Call It What You Want(81)

“Yeah. Sure. I get it.” He’s almost dismissive, and I expect him to turn away and leave me here.

Instead, Connor swings a leg over the bench and drops down across from me.

“What are you doing?” I say.

“You said the old crowd is too much. So I’m sitting down.” He hesitates. “Is that okay?”

I don’t know. “Sure.”

He doesn’t have any food with him, and I’ve already put mine away. Every vertebra in my back is tight, waiting for some kind of interrogation, but none comes. Like last night, he sits, and he waits.

He’s just sitting. No demands, no expectation. Just sitting.

Connor is clueless about some things, but not about everything. And I was once the same way. He’s trying. I should be trying, too.

I stole your mom’s earrings, I want to say.

There’s no way that will make anything better.

After we’ve been quiet for a while, Connor says, “I was kind of a shit to your friend.”

Owen’s parting words keep ricocheting around my skull. It was nice knowing you, Rob.

I wish he had a phone. I wish I could text him. I wish I could fix it. I wish I could sell the earrings and give him the money and make everything better.

This is all so hard.

I look at Connor. “You think?”

“He’s the one who keeps saying ‘prick alert’ every time I walk over here.”

“Maybe he’s on to something.” I’m half-teasing, half-serious. There’s a note in my voice that hasn’t been there in a while, a note that says, I’m giving you crap because you can take it.

“Is he your friend?” says Connor. “I thought you were sitting over here to prove some kind of point.”

“What kind of point?” I scoff. “You really are a pr—”

“Okay, okay.” Connor rolls his eyes. “Fine. I’ll find him and apologize.”

I doubt that would be welcomed by Owen, but it’s not necessary anyway. I’m the one who needs to find him and apologize. “Leave it,” I say. “I’ll find him.” I jerk my backpack from under the table. “I’m going to class.” I hesitate. “Thanks for explaining. Last night.”

“I should have done it sooner.”

I shrug. “You did it now.”

“Are we okay?” he says. “Really?”

I can’t say yes. Not yet. Not with his mother’s stolen earrings in my pocket and Owen pissed at me for hesitating about selling them. “Almost.”

Connor gives me a nod, and I shoulder my bag to walk away from the table.

I need to fix this. I can’t fix both at once, but I do know I don’t want to be a thief. I wish I could break into Connor’s house the way he broke into mine.

Wait. He didn’t break in. What did he say? I still have a key, you asshole.

We were best friends for years. We practically lived at each other’s houses. Of course he still had a key.

I pull my key ring out of my backpack and look at it.

So do I.





CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Maegan

Samantha is telling Mom and Dad everything. I asked her if she wanted me to sit with her while she did it, but she said no, that she could do it on her own. So I’ve been sitting in my bedroom, staring at the darkening sky outside my window.

At first, I thought this was a good idea, but as the evening drags on, I begin to wonder about my role in everything. Cutting class. Knowing the truth about David. Keeping Samantha’s secret—because I’m sure it was so much bigger than Mom and Dad ever expected.

I begin to wonder about Rob, and the secrets he’s keeping, and what he’s doing.

By the time a gentle tap hits my door, my nerves are primed, and I sit bolt upright in bed.

“Come in!” I call.

Samantha pokes her head in, and then her whole body. Her cheeks are blotchy and red, and she looks … drained.

“Are you okay?” I ask softly.

She comes in and closes the door behind her. “Yeah. Dad’s calling the school now, even though there’s not going to be anyone there.” Her eyes glance at the pitch-black sky outside my window. “He and Mom are pretty furious.”

“They should be.” I pause, wanting to ask if she’s made any decisions now that it’s all out in the open, but not wanting to push. “It’s not your fault, Sam.”

“Well.” She gives a little laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Some of it is my fault.”

“He was horrible.”

“Yeah.” A tear rolls down her face. “I don’t know how I missed that.”

“Dad said … he said that when people are under a lot of pressure, they don’t always make the right decisions.”

She swipes at her cheek. “Yeah. Well.”

“I think that applies to more than just this situation, Sam.” I hesitate. “I don’t think I ever realized that. About you.”

“I don’t think I ever realized that about myself.” Another tear. “Isn’t that stupid? I’m so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid.”

“I am. And now I’m going to have to deal with it.”