The Last Summer of the Garrett Girls

  Kat nods. If there’s one thing she knows how to do, it’s fighting for what she wants.

  • • •

  When Gram texts about the family meeting, Kat is upstairs at the café.

  Specifically, she is moping on a flowered love seat—a throwback from before the renovation which is ugly but super comfortable—and petting Sassy. Sassy licks Kat’s hand with her rough sandpaper tongue and purrs when Kat scratches her ears. Kat is now positive, thanks to the telltale pink collar around the cat’s neck, that this is Sassy and not Shadow. Shadow has a blue collar because he’s a boy cat.

  Downstairs, the café is already closed. All the shops in Remington Hollow close by five o’clock on Sundays. But Miss Lydia took one look at Kat’s sad face and told her she could stay as long as she wanted if she promised to set the alarm when she left.

  Maybe I’ll swear off boys, Kat thinks. Maybe I’ll become a famous eccentric actress with a mansion full of cats.

  The front door slams, and then footsteps trudge up the stairs.

  “Hello?” she calls. “Miss Lydia?”

  A familiar swoopy black pompadour comes into view, followed by a pair of earnest brown eyes with obscenely long lashes. Does he use mascara? Kat still isn’t sure. Her traitorous heart races, and Sassy paws at her arm, utterly forgotten.

  “Hi,” Mase says. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

  “You didn’t look very hard,” she says glumly. “I’ve been here for hours.”

  “I thought you’d be at the race cheering Bea on.” He sits backward in Miss Lydia’s desk chair, facing Kat.

  “What do you want, Mase?” She’s been hoping he’d show up. That she could convince him to choose her. She had this whole monologue all planned out. But she’s been waiting for three hours. While he was…where? With Brandon? All the fight drained out of her while she sat here, petting cats and picturing Mase kissing his ex-boyfriend. She doesn’t want to fight for somebody who doesn’t want her back. She’s done doing that.

  “You saw the blog,” he says. “Savannah’s column.”

  “Yeah.” Kat traces one of the flowers on the love seat.

  “I can explain,” he says. “Brandon and I—”

  “You don’t have to explain,” Kat interrupts. “I think it’s pretty obvious. The two of you are back together. That was always the plan, right? The point of this whole charade? Well. Congratulations. I’m happy for you.”

  “You are?” Mase runs a hand over his pompadour, frowning.

  For a minute, Kat is tempted to tell him that Jillian and Adam broke up. To make it sound like she got what she wanted too. But Adam is so far from what she wants now, she can’t bring herself to lie about it. Not when the person she does want is sitting right across from her in skinny jeans and wingtip shoes and an obscure band T-shirt, staring at her with puzzled kohl-rimmed eyes.

  “No, I’m not,” she admits, burying her face in her hands. This is so embarrassing. “I hate it. I hate him and his stupid Clark Kent style and his stupid shoulders that you massaged and his stupid face that you kissed.

  Mase rolls the desk chair across the floor toward her. It startles Sassy, and she leaps off Kat’s lap and runs down the hall.

  “Hey.” Mase touches Kat’s arm. “Kat. It’s not what you think.”

  She peeks out from between her fingers. “You didn’t kiss Brandon last night at the fireworks? Savannah made that up?”

  “Well, okay, maybe it’s a little bit what you think,” Mase says. “We did kiss.”

  “You tripped and fell on his mouth?” Kat asks scornfully.

  Mase gives her a long-suffering look that she might deserve. “Would you please shut up for two minutes and let me explain? It was this, I don’t know, moment of nostalgia. We never had a chance to do a real postmortem. He told me he hooked up with somebody else, and we broke up over text message, for God’s sake. So yeah, there were a lot of big feelings when we saw each other yesterday. We walked all around town and talked. And we did kiss, but we both knew right away it was stupid. We’re not getting back together.”

  Kat sits up a little straighter. “Why not?”

  “Because none of the reasons we broke up have changed. He’s in Virginia. I’m here. He wants to be able to date other guys. And I…” Mase trails off.

  “And you?” Kat prompts, leaning forward, full of hope.

