They Wish They Were Us(87)

I want to hold this place still in my heart before it changes again for good.





TWENTY-FOUR





EVERYTHING HAPPENS QUICKLY once the positions are in place. The days fly by and suddenly it’s Friday, the last real day of school. The halls are maddening, fizzing with anticipation. I am, too, but for such different reasons.

By the time the final bell rings, it’s as if someone set the school on fire. Everyone pushes and shoves, sprinting toward almost freedom.

I head out to our designated meeting place—Nikki’s house—and find Rachel there, already waiting. We share a quick hug and wait for the sun to set.

I sit on the deck, sprawling on the chaise lounge and find as many constellations as I can. It’s a perfect night. They’re all out, dancing and galloping through the sky. I should be terrified but my breathing is steady and a calm sets in. Maybe it’s because we finally have a plan.

“Ready?” Rachel asks. She stands over me in jeans and a ratty black hoodie. Her eyes are tired and her skin sags just a bit around the edges, like she’s aged a decade during this fucked-up year. I want to hug her close and say thank you a million times over. I want to bottle her smile and carry it with me as I do this next part alone. Without her bravery, none of this would have been possible. I would be floating along like a ship with no course, crashing ashore someday, maybe.

But instead I just whisper, “Yes,” and send the text. It only takes a minute for him to respond. “He’s coming,” I say. “Fifteen minutes.” We sit in silence, a nervous current running between us, until I see the headlights of his beloved vintage Mercedes. Bad punk music blares from the speaker and I try to remember what about those notes made me swoon.

“My heart is racing,” Rachel whispers.

“It’s okay,” I murmur. Her hand finds mine and we squeeze each other hard.

I kick off my sneakers and walk to the beach where I told him to meet me. With every step, I try to stand taller, stronger, more like Rachel—or Shaila. I shake inside my fleece. Not from fright, though. From rage. Pure, searing rage coiled inside me like a snake. I’m ready to let it out.

When I get to my mark, I turn to the ocean. It’s one big black roiling mess, crashing with impatience. Foam peaks glisten in the distance. They provide the only other light aside from the moon and the stars. How can something this violent be my home?

“Here you are,” Adam says. He gives me that stupid dimpled grin and opens his arms for a hug.

I want to unleash something wretched but instead I walk into his arms and let him rest his head on mine, like we’ve done hundreds of times before. “You made it,” I say.

“So mysterious, Newman.”

I let him go and step back. I want to see his face head-on when he has to tell the truth for once. I need to catch everything he says, or none of this will work.

“Look, Adam,” I say sweetly. “This isn’t easy to say, but I need to talk to you about something.”

He raises his eyebrows and rests his hands on his hips. “What’s up?”

I take a deep breath and begin, just like we practiced. “I know about you and Shaila.” I try to look sad, like I’m heartbroken and hurt, not seething beneath my skin.

“What do you mean?” he asks softly. His smile fades and his dimple disappears.

“I know that you two were . . . you know.” I can’t bring myself to say it.

“Huh,” he says. “I don’t know what you mean.”

I shake my head and meet his eyes. “She wrote letters.”

Adam’s voice becomes a whisper. “What?”

I nod and purse my lips. “About cheating on Graham. About everything. About you.” I hold my breath and wait for him to speak next. I need to exaggerate, to pretend like I’m so sure of these facts my brain will explode.

“Well,” Adam says. He runs a hand through his hair and shifts from foot to foot. “We both know she was a little out there, though, right? I’m sure she blew things out of proportion.”

“Maybe.” I turn away to the sea, hoping I look miffed, jealous.

“What did she say?” Adam asks. His curiosity betrays him.

“That she was in love with someone who wasn’t Graham. That it would tear the Players apart. That it was you.” I bite my lip and hope he believes me.

Adam tilts his head up to the sky and closes his eyes. “I made a mistake.” My stomach ties itself into knots and Adam lowers his gaze to the waves. “You’re not, like, mad, are you?” he asks. “That was years ago. She’s not even . . .” Adam trails off and steps closer to me, just like I planned. “You and I have something special, something different, you know. It’s always been you and me.”

The words I’d always wanted to hear, now coated in a thick greasy sheen. I want to toss them into the Atlantic and watch them drown.

“Next year, we’ll finally be together. We can do all the things you wanted,” he continues.

I shake my head. “I don’t think so, Adam. Everything is different now.”

“What?” His eyebrows shoot up. I don’t say anything. My stomach flips. “Is this about Graham? All that bullshit about being innocent?” His eyes narrow and he stabs a finger at me, like I’m in trouble, like I betrayed him, which I guess I did. “You don’t really believe him, do you?”