“Maybe tomorrow,” she says. “You can tell me tomorrow.”
“Okay,” I say. “Tomorrow.”
CHAPTER 14
Then
There was nothing spectacular about Dylan Adler’s New Year’s Eve party. It was standard and ritualistic with thirty racks and garbage cans full of jungle juice. Because it was my first time spending New Year’s with Heller, I stayed away from the booze, not wanting to forget a single moment, and clapped as he threw back shots with his teammates. When it neared midnight, he led me to the backyard to watch Cal and Dylan set off fireworks. They sent them up into the cold dark sky and I saw my breath form little clouds of warmth in front of me. Sparks exploded above us and I shrieked in delight, watching them fizzle into the night.
When midnight struck, everyone cheered, and Cal lit a round of sparklers. Heller spun me around and kissed me fiercely. He tasted sour, but I held his face in my gloved hands, grateful, grateful, grateful.
Around one in the morning, the party had begun to die down and Dylan was trying to motivate the rest of the hockey bros to make a McDonald’s run. He was wearing a Roxwood hockey sweatshirt, going on and on about how he only had a few more weeks to go ham on fast food before coach made him buckle down for the back end of the season.
“Think your parents will care if you sleep at the ice fishing hut?” Heller whispered in my ear.
I shook my head.No.
We crept off to his pickup truck without saying goodbye. And when Heller climbed into the front seat even though I had seen him throw back a few Dixie cups of whiskey, I said nothing. He fiddled with the radio and settled on an old nineties station. I rubbed my hands for warmth.
“Perfect,” he said as Britney Spears sang over the radio.
I laughed and swiveled my head to look out the window. That’s when I saw Cal, coming out of the woods, zipping up his pants, a sophomore girl trailing behind him. He looked right at me in the passenger seat and held my gaze, his face unsmiling, unreadable.
Heller revved the engine right as my phone buzzed in my pocket. I saw a call from Ava and Imogen. The fourth of the night. It had been seven years since we spent New Year’s apart. But I ignored it and reached for Heller’s hand.
The drive was easy at first, even though the roads were dark and it had started to flurry. “Gonna take it slow,” Heller said as he glanced at me and smiled. “You’re my precious cargo.”
I laughed and peered out the window even though there was nothing to see but darkness. Nothing except...
“Heller!” I screamed, but it was too late.
CHAPTER 15
Now
I have to tell them. That’s all I can think about now, lying in my top bunk as the moon shines so damn bright, like a spotlight hovering in my window. I want to share the truth. Therealtruth. Despite the paperwork and the consequences and all that I could lose... I need to tell them.
Ava and Imogen would keep my secret. They wouldn’t tell. It would be okay.
Except...
A sliver of doubt lines my stomach. Maybe they wouldn’t understand. Maybe it wouldn’t be okay.
But telling them is the only way my distance, my reactions will make sense. I’ll do it tomorrow, I decide. Tomorrow. I’ll pull them aside after breakfast, while we walk to the lake. They’ll react like we did when Ava told us she skipped a period and we waited while she took a pregnancy test in the Truly’s bathroom on a night off last summer. With hand squeezes and support when everything turned out to be okay. Or like when Imo told us she didn’t get that premium cable show she auditioned for in the fall. With tight hugs and the reassurance that her life was not over.
If I can’t trust them with this, I can’t trust anyone at all. And I don’t know if I can keep living that way.
I sigh and roll over, hoping not to wake Meg, who’s conked out below me. Thank goodness she sleeps like the dead.
My hair is wet from the lake and sticks to my neck. I brush it away, searching for rest and reprieve. The clock on my nightstand says it’s close to two. Six hours to reveille. I squeeze my eyes shut, praying for sleep. That’s what Mom and Dad said I needed this year. Sleep. But it doesn’t come. Not yet.
I push aside the flimsy curtain with my pointer finger and look out the window. It’s a clear path to Ava’s cabin and I can see the trail down to the waterfront. The night is dark and crisp. I wonder what Ava’s dreaming about. What Imogen is plotting. I wish we were all together, huddled in one bed like we did when we were kids, whispering after flashlight time, never wanting to leave each other’s sides. Maybe that’s how I’d tell them, under the blankets far away from anyone else.
But then I hear the soft squeak of a wooden door creaking open. It comes from Ava’s cabin. I lean closer to the window and see a tall figure, wearing all black, a hooded sweatshirt pulled up around their face. The person closes the door gently and shoves their hands in their pockets. When they turn around, there’s no question. Big blue eyes shine in the night. A platinum lock of hair slips out of place. Ava.
My heart quickens.
She looks around and then starts running. The soft running we learned early, when the older kids taught us the secrets of sneaking out of the cabins. The kind where you press your whole foot to the ground to keep the sound away, to run like you’re on a mission, fighting for your life. That’s always whatthose middle-of-the-night raids felt like. A fight.
