The Truth About Letting Go Page 10

Our principal, Mr. Patel, who we affectionately call Patty, is actually a very nice, reasonable person, and I consider for a whole five seconds going to him and telling him what happened. Colt would kill me.

  The bell sounds, and Amber snaps into speed-eating mode. I stand and slide my plate off the table fast. Mandy’s still angry, and I know she has more to say to me. But I’m exhausted by how she’s making me feel. It’s just like with Charlotte. A person can only hold so much bad feeling, and I’m at the full line. She’ll have to wait. They all will.

  I deposit my plate and head for the door, just in time to see Jordan standing outside. I do a quick U-turn, and I’m face-to-face with Charlotte. We actually bump into each other.

  “Oh, hey,” I say, catching her arm. “Sorry. How’s it going?”

  She looks at me like I just fell out of the space station or sprouted an additional head. Then she glances at her friends, and they all widen their eyes in astonished horror. They laugh, and I’m shuffled off to the side as they prepare to exit. But Mandy’s right beside me.

  “Am I high?” she says loudly. “Did Petunia Pig and her Stay-puff friends actually just give you the stunned shun? After what you’ve been through?”

  I can’t speak. My best friend is defending me. She’s standing beside me and glaring at them, blocking the door so they can’t leave. Finally, one of Charlotte’s friends mumbles something like an apology, and I watch as she steps aside for them to resume their bustle through the double doors. I’m bewildered by all of it.

  “Come on,” Mandy says to me once they’re gone.

  “I thought you were mad at me.”

  “I am,” she exhales. “But you’re having a shitty year. Maybe you need something good in your life. And at least he’s not Jordan.”

  My throat tightens, and the tears that are always waiting for a weak moment to charge out spring into my eyes. I blink fast and follow her. She doesn’t slow down, and she doesn’t seem to be expecting a response. It’s a good thing because I don’t know what I would say if I could give her one.

  * * *

  When I get home from school, I’m surprised again by the presence of my mother. But this time, I’m ready to run right back out the door. Sitting beside her on the couch is a face I know well. Dr. Eric James lives around the corner from us. He’s a popular local psychiatrist, and his son Jason was the hottest guy at school until two years ago when he graduated.

  I’m frozen in the doorway watching him smile and chat with my mom like they’re old friends. I knew my time in therapy was coming, but I didn’t expect an ambush.

  “Ashley,” Mom stops me from backing out the door. “Please come meet Dr. James.”

  They both stand and wait for me to come inside, and for a split second, I waver between doing what she says and dropping everything and running.

  “Call me Eric. You probably know my son Jason.” Dr. James has an easy, friendly voice, like his son, and they actually look alike, brown hair and brown eyes, only the older version has flecks of gray.

  “Yes, sir,” I answer. “Umm… How’s he doing in college?”

  I’m not sure what’s about to happen, so I slowly walk into the living room and sit on the edge of a chair. Dr. James and my mom sit back down on the couch, their knees pointed inward, almost touching.

  “Jason stopped showing me his grades in middle school, but he must be doing well. I keep getting the tuition bill, so I know he hasn’t been kicked out yet.”

  I nod. That’s all I’ve got. He’ll have to take the lead if we’re going to keep talking. Mom actually picks up the thread.

  “I don’t know if you knew this, honey, but Jason’s mom died of leukemia right before they moved back to Shadow Falls. Eric stopped by to see if we needed anything or wanted to talk.”

  My eyes travel from her to him and then to my hands in my lap. “I just knew Jason dated Harley. Dr. Andrews’s daughter.”

  “Dates Harley,” Jason’s dad says. “Those two are still at it.”

  “She’s a sweet girl,” Mom says.

  I don’t add that since I was Stephanie Perkins’s friend, who was Harley’s nemesis, she and I were never close. But Harley was okay, if a little sheltered. We pretty much stayed out of each others’ way when we were on the cheerleading squad together. She sucked at cheering, but I remember she would go ballistic if she heard anything that sounded like bullying. It made up for the rest, and of course Jason was always hanging around. He might be the nicest guy I’ve ever met. Besides Jordan.

