"No."
"But he lives right next door to you," she says almost desperately, those darts narrowing into little slits.
"So?" Okay, so I never did particularly click with Kendra. She knows it, I know it. Not many others know it; we'd been very good at pretending we were on the same page. It feels like a standoff, her challenging me for information she wants and thinks I have. But I don't have it, so I don't even have the satisfaction of holding back information from her.
Brian peeks his head out the screen door. "Kendra, what're you doing out here? Come in and save me from having to play spin-the-bottle."
Kendra looks from me to Brian, then back. "I'm coming," she says, tossing her hair once again with a flick of her head, before entering the house. I'm left alone. Outside.
I'm fine with alone. I'm used to alone. Alone is comfortable for me, it's quiet and doesn't demand I be happy or satisfied or ... asked any questions. I try not to think about what it was like when I wasn't alone, when I was an integral part of the social scene. When Kendra and I weren't enemies or friends, but hung with the same people. And even if we weren't socially equal, then at least we were on the same social playing field.
Get-togethers wouldn't have been the same without me.
Now it's not the same with me.
I sit on a lounge chair by the pool. A few minutes later the party has multiplied and people start congregating and dancing on the patio. I am still alone, but within the crowd.
Brianne is hanging onto Drew Wentworth, Paradise High's varsity quarterback. His hands are all over her as they dance close to a slow song blaring from the second-story window.
Danielle and Sabrina are huddled in a corner, gossiping and giggling. After a while some guys pull them onto the patio and start dancing with them. The scene reminds me of those California teen reality shows. I stick out like a sore thumb wearing a pink Juicy Couture outfit. I open my purse, glance at the emergency numbers my mom gave me just to make sure they're still there, then close my purse back up. Surely becoming an outcast when you were previously popular isn't considered an emergency, is it?
Kendra and Brian start putting on their own public dance show right on the diving board after changing into bathing suits. Everyone gathers around, chanting for the couple to jump in. Kendra loves the attention, she's used to it. Her family has owned the biggest parcel of land in Paradise for the past two hundred years. Her dad has been the mayor for the past ten years, and her grandfather was the mayor before that. Some girls are born to have it all.
Soon a bunch of other seniors come out of the house wearing bathing suits. Danielle walks over to me. "Did you bring a suit? Sabrina and I are going to change in Brian's room."
If I came out wearing a bathing suit showing all my scars, I'd probably clear the place out. "My doctor says I can't swim yet," I lie.
"Oh, sorry. I didn't know."
"No problem," I say, pulling out the cell.
While Danielle and Sabrina run up the stairs, I hobble out the door and dial the number to my mom's work.
"Auntie Mae's Diner. Can I help you?"
"Hey, Mom, it's me."
"Are you okay?" she asks.
"I'm fine. Having a blast," I say as I limp away from Brian's house and start walking down the street. I don't know where I'm going. Someplace private ... quiet ... where I don't have to think about what I'm missing. A place I can close my eyes and focus on my future.
A future without Paradise.
I can imagine the smile on my mom's face as she says, "See ... and you were worried you wouldn't fit in. Don't you feel silly now?"
"Absolutely." The truth? I feel absolutely silly that I have to lie to my mom.
FIVE
Caleb
I'm keeping a permanent smile on my face at my mom's welcome-home party for me, just like my dad ordered. It's a fake smile, but my mom's friends seem to be buying it. I think.
My mom has been all over me, laughing and hugging me in public as I play the reformed son. I wonder how long I can keep up this farce before I can't take it anymore. Forget me, how long can she keep it up? Dad doesn't even seem to notice her Jekyll and Hyde transformation. Why do appearances matter so much to my parents?
"Caleb has become religious while he's been away," Mom tells Mrs. Gutterman as she grabs my elbow and makes me face the reverend's wife. "Isn't that right, Caleb?" she says.
"I prayed every day," I say, not missing a beat, and knowing it's not only Mrs. Gutterman who's listening. The truth? I prayed every day that I'd survive the juvenile system, come back to Paradise, and make things right again. Mom's declaration that I've become religious is hollow, because we've never discussed what I did while I was in jail. She's never asked, and I've never told her.
Besides, she doesn't want to know the truth. If pretending will heal this family, I'm okay with it. I think it's bullshit, but I'm okay with it.
Mrs. Gutterman is whisked away by someone else, leaving my mom and me standing together.
She leans closer to me. "Button that shirt up more," she whispers.
I look down at my shirt. I only have two buttons unbuttoned. I'm not willing to argue with my mom today. It's not worth it. There's so many things I need to fix, fighting about a damn button would be laughable.
As I'm buttoning up my shirt, I glance at the Goth Girl leaning against the side of the house. I pour a glass of root beer and walk over to my sister. I've tried holding a smile for as long as I can, but my face is starting to hurt from the effort. "Here," I say, handing the drink to her, "your favorite."