Little Do We Know(75)

“That’s why you said yes to Admissions Night.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s why you’re doing these interviews.”

“I think it’s the only thing keeping me sane right now.”

I resisted the urge to tell him I thought he might have PTSD, and that was totally okay and understandable, and that I’d help him find someone he could talk to—a real doctor, not Hannah’s dad. “And talking about it helps.”

“For some reason, it does.”

He made it sound like I was supposed to run screaming once he admitted everything, but none of it changed how I felt about him. Not even a little bit.

“I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve watched the video you made,” I said. “I taped every interview you’ve done this week, and I’ve watched each one, multiple times. And I can tell you one thing I’m certain about: I’m as in love with that guy as I was with Foothill High’s star midfielder. Nothing’s changed.”

I could tell he was smiling, even though I couldn’t see his face.

“It is called a midfielder, right?” I asked.

“Yeah.” He laughed under his breath.

“Good.”

“I should have told you sooner,” he said.

“I should have let you.”





It was still dark when I stepped out of the hotel doors, and downtown Los Angeles was unusually quiet and still. I pulled one foot to my hip and stretched, and then switched legs to loosen up the other one. I shook out my hands, rocked my head from side to side, and then I took off running.

My music was loud in my ears, and I synchronized my footsteps in time with the beat. It felt good to race past unfamiliar buildings and turn down new streets. I had no idea where I was going, and I didn’t care. I was happy to be outside and alone, feeling my soles on the cement, pumping my arms, widening my stride.

I hadn’t quite hit the three-mile mark when I spotted a small park. I took a sharp left and followed the path around the baseball diamond and swings, looking for a rock that could substitute for the one back home. I didn’t see one.

I circled around toward a tall wooden slide near the park entrance. When I reached it, I stood there, staring up, feeling the sweat on the back of my neck. It looked peaceful at the top, so I climbed the ladder and looked around. I was alone and I felt safe, hidden by the wooden slats, so I sat and folded my legs in front of me.

I killed the music, took out my earbuds, and set the timer on my phone for ten minutes. I tucked my chin to my chest. I closed my eyes and let the sounds of chirping birds and passing cars drift in and out of my mind.



Luke was all buzzy when I found him in the lobby an hour later.

“I take it you and Emory talked?” I asked.

“Until three in the morning.” He blew out a breath full of nervous energy and gestured toward the café. “Let’s get a coffee while we wait for the cab.”

I laughed. “You do not need one.”

“Whatever.” He walked off, talking as he went, and I followed him, trying to keep up with his words and his steps. “We talked about everything. What happened to me. What I’ve been dealing with. She asked me questions and let me babble, and…I told her things I hadn’t told anyone. Things I hadn’t really even admitted to myself.”

“That’s great,” I said. It made me a little sad to think there were things he hadn’t told me, but I knew deep down that was unfair.

“I can’t wait to do this interview, get home, and get back to real life.”

I wasn’t exactly sure what real life looked like anymore. I hadn’t spoken to Aaron in two days. I was keeping my responses to Alyssa’s messages as short as possible. I was only responding to my dad when he texted me about logistics. And I had no idea what my mom thought of any of this, because I was avoiding her phone calls completely.

“She’s upset about me missing the play tonight,” Luke said. “She’s upset that you’re missing it, too.”

Maybe I wasn’t supposed to see that as good news, but I did. After all we’d been through, I didn’t think she’d care if I was there or not. The fact that she did gave me hope.

Luke stepped up to the counter. He studied the chalkboard menu on the back wall but kept talking to me. “And she’s upset that David’s going to be there. God, she hates that guy. I don’t get it. He’s always been nice to me.”

My stomach dropped. Luke didn’t understand why she hated him so much, but I did. I understood completely. I pictured Emory standing onstage in her costume, peering out into the first row and seeing him sitting there.

“Want anything?” Luke asked, pointing up at the menu.

I think I shook my head. I must have, because I heard Luke’s voice, ordering a coffee and a bagel. Just the mention of food made my stomach turn.

She had to perform in front of him. I had no idea how she was going to do that. And then I realized she’d been performing in front of him, and in front of her mom, every second of every day since last December. She’d been performing as she and her mom shopped for dresses and planned seating assignments and decided on flower arrangements and addressed invitations. She had to be prepared to perform every morning as she walked to the kitchen, just in case he’d spent the night. She acted her way through every meal with him. I had no idea how she’d done it. But she had.