“No,” I said, again loudly enough to get shot a look from my dad. I lowered my voice. “I wanted to do something to thank my friends for being so good to me. To repay a bit of the debt I owe them for taking me in. That’s all. That’s it.”
My mom sighed, taking a sip of her coffee as my father leaned forward. “You can understand, I’m sure,” he said, “that it’s surprising for us that you’re close enough with people we barely know to break our rules and trust this way.”
“I wanted you to know them,” I said. “I still do. I invited Mac in that night, when we first talked about the studio. You met him, Dad. I wasn’t keeping him a secret.”
“Oh, well, good,” my mom said. “Because I was beginning to think you lied about everything.”
“Why are you being like this?” I asked her. “I’m not a bad kid, and you know it. This was one night, one thing. One mistake. And I’m sorry. But you can’t—”
“Your brother started with one mistake as well,” she replied. “Which led to another. And another.”
“I’m not Peyton,” I said. It seemed crazy I’d have to say this, as all my life they’d made it clear it was the one thing they knew for sure.
“You’re damn right you’re not. And you won’t be, as long as I have anything to say about it.” She pushed back her chair, getting to her feet. “First thing Monday, we go meet with Perkins Day about transferring you. In the meantime, you go to school and nowhere else. I want you home by three thirty every day until we get this sorted out.”
“Sorted out?” My voice and panic were both rising. “You can’t make me switch schools.”
Suddenly, she was pouncing, lunging across the table at me, slapping her hands on the surface. “I,” she said, right into my face as I drew back, startled, “can do whatever I want. I am your mother, and I make the rules. From now on you follow them. We’re done here.”
She pulled back, straightening up, but I stayed where I was. I was still gripping the chair arms when she left the room.
For a moment, my dad sat there, not saying anything. We both knew he’d follow her, the way he always did. But it was the pause before that I’d recall later. Like if my parents were finally going to shift from their respective, decided responsibilities, this was when it could happen. Maybe he might have listened, if I tried to explain. It couldn’t have made things worse. I’d never know, though, because then he was getting to his feet, wearily, and pushing the chair in behind him. Court adjourned.
* * *
I had Peyton to thank for everything that happened that night. After our conversation, he had indeed reached my mom on her cell, just as my parents were checking in to the hotel. I could picture the moment of her answering, her face brightening as it always did at his voice. And then her smile wavering, followed by confusion as he told her, now adamant, that he did not want her there. I imagined her resisting, explaining, tears audible in her voice before filling her eyes. Then silence as Peyton told her he wouldn’t be attending the ceremony, even if she was, and hanging up on her.
All of this was so easy to imagine, as was the drive back home and the moment she came in and Ames told her what was happening downstairs. The weird thing was that even though what followed I had seen, with my own eyes, it was the part that still felt like a dream.
By Sunday morning, my mom was rested and ready to focus on a new project: me. It was obvious the moment I came down to breakfast and found her at the table with a shiny new folder, a stack of papers, and her coffee.
“So I’ve been in touch with Headmaster Florence,” she said, skipping a salutation, “and she’s of the mind that a midsemester switch is not in your best interest.”
I paused, right where I was, to give Mrs. Florence—a tall woman with birdlike features who had never been particularly fond of me—my eternal gratitude. “So I get to stay at Jackson?”
My mom picked up her coffee cup, taking a sip. “Until the end of the marking period, yes. After that, we’ll revisit the issue. In the meantime, there will be some modifications.”
That didn’t sound promising. I went over to the fridge, taking out the milk, then gathered my cereal and a bowl. She was waiting for me to ask her what was in store, I knew, and the only power I had was not doing so. So I didn’t.
“Starting tomorrow,” she said, “I’ve signed you up for tutoring and SAT prep at the Kiger Center. Monday through Friday, three thirty to five.”
The Kiger Center was where Jenn worked, in the strip mall just across the street from the Arbors guardhouse. “My grades are good, though. So are my prep test scores.”
“There’s always room for improvement,” she replied. “Additionally, there’s a Kiger study group that meets at Jackson each day at lunchtime. I’ve signed you up for that, as well.”
“I have to study at lunch?”
She leveled her gaze at me. “You’re a junior now. SAT prep is crucial. You need all the practice you can get.”
“But,” I said, realizing even as I spoke that arguing was probably futile, “all I’ll be doing is studying.”
She opened the folder, jotting something down on a sheet of paper inside. “Well, then you’ll be more than prepared to transfer back to Perkins, or to one of the other schools I’m considering, after the break.”
“Other schools?” This just kept getting worse.
“There are actually quite a few options since I last did this kind of research,” she said. She took out a sheet of paper, putting it in front of me. “Kiffney-Brown is my first choice, but you’ll need to really work to pass their entrance exam. There’s also a charter school that just opened with a focus on math and science that’s intriguing. But I’m just beginning to read up on it.”
I’d thought the dread I’d been feeling since Thursday night had already hit its maximum. Seeing the printed spreadsheet of schools—each listed with its average SAT score, tuition (if applicable), and requirements for enrollment—proved me wrong. I knew my mother in this mode. Peyton had finally succeeded in stopping her from organizing his life. Now she had her full arsenal of resources, not to mention all the time in the world, to focus on mine.
