Good for You: A Novel (24)

He seemed nonplussed. “What do you mean?”

Long beards were bacteria magnets—there were actual studies proving this! But what did she care? Wyatt could be as filthy as he wanted to be. It didn’t impact Aly in any way. “Nothing,” she said. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s just that you look . . . different from the last time I saw you.” And unlike then, you’re actually speaking to and looking at me now.

“Yeah,” he said. “I never thought about it before, but I guess that’s the point.”

Before Aly could ask him what he meant, she heard her name. “Aly Jackson, is that you?”

Aly couldn’t identify the voice, but her cheeks were aflame all the same. Anyone who recognized her here, in southwestern Michigan, knew the person she used to be. The person she had no interest in so much as thinking about, let alone being identified as. Why hadn’t she put on a wig and glasses to go out in public? A few days away from the city and she’d already lost her street smarts.

With reluctance, she swiveled in her seat. Then her eyes widened, and her heart rate slowed. “Ms. Perez?” With her dark curls and smooth, tan skin, Aly’s high school guidance counselor had barely aged since Aly had last seen her more than a decade ago. Except, why was she wearing a black apron and a name tag?

“Oh please, call me Mari. It’s so great to see you! Are you here on vacation? I heard you were living in New York these days.”

“Yeah,” said Aly, immediately overcome with guilt. She should’ve reached out ages ago—if not to update her, then at least to thank her for everything she’d done. Were it not for Mari Perez, Aly would probably be . . . Well, she didn’t actually know where she’d be, but certainly nowhere good. “Do you work here?” she asked, trying not to sound surprised or judgmental.

“Yep,” said Mari, smoothing her apron. “I’m a server. Just during the summers. Teaching doesn’t pay as much as it used to.”

“Did it ever pay much?” asked Wyatt curiously.

“Wyatt,” hissed Aly.

“No,” said Mari, unfazed. “No one goes into teaching for the money. But it hasn’t kept up with the cost of living, and I have bills to pay, which is the goal. So,” she said, smiling. “Can I bring you two something to drink? Maybe an appetizer to get started?”

“Oh,” said Aly, because she hadn’t realized that Mari was their server. “Um, water’s fine for me.”

“You don’t want a glass of wine or something?” asked Wyatt. “Remember, it’s my treat.”

Mari looked back and forth between them, and Aly realized she probably thought they were on a date. “I’m sorry—how rude of me not to introduce you both,” she quickly said. “Wyatt, this is Mari Perez, my high school guidance counselor. She helped me get into college.” Mari had done far more than that, but even if she’d wanted to tell him—and she didn’t—Wyatt wouldn’t understand. His parents had no doubt hired tutors and college coaches and financial planners to ensure he reached his full potential. “Mari, this is Wyatt.” Before she could consider the consequences of doing so, she explained, “He’s Luke’s friend. Er, was.”

Mari’s smile dissipated. “Oh, Aly, I heard the news. I am so sorry. Luke was an amazing person. I still remember how he’d go out of his way to make all the other students feel seen.”

“Thank you,” mumbled Aly, staring down at the cross-hatching of the metal table. This was precisely why she hadn’t told her coworkers, and why she avoided seeing anyone who’d known her brother. She much preferred interacting with people who only knew the alternate version of her life—the one in which she had not suffered catastrophic loss. Because the moment others learned the truth, they looked at her differently. They treated her differently. Wasn’t that what had happened with Meagan? Right after Aly broke down and admitted why she was weeping in the women’s bathroom, Meagan had stopped sharing any bad news with Aly. Really, she’d quit being honest with her, as though the only things Aly could handle were kittens and rainbows.

Then again, Meagan might have had a point.

“It’s nice to meet you, Wyatt. Any friend of Luke and Aly’s is a friend of mine,” said Mari.

He’s not my friend, thought Aly, looking away.

“Thanks, Mari,” said Wyatt.

“You got it. So, drinks?”

“Could you bring us a couple of margaritas?” he said. “Strong, please.”

“I don’t really drink,” said Aly.

Even from behind his sunglasses, she could tell Wyatt was regarding her quizzically.

“Water and one margarita?” said Mari.

“No, it’s fine,” said Aly, sighing. “I’ll have what he’s having.”

“Then we’ll also have the cheese puffs to start, and two burgers, medium, with cheddar, and fries. That sound alright?” Wyatt asked Aly.

“Yes,” she said, her mouth all but watering. Maybe she was even hungrier than she’d realized. “Thank you.”

“It’s the least I can do,” he said, and although he was probably just saying it, goose bumps went scrambling up and down her arms. Did he feel responsible for Luke’s death? Truth be told, Aly had blamed him.