CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

I can’t stop thinking about what Kat said — how Reeve isn’t sorry, how he was only saying he was to impress me. She made a good point. Why didn’t he apologize to Mary when he had the chance? But then I remember the way he looked at me, how he cried like a little kid, and I feel sure that he was telling the truth. And who else could he have hurt worse than Mary?

Only it doesn’t matter, either way. Because it isn’t my responsibility to make Reeve apologize. Or to try and figure out if he’s sorry for what he did. My loyalty lies with my friend. I have to get Reeve back for what he did to Mary. That’s all. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.

A broken heart for a broken heart.

We’re supposed to meet at Java Jones at noon. I’m planning to finish up my AP English essay on mother figures within the works of Shakespeare, which is due Monday. I packed a CD-ROM of timed practice SAT questions for Reeve to work on. He’s already blown through the two test workbooks I let him borrow.

I decide to go to Java Jones an hour early, because this essay isn’t going to write itself, and to make sure we score a good table near an outlet, so we can plug in our laptops in case we run out of battery. Luckily, the one I want is free when I get there. I put my princess coat on the back of a chair and my laptop bag on the other. Then I order a hot chocolate with whipped cream and a peppermint stick at the counter. While I’m looking through my change purse, my phone begins to buzz.

It’s a text. From Reeve. Leg is pretty sore this morning. Don’t think I can make it. Sorry. :(

I frown like the face in his text. I keep telling him that he needs to make sure he’s not overexerting himself in the weight room. You can’t rush physical therapy. You need to be patient. My uncle broke his ankle running two years ago, and he finished his physical therapy like one week early, and he says his ankle still bothers him when it rains.

I’ve opened up a text to write him back when I see Reeve drive past the front window in his truck.

What the—?

I get my things from the table and leave behind my hot chocolate on my table, to save my spot. “I’ll be right back,” I tell the barista and step outside. The sun is bright, and I have to shield my eyes with my hand. For a second I think I’ve lost him, but then I catch sight of Reeve’s truck making a left into the ferry parking lot.

I hustle down the sidewalk. I’m mad, but I’m trying to stay calm. Maybe he’s picking up one of his brothers? I send Reeve an innocent text back. Should I swing by? We can study at your place. As soon as I hit send, my heart fills my throat, because I have this terrible feeling that he’s about to lie to me.

He doesn’t text me back right away, which gives me a chance to catch up to him.

When I get to the parking lot, I’m careful to keep camouflaged behind trees and the ticket booth. Reeve’s parked his truck in line with the cars waiting to drive aboard the next ferry. I’m close enough to see him looking at his phone; he’s probably reading my text. He writes me back. I think I should take it easy and ice it for now. I’ll text you later if it feels better.

My body goes cold. Kat and Mary were one thousand percent right. Reeve’s not a trustworthy guy, not at all. I’m so mad at myself for falling for it when I know better.

Reeve doesn’t see me coming. He’s fiddling with his radio. I can hear the music as I get closer. It’s hip hop, the volume turned way up. And he’s drumming his hands on the steering wheel. Whoever he’s off to see, he’s sure pumped.

I knock so hard on the glass my knuckles hurt. Reeve startles, and when he sees that it’s me, his jaw drops. He fumbles to turn the radio off and then tries to get his window to roll down.

“Hey, there,” I say, all fake sweet. “So nice to see that your leg’s better.” I drop the act, let my smile go flat. “Don’t bother texting me later. Or any other day.” I walk away.

I hear his truck door open and then slam shut, his feet pounding the pavement. I’m speed walking as fast as I can, but Reeve must be sprinting, even with his bum leg. I let my laptop bag fall on the ground; I don’t even care. I don’t want to look at him.

Before I know it, Reeve wraps his arms around me from behind.

“Let me go!” I try and break out of his bear hug, but his hands are locked around me.

“Lillia, wait a second!”

I don’t wait. I struggle and wriggle to get free until I have no strength left. “Let go of me!” I shriek.

