Taylor is Yvonne’s older sister, and I have no idea who her friends are, but I nod in spite of that.
“They’re two years older than us, like Taylor, and one of them knew Charlie back in the day,” Yvonne goes on. “Her name’s Maria—I don’t know if you guys ever met her.”
“Why would we have met her?” Scarlett says. “You just said they’re two years older than us.”
“True. Whatever. Anyway, Maria lives in Lincoln and she was friends with Charlie. They hung out in the summers, and I guess they hung out the other night. Thursday night,” Yvonne says, giving me a meaningful look. “She was at Karl’s party.”
“Kav,” I correct.
“Whatever.” She takes another sip. “Charlie went to that party, too. Did you know that?”
Macy gasps. “Oh my God, did you see him when you were there?”
“No,” I lie. “But I didn’t stay very long at all.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” Scarlett says, reaching over to squeeze my shoulder. “Imagine he tried hanging out with you at a party?”
“Or if he made a move on you?” Macy adds with a gasp.
I swallow a lump of guilt. Been there, done that. Except it was me who wanted to hang out with him at that first party, and me who made the move on him. The truth sits on the tip of my tongue, and I’m so tempted, so tempted, to spill all the dirty, horrible, wonderful details.
I want to tell my friends that I had sex for the first time. I want to tell them how confused I am about Chase, how I think I might have feelings for him but I don’t know if it’s because the sex bonded us or if I actually like him.
But I can’t say a word. I’m terrified they’ll judge me. Or worse, that they’ll judge me, hate me for it and then tell the entire school what I did. Or even worse than that, tell my parents.
So I keep quiet and listen to the rest of Yvonne’s story.
“So Charlie was there hanging out with Maria—”
Is Maria the gorgeous girl who Jeff was rude to? I wonder. Suddenly I hope not, because the idea of Chase spending time with such a beautiful girl brings a spark of unwanted jealousy to my belly.
Argh. I have to stop this.
“—and he told her that he was at another party last weekend, he didn’t say where, and that he met a really cool girl there and—”
“What?” I exclaim. My cheeks begin to scorch. Chase brought me up to his friends? He said I was cool?
He might not have been talking about you, a voice in my head warns.
That triggers another jolt of jealousy.
“Seriously?” Scarlett says angrily. “He’s been out of jail for, what, a second, and he’s already making friends and hooking up and acting like he didn’t do anything wrong? He’s a killer!”
Her outburst sends several heads swinging in our direction.
“Sorry,” she whispers sheepishly.
“No, I’m with you,” Yvonne says. “I thought the same thing when I heard that. Also, according to Maria, Charlie used to be a player before he got arrested. He was always the life of the party, and he hooked up with a ton of girls and apparently he was a sweet-talker. Like super smooth.”
I have to stifle a laugh, because whatever Chase used to be back then, he sure as heck isn’t now. A sweet-talker? Hardly. He has no problem being painfully blunt and telling me things I don’t want to hear. Life of the party? Yeah, that’s why he’s always holed up in some corner at every party he’s at.
Being locked up obviously changed him. It turned him from a boy who wanted to hook up and have fun to a guy who’s now appreciative of everything he has. A guy who can find one small thing every day and be eternally grateful for it.
The Chase that Maria knew three years ago is gone. I didn’t know that Chase. I know the quiet Chase. The serious one. The one who smiles so rarely that when it happens, it’s like witnessing a solar eclipse. And it’s beautiful. I love it when he smiles. I—
Misery wells up in my throat. Argghhhhhhh. This. Needs. To. Stop.
“Are you okay?” Scarlett demands.
I bite my lip, wondering what on earth my expression is conveying that’s put so much urgency in Scar’s voice. “I’m fine,” I assure her. I take a breath. “But...you’re right...maybe I don’t like talking about him.”
“See,” Scarlett says, turning to glower at Yvonne. “I told you it’s a sensitive subject. We are not talking about that creep anymore.”
I pick up my milkshake and drain the rest of it, but the cold, sweet liquid can’t wash away the lump of unhappiness still lodged in my throat. Not talking about Chase is easy.
Not thinking about him? A whole other story.
20
I wake up the following morning with the biggest smile on my face. Last night, Dad knocked on my door—my door!—and informed me that he and Mom decided I could drive myself to the shelter today. In my own car.