“She’s just reacting still,” Mac told me when I reported all this. My parents hadn’t taken my phone as part of my punishment—yet—so I was calling and texting him as much as I could while I still had the chance. “It freaked her out, seeing you with the bottle and all of us there. Too much like your brother.”
“She wants to send me to Kiffney-Brown,” I said. “That’s, like, the genius school. She’s delusional. Even with all this studying she’s signed me up for, I’d never have a chance.”
“It would probably still be better than that charter, though,” he replied. “Irv has a bunch of friends there. Says it’s like college.”
There was that dread again. Not about the academics, although that wasn’t exactly calming. Worse, though, was the thought of being away from him, from Layla, from this world in which I’d somehow managed to find a place. That was assuming, however, they still wanted me.
“Has she said anything?” I asked him again. I’d texted Layla multiple times, even gone so far as to leave a voice mail, but had heard nothing in return. To be fair, she’d been clear about her rule concerning dating Mac. But I was hoping for forgiveness, and if not that, a chance to explain.
“She’s been caught up with Spence,” he replied. “Total drama. You know how they are.”
It was kind of him to sidestep the question, but it just made me feel worse. To me, the Chathams were like that merry-go-round out in the middle of nowhere in the woods. I hadn’t been aware they’d existed; it was pure luck to have stumbled upon them. Now that I had, I couldn’t forget and go back to the way I’d been before. Just knowing they were out there changed everything. Especially me.
Monday morning, my mom sent me off to school with my own folder, containing the informa
tion about the Kiger lunchtime study group (Attendance taken daily, she’d highlighted in bright yellow), as well as a packet with the details of the after-school program. When I got to my locker before the first bell, Mac was waiting for me. The only upside of all this—and it was a big one—was that we had no reason to hide anymore.
“Hey,” he said. “Long time, no see.”
I smiled, or tried to, and then he was wrapping his arms around me, pulling me close. Despite all of the typical loud noise of Jackson around us, it was like everything went quiet as I pressed my face into his shirt, feeling his pendant against my forehead. He smelled like soap and coffee, and I just wanted to stay there, breathing nothing but him, for as long as possible. But the bell was already ringing, so he walked me to homeroom, kissed me, and disappeared into the crowd.
I looked for him everywhere, though, and for Layla. Jackson, which had seemed so vast and infinite when I first arrived, had become manageable, even familiar, once I had friends there. With no contact at lunch, my chances of seeing any of them were left up to fate. Between second and third, over the heads of several people, I caught a glimpse of Eric. I rerouted every chance I had to pass by Layla’s locker; she was never there. At lunch, rushing to the Kiger group, I craned my neck at a window, trying to see the benches where I knew they gathered, but had no luck. My mother’s plan was working. I was alone again. It was so much harder this time.
“It’s going to be okay,” Mac told me that first afternoon as we grabbed a fleeting few minutes at his truck before I had to leave for the Kiger Center. Already my mom had texted me twice, reminding me to be there at three thirty sharp to meet her for an overview of the program. “It’s just the first day. We’ll work it out, I promise.”
I wanted to believe this, and him. But I knew my mom. Once she had a project in her grasp, her grip only tightened. I didn’t say this, though, as he leaned down, putting his lips on mine. When we finally pulled apart, I opened my eyes to see Layla across the parking lot. She had on her army jacket, her hair loose over her shoulders, and when she saw us, she stopped walking. We looked at each other for a moment, Mac there unaware between us. Then she turned around and went back the way she’d come.
* * *
“Okay,” Jenn said later that afternoon, when my mom had finally left the Kiger Center after exhausting everyone with all her questions and concerns. It was four forty-five, so I had no time to actually get anything started, but she insisted I stay the full time, anyway. “What is going on?”
We were in the front lobby. Her PSAT cram class, made up mostly of Arbors kids, was taking a practice test down the hall.
“The short version is that she caught me with friends over when she was out of town, and I was drinking.”
Her eyes widened. I could always count on Jenn for a reaction. “Seriously?”
I nodded. “The longer version involves me trying to help out my friends, Ames being typically creepy, and my mom happening to walk in at the exact moment that I took my only sip of alcohol.”
“Long version sounds more complicated.”
“That’s why it’s longer.” I sat back in the uncomfortable chair I’d chosen; it was clearly meant for people to only alight on for short periods, not actually settle in. “My parents were supposed to be at Lincoln for something of Peyton’s. But he told her he didn’t want her there. She came home, walked in on me, and has basically had me on lockdown ever since.”
“Except for daily tutoring and SAT prep class here,” she replied. She looked around, then lowered her voice before adding, “Nobody does that, by the way. Even the people who need it. And you don’t.”
“She has me at the daily Kiger lunch study hall at school, too.”
“What?” Bigger eyes. God, I loved Jenn. “What’s she trying to do, make you skip next year or something?”
“She’s got her eye on Kiffney-Brown. Or that new charter.”