  “Anyway, I told Eric you might want to make an appointment with him sometime,” Mom says. Then she hastily adds. “To talk about your dad.”

  I shake my head no. This day has been overwhelming enough, and I’ve had enough adult input on how I should feel about losing my dad. I don’t need any more.

  “You’ve probably been told a lot of well-intended garbage, Ashley,” Dr. James says, and my eyes snap to his dark brown ones. “Jason and I certainly did after we lost Nicole.”

  I study him for a few minutes. “Thanks, Dr. James,” I say. Then I stand up. “I’ve got to do my homework now.”

  “You don’t have to call me Dr. James. Eric’s fine. But not Rick.” His eyes twinkle, and I have no problem seeing where Jason got his good genes.

  “Thanks,” I say again and leave the room.

  On the way out, I hear their voices drop to a murmur. I stop at the hall and look back before I enter my room. My mom looks down and slides a lock of her light brown hair behind her ear. Eric smiles and reaches out to touch her arm. He says something I don’t hear, but she places her hand on top of his. I grit my teeth. What the hell? How dare she suddenly act like she cares about anybody?

  My phone vibrates in my hand, and I look down at it. Jordan’s calling, but I don’t want to talk to him. I’m sure he’s going to say more of the same—what kind of person he knows I really am, and what Colt really wants. What he doesn’t get is I’m aware of what Colt wants, and it’s what I want now, too.

  I toss my phone on the bed and slip back into the hall. I still hear my mom talking to Dr. James as I skip into the kitchen. Silently, I turn the handle on the back door, and I’m running down the side of the house and jumping over the stone wall in under a minute. One more minute, and I’m on the bank, my arms wrapped around my knees, which are pulled into my chest, staring at the currents.

  Finally, after what feels like a long time, I start to calm down. I breathe deeply and sort through the day, from Jordan swearing and fighting in the hall to Colt make-out kissing me in front of the whole school to Charlotte’s weird response and Mandy’s sudden show of protectiveness. Then I remember one more piece of information—the part about Trevor.

  I lean over onto my side and study the water. I close my eyes and let myself think about Dad. I’ve heard people say as time passes, they start to forget what their loved ones looked like. I was so afraid of that happening, but so far, I can still see him smiling, his eyes bright and happy. Before he got sick.

  My chest starts to feel tight, and I struggle to pull air into my lungs. His face is still sharp as a photograph in my mind.

  Charlotte said Dad’s goodness shone in his eyes, and she was right. I rub my forehead and wonder if he’d understand what I’m doing now. If he can see me from where he is. My eyes blink open, and I realize I’m thinking about heaven. If I don’t believe in prayer and God and the church anymore, where does that put Dad? I kick my leg straight in front of me. I don’t know the answer to that question. And until I do, I don’t plan to think about it.

  Colt said he was picking me up tonight at eleven. I don’t know what he did for the rest of the school day, but I wish it were time to see him now. I want him to kiss me and make me feel all hot and forgetful. I want to be far away from these questions I can’t answer. I don’t want to answer.

  I’m just starting to get up when I turn and see Charlotte standing at the bottom of the little hill. She’s not coming toward me, but she’s not walking away either. I
remember the way she acted in the cafeteria and anger flares in my already constricted chest. I walk down to her wondering what she has to say to me. She doesn’t move.

  As I approach her, I think, we don’t have anything in common besides my dad. She liked him. So did a lot of people. For some ridiculous reason, I reached out to her, and now I see how that turned out. I stop in front of her, and she doesn’t look away. When we’re standing on level ground, she’s actually taller than me, so I have to look up to meet her eyes. It’s different from before, when we were sitting on the bluff, and I was above her.

  “Hey,” I say, waiting to see what kind of defense she’ll mount, if any.

  “Just doing my walk,” she says. “Saw you sitting up there.”

  “Not stopping for a chat anymore?”

  “What for? We don’t have anything in common. Other than your dad.”

  “I was just thinking the same thing.”