I swear, my life is getting so much brighter I’m scared it might all be a dream. But I’m wide-awake as I get dressed, as I scarf down a quick breakfast, as I hop in my car—my car!—and plug my phone—my phone!—into the car charger to load some tunes.
Today is going to be a good day. I veered off course these last few months, but I finally feel like I’m back on track.
When I arrive at the shelter, however, I’m faced with a dose of disappointment. After hugging me tightly and saying how happy she is to have me back, Sandy informs me that I can’t interact with the animals today.
“No doggy love?” I say glumly. “Why not?”
“We have these new insurance and liability forms that all volunteers are required to sign. In your case, we need your parents’ signatures since you’re a minor. I would’ve emailed them to you when we got them last week, but—” she shrugs “—I didn’t think you were coming back. Your father was pretty firm on the phone that you wouldn’t be.”
“Luckily, he changed his mind,” I say with a happy smile. “And it’s fine—I’ll give everyone extra pats and kisses next weekend.” I tuck the set of papers inside my messenger bag. “I’ll bring these home and have my mom sign them.”
“Great. Then today you get to pick up dog poop.” Sandy grins. “Probably not how anyone would want to spend their weekends, huh? Especially in senior year.”
“Actually, it sounds awesome,” I tell Sandy. “I’ve decided I want to be a vet, so the more I’m around animals, the better. Even if it’s just picking up poop.”
A big grin spreads across her face. “Yeah, picking up dog poop for free is exactly how I spent my senior weekends, too. Every party ends up being the same, right? The same couples hooking up. The same fights breaking out. Everyone acting like high school is their last moment on earth.”
She could be talking about my empty life.
“Anyway, we’re building a new dog kennel in the back, but we need to clear the brush and get rid of all the trash and poop out there. Since you’re wearing pants and a sweatshirt, you should be well protected.”
I look down at my old leggings that are starting to pill after repeated washings and the oversize Darling High hoodie that’s faded so much it’s hard to make out half the letters. “Sounds like a plan.”
Sandy hustles me down the hall to the storage room, where long metal shelves filled with shovels and boxes and bags line the walls. She arrows to the back, grabs something and returns. “Here, you’ll need these.” She hands me a pair of blue-and-black work gloves.
I slip them over my fingers. They’re a little long, but I don’t want to complain. I’m lucky they gave me my job back after my father quit on my behalf without warning.
We head out the back door and then down a rock path toward the edge of a wooded area. There’s already a worker there moving dirt and debris from one pile to another. His long-limbed, easy gait reminds me of Chase. But then everything does these days.
“So are you seriously considering vet school?” Sandy asks.
“Yes. You know how much I love animals. I really wish I could have a pet at home but, you know, allergies.” I don’t say my dead sister’s allergies, because that sounds utterly insane, and I don’t want Sandy to think my parents are nutjobs.
“That’s too bad. There are hairless cats and stuff, but they’re pretty expensive. Plus, you already know we encourage adoption rather than buying from breeders. Last year, there was, like, a million unwanted pets put down.”
I gasp. “A million?”
“Yeah, tragic, right?” We reach the construction site, and Sandy waves a hand over it. “We just bought this property last week and as you can see it’s kind of an actual dump. We need to clear the land. Metal, compost and trash are all being separated. If you have any questions, give Chase a holler. He just started a couple days ago. Hey, Chase!” Sandy waves as the male worker slows the wheelbarrow to a stop near us.
Shock gives way to pleasure.
Seriously? I get to see Chase and be free of my parents for a few hours every weekend?
I don’t care how much poop I have to shovel. It’s worth it.
“Hey, Sandy. What do you need—” The grin on Chase’s face immediately disappears when he recognizes me.
“This is Beth Jones. She’s our new volunteer. Well, technically, she’s an old volunteer who’s going to be rejoining us.” Sandy knocks shoulders with him.
I stiffen. Are they dating or something? He looked so happy to see her before he spotted me, and she’s acting like they’re old friends. Did he cheat on Sandy with me at the party? Or is this something new? Sandy’s pretty, but she’s older. Like, I swear she’s in her mid to late twenties.
I stare at Chase, who stares back grimly.
“Nice to meet you,” he replies in a tone that says it’s anything but nice for him.
Sandy gives him a curious glance, but Chase is saved from explaining his abrupt mood change when someone from the shelter hails Sandy.