My father’s voice drifts from behind the office door when I exit the theatre room.Probably campaign details.It’s pretty much all he does lately.I don’t know if he even works with the firm anymore.I wonder if he’ll still let me decorate the tree in his office this year.I guess it doesn’t matter.Not much does right now.
I trudge upstairs to my room and collapse onto my bed, not bothering to undress, and pull the comforter up over my head.
Are you still sleeping?”my mother asks through a crack in the door.
“No,” I answer.
I barely register it’s morning; I’ve been dozing on and off for hours.I woke in the middle of the night sweating because I was still wearing my sweater.I couldn’t fall back to sleep after changing into sweats and a T-shirt.My mind was determined to autoplay the highlight reel from yesterday over and over and over.I was able to mute the audio track, but couldn’t escape the angry glares, hurt-filled eyes or raised fist.
“We’re supposed to leave in an hour to meet the Kimballs.”
I don’t respond.Does she know?I wonder what Dad told her.There’s no way he didn’t tell her something.I’ve always assumed they tell each other everything.
“Want me to bring you back anything?”she asks from the other side of the door.
She definitely knows.Otherwise, she’d be in here, invading my space, inundating me with questions.
“No thanks.”
I stare at the door, wondering if she’ll come in or walk away.Nothing happens for a long minute.The door eases shut, and the click of her heels fades away.I sink into my pillow, not sure if I wanted her to come in or not.
My mother’s always been a problem solver.Dad’s the one to kiss my scrapes better.Whereas my mother asks what I’ll do differently next time.
The answer to that question has yet to rise to the surface.
When I roll over to look at my clock, my skin prickles with a spike of adrenaline.It’s ten past nine.I’m going to be—
I catch myself.Our ritual is so ingrained in my psyche that I didn’t think twice about going to Clara’s for our ten a.m.breakfast.
Will they be there?
I bite at my lip.Should I go?
What if I show and neither of them is there?Can I handle that?Do I even want to see Jonathan?
I think of the hurt shuttering Collin’s face when I reminded him that he didn’t have a father.That his dad left him and his mom when he was seven, never to return.In one sentence, I was the worst friend.
I have to go.For Collin.Because I can’t lose him.
As for Jonathan… I can’t think about him without tearing up.I’ll leave if he’s there.Stay if Collin shows.At least, that’s what I tell myself when I rush into the bathroom to shower.
My hair’s still damp when I approach Clara’s.I glance at our usual table in the window and freeze.It’s not Collin looking out at me.Or Jonathan.It’s Jaz.
When I pull the door open and wait for a family to exit, I discover the place is packed.Even more than usual for a Sunday morning and most are Hollis High students.The volume instantly lowers when I walk through the door.I look around suspiciously.They look back.
“Sadie.”Jaz beckons me to the table.
“What’s going on?”I ask, slowly eyeing the faces that lean over to inspect me.
“We don’t have to stay here,” Jaz says, about to stand.
“No,” I reply.“It’s okay.But why is everyone staring at me?”I sit across from Jaz and focus on her.“And why are you here?I mean, I missed you, but… why are you at our table?”
“Um… I wanted to check on you.Make sure you’re alright.”She visibly scans me, my face, my arms.“I called and texted you, but you didn’t answer.Knew you’d be here if you could.”
“What are you talking about?”There’s no way she knew what happened between me and the guys.No one was there to witness it, and Jonathan and Collin would never talk about it.
I glance back at the eyeballs that keep flicking our way.The volume has increased, but mostly in murmurs and whispers I can’t make out.