Some of the people in the parking lot have stopped to watch us. “You’re making a scene!” he hisses. He’s right. I don’t want the cops to come; I just want him to let go of me. The only way he’ll do that is if I stop.

“Please, Lillia.” I go limp and he drops his arms.

I’m panting as I turn around to face him. “Care to explain why you lied to me?”

Reeve sets his jaw. “No. Not particularly.” He walks back a few steps and picks up my laptop bag.

I feel something mean bubble up in my throat. The overwhelming urge to tell Reeve everything, how I’ve been only hanging out with him to hurt him for Mary. How it’s all a lie. I’ve been pretending to like him, when in actuality he disgusts me.

But I can’t, because those words won’t mean anything. They won’t hurt him. Because if Reeve did care, he wouldn’t have lied to me so he could sneak off to see some other girl.

“Tell me where you’re going.” I know I sound jealous. And I hate it.

He hands my laptop bag back to me. “It’s better if I don’t.” I snatch it from his hands and hear the bits of broken plastic shake around. It’s broken.

I feel the sting of tears, and my vision blurs. “I hope this other girl knows a thing or two about the SATs. Or else maybe she doesn’t care that you won’t get into college!” I think of all the time I’ve wasted, trying to help Reeve. I should have stuck to the damn plan. I bet I could have kissed him weeks ago.

Reeve’s face goes blank. “You think I’m going to see another girl?”

I walk away.

He’s following me again. He speeds up so that he’s standing in my way. “Fine, you want to know where I’m going?” He fishes something out of his pocket. A piece of paper. He hands it to me.

I wipe my eyes so I can read it. There are two names written down, and neither of them are girls’ names. And an address for a fraternity house at UMass.

I look up at him, because it doesn’t make sense.

His mouth is set in a grim line. “I’m going to whoop those f**kers’ asses.” And then he starts walking back toward his truck.

It takes me a second to put it together. “Oh my God,” I say, staring down at the paper. At the names. Ian Rosenberg and Michael Fenelli. “Oh my God.”

And then it’s me who’s chasing him. “Are you crazy?” I scream.

Reeve doesn’t slow down. “I’m an idiot for not thinking of it sooner. That house those turkeys rented, it was one of the ones my dad manages. All I had to do was look up the address, and boom. I found their addresses, their phone numbers, their birthdays. I’m going up there, and I’m going to make them wish they never, ever laid eyes on you and Rennie.”

“I don’t want you to do that!” The ferry horn sounds and the cars waiting to drive aboard start their engines. “I don’t want you going anywhere near them!”

Reeve opens his door. “Why?” he demands. “You don’t think they deserve it?”

I struggle to answer him. Because as much as it was the guys, it was my fault too. I was the one who went to a stranger’s house. I was the one who got too drunk. I was the one who created the situation where something terrible could happen. And I was unlucky enough that it did.

“It won’t change anything!” I reach out and grab hold of his sweatshirt. Two fistfuls. “I am telling you don’t go there. If this is for me, I don’t want it.”

Reeve’s already shaking his head. He’s not listening to me. “Those guys have to pay for what they did. There have to be consequences. They can’t just get away with it.”

It’s hard to breathe now. “I know want to help. I know that. But nothing you do can take back what happened.” I’m trying to stay strong so I can make him hear me, but I can feel myself start to shake. “You going over there, it will only bring everything back for me. All I want to do is forget.”

I see him soften a little. “You can’t bury it, Lil. It happened. You have to deal with it.”

“I know. But let me do it my way. Not like this.” I look up at him with pleading eyes. “Please.”

We’re staring at each other, neither of us blinking, and Reeve finally bows his head and nods. “I just—I wanted to make things right for you.” He reaches out and takes my hand and locks his fingers around mine. I let him do it, even though I feel like I shouldn’t.