  “And I feel like maybe I’m starting to fall for somebody else, and I want to see where that goes,” Mase says in a rush.

  Kat bites back an enormous grin. “Somebody else, huh? Do I know him?”

  “Her,” Mase corrects. “I don’t know; you might have heard of her. She’s a real diva. I heard she threw a Coke in some asshole’s face this afternoon, defending my honor.”

  Kat flushes. “You heard about that?”

  “Gossip travels fast.” Mase scoots the chair closer, till his jean-clad knees bump against hers. “Let’s see, what else. She’s smart. And funny. She makes me laugh all the time. She has all these crazy plans, but some of them turn out to be kind of brilliant. Oh, and she’s really bossy. And hot. Actually, it’s kind of hot that she’s so bossy.”

  “Is it?” Kat asks, inching forward on the love seat. “You don’t think she’s too much? Too, I don’t know, sensitive? Too dramatic?”

  Mase leans over the back of the desk chair. His breath smells like chocolate. “Nope. I like her just the way she is.”

  It is the most perfect thing he could possibly say.

  “Kiss me,” Kat commands. “For real.”

  Mase reaches out and cups her cheek. “Kissing you has always been for real.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  VI

  “Hey,” Vi says, hurrying up to Des and Em in Bishop Park. The raft race has just started. Vi sees Bea’s Star Wars raft with BB-8 and R2-D2 and Erik onboard, but Bea isn’t there. Which is strange, because Bea loves winning things, and unless it somehow sinks, her raft is a shoo-in for the Tea Cup. “What’s going on? Where’s Bea?”

  Des and Em exchange a look. It is the kind of look that says they know something they don’t want to tell her. “Bea isn’t on the raft,” Des says.

  “Yeah, I can see that.” Vi rolls her eyes. “How come?”

  “She and Erik broke up,” Des explains.

  “What?” Vi gasps. Erik and Bea have been dating since Vi was ten years old. Erik is the big brother she never had. He helped her get the hang of algebra and corrected her Chinese pronunciation because her sisters all took Spanish. Vi adores Erik. But she’ll never forgive him if he hurt her sister.

  Vi has only been dating Cece for one day (Are they dating? They haven’t quantified what happened last night yet.), but she would be destroyed if Cece broke up with her. She can’t imagine how devastated Bea must be.

  “Do we hate him now? Is Bea okay?” she asks.

  “I think,” Des says slowly, “that Bea is the one who broke up with him. I’m not sure. It seems like maybe she was hooking up with somebody else?”

  “What? Who?” Vi gasps, scandalized.

  “Remember old Miss Amelia? She made those spritz cookies for the fire hall bake sale,” Em says. “It’s her grandson. I’ve seen him. He’s hot.”

  “What…how…” Vi sputters. She can’t believe this is happening. She knows Bea and Erik are only eighteen, but they were supposed to be together forever. He was practically part of their family.

  “I know. I can’t believe she didn’t tell us,” Des says. She and Em exchange another look, and Vi frowns. They seem to be friends again, which is nice, but why are they treating her like a little kid? Like someone who needs to be shielded from bad news?

  “Is there something else?” she asks.

  Em nudges Des with her elbow, and Des glares at her.

  “Vi, have you read Savannah’s blog today?” Des asks. r />
  Vi shakes her head. “No. Ew.”

  Em hands Vi her phone. “You need to read this.”

  She needs to read it? Why?

  Vi’s breath catches. No. No, no, no, no, no. Savannah couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

  She scans the screenshot Em took, her hands shaking so much that the words blur together.

  As for the littlest orphan, Pride Month may be over, but we hear she and the girl from the restaurant next door are just heating things up.

  “How dare she,” Vi seethes. “How dare she.”

  “Bea pushed her in the river,” Em volunteers. “It was kind of awesome.”

  “She should have drowned her.” Vi hands the phone back. “I’m going to call the editor and complain. I’m going to have them print a retraction!”

  “Charlie already deleted the post,” Des says. “But once something like this is out…”

  “She’s not,” Vi says. “Cece, I mean. She’s not out.”

  “But something happened? Between you two?” Des asks.

