My dad didn’t say anything for a moment. When he did speak, it was very quietly and very clearly. “Fine. But hear me when I say this: I do not want you around my daughter ever again. Whatever has been going on, it’s over as of tonight. Are we clear?”
“Dad,” I said. “You can’t just decide—”
“Actually, I can.” He pointed at me. “Get out of that truck. Right now.”
I glanced at Gator, thinking he might step in, but no. He just stood there with his stupid entirely too bright flashlight, watching along with the rest of us.
“I’m sorry,” I said to Roo. But he didn’t respond, the beam still bright in his face. Of all the ways I thought thenight would end, I never could have guessed this. There had always been invisible lines between the two sides and the two communities. But my dad had drawn another, his own. And even though I was right next to Roo, I could feel it between us.
“I’m sorry,” I said softly to him. “I—”
“It’s okay,” he replied, still looking straight ahead. “Just go.”
I nodded, feeling a lump rise in my throat. Then I got up and walked to the passenger door, pushing it open to step out onto the road. It was late, almost midnight, and thankfully, most of Lake North was asleep. But I thought of all those windows at the Tides, each with a person or people on the other side. How did I look, leaving this truck with a cop car, lights spinning, beside it? Maybe, like Waverly herself.
My dad was coming around the front bumper now, and I heard the Yum truck start as we began to walk back toward the hotel together. I wanted to turn and watch it, get this last glimpse of Roo to last me until... well, I wasn’t even sure. But just as I was about to, I realized I couldn’t bear it. It was easier, somehow, to just walk toward those doors already opening to reveal the night desk clerk, cheerful and oblivious.
“Welcome to the Tides!”
Neither of us responded as we walked to the elevator, where my dad pushed the button for our floor. The elevator chimed. We went in, the doors sliding shut behind us.
Twenty
My summer had come to a full stop. But Bridget’s was finally beginning.
“So then,” she was saying, “Sam asks if I’m going to the pool fireworks. And I’m like, yeah, I should be there. And Steve says, ‘What about Emma? Will she be home then?’”
Silence. Too late, I realized she’d paused for maximum dramatic effect. “Wow,” I said quickly.
“I know!” She sighed happily. “I mean, granted, the first part of this summer did not go as I planned with Pop Pop’s stroke and our detour to Ohio. But then to come back, and have this happen within days... it’s like fate. It’s what we’ve always wanted!”
She was right. And five weeks ago I would have been just as excited. Now, though: not so much.
“I hate that I’m not there,” I said to her. “Although I’d probably be grounded anyway.”
“Yeah, about that,” she replied. “I have to admit, I’m kindof impressed. The Emma I know won’t even take a drink. Now you’re getting pulled over by the police.”
“It was security,” I corrected her. “Which isreallynot the same thing.”
“Still, very exciting,” she told me. “The part about your cousin jumping out of the back of the truck... I mean, who does that?”
Calvanders, I thought, getting off my bed and walking over to the window. “I’m so stupid,” I said. “If I just hadn’t drunk...”
“He still would have freaked out, Emma,” she said. “I mean, come on. Think about it. You weren’t answering his calls or where you said you’d be.”
“It made it worse, though,” I said, thinking of Roo, his face in that bright light of Gator’s flashlight.
She was quiet for a second. Then she said, “Have you heard from him at all? How did you guys leave things?”
Bridget was one of my two best friends for lots of reasons. But I especially loved that she knew what I was thinking, even when I didn’t say it out loud.
“Not good,” I said. “I know I should text him, but I’m so embarrassed. He must hate me.”
“He doesn’t hate you,” she said automatically.
“Bridget. I almost got him arrested.”
“Almost,” she said, like this was hardly anything of note. “Not the same thing.”
