“I still skate,” I say, but it’s not the same and we both know it. My lungs swell and I have to look away because I’m afraid that I’ll see my father cry if I don’t.
I’m in bed but awake much later that night when I hear footsteps outside my door, light and soft, and I know they’re Mom’s. I pull the quilt higher under my chin and wait. There’s no tap on the door, no whispered words. There is just silence, long and aching, from her and me, and then the footsteps retreat.
CHAPTER 32
Idrive Bertha’s ancient rusted form to the edge of the rink, ready to give the ice its first smoothing pass of the day to remove any moisture and impurities that the low humidity air in the rink would have drawn out overnight. Even though my feet won’t be touching the ice, my heart, so heavy since the events of yesterday and the quiet empty kitchen I left this morning, lifts a little as it always does. Then it lifts even more when I look up and see Maggie coming through the entrance. Shattering my phone the day before had deprived me of my one last lifeline, and I felt like I wouldn’t make it another minute without seeing my friend.
If Bertha’s top speed were anything above a snail’s pace, I would have skidded with how quickly I stop her. I hop down, waving as I call Maggie’s name, though I know she already saw me. We aren’t officially open yet, so there’s no music pumping through the speakers. If there weren’t already a few people milling about I might have sprinted to her and worried about explaining myself later, but there are, so I walk. I round one end of the rink and expect to see Maggie rounding the other so we can meet halfway like normal, but the long walkway in front of the benches and rows of bleachers is empty before me. Then I see that Jeff has waylaid her and my desire to reach her intensifies, for my good and now hers too. Whatever he said to her must have been brief, because he’s walking away when I finally reach her.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” I say, closing the last few steps between us and throwing my arms around her. “I had a really bad day yesterday. And a really bad night. And until now a really awful morning.”
Maggie doesn’t say anything.
And she doesn’t hug me back.
I never feel the chill from the ice when I’m at the rink, but I do now. I pull away and look at her. She removes her aviators to reveal eyes that are red and puffy, like she’s been crying all night. And she doesn’t have a stitch of makeup on. Maggie would sooner leave her house without pants than set foot outside without doing her eyebrows, but they’re bare. All of her is. Something is very, very wrong.
I reach for her hands, concern chasing away—at least for the moment—my own issues. “Maggie, what—”
“My mom was at Porter’s Grocery store yesterday,” she says, flatly, drawing her hands back before I can grasp them.
My insides start to freeze. Frost seems to lick its way up my legs and arms, converging in my chest and finally encasing my heart in a solid block of ice. All those eyes, all those whispers. I don’t know what Maggie’s mom heard, but an internet search would have filled in anything she missed. All the gory, seedy details splashed in vivid color on her screen.
I can barely meet Maggie’s gaze, and when I do I want to look away. It’s more than the fact that she’s not wearing makeup; Maggie doesn’t look like herself when she’s not smiling. I feel the first crack splinter through my frozen heart when her lip trembles.
“All this time you lied to me. Why, Brooke?”
“I couldn’t lose you.”
“Your brother killed someone.”
I start to shake my head, a reflex not a denial, but Maggie makes a choked sound.
“Don’t lie to me anymore.” Her breath comes in small, sucking sounds, like she’s trying not to cry. Or not to start crying again. “You told me he was messed up with drugs.” Her voice grows quieter. “All the people in town, Jeff, Elena and everyone here—that’s why you don’t want me talking to any of them. Not because they’re all horrible people who took the wrong side in a breakup, but because your brother killed someone.”
I wince, her words ripping into my heart.
“I thought you were helping me, protecting me in real life like you do with commenters on my videos, but you weren’t. I didn’t know anyone when I met you, and I thought I was lucky to have found the one good person in this town to be my friend.”
“Iamyour frie—”
The reproach in her tear-filled eyes stops my mouth. “You were my best friend, and you’ve lied to me over and over again since the day I met you.”
“How could I tell you the truth? How?”
She shakes her head at me. “You just do.”
“I’m sorry.” But those are only words, and they mean less than nothing compared to all the lies.
“Would you ever have told me the truth?”
She can see the answer in my face; I don’t try to hide it. “I couldn’t stand to have you look at me the way everyone else does.”
“You didn’t give me a choice. Instead you told me who to stay away from and when to keep my mouth shut. You always had reasons too. So-and-so hates me because...or what’s-his-face is a jerk because... Maybe it wasn’t all lies, butallof them? Every single one? I believed you and because of you, I’ve treated everyone here like scum.” She straightens her shoulders even as her eyes fill with more tears. “There are people here that I’ve literally turned my back on when they tried to introduce themselves. I thought I was being loyal to you. I even felt good about it, but the reality is you made me act like a complete jerk to people who didn’t deserve it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry you got caught. You just admitted you weren’t ever going to tell me the truth, which means that list of people I was expected to write off on your say-so was just going to get longer. Do you get that? You say I was your only friend, but you made sure that I didn’t have anyone else either.”
