“Did you just admit I’m pretty?”
“No.”
“You did.”
“I’m just not arguing with you anymore.” I turn to him with my own self-amused smile. “I’m the nicer one now. I plan on keeping it that way.”
“Excuse me?” He looks at me with complete confusion, and I throw my hand to my chest in mock horror.
“One word,” I say, holding up a single finger, just inches from his face. “Pancakes.” The word is almost a whisper on my lips.
“Oh, so now we’re keeping score?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Mmhmm.”
Asher closes his eyes, and I close mine, and we lie in our deck chairs in peaceful silence until Sylvie announces lunch with a yell from the kitchen window, and we spring out of our chairs like we were just caught. What’s the punishment for conspiring with enemy forces?
DAY 20
Sidney
I’m not sure how I turned into this girl, but it’s my third weekend in Riverton, and my second at a party. Asher and I drove together as planned—no matching outfits this time—but as soon as we stepped through the front door we split off in separate directions. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and it’s a text from Kara.
My stomach sinks.An hour?I’m in the middle of the living room, standing by myself, and suddenly I feel like there’s a giant spotlight shining on me.Attention partygoers, we have a lonely loner out-of-towner over here!Yes, my aloneness is on full display. Making my way to the kitchen, I scan the room for anyone I know. Anyone I’ve said even two words to in the past, or recognize from The Little Store or River Depot. But all of the faces look new tonight. They don’t look unfriendly, or unwelcoming, just new. And new looks like work—more work than I’m willing to put in tonight.
I stop in the kitchen and snag a red cup. There’s no way I’mpassing an hour without one. And if I have to—even though Asher promised he wouldn’t drink tonight—I’ll call my parents to pick me up.No questions askedis their motto, and while I’ve never tested it, I believe them. Mom doesn’t want me to be featured in a viral video she’ll compulsively share on social media.
There’s a big blue cooler on the counter, and I put my glass under the spigot, letting a reddish brown juice fill it close to the brim. I take a sip—wow, it’s strong—and walk toward the sliding glass door that leads into the backyard. There’s a fire burning in one corner of the yard, but no one is sitting on the benches around it yet.Freedom.
The fire is glowing bright, and all that’s separating me from its flickering solitude is a small set of wooden stairs. I’m about to step down when the sound of my name stops me.
“Sid?” It’s Asher. Correction: it’sdrunkAsher. I think. Only drunk Asher calls me Sid. Except we haven’t been here long enough for Asher to be drunk.
I turn slowly to find him standing a few feet behind me. He closes the small gap between us in just a few long steps, and I take a sip from my cup, trying to look natural.
“Where are you going?” He looks around me, like he’s looking for something. “Where’s Kara?” Not something… someone.
I let out a disgruntled sigh, blowing any chance I had of pulling off the relaxed-and-mingling look. “She’s late.” I glance back toward the yard. “I was going to sit by the fire.”
Asher’s face pinches up as his eyes dart from the fire to me. “By yourself?”
“No, with my invisible friend Roger, here.” I swing my arms out to my side, like I’m presenting someone to Asher. Though they’re down by my hips, so apparently my imaginary friend is tiny. Which is fine. Tiny things are awesome.
Asher smiles and rolls his eyes. “You’re such a little hermit.” He grabs my hand and pulls me along with him toward the house.
“What are you doing? Where are we going?”
“You’re coming with me.” His voice is firm, like he’s letting me know I don’t have a choice. We’re crossing through the sliding door into the house. Into the throngs of people, the little clusters of friends. All of the strangers I was trying to avoid. Asher isn’t like me, though. He gravitates toward people and they flock to him. He’s the kind of person who can talk to anyone, without knowing a single thing about them.
I try to pull my hand away, but he holds it tight. “I don’t want to talk to people.” It sounds sort of pathetic when I hear it out loud, but it’s also true.
“Then just talk to me,” Asher says, not looking back at me. I stop pulling against him, and his hand loosens around mine as we enter the kitchen. He stops at the counter where bottles and cups are sitting in a jumbled mess, and looks down at my cup. “You gonna keep drinking that?”
I take a sip. “Sure. It’s actually pretty good.”
Asher eyes the cup and smiles. “I bet it is.” He pulls a red cup from a stack of them and sets it on the counter.