  She starts to walk again, and since she’s going in the direction of my house, I walk with her. We’re silent for several paces. It’s not a fast walk, but her breathing is labored. The sun is out, and it’s getting warmer, which means she’s sweating profusely. I look down the street at my old friend Stephanie’s house. She moved to California for college two years ago. She might’ve understood me trying to be friends with Charlotte, but just like Mandy, Stephanie would’ve called her out in the cafeteria today.

  “So what was that all about today at lunch?” I say.

  “What?” Her high-pitched voice is fake-sweet again.

  “I said hey to you, and you acted like I had mono.”

  She does a little laugh. “That’s not true.”

  “Everybody saw it. Mandy even called you on it. I spoke, and you made a face and tried to walk out the door.”

  “I didn’t hear what you said is all,” she lies, still breathing heavily from our stroll.

  “Look, Charlotte, I wasn't thinking and I said a shitty thing to you. I didn’t see you liked Jordan. But I said I was sorry, and I’m dating Colt now.”

  “I heard. And making out with him in the halls,” she gasps another breath. “New question, do your lips ever get tired?”

  “Statement, if you want to spin this like I was a bitch to you, we both know that’s a lie. I was nice. I wanted to be your friend, and you crapped all over me.”

  “What do you know about being nice?” She huffs like she’s having a heart attack, and I stop because we’ve reached my driveway.

  “Not to waste my time on it.” I turn away and walking up the lawn. I hear her keep going, and I don’t look back.

  Chapter 10

  Colt’s truck is at the curb outside my house just after eleven. I hear the low noise of the engine, and instantly, I’m alert and out of bed, pulling on a denim mini to go with the black tank I’m wearing.

  Mom’s been in her room since I got back from the creek, so I’m not worried about her catching me. My solitary dinner consisted of three bites of a cheese sandwich, and I’ve almost given up on ever having an appetite again. Still, I quickly brush my teeth before shoving my feet into tan Chucks and slipping out my bedroom door. After all our previous encounters, I’m pretty confident I’ll be making out with Colt at some point tonight. I slip a few peppermints into my pocket for backup.

  Crickets are screeching loudly outside, and it’s a warm night. My skirt restricts my movements as I sprint across the lawn, and I wonder if I should’ve worn black pants instead. I have no idea what we’re doing. Colt’s waiting in a steel-grey modified pickup that’s so new it smells like fresh leather. I quickly jump inside and the door closes with a solid fwomp. He slides across the smooth seat and catches my neck, pulling my face to his for a kiss.

  “I like the almost-spy outfit,” he says, releasing me. I stay close to him in the middle, and he rests his hand on my leg as we pull away from the curb. “Black tank and sexy mini. Nice.”

  “Should I have worn pants?”

  “No way, I like your legs.” His thumb slides over the bare skin of my inner thigh, and my pulse clicks higher. The weirdness of my day is left far behind.

  We drive around the quiet neighborhood. Eleven o’clock on a Monday night, a school night, is guaranteed to be dead in Shadow Falls. Still, some of the houses are lit and the curtains are open. I look through the windows into the lives. I see couples standing in living rooms talking. Moms and Dads discussing business or work, maybe childcare or where they’ll take their next vacation. Scenes that never occur in my house anymore. The tightness clenches in my chest, and I slide across the middle closer to Colt. He wraps his arm around my shoulders, and I lay my head back on him.

  “Where we headed?” I ask, kissing his neck.

  “The nearest dark alley if you keep that up.”

  Thinking of the cure for my pain, I almost suggest we do it now, but I’m curious about what he has in mind. I lift my head and straighten in the seat.

  “What were you so excited about this morning?”

  “Remember my text about toilet paper?”

  I nod. “Toilet paper can be fun?”

  “Look in the bed.”

  I twist in my seat and see what looks like ten packages of tissue stacked in the back.

  “We rolling a house?”

  “We’re creating a geyser at school.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “We use this to plug every toilet. Then tomorrow, the first person to flush, Kaboom! The whole sewage system goes up. It’ll be raining toilets.”

