‘Ethan?’
‘Chris?’
‘Thank you.’
Just when I thought I was done with crying.
‘You never have to say that,’ I tell him, welling up again.
‘Just wanna make sure you heard it.’ The line goes quiet, andI can hear a TV rumbling in the background. ‘You’re really doing good over there?’
He sounds doubtful but I’m doing a hell of a lot better than I was ten minutes earlier, that’s for damn sure.
‘What could be bad? I’m in school, I’m playing soccer, everyone here is scary nice. It’s like living in a Paddington movie. You don’t need to worry about me. Now you get your ass back to bed, we’ll talk tomorrow.’
‘You better not forget. I’m bored out of my mind here.’
‘I won’t forget.’
As if I could.
When the call cuts out, my phone slips from my fingers, falling onto the ground as I pull my knees up into my chest. Chris is going to be okay. He’s going to walk again. Now all I need is for him to stick to the plan. He can’t tell anyone he was driving Bre’s Jeep that night or everything blows up.
Wrapping my arms around my shins, I curl up as small as I can, head tucked into my knees, and let it all go. Everything I’ve been holding in all comes pouring out. The white-hot moment of fear when Chris swerved and Bre grabbed the wheel out of his hands. The ugly blur when I woke up in the backseat followed by sheer terror when I heard Chris whimpering, stuck between the steering wheel and the crushed-in car door. Holding Breanna’s shoulders, begging her to tell the cops I was the one driving. Lying to my folks. Lying to Breanna’s dad. Sitting next to Chris’s bedside for two whole days until he woke up. And now Mia. A fresh slice of pain like a knife running across my palm. I didn’t know how much I needed soccer in my life until it was almost taken away but I think I knew how much I needed Mia from the first moment I saw her.
By the time I’m all cried out, I’m shaken and exhausted, but there’s a spark of hope. When I call Chris tomorrow, he’ll pick up.
Which means I have twenty-four hours to get my shit together, because I have a game and a girl to win.
53
Mia
Ethan’s game starts at three.
Jenna and Alice are going, Jenna because she wouldn’t miss a soccer game for her life, and Alice because it is a non-negotiable clause in her friendship contract with Jenna. But am I going too? Undecided. In spite of everything, I miss Ethan more than I can stand. So much so that two nights ago, I shook out a handful of flour in front of his door, in case he came back in the night. The housekeeping team weren’t impressed but I swore I’d clean up after myself. I just needed to know if he’d been here.
I hate that his dad paid his way into Hemden because he couldn’t face the fire back at Marshall, but it’s not surprising, and now I’ve had time to think, it’s not unforgiveable. A father looking out for his son, I guess anyone who could, would. However he got here, Ethan has earned the right to stay, killing it in class and on the soccer field. I don’t know why he said those things about me but that isn’t what hurts the most. What stings is the fact he didn’t trust me with the truth.
On the desk, my phone rings. I stare at the handset as it dances across the surface, rumbly vibrations accompanying the high-pitched trill. My mom. She hasn’t called since I missed my slot last Sunday but I’m not going to panic, I’m not. I take a deep breath in before I answer, the way Jenna showed me ather yoga class on Thursday. I’ve been keeping myself busy. It helps, a little.
‘Mom?’ I answer, counting my breaths instead of giving in to the pounding of my heart.
‘So you are alive, saints be praised. Call off the FBI, Derek, she’s still with us.’
Good to know she isn’t going to be melodramatic or anything.
‘I’m sorry I forgot to call on Sunday,’ I say, rolling a pen between my fingers. ‘I told Kane I’d call back, but he said it wasn’t a good time.’
‘Is there ever a good time to find out your only daughter has forgotten you exist? I cannot believe you would be so selfish, Mia. Your daddy and I have been in a state waiting on you to pick up the phone. If he knows I’m calling you now, he’ll be furious, yes, he will.’
‘So he isn’t on the phone to the FBI?’
Mom sniffs. ‘I don’t think that kind of attitude is going to make things any better, Mia Meyers. Five days we’ve been waiting, missy, five days.’
‘I was going to call tomorrow,’ I tell her, breathing in, breathing out. ‘Our usual Sunday call?’
‘The one you missed last week? When I did not know if you were alive or dead in a ditch somewhere?’
