One Small Thing(40)

Actually, no. My one small thing today is going to be apologizing to Chase. That’s going to make me feel better.

At my front door, I take a deep breath and start thinking of excuses. I’m going for a long walk. Like a really long, two-hour walk. I have a study group with... Not with Scarlett. I don’t want to use her. I don’t want to use anyone.

I walk into the house. It feels empty. “Mom?”

No one responds.

I wander through each room. “Mom? Dad?” My heart rate picks up. It’s eerily silent in here. I quicken my pace. In the kitchen, I find a note on the counter.

Dad has to make a special delivery of lumber to Prairie Hill tonight. He won’t be home until eight p.m. I’m heading back to the office to handle a work emergency. Back around seven thirty. We’re trusting you to stay inside.

I crumple the paper.

Good. I don’t need an excuse. I check the clock. It’s nearing four. I have four hours to get across town to the mayor’s house, which is five miles away. I should be able to make that in an hour. I run upstairs and change into a T-shirt, shorts and running shoes.

I’m going for a run, I jot on a new piece of paper, just in case one of my parents comes home earlier than scheduled. Be back soon.

This probably falls outside of my list of approved activities, but I’m not in prison, am I?





17

The mayor lives on a sprawling estate in Grove Heights, Darling’s richest neighborhood. The streets here are wide and lined with majestic oaks. All the driveways are set super far back from the road, and every house is considered a mansion. Jeff’s family lives only a couple of blocks away, so I make sure to avoid their street as I slow from a run to a jog.

I’m out of breath and red faced as I trot up the long, tree-lined drive. I thought I was in better shape than this, but I started feeling out of breath thirty minutes into my run. I make a mental note to use our treadmill more often.

The house has a pillared entrance and a huge wraparound porch. I’m nervous as I ring the bell, because what if Chase’s mom or the mayor answer the door? I don’t think either of them would recognize me as Rachel Jones’s little sister, but if I introduce myself with my real name, there’s a huge chance they’ll contact my parents.

My worst fear comes true when the door swings open to reveal a woman who can only be Chase’s mom. Her hair is the same shade of blond as his, and they have the exact same eyes, a dark, vivid blue.

“Hello there.” Her words are nice enough, but there’s wariness in her voice. She takes in my running gear and the disheveled hair that’s come loose from my ponytail.

“Hi. Um. Mrs. Donnelly?”

Her gaze instantly cools. “It’s Mrs. Stanton,” she corrects.

Right. Of course she took Mayor Stanton’s name after they got married. Already I’m off to a bad start.

“I’m...Katie,” I lie. “A friend of your son’s. I’m in his Music History class at school.”

Her eyebrows soar to her forehead.

I hurry on. “I lent him some, um, notes and he forgot to give them back to me earlier. So I came by to pick them up. Is he home?”

“Charlie?” she says.

Does she have another son I don’t know about? And why is she staring at me like my nose has grown two sizes? My face heats up, because obviously she knows I’m lying about who I am and why I’m here.

“Y-yes,” I stammer.

“You’re a friend of my son’s,” she says slowly. “From school.”

It takes me a second to realize that she’s amazed, not suspicious. Those blue eyes do a careful sweep of me from head to toe. She blinks a few times. It’s like she can’t believe there’s actually someone, on her porch, who wants to see Chase.

Without another word, she pivots and calls, “Charlie! You have a visitor!”

Footsteps sound from the interior of the house, and then Chase appears. When he spots me, he does a double take.

I see his surprised mouth forming my name. “B—”

But his mother, fortunately, cuts him off. “Your friend Katie is here to pick up some notes?”

A wry glint lights his eyes. “Katie,” he says, sounding resigned. “Hey.”

“Hey,” I answer. I shift from one foot to the other. “Um, yeah... I came by for those Music History notes I gave you.”

Another nod. “Yup. Got them in my room.”

“Come in,” Mrs. Stanton urges, and her tone is far more gracious than when she first opened the front door. “Would you like something to drink?”

“No, thank you. I won’t be long. Just gotta get...those notes,” I say lamely.

“This way,” Chase mutters, gesturing for me to follow him.

“Are you sure I can’t bring you down any snacks?” his mother calls after us.

“We’re fine, Mom.”

I wince at his sharp tone. I kinda feel bad for his mom. From the way he described her in the library earlier—the excuses she made to her wedding guests about her son’s whereabouts—he made her sound a bit crappy. But she seems decent. Yes, she was cold at first, but once she realized I was a friend of Chase’s, she instantly warmed up. She was so...eager for him to have a friend.

I give Mrs. Stanton a grateful smile and wave but keep following Chase. I’m startled when he bypasses the spiral staircase in the foyer and walks right past it. I thought he said we were going to his room.