Maybe This Time(46)

“There it is,” I said. “I knew you couldn’t resist analyzing me.”

“I just need this last little puzzle piece and then I’ll have you all figured out.” I could tell he was kidding but I wondered for a small moment if there was a hint of truth in there—if he really did think he’d figured me all out. Maybe he could provide me with a list because I was feeling a bit undefined lately.

“Let’s find Micah so we can leave,” I said.

“Something else we can agree on.” Andrew took one more bite of food and we stood. He dumped his plate in a metal trash can by the back door and we went inside. The cool air-conditioning immediately brought relief, but the noise level inside was intense. We stayed together, searching the living room, the halls, the bedrooms. I even knocked on the bathroom door, but it was not Micah who responded.

“I left my phone in the van,” I said to Andrew. “Do you have yours?”

“I left mine in the van too, since at the cemetery you told us that was the polite thing to do.”

I sighed. “I did, didn’t I? I guess I am your etiquette coach.”

“Country-living etiquette. I’ll return the favor if you ever come to New York.”

I clenched my jaw and headed for the front door. I didn’t need a lesson on city etiquette. I had common sense, unlike him.

I’d parked down the street so I hurried there ahead of Andrew. I noticed Kyle’s car before I saw him in it. The Mustang was parked behind the flower van and I saw some movement inside. The engine was running. Was he waiting for me?

But when I approached the passenger side, it was apparent that Kyle wasn’t in there alone. Jodi was in the passenger seat, and they were kissing. I gasped just as Andrew came up beside me.

Kyle must’ve heard or sensed something because he stopped kissing Jodi. He looked over, saw me, and gave a head nod. I didn’t wait to see what came after that head nod. Jodi was already starting to turn around. With my cheeks flushed, I fled up the road, past the flower van, car keys clutched tightly in my hand.

Andrew caught up with me. “Hey, you okay?”

“What? Why wouldn’t I be?” I didn’t mean to snap at him, but I did.

“That was Kyle. I thought you and he … ?”

“What? Yeah, no, it doesn’t matter. We weren’t … I didn’t even …” Like him was how I was going to finish that sentence. And I knew that was true, but it didn’t mean I wasn’t hurt and that was hard to explain. I didn’t want to explain. “It’s a funeral” was how I finished instead.

“People mourn differently?” Andrew offered, repeating Micah’s sentiment.

There was a neighborhood park at the end of the street and I cut right, heading across the grass toward the big slide tower. I climbed the steps and sat at the very top, leaning my back against the blue metal bars. Andrew followed and sat opposite me, our legs stretched out alongside each other. The platform was smaller than I’d anticipated.

“I forgot to get my phone,” I said.

“Me too.”

I slipped off my shoes and pressed my toes into the bars next to him.

“So,” Andrew said, “you’re definitely moving Kyle to the undatable column of Micah’s spreadsheet, right?”

I laughed a little and rolled my eyes. “You think I’m upset. You think I had something with Kyle?”

“I think you did.”

“We didn’t. Not really,” I said. “And there is no actual spreadsheet, you know that, right?” I blew out a breath between my lips. “It honestly doesn’t matter. We start school in a couple of weeks. It’s senior year and then as soon as that’s done, I’m leaving.”

We sat in silence for a few minutes. I wiped at some flakes of blue paint that were chipping off the metal bars, trying to act like I was perfectly fine. Because I really wanted to be. I should be. I was.

“You’re not going to miss it here?” Andrew finally asked.

I brushed my hands together. “I’ll miss Micah. But she wants to stay, work with her dad. I’ll come back and visit tons. My brother lives here.”

“And your mom.”

“Right … and her.”

“You won’t miss her?”

“I love my mom.”

Andrew nodded. “Your mom’s not so bad.”

“We’re just very different.”

“True.” He smiled at me. “So … senior year.”

“I know. Yours too. But … how is that when you do independent study? Are you still as excited?”

“For school to be over? Yes.”

“I guess that’s true. But I don’t know, there’s something about being on a school campus and being the oldest and … I don’t know.”

“I get it. It’s a rite of passage. One I’ll miss.” He was quiet for a minute, then said, “I’ve thought about going back to school for my senior year.”

“But … ?”

“But then we move.”

“Right.”

“Right.” He bumped his knee into mine and, for the second time in the conversation, changed the subject. “Do you realize I’ve only ever seen you wear skirts? Do you own a pair of jeans?”