Livia Lone (Livia Lone #1)(49)

But the party was a pleasant surprise. Everyone was nice to Livia, congratulating her, saying they were so proud of her, telling her they were sure she was going to be state champion next year. Even Eric the bully, a junior now, came over and told her he was sorry he had been “such a dick” to her when she’d first come to Llewellyn. She told him not to worry about it, but the truth was, his apology meant nothing to her. In her mind, behavior was the truth, not words.

There was a bowl of punch at the party, and after drinking a cup, Livia felt strange—light, relaxed, happy. Everything seemed so funny and good. She was going to have another cup, but Sean told her to be careful because the punch was “spiked.”

“Spiked?” she asked him.

“Someone put vodka in it. You can’t really taste it because of the fruit juice, but it’s in there.” He smiled. “I had some, too.”

Livia was confused. Was this how alcohol made you feel? But it was a nice feeling, not at all what she would have expected. She thought alcohol could only make people cruel and violent and disgusting.

“Maybe . . . it’s more the person than the alcohol?” she said aloud.

Sean laughed. “What?”

She realized it must have sounded weird and felt her face get hot. “Nothing.”

He looked at her more closely. “I think you’re a little drunk.”

Her face got hotter. “Maybe.”

“It’s nice. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you laugh as much as you have tonight.”

She realized that was true. She didn’t laugh much. She had when she was little, before the white van had pulled up, before everything had happened. Before she’d lost Nason. She was suddenly ashamed.

Sean must have sensed the change in her mood, because he said, “I’m sorry. I just meant . . . I don’t know. I like when you’re happy. Really like it.”

“I should go,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

She shook her head. “It’s not you. It’s nothing.”

“Can I walk you home?”

She wasn’t sure she wanted company, not even Sean’s. But she knew her sudden mood shift had worried him. She didn’t want him to think it was his fault.

There was an elementary school in the Lones’ neighborhood, about a half mile from the house. Sean sometimes walked her home after they trained in his garage, but Livia didn’t like him coming all the way to the house, and this was where he ordinarily turned back. But tonight, for some reason, they wound up sitting on the swings behind the school, just drifting back and forth a few inches, the metal chains squeaking softly, a full moon shining brightly overhead. It wasn’t terribly cold for March in Llewellyn, and their hats were in their pockets, their coats unzipped. Livia closed her eyes, liking the slight wind on her cheeks, the smell of the night air, the feeling of being bathed in moonlight.

She sensed Sean was looking at her, but didn’t open her eyes. After a moment, she heard him say, “I’m sorry if I . . . if I said the wrong thing before.”

It made her sad that he thought it was his fault. But there was no way to explain. So she only said, “I’m sorry I don’t laugh more.”

“You laugh enough.”

She laughed, because that was so untrue.

“See?” he said, and she laughed some more. It felt good to laugh. Then she thought of Nason again, and told herself she shouldn’t be laughing.

“Can I tell you something that’s always bothered me?” she said. It helped that they were side by side on the swings, that she didn’t have to look at him while she talked.

“You can tell me anything.”

She sighed. “That first time I saw you. When you put the arm bar on Eric. Remember?”

He laughed. “You think I’d forget that?”

No, of course he wouldn’t forget it. It was a dumb thing to say. She almost changed her mind, but not saying anything felt too much like cowardice, and it was cowardice she needed to confess to.

“I should have helped you. I mean, you didn’t need my help, but I didn’t know that. I was just . . . afraid.”

“That’s okay. I mean . . . I would have been afraid, too.”

“They used to bully me, too. And for a second, when I saw them bullying you . . . I was glad. Because it wasn’t me.” She glanced at him. “I’m sorry.”

For a moment, there was only the creak of the swing chains. Then he said, “Has that really been bothering you this whole time?”

She wanted to look at him again, but couldn’t. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to be sorry. You didn’t even know me. I mean, you’d help me now, right?”

She looked at him and said fiercely, “Yes.”

He smiled. “I mean, not that I’d need it. Even if I only placed fourth today and you came in second.”

She laughed. It really was so good to laugh. It made her sad that she couldn’t seem to do it more.

They were quiet again. Then Sean said, “Can I ask you something?”

The gentle movement of the swing, back and forth, was pleasant. Calming. She looked at him and nodded.

“Everyone at school thinks your parents died, and that’s why the Lones adopted you.”