Little Lies(42)

I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Well, they’re all so busy with sports and classes.”

“Right. Of course.”

Fortunately, Uncle Randy and Aunt Lily arrive to end that uncomfortable conversation. I can’t tell Lainey the truth.

By midafternoon, all of the parents are gathered on the back deck. My dad wanted to shock the pool, but my mom told him to hold off until right before they leave. He did, however, clean the hot tub. He was not impressed by the condom wrappers he found nearby.

Lance and Poppy, Quinn’s parents, are the last to arrive, and they bring his younger sisters along. Heather is fifteen, and Celeste is thirteen, and I adore them. We jump in the pool while we wait for the guys to get home.

Just as my dad and Rook head to campus to pick up the boys, Gigi and Gram-pot show up.

“I have a special present for you!” Gigi hands me a small, wrapped box. Upon closer inspection, I realize the design on the paper is cartoon penises with faces. Thankfully, the presence of Heather and Celeste means I can put off opening it, and I run it up to my room.

My dad and Rook pick up takeout on the way home from getting the boys, and when they return, we all sit outside on the back deck, stuffing our faces while our parents figure out how to deal with the situation.

Kodiak sits on the far side of the deck, beside his mom. His knee bounces a mile a minute, a sure sign he’s anxious. Not that I blame him. The kitchen in their house is destroyed.

“I talked to a contractor friend on the way over, and he’s saying it’ll take at least a few weeks for the house to air out and the kitchen renovations to be done,” Uncle Randy says.

“Yeah, I made a few calls too, and everyone I talked to said the same thing,” Rook adds.

“Should we look at renting the boys a place?”

“I can stay at a friend’s place for a while,” Quinn says.

His dad gives him a look. “What kind of friend are we talking about?”

“Just someone from class.”

His mom gives him a look. “A female someone?”

He shakes his head. “Just a buddy, don’t worry, Ma.”

“BJ can stay with us,” Liam suggests, and Lane nods his agreement.

“You have an extra bedroom?” Uncle Randy asks.

“There’s a game room in the basement with a murphy bed,” BJ replies. “It’ll be fine for a few weeks.”

“Well, that’s two out of three sorted,” Uncle Randy says.

“What about the spare room here? Kody could stay with us. There’s already a bed and a dresser in there,” Maverick suggests.

My dad and Rook exchange a look. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” my dad says.

“It’s perfect, right, K?” Maverick’s eyes are alight with excitement over the idea of having his best friend in the room down the hall. “Then everyone has somewhere to stay, and you don’t have to deal with a rental. Besides, it’s only for a few weeks.”

A few weeks of Kodiak in the bedroom under mine. A few weeks of potentially running into him in the hall, or the kitchen, or anywhere really. A few weeks of his constant awfulness. What if he brings girls home? What if I have to listen to him banging them through the vents?

“Lavender, honey?” My mom squeezes my knee.

“Huh?” I glance around to find everyone looking at me. Including Kodiak. His expression is flat, but his knee bounces a few times before he spreads his hand over his thigh to stop it.

“Are you okay with that?”

I shrug, going for apathetic. “It’s only a few weeks.”

How bad could it be?

But based on how things have been so far, I know it has the potential to be really, really bad.





Chapter Sixteen


Dependency Depends on Me

Kodiak

Age 13

LAVENDER AND RIVER got cell phones for their eleventh birthday. I didn’t get one until I turned twelve, but Lavender is a girl, and her parents worry about her a lot. They wanted her to be able to contact the people in her support network, so they gave in and got them both one.

It’s supposed to help with her independence.

It also means we can text each other.

Which is good, because sometimes she needs me and not everyone understands. It makes me anxious when I can’t be there to calm her down. I know what it’s like to be trapped in my head, unable to get away from all the spinning negativity. Once I’m in the spiral, it’s hard to get out.

On the way to hockey practice, my phone pings, so I flip it over and check the screen. It’s Lavender.

I used to have a photo of her attached to her contact. It was her at Queenie’s, our therapist, working on one of her pieces of art. Her hair was pulled up in a messy ponytail, and she was wearing a dress she made. Her expression was fierce with concentration.

I changed it to an infinity symbol and switched her name to a boy’s because I don’t want my parents to know how much we message each other. I don’t think they’d like it, since it’s every day. I erase all the messages after we’re done chatting, because my mom and dad check my phone sometimes and go through all my conversations with friends. Most of the time, I talk about hockey and school, but with Lavender it’s different. We talk about other stuff, and I won’t betray her trust, because she confides in me.