back to Davis partying on the fishing boat. Snickering as he threw condoms my way. Forcing small talk yesterday while he puffed and wheezed in the gym. Popping a beer when he got home from Blitz Brews last night, then a few more after that. More often than not, it’s me who points out that it’s time for a meal, who cleans up the apartment, who suggests that it might be time for bed. I genuinely love my dad, but he’s exhausting. Since arriving in Sugar Bay, I’ve felt more like his parent than his kid.
I sigh. “I don’t know if I’m gonna make it through another week with him.”
Piper
Henry is noble, giving up the summer before his senior year, time with his friends and his mom, familiarity and stability inthe city where he’s lived his whole life. And all to hang out in Florida with his father, who makes him nutty.
“You’re a good person,” I declare.
He swallows, smoothing a hand over his hair. A rebel lock falls over his forehead. It’s an imperfection I find hopelessly endearing. “Yeah, I try,” he says.
“I want to help you.”
I’m not sure when I made this decision. Maybe the other day, after Tati embarrassed me at the grocery store. Maybe this morning, when Henry fibbed about making a reservation just to help me shake my sister. Or maybe just moments ago, when he spoke so sweetly about his mom. But I do—I want to help him.
“Help me how?” he asks.
“I want to make this summer better for you.”
He smiles uncertainly.
“Let’s set them up—your dad and my sister. If you still want to. I understand if you’ve changed your mind after meeting Tati, though. Seems cruel to subject Davis to her again, now that I’m thinking about it.”
He laughs. “Don’t change your mind because you pity me.”
“I’m not that altruistic,” I assure him. “I’ll get something in return.”
“Right. Liberation.”
“Yeah, but also you. If Tati and Davis are busy with each other, then you and I can keep hanging out. If you want. I mean,Ithink that’d be fun. Maybe you haven’t noticed, but I’m not exactly swarmed by friends.”
God, Piper. Word vomit much?
Henry’s totally cool. “Yeah, what’s up with that, local girl?”
I use a finger to swipe a bit of leftover chocolate glaze from my otherwise empty plate. It’s uncomfortable to admit that my companion count hovers somewhere around one—him.But whatever. I’m in a friendship drought. It happens.
