Famous in a Small Town(42)

“Is it? Is it really? Do you really love having to drive forty minutes just to get to Walmart? Do you super love the isolation? Screw that, do you love how small-minded and racist people can be sometimes?”

“There isn’t racism in Acadia.”

“Sophie.” Brit gave a harsh bark of a laugh. “Fuck. Just because you’ve never experienced something doesn’t mean it’s not happening.”

I blinked.

“All that being said, I gotta wonder, how can you know it’s the best place in the world when you’ve never even been anywhere?”

“I’ve been places,” I said.

She kept right on going. “Look, I know how it’s gonna go. You’re gonna go to school as close as you can, and when you’re finished, you’ll move back and get a job and live here for the rest of your life and die and be buried at Oak Hill cemetery and fertilize the very earth of the town you love so much. But not everyone wants that, Soph, not everyone is happy being mediocre. Just look at Ciara. She wanted to get out.”

I didn’t speak.

“Brit,” Flora said softly, at the same time August said: “You’re wrong.”

Brit didn’t look his way, but instead blinked at me slowly, and then shook her head. “I didn’t mean—”

“You’re wrong,” August repeated, and turned to me. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting that. It’s not mediocre.”

I nodded. “I, uh.” I gestured backward, like that could convey I’m going to the restroom. Then I left.



* * *



Sometimes you just can’t help but think of the bad things. Sometimes something sparks it, like kindling, and suddenly they catch, one igniting another, random and unavoidable.

I thought about being four and losing the seashell I had brought to school for show-and-tell, the one my mom had lent me. I thought about being eight and Brit daring me to sneak a peek at the dead deer in Mr. Cabot’s garage, hanging from a beam wrapped in a sheet, blood flowing down the driveway. I thought about Ciara’s voice at the other end of the line: I just … I know it sucks, but I just don’t think I’m gonna make it back this summer. I think it’s better if I stay put.

But you said—

Sophie—

You said that we’d spend the summer together!

It was the only way I could bear the idea of her leaving. She promised that she’d be back and we’d do all our favorite things, that come summer it would be like nothing had changed.

I’m making more money here, I can save more, and my roommates need— Ciara!

—and Ravi—

You said!

I’m sorry.

I squeezed my eyes shut and listed my schools in my mind. Community colleges. State schools. Private universities.

Likelihood of acceptance. Likelihood of financial aid.

Distance from Acadia.

August was standing in the hall when I emerged from the bathroom.

“Everything okay?” he said.

“Never been better.”

He smiled a little, tentatively. “Yeah?”

I smiled too, because what else was there to do? Cry? What would that accomplish? I’d feel some kind of release maybe. August would just feel awkward.

“Yeah,” I said. “This is the peak of human existence right here.”

“Right here in this hallway.”

“Right here, in this hallway, at the best party currently happening on planet Earth.”

“Is it?”

“You didn’t know?”

His smile slipped a little. Maybe mine wasn’t as convincing as I thought.

“You sure you’re okay?”

I shrugged. “Brit’s just drunk.”

“That’s not an excuse to be a dick.”

“She just says shit sometimes. She doesn’t mean any harm.”

“That’s not an excuse either, if what you’re saying still hurts people.”

I looked off down the hall. I didn’t know what to say to that.

He took a step closer. “Sophie …”

I met his eyes. He looked so serious. It drew a real smile from me this time, small but genuine nonetheless. “August.”

He was regarding me closely, a complicated look in his eyes. “You have something on your face,” he said finally, and I touched my fingers to my mouth, but he shook his head. He moved closer and reached out a hand, resting his fingertips lightly against the side of my face, looking intently as he brushed his thumb against my cheek.

“Did you get it?” I murmured.

“I might have made it up,” he murmured back. “Sorry.”

I huffed a laugh. “At least you’re honest.” My voice was hushed, even though we were all alone, even though there was no one around to listen. “Or. Half honest.” I swallowed, and my gaze dropped to his lips. “You know … you have something on your mouth.”

His smile was the last thing I saw before my eyes slipped shut.

It wasn’t like that first kiss, the first of many on the blanket in the field. Just for research, okay? and then a switch flipped from Decidedly Not Kissing to Enthusiastically Making Out. I couldn’t catalog the start and finish of the first one, because it ran so fluidly into the second and the third and the fourth.