Famous in a Small Town(49)
“Look, I know you care about everybody but maybe don’t extend it to that jaghole,” he continued, until I looked back at him, and his brow softened immediately with something like confusion.
“What are you doing?” he said.
“We have to find the phone,” I replied, trying to suppress the waver in my voice.
“We’re just—arguing.” He shook his head minutely. “We’re just saying stupid stuff like people do. Right?” He stepped toward me. “Because I’m … because I suck, and you said the jail thing, and that was … pretty accurate, and I just … I …”
“We have to find the phone,” I repeated, scanning the ground, gone blurry with tears.
When I glanced up again, he was still looking at me, face thrown in relief in the light from the nearby telephone pole. After a moment, he nodded.
“Yeah, okay.”
* * *
We found the phone. Scattered in pieces along the side of the road.
We both stood and stared down at it, like we were looking into an open grave. August had his hands in his pockets.
“Well,” he said.
I shook my head. The tears had dried up. Mostly I just felt … empty.
“It’s fine. It’s whatever.”
“You were right. I shouldn’t have taken it.”
“I don’t feel like you actually even think that.”
“I mean, I definitely think he’s an asshole who deserves to have his phone crushed into a million pieces. But. I feel bad.”
“No, you don’t.”
His voice was soft. “I feel bad that you feel bad. I don’t … ever want to do anything that makes you feel bad.”
I laughed. It was brittle.
“What?”
“Nothing.” I shrugged. “Just. You’re so full of shit you don’t even realize how full of shit you are.”
“What do you mean?”
“Why did you kiss me?”
“I didn’t.”
“Fine. We kissed each other. But still.”
“We didn’t. It didn’t happen, remember?”
“August, I swear—”
“It was for research.”
“It wasn’t.” I couldn’t help the break in my voice. “Don’t bullshit me, okay? Just be serious for like one second.”
“Because I wanted to,” he replied. “Because I couldn’t not.”
“Then why did you leave?” I blinked hard, willing more tears away. “I felt … really bad. I felt like an idiot, and you just … you didn’t even care.”
“It’s not—” He shook his head. “I did. I do.” When I met his gaze, there was something pleading in his expression. “You’re … my best friend, Sophie.”
I didn’t speak.
“You’re my best friend, and nothing here is gonna last.”
“What do you mean?”
He looked away, and when he spoke, it was halting: “I can’t stay here. With Kyle and Heather. I can’t stay.”
“What? Why?”
He just shook his head again.
“August.”
“You know I never even met Kyle until everything with my mom? But he and Heather have given me a place to stay, and food, and clothes, and it’s … They’re so kind, but they’ve got Cady and Harper and I won’t be a burden to them. They don’t owe me anything. So … as soon as I turn eighteen, I’m going to leave. That was … that’s been my plan from the start.”
The information slotted into place. “They won’t … It’s not like they’d kick you out. They would never do that.”
“Yeah because they’re too nice. They’re good people. So I’m gonna make it easy on them.” It was quiet for a moment. “And that’s … that’s why I can’t join the band, I can’t make plans for the fall, I can’t … be a boyfriend, or … anything, and I’m sorry, I wish—” He swallowed. “I wish I could. Like, I really do. You have no idea how much.”
“You just want to leave here and be totally on your own?”
“No, but … it’ll be for the best—”
“You don’t want anyone looking out for you?”
“I would, but—”
“You don’t want to finish school?”
“I do. But—”
“But what? Your plan is stupid. You’re part of their family. You’re already—you won’t stop meaning something to—to us, just because you think you’re temporary—”
He didn’t reply. Just stood there, and after a moment, knelt down and picked through a couple of pieces of the phone rubble.
“I’ll get a new phone and mail it to him,” he said quietly. “Or maybe not a new one, but … some refurbished shit online or something. We’ll get his address from Brit, she obviously knew how to track him down.” He straightened up and looked back at the car. “I would never mess with her.”
“I’ve never seen her like this,” I murmured, but that was a lie. I had.