“Sid, I just need you to try to see this rationally for two seconds, before you ruin everything.” And she is. I can feel all of the bricks I chipped away at this summer building back up around her.
“If I’m so irrational, so scared, so horrible—I’m not sure why you’d even want to be with me.”
I tug on my hair, because I sort of want to rip it out. I laugh at the absurdity of all this. “Maybe all the compromised food you’ve fed me over the years has eaten away at my brain.”
Sid crosses her arms over her chest and I know this look. Too well. This is her war face. I am the enemy, and she’s not backing down until she’s the victor. “And maybe all of the suspiciously nice things you’ve said to me all summer started to convince me you really were nice.”
“So I’mtoo nicenow?” When I laugh it doesn’t sound like me, it sounds slightly deranged. “I can’t win. You know, maybe you’ll wake up tomorrow and decide this was a horrible idea, but I don’t even care. I guess you were right all along. This can only end one way. It’s pretty clear that you’re not going to let it end the good way. So formysake, let’s just forget about this, okay? Because you’re right, this isn’t the sort of thing we should get into if we’re not serious about it. We don’t need to screw up our families for a summer fling.”
“That’s what this was to you.”
I hate the conviction in her voice, like she believes it, or at least wants to. “It’s the opposite of what this was for me, but you’ve been convinced this couldn’t work right from the start, and I’m tired of trying to convince you you’re wrong.”
“So we agree.”
“No. We don’t.” I jab my finger at her. “Youthink this can’twork because… well, for no reason really. You’ve just decided it won’t.” I look out at the lake and back to her. “Ithink this won’t work, because we’ve been together for a few weeks, and you still don’t trust me. You keep trying to sabotage this. You’re looking for problems where there aren’t any, and you’re already one foot out the door.” I pull on the hem of my T-shirt because I feel like I’m boiling over with angry energy. “This is over, because even if I could talk you down from this, I don’t know how I can trust that you’re not going to do the same thing six months from now. Or two years from now.” I take a step back on the dock. “So”—I throw my hands up like Sidney has me at gunpoint, which is how it feels—“I surrender. You win, Sidney. It’s over. Just like you knew it would be. So like always, your plan worked.”
DAY 50
Sidney
I wait until four o’clock to take the car and drive into town. I’ll stop at the store and get some vacation jerky in case I need an alibi.Another one.The Riverton Police Department is in a large brick building that is long and low and also houses the city hall, fire department, and community room. The building is quiet and empty, and an older woman sits behind a desk, a pane of glass separating her from me. Maybe she’s worried about people sneezing on her, like at a buffet? Oh, right. She’s worried about the criminals who come here. Like me. When I step up she pushes open a window to greet me.
I smile. “Could I see Officer Jennings, please?”
She glances up at me but she’s mostly looking at her computer. “In regards to?”
“I met him last night.” Her eyes snap up to mine and I realize it sounds like I’m some weirdo who met him at a party and is now stalking him at his job. Movement catches my eye and I notice the men in uniforms standing behind her, shifting uncomfortably. “Oh. No. I mean, not like Imethim. Just that he arrested me. Well, not arrested, but I mean…” I rest my fingertips on the edge of the title counter in front of her window. “I was vandalizing someone’s yard. Not even vandalizingreally, I was just forking it. You know, sticking plastic silverware into it?” I smile at her but she doesn’t return it. “Harmless, really.” My voice has pitched up nervously. “And yeah, it was going to be in a vulgar shape, but I hadn’t finished, so it just looked like a bunch of forks.” The woman—Gayle, according to her nameplate—looks from me to the group of men gathered behind her. “So anyway, she called the cops. And he was the cop. Jennings, I mean.”Why can’t I just stop talking?“So that’s how I met him. He took me home.” Oh no. “To my home!Myhome!”
Gayle’s face has gone from concerned to amused, and she pushes her rolling chair away from the desk and walks to a nearby door, turning back to me to say, “Wait here.”
The two cops standing by the doorway back to the right have now gained a third person, and they’re all trying really hard not to stare at me, but I feel a little like a zoo animal on the other side of this glass. They snicker and mumble something as Jennings walks in through the hallway. He lands a punch to an older guy’s arm as he passes. He’s in normal clothes—khaki pants and a collared shirt—and I can see just how young he is when he’s out of uniform. He stands in the spot where Gayle’s chair is. She hasn’t returned. Traumatized, probably.
“Miss Walters.” He gives me a tiny nod.
“Officer Jennings.” I look to the men behind him and try to keep my voice serious and detached, but I’m not entirely sure what I came here to ask or what the formal way to request it is.
Jennings raises a brow at me. “Can I help you with something?”
“I just… wanted to check on my arrest.”
“Tocheckon it?”
I drum my fingers along the countertop. “Yes. To see what I need to do next.”
My nerves are absolutely out of control. It’s entirely possible that I’m going to throw up right here. I suppose it would make a good case for keeping the glass barrier closed. But Jennings does something I’m not expecting. He laughs. It’s loud and long, andbarrels out of him. The men behind him smile, like they, too, are amused by my predicament.
What an asshole.
Something on my face must tell him I think so, because he suddenly stops, his face turning apologetic. “I’m sorry. I’ve just never had anyone so impatient to be arrested.”
“Impatient?” I cross my arms over my chest. “I just don’t want you showing up at my house. And if I need to make arrangements, I want to do that. I don’t want my parents to have to pack up all of my stuff. And I need to talk to my coach and see if criminal charges will get me kicked off of the team before I even start.”
“The team?”
“Swim team,” I clarify. “I’m swimming at Oakwood this year, if I’m not in jail.”
He nods. “Well, the good news is you won’t have to call your coach.”