Later, when I think about the look in Reeve’s eyes, and I remember what he said about how there should be consequences for the bad things people do, I feel dread, because I know he’s right. There will be consequences, for all of us. Maybe me most of all.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

During Monday’s free period, I head to the computer lab to check e-mail. I have to wait until I’m at school to do it, because our computer at home is slow as shit. It’s old to begin with, and then Pat downloaded a bunch of games, aka  p**n , and now the thing’s got more viruses than a prostitute.

As soon as I log in, I get a pop-up window that says I’m running out of available mailbox space. No surprises there. About a month ago my aunt Jackie discovered “electronic mail” and asked for my address. Now she forwards me at least ten messages a day. Poems about angels and cancer-prayer chain letters and articles about new research and treatments. She’s unhealthily obsessed with my mom’s death. She could seriously use an hour with Ms. Chirazo.

What I don’t see, unfortunately, are any e-mails about my early-decision application to Oberlin. I know they have until the end of January to get back to me, but I’m keeping my fingers crossed I hear something before then. Ms. Chirazo loved my new essay. She said it brought tears to her eyes. She was probably hot flashing or something, but it was all I needed to hear.

Later in the day, we have a drunk-driving assembly, which is a lovely way to help ring in the holidays. An older-looking woman in a police uniform is up at the podium, talking in the most sleep-inducing monotone while she clicks through carcrash slides from the 1970s that don’t even show you anything interesting, like gore or dead bodies. Just a bunch of wreckedup and dented metal. She might as well have taken pictures of our garage.

Anyway, somewhere along the line I fall asleep, and the polite applause wakes me up. I open my eyes right as the police officer trips across the microphone cord and nearly falls flat on her ass.

I can’t help but laugh. And look around at my fellow classmates to see who else enjoyed that early Christmas gift. Nobody else is laughing.

I meet eyes with Rennie, who has a big smile on her face. As big as mine.

I immediately look away. A sick sense of humor was one thing Ren and I always had in common.

Fuck. I guess we still do.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

The air smells piney and Christmasy from the tree and the cinnamon ornaments the church ladies are selling. It smells like it’s going to snow any minute. I hope it does. A snow day would be heaven.

There’s a nice turnout this year; it seems like half of Jar Island is here on Main Street for the tree lighting, even though it’s a weekday. Our school’s chorus is in front of the tree, singing “Winter Wonderland,” and they actually sound pretty good. They’re all wearing Santa hats and red-and-green-striped scarves, and the soprano section has bells. Mary’s in the back, and she looks so cute with her hair in braids and her Santa hat perched on top of her head. Alex is up there too, in the front row. His solo should be coming up soon. I catch his eye and wave, and he winks at me and tips his Santa hat.

The song finishes, and I clap and do a quick tuck jump. “Yay, Lindy!” I shout. In my head I add a quick And yay Mary.

I’m huddled together with Ashlin; Derek and Reeve went off to get us hot chocolates. Rennie’s at work, which is perfect. I don’t have to worry about her tonight.

“Lindy looks so cute up there,” Ash says, elbowing me. “Like a tall elf.”

I dig around my cross-body bag for a peppermint candy. “He does look like an elf.” And he does look cute in his camel peacoat and his Santa hat and his tartan scarf his mom probably bought him. His cheeks are rosy from the cold, and he has a big smile on his face. I can’t help smiling too. To Ash I say, “He has a good voice, don’t you think? I can’t wait to hear his solo.”

“Totes,” Ash agrees. Then she leans in close and whispers, “So what’s going on with you and Reeve? Are you guys, like, here together?”

I blink. And before I’ve thought it through, I squeal, “Ew! No.” Ashlin looks skeptical, so I add, “No way would anything ever happen with me and Reeve. Not in a million trillion years.”

Ash is about to reply, but then her eyes light up and she reaches her arms out and squeals, “Gimme, gimme!”

I turn around, and Derek and Reeve are standing there with the hot chocolates. I worry for a second that Reeve heard me, but he hands me the Styrofoam cup and his face doesn’t betray anything.

Then I see her, Kat, across the town square, looking over at us. It’s go time for step one.

Oh God.