  He laughs, but my eyebrows pull together. “Are you making that up?”

  “No way. It’ll be epic.”

  “It sounds disgusting. What else besides toilets will rain down?”

  “Let’s hope the flusher didn’t have burritos for dinner.”

  I sit back and cross my arms. “Not what I was expecting.”

  “Oh really.” He reaches over and grabs my inner thigh again. “What did you want? To make a bong and get hammered?”

  I shrug. “It’d be less work.”

  “Lame. It’s not even illegal anymore.”

  “It is here. And we’re underage.”

  “I’m not.” He releases my leg and leans forward, digging under the seat. Out comes the white plastic flask. “Here. Take a shot of that.”

  I twist the top off and drink a large, burning mouthful as my thoughts drift to last Sunday.

  “So now you’re a criminal?” He says, watching me. “After you wouldn’t let me spike the grape juice at church?”

  “You didn’t do it?”

  “It’s no fun if you’re not with me.”

  I smile at the implication, and either the vodka or his words bolster my confidence. He parks in the bushes at the back of the soccer field behind the school and pulls me onto his lap. I’m facing him, and for a moment we look straight into each others’ eyes, blue on green. His gaze is steady, and now mine is, too, even though my heart is racing and my breathing shallow.

  His hand slides up my shoulder and behind my neck before he leans into me. I meet him halfway as our mouths crash together in a kiss that curls my toes. His hand at my waist slides under my tank, lightly holding my lower back.

  My hands go to his cheeks, and my thumbs feel light stubble as they slide toward the place where his lips are moving against mine. His hand on my back starts to drift higher, lightly touching my skin and raising chill bumps as it travels upward. Fingers trace the outline of my bra, and I kiss him deeper, rising on my knees and sliding my hands to the back of his neck. His hands follow the line around, teasing the skin above and then below my bra, making my heart beat harder.

  I break away to catch a breath, and he kisses my neck, my jaw, my chin, while my hands travel over and then under his shirt, my thumbs tracing the lines on his stomach. He groans and a charge races through me. There’s barely time to consider how far I’m ready to go right now. Breaking the seal, if it will hurt, if I trust Colt, Jordan…

  His hands are tugging at
the hem of my denim skirt, and I slide off his lap and back onto the passenger seat. My fingers go to my lips, and I study him from the other side of the cab. We’re both panting, and his eyes are dark. But he smiles and takes a breath, apparently willing to slow down a bit. “Okay. What was I saying?”

  “Something about plugging toilets.”

  He laughs. “It’s better in the execution than the description. Trust me. It’ll have an impact.”

  “Can’t we do something that requires less manual labor?”

  “I was trying to think of something that would be tame enough for you,” he says as his eyes move from my face to my legs.

  “What makes you think I want tame? Besides, it’ll take too long. There’s got to be a hundred toilets in there.”

  “More like forty eight. I counted today.” He gets out and goes around to the back, where he lifts out two long sticks and two cloth messenger bags, then he comes around to open my door. “All you do is drop in a roll, jam it in the hole, and go to the next one. Done.”

  He’s standing outside the truck, holding our gear and waiting for me to get out, but my thoughts are on a few moments ago on his lap in his arms. Kill the pain. Maybe I am ready for the next step…

  “I thought we might make out some more,” I say.

  He grabs my waist and pulls me out of the truck and against him for a quick kiss. “We’ll be back, and I’ll be in your pants in under thirty. And bonus. No school until it’s fixed. We can take this show to my bedroom.”

  His arm relaxes, and I’m standing beside the truck now surveying his gear. “Doesn’t the school have security cameras?”

  “Tie your hair back.” He pulls out a dark windbreaker and a black eye-mask. “Put these on.”

  I use the side mirror on the truck to pull my hair back into a loose pony tail and then slip the mask over my face. I look over my shoulder and he’s got one on as well.

  One glance, and he slides up behind me, running his hands up the front of my thighs and stopping where they meet under my skirt. “We should keep these on when we get back,” he breathes against my neck before kissing it.