Call It What You Want(42)

“It’s not a date. It’s lacrosse. Text him.”

I haven’t spoken to Rob since Thursday morning, when he barely nodded at my note in class. “No way. Dad’s downstairs. He’d lose his mind.”

“Then we’ll go to Quiet Waters. Please?”

I sigh. “He’s not really talking to me since Drew ran him out of Taco Taco.”

“I thought you were doing a math project together.”

“Sam, he probably wants to be left alone.”

Her face falls. “No, Megs. He doesn’t.” She pauses. “He doesn’t want to be humiliated, but he doesn’t want to be left alone.”

Now my face falls. She’s right.

A note in her voice tells me she’s not just talking about Rob, either.



It’s cold and near dark by the time we get to Quiet Waters, one of the largest parks in the county. It’s usually closed at night, but they offer ice skating in the winter, so we park by the rink, which sits at the edge of the open fields.

The lot is crowded since it’s Friday night, but Rob is already there, sitting on the tailgate of his Jeep. His lacrosse stick spins between his hands, jumping from palm to palm. Despite all the motion, his expression is closed down, like when he was waiting for me in the Wegmans parking lot. I was surprised that he still wanted to meet up, but Samantha was right. He is lonely. I know he is.

When we get out of the car, a cold breeze eats through my jacket, and I shiver. “Thanks for coming out.”

He shrugs and looks across the parking lot at the shadowed field. “I didn’t think about how dark it would be. We’ll have a hell of a time seeing the ball.”

“Let’s try anyway,” calls Samantha. She’s already pulling on her goggles.

Rob shifts off the tailgate and grabs his helmet. “Your sister doesn’t mess around,” he says to me under his breath.

The low voice is encouraging. Maybe we’re okay.

I open my mouth to whisper back, but he turns away to jog after Sam.

Well, then.

He was right. They can’t see the ball. They both keep missing, then running after it, breath clouding in the air as they sprint across the darkened field.

Their joy from the other night is missing. Samantha is no closer to making any kind of decision about the baby. She hasn’t mentioned David or school or what she’s going to do. Each day that passes seems to be a ticking time bomb for her—or maybe it’s a ticking bomb for our whole family.

As for Rob … I don’t know what’s up with him. This can’t all be about Rachel and Drew—at least, I don’t think so.

But no one is happy. No one is settled. No one can focus.

He doesn’t want to be humiliated.

Samantha’s words are nudging me with guilt. I wish I’d spoken up in his defense earlier. I just didn’t know how, or if I was even doing the right thing.

Samantha and Rob have broken apart, and they’re walking the field, looking for the ball. I uncurl from the bench where I’ve been frozen into a statue, then stride out across the darkened grass to help.

“I’ve got another one,” Rob says as I approach. “I can get it.”

“No,” says Samantha. She’s breathless, and I’m worried she’s been pushing it too much. “It’s too dark.”

“Sorry.” He makes a face. “I should have figured.”

Samantha swallows. She suddenly looks a little green. “That might have been too much running. Or not enough dinner. Or too much—” She breaks off and takes a long breath through her nose. “I will not throw up. I will not throw up.”

“Samantha.” I put out a hand. “Here, give me the stick.”

She all but slams it into my chest. “Go over there so I don’t do this in front of you.”

Rob frowns. “Do you need something—”

“Go.” Samantha punches him in the shoulder.

I grab his arm and drag him away. “Come on.”

Almost immediately, my sister throws up in the grass behind us.

Rob winces, then says, “Are you sure we should leave her?”

“I tried to hold her hair back yesterday, and she asked me if I have a puking fetish. I promise she wants to be left alone.” I pause and glance up at him. The helmet leaves most of his face cloaked in darkness, the face guard painting shadow lines across his mouth.

I have no idea why I’m staring at his mouth.

A blush crawls up my neck, and I jerk my eyes forward. “There are benches by the ice rink. We can sit there.”

The benches are large rectangular planters that overflow with flowers during the summer. Now, they’re swarming with people lacing skates or drinking hot chocolate, but we’re able to carve out a corner for ourselves. Speakers stationed around the rink blast pop music.

Rob pulls off his helmet, then roughs up his sweat-dampened hair. I expect him to say something, to make some kind of conversation, but he doesn’t.

As I consider every word Drew said at Taco Taco, I wonder if Rob thinks I feel exactly the same as they do.

I sit there waiting for words to magically form in my mouth.

They don’t.

Rob stares out at the ice rink and eventually says, “Should we check on your sister?”