Wes:I had that nasty twenty-four-hour stomach bug that’s going around. I really don’t recommend it.
Me:I’m sorry. I hope you’re feeling better.
Wes:I am now. So did you miss me? :p
Yes,I think immediately. I don’t type that, of course.
Me:I guess.
Wes:Hey, I’ll take it! I missed you for what it’s worth.
Again, I almost smile.
Me:I can send you the notes in a bit. We’re expanding on our topics.
Wes:My hero, coming to my rescue yet again. First the pencil, now the notes. I owe you a million more muffins.
Me:No one can eat a million muffins, but I appreciate the gesture.
I expect him to leave it at that, so I’m surprised when another message comes through a minute later.
Wes:What are you up to this weekend? Hopefully hanging on tight to that apartment key?
Me:Ha ha funny. I’m at my parents’ house for my dad’s birthday, actually.
Wes:Oh, nice. Do they live far?
Me:About two hours. I’m from Miller Hill.
Wes:Oh, no way. You went to MHHS?
Me:Unfortunately, yes.
Wes:I went to Northland. Looks like we’re rivals :p
Northland.
There’s only one other person I know from Northland High School.
I shut off the screen and flip onto my back, resting the phone on my chest as I stare up at the ceiling. I try to ignore the alarm bells blaring in my head—the first in a while when it comes to Wes—and focus on the facts. Just because he went to Northland doesn’t mean he knowshim.He probably doesn’t, and I concentrate on keeping my breathing even.
Before I can fully process what to do or say, the door swings open. I scramble off the bed, tucking my phone into the back pocket of my jeans, as Mom calls, “Ivy, are you down here?” I’ve been gone for almost fifteen minutes, so she’s right on cue.
“Yeah, sorry!” I call. “Was just using the bathroom.”
The light flicks on as she descends the stairs, pausing halfway down. “Why didn’t you use the one upstairs?”
I squint up at her and lie. “It was occupied.”
She frowns like she doesn’t believe me, glancing around the basement like she thinks I might be hiding something. Alcohol, probably. “Well, your father’s about to give a speech.”
“Coming,” I mutter, and I follow her up.
The rest of the night moves slowly, and by the time most people have left, Dad’s still in the living room, sipping beer and chatting with Jeff and Bill. I’m helping Mom tidy the kitchen when Scott and Olive appear, both with that glazed look in their eyes that means they’ve had one drink too many.
“Successful party, Mom,” says Scott, patting her on the back.
Mom smiles at him. “Thank you, honey.”