“Oh, man. You don’t want either of those. The kids at Kiffney are competitive to the point of bloodthirsty. And Marks Charter is so hard to get into, I know people who went on Xanax just to apply there.” This was her area of expertise. “Anyway, everyone knows continuity of education is something admissions officers look at. Does she really want you to have to explain three schools in two years?”
“I think right now she just wants to keep me away from Mac and Layla. Everything else is secondary, as much as she’s trying to pretend otherwise.”
Down the hall, there was a burst of giggling. “I hear you!” Jenn called out, and quickly, it got quiet again. She sighed, shaking her head, then said, “I know about Layla. Who’s Mac?”
“Her brother,” I replied. “The pizza guy, from your party? Do you even remember?”
“I’ve tried to block out what little does remain.” She cleared her throat. “What’s her problem with him?”
I looked down at my hands, trying to think of a way to explain whatever it was that was going on between me and Mac. I was still grappling when I heard her laugh. With old friends, sometimes it’s what you don’t say that speaks volumes.
“Sydney,” she said, reaching out and slapping my leg. “Oh, my God. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It’s really—”
“You’re blushing!” She hooted. “No wonder you haven’t wanted to hang out lately.”
I looked at her. “I’m sorry I’ve been kind of a lousy friend. I got . . . kind of caught up, I guess.”
She didn’t say anything for a minute, acknowledging this truth and the apology for it. Then she smiled. “It’s okay. But seriously, back up and tell me everything. Also, I want to see a picture. Do you have one?”
I did. Several, in fact: some from that night at the merry-go-round, a few I’d snapped from the passenger seat as we drove around together. But only one of both of us, taken in the cab of the truck at Commons Park. I’d held my phone out at arm’s length as I leaned back into him, and he’d rested his chin on the top of my head. You could see the leaves falling out the window behind us. Click.
“Wow,” she said when I’d scrolled past this one. “I must have been really drunk. Because him I would remember.”
I smiled, looking down at it as well. “He’s a really nice guy. And all of this just really happened, like, recently. Now with this, and Layla finding out . . .”
“Finding out?” she repeated. “What, it was a secret?”
“Sort of. Yes.” I shut off my phone. “The last friend of hers who dated him left him kind of wrecked.”
“You wouldn’t do that, though,” she said with such surety, it was like she was reciting a theorem or historical fact. “She knows that, right?”
“I hope so,” I said. “Right now she’s not exactly talking to me.”
Jenn sat back, crossing her legs. “Wow. I don’t talk to you for a week or two and everything in your life changes. All that’s different with me is my ringtone.”
“Stop it,” I said, smiling.
“It’s true!” She looked out the front window at the traffic passing by. “Maybe I should transfer to Jackson.”
“Please do. You can go to Kiger study hall with me.”
She snorted, then looked at her watch. “I better get back to my morons.”
“Jenn,” I said, surprised.
“Oh, please. It’s no secret, trust me. Most of them are taking this class for the third time.” She leaned over, giving me a quick hug. “I hate how you ended up here, but I’m happy to see you. Is that bad?”
I shook my head. “No. Just don’t get sick of me. I’ll be here a lot, if my mom has her way.”
“Not gonna happen.” She got to her feet. “See you tomorrow?”
“Yep.”
And with that, she headed down the hall, ducking into a door off to the left. I sat there until the clock over the front desk hit five o’clock exactly, then went out to my car. I
was just getting in when my phone beeped. It was my mom.
Heading home?
I actually glanced around, thinking she might be watching me from somewhere nearby. I would not have put it past her.
Right now, I replied.
A pause while I cranked my engine and backed out of the space. Over at the Kiger Center, some of Jenn’s morons—students—were filing out, chattering with one another.
See you in five, my mom responded. For some, this was a figure of speech, casual. But I knew she was watching her own clock. I drove home as slowly as I could, like doing so might change what was waiting there for me. As I pulled into the driveway, I could see the afternoons following this one laid out in front of me one after another, neat little squares filling the calendar. It made me want to speed away as fast as I could and not look back. But I was a good kid, despite what my parents thought. I went inside.
CHAPTER
20
2 XTRA lg veggie, 2 xtra lg roma. Greek salad. Onion rings. Go.
I picked up my phone from beside my calculus book, smiling.
Girls, I wrote back. Unhealthy vegetarians. The one with the salad also got the onion rings.
I hit SEND, then waited. It was a Thursday night, and I’d been on my new schedule for almost two weeks. It felt like longer—like years, to be honest—even though I’d figured out how to see Mac for a few minutes before school, after, and sometimes en route to study group at lunch. At night, in my room doing even more homework, I kept my phone close at hand so we could be in constant touch. It wasn’t the same as riding along with him, but I’d take it.
A few days into all this, when we met at my locker before the early bell, Mac told me to close my eyes and hold out my hand. When I did, he dropped something into it.
“Okay. You can look now.”
I opened my eyes to see a silver chain, like his but thinner, longer, with a saint pendant on it. It wasn’t the same as his, though; the image was a man’s profile, his eyes turned upward.