  “Do you want me to give you guys some space?” Em asks.

  Vi shakes her head, remembering last night. She was so happy sitting on the dock with her head on Cece’s shoulder, with Cece’s arm around her, watching the fireworks finale. And then—as they heard people leaving the party boat and coming down the pier—they scrambled up. Cece walked Vi home, pulled her into the little alley between the Garretts’ row house and the Mitchells’, pressed her up against the brick wall, and kissed her till they were both breathless. Vi blushes, thinking about it. The whole night felt like a dream. Like it was too good to be true. Do girls like her—weird, bookish, queer girls—get to have happily-ever-afters?

  What if it’s already turned into a nightmare for Cece?

  Vi was so happy this morning that she didn’t stop and think about whether she and Cece are on the same page. They didn’t hold hands walking through town. Cece didn’t kiss Vi on her front porch, where anyone could see; she pulled her into the alley. Maybe those kisses didn’t change anything for Cece. Maybe she still wasn’t ready to tell her family. Now that choice has been taken away from her. They’ll hear about it from a customer who read Savannah’s blog.

  Vi is furious. When and how and to whom she came out should have been Cece’s decision. No one else’s. Certainly not Savannah’s. How will the Pérezes react? Will this make Cece regret everything? What if they forbid her to see Vi? What if they send her away?

  “I have to go,” Vi says grimly. There are a lot of things she wants to ask Des—did she ever find Paige and did Paige steal the money and is Des really moving out—but that can wait. First she has to talk to Cece.

  “Maybe you should give her some time to figure things out,” Des says.

  That might be the sensible thing, but Vi doesn’t feel very sensible right now. She has to find out what’s going on. She and Cece sent each other funny selfies with dog filters this morning, but she hasn’t heard from her for a couple hours. She thought it was because Cece was working the brunch shift. But maybe that’s not it. Maybe her parents saw the blog and they took her phone away.

  Are you okay? She texts Cece as she hurries back through town. Did you see Savannah’s blog?

  There’s no answer by the time she reaches Tia Julia’s.

  She finds Cece behind the hostess stand in the courtyard. When Cece turns around and sees Vi standing there, flushed and panting, her hair falling out of its braids, she gives her the slow sunrise smile that makes Vi’s breath catch. “Hi!”

  She doesn’t know, Vi thinks. Cece hasn’t read the blog yet, or she wouldn’t smile at her like that for everybody to see.

  Vi hates Savannah Lockwood with her whole heart.

  “Can you take a break?” she asks.

  “It’s pretty busy, but…let me see if I can get Elena to cover for me.” Cece’s hair is wound up in a braid around the crown of her head, leaving the nape of her neck bare, and Vi wants to press a kiss right there. The thought makes her miserable. What if she can never kiss Cece again?

  Cece whispers with a middle-aged waitress, then comes back and gives Vi a dimpled grin. “Okay. I’ve got five minutes. How are you? I thought you were going to the raft race. Is it already over? Did Bea win?”

  Vi draws her down the brick sidewalk between a tree box and a trashcan. She wishes there were somewhere more private for them to have this talk, but they only have five minutes, and Gram is at Arden. She hands Cece her phone. Em texted her the screenshot. “You have to read this.”

  “Savannah’s blog? Why?” Cece scrunches up her nose adorably. As she reads, her scowl deepens, and then she looks at Vi with panicky eyes. “Did you tell someone?”

  Vi shakes her head. “She must have seen us down at the marina.”

  “No one else was around,” Cece insists.

  “There were the people on the party boat. Maybe she was there,” Vi says, trying to stay calm.

  “You didn’t tell anyone? Not even your sisters?”

  Why is Cece interrogating her? This is not Vi’s fault.

  “I didn’t tell anyone,” Vi says. “But I’m happy that we’re…whatever we are. I like you, Cece. I don’t regret kissing you.”

  “Shhhhh,” Cece hisses. She takes a step away, and the empty space between them cracks Vi’s heart open like a clam.

  “You’re not ready for this, are you?” Vi wants to cry. She should have known better. She should have given her more time. Maybe this is kind of her fault. “Do you want me to deny it? Pretend nothing happened? I could say it was just me, having a pathetic unrequited crush on the straight girl next door.”

