“These are my favorite,” I say as I spear three more bites onto one giant forkful.
Sidney nods. “I know.” She flips the last of the pancakes inthe pan. “See, I’m perfectly capable of not being a paranoid, tree-up-my-ass bitch.” She’s smiling, but I can hear the hurt in her voice. I didn’t realize she’d heard me while she was swimming that morning.
“I’m—” I look down at the plate of tiny pancakes. “I’m sorry, I was an ass the other night. And before that, too, I guess.” I shove another bite into my mouth and talk around it. “Also, why are these pancakes so tiny?”
Sidney shrugs. “Hey, it’s sort of true. But, as long as you keep yourself in check, I’ll do the same.” She scoops a pancake out of the pan and drops it onto a paper plate next to the oven. “Plus, I can’t let you be the nicer one. That’s just unacceptable.” She points her spatula at my plate of tiny pancakes. “I haven’t made pancakes in a while, so if the first batch sucked I didn’t want to throw out half of the batter. Plus, tiny things are just better.”
I laugh. Leave it to Sidney to think through a plan B for her breakfast. And to turn eventhis—not being jerks to each other—into a competition. “Well, so far you’re kicking my butt in the niceness department. How are you even managing this?”
She flips another pancake onto her plate and smiles. “I’m taking your advice and pretending you’re Logan Hart.”
“The singer who grew up around here?”
“I’m practicing for when he randomly stops by, and I need to wow him. I heard he has a house on the lake.”
“I bet that’s a rumor. Something they tell tourists to get them to pay more for houses or something.” I stuff another bite of pancake into my mouth.
“You’re such a buzzkill.” She has the same biting tone in her voice that I’m so used to, but her face is bright, cheerful. It makes me wonder if all she was missing before was the smile.Does her voice just sound like that? No, surely not.
“You’re right.” I stuff the last bit of pancake into my mouth and mourn the loss of it. “You never know what could happen.I mean, you’re making me pancakes, so I suppose it’s official: anything is possible now.”
I won’t lie, the pancakes were delicious. But I can’t shake the feeling that maybe Sidney took the time to chop one of those chocolate laxative bars into tiny chocolate chips. That halfway through the lake I’ll buckle over in the boat and beg her to put me out of my misery. Because no matter what I said about trusting each other and the truce… we’re still us. And I’m not sure she wouldn’t grant me my wish to die—tiny, delicious pancakes or not.
DAY 19
Sidney
I was joking when I asked Asher what I was going to do with all of the time I’d spent plotting, but almost a week has passed since we met at the dock and I’m surprised by how true it actually is. Without pranks to think about and plan for, and recover from, I don’t just have more time—I feel lighter. And even if it’s not going to last all summer, I’m not ready to jeopardize it. So when Asher gives me a tiny wave as he walks past the deck—where I’m lying out on one of the lounge chairs—I wave back.
There’s a towel tucked under his arm, and he’s heading down the steps, toward the dock. Despite our breakfasts together the last week, our new normal has been to hang out in our own little areas. Me on the deck, sometimes with the moms or Kara, and Asher out on the dock. I feel a little bad about it. It’s pretty out on the dock, surrounded by water, but it is not comfortable out on the uneven wood planks. Even with the two towels Asher lays down. Yesterday I considered that maybe I should buy him one of those cheap plastic floats to lie on. But now, I’m realizing there is a much easier solution.
“Hey.” The word is out of my mouth before I can stop myself. Asher stops in his tracks. “You can chill up here. I mean, if you want to. It’s not my private area or anything. We’re sharingthe house, you know.Mideckes sudeck. Or something like that…”I’m rambling. Why am I rambling?
He steps up onto the wooden deck and spreads his towel on the chair next to me without a word. We sit there, side by side, reading our books for at least an hour before we say anything. Every little sound we make seems to echo in the air, the soft brushing of the papers under our fingers, the squeak of our chairs as we shift around.
I’ve abandoned my book and am lying with my eyes closed, almost asleep, when Asher’s voice breaks the noisy silence around us.
“Do you want to ride together to that party tomorrow night?”
I forgot the party was tomorrow.
It’s hard to keep the days straight up here. There’s no school, no jobs, we hardly even watch TV. Somehow three weeks of vacation have flown past. And there’s nothing to separate the weekend from every other day. I told Kara I’d go to this party, since I survived the first one. Since it seems to be the only time I can see her this summer. The party Kara assured me Caleb isn’t going to, because he’s visiting a friend a few hours away.
“I sort of owe you one.”
I turn to look at him, startled when I open my eyes to find his too close to me. We’re in mirror positions on our chairs, our faces a foot apart. I don’t understand how a foot can feel so close, or why he thinks he’d owe me anything. It was my mom who forced us to drive together to the last party.
He raises his brows like I’m missing the obvious. “You probably barely remember, because I’m such a graceful, charming drunk.” A giant smile spreads across his face, the kind of self-amused smile I used to see as he was saying,How much do you hate me right now?“But therewasthat whole thing after the last party.”
I close my eyes for just a second, but it’s long enough to remember everything that happened that night. It sends a tightknot of unease into my stomach.Drunk. He was drunk, Sidney. He only did it to screw you up for your date.I have to look away from him. “Oh right, when you almost died in your own vomit.” I say it because I know how much it annoys him.
“I would never.”
I look at him and there’s that smile again.
“I’m way too pretty for that.”
“Mmhmm.”