  Her voice is bitter despite herself. She does not want to lie about this. She has never had to lie about who she is. She knows that is a privilege. She would lie, for Cece, if Cece asked her to. But she hopes Cece won’t.

  “Vi. Stop.” Cece covers her face with both hands. Her nails are painted a bright glittery pink. “I’m trying not to freak out, okay? If my parents don’t know yet, they’re going to know by the end of the dinner rush. Things never stay secret in Remington Hollow.”

  “Is that what you want? To keep us secret?” Vi keeps her voice low. “Is there an us?”

  Cece drops her hands to her sides. “I don’t know, okay? You knew that I wasn’t out. You told me I should wait till I was ready, remember?”

  “I did say that.” Vi feels stupid for assuming they were dating. For assuming a few kisses had erased all of Cece’s doubts and fears. “I guess I thought that maybe…after last night…you would feel differently.”

  “This is not about you!” Cece snaps.

  Vi reels back, stung. She doesn’t say anything for a long moment while Cece paces back and forth. Then she takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry. The thing is…abandoning all pretense of being cool here…I have liked you for a really long time. But it’s not fair that Savannah stuck her nose into this. It should be up to you when to tell your family. Just let me know what you want me to say. Or not say. It’s your decision.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  DES

  Midafternoon, Gram sends a group text to all four Garrett sisters.

  Family meeting at 6. At home. Expect you to all be there ON TIME.

  Des slinks back toward the house right before six. She is mortified by her behavior yesterday. She told Em all about it, painting a vivid picture of how she yelled at Gram so loud, the customers on the sidewalk could probably hear every single word, how she stalked out like a brat and slammed the door. Em reassured her that Gram would forgive her and that everyone their age fights with their parents.

  Em said this with the world-weary attitude of someone who has been away at college for a whole year. It was a little annoying, but Des has missed her a lot. They had so much catching up to do. It turned out that at Em’s roommate’s house party, her friend Lauren—t
he blond with the nose ring—had hooked up with Em’s crush, Hunter. Em is still pretty broken up about it. Des feels bad that she wasn’t around when Em needed her.

  And apparently she hasn’t been there for her sisters either. All four of them have been keeping secrets, big and small.

  How can she move out? They need her.

  Bea is walking down their street from the opposite direction, and they step onto the front porch at the same time.

  “You’re moving out?” Bea asks. “Since when? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You broke up with Erik and have a new boyfriend?” Des counters, pushing open the front door. “Since when? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Bea frowns at her. “He’s not my boyfriend. We’re just…hanging out. Having fun.”

  “In the living room, girls!” Gram hollers. Her mobility and her eyesight aren’t what they used to be, but her hearing is excellent. Annoyingly so.

  In the living room, Kat is stretched out facedown on the soft striped rug, doing some kind of hip-opener stretch. Vi’s curled up in her favorite oversized armchair, nervously playing with her braids. Gram sits in the other armchair, her knee propped on the ottoman, holding what Des suspects is a printed copy of Savannah’s blog. Des and Bea glare at each other and sit on opposite ends of the couch, a wide gulf between them.

  “It has come to my attention,” Gram says, rustling the paper theatrically, “that each of you has some things you might like to share with the rest of the family. Some things that perhaps we ought to have heard from you, instead of that little snake Savannah Lockwood.”

  Kat lifts her head. She really is amazingly bendy. “At least her dad fired her.”

  “Was that before or after Bea pushed her into the river?” Gram asks, looking at Bea sternly over her glasses. “You’re lucky you aren’t fired yourself, after a stunt like that. Charlie called me, you know. He apologized for Savannah—he already made her take that post down—but I had to promise him you’ll be on your best behavior and let bygones be bygones.”

  “Bygones?” Vi shoots out of her chair like she’s been fired out of a cannon. “She outed Cece. That is not okay. What if Cece’s abuela kicks her out of the house? I told her she could come stay with us if she needs a place to go. That would be all right, wouldn’t it, Gram?”