One Small Thing(75)

“He hates me,” Chase says flatly. “Everyone in Darling hates me, Beth.”

“Then everyone in Darling needs a lesson in forgiveness,” I shoot back. “The accident is in the past. You should be able to walk around with your head held high, Chase. You paid for your mistakes. Don’t let them judge you.”

To my surprise, he laughs. A dark, humorless laugh.

I frown deeply at him. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. Nothing is funny.” He shoves strands of hair off his forehead. “But it’s kind of ironic that you’re telling me to not let people judge me when that’s exactly what you do.”

My jaw drops. “That’s not true.”

“Of course it is. You claim you forgive me, but I don’t see you telling anyone we’re seeing each other. Your friends don’t know. Your parents don’t know, though now they probably have an idea we might be.” He offers a shrug. “At school, you act like we’re strangers.”

Frustration courses through me. “Because that’s the way you want it!” I argue. “You’re constantly giving me signals—or telling me outright—to stay away from you at school.”

“I’m not blaming you for that. Not at all,” he says gently. “But don’t talk to me about the past being in the past, and me needing to walk around with my head held high, when you’re just as afraid as I am of being judged. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be keeping our relationship a secret.”

I’m taken aback. Crap. He’s right. I am afraid of what people will say.

That’s why I’ve been meeting Chase in secret for the past few weeks. That’s why I don’t talk to him in any of the classes we share. I tell myself that it’s because he wants to lie low at school. And whenever he gives me a shake of the head or a look that says, Don’t stand up for me, I grab onto those opportunities like they’re life preservers and I’m drowning at sea. The one time I stood up for him, after the fire alarm incident, everyone looked at me like I was psychotic, even my closest friends, and I immediately went back to pretending we’re strangers.

Chase gives me the easy way out at school, and I take it. Every damn time.

“I don’t blame you for that,” he repeats, because obviously my shame is oozing from my every pore. “I understand why you can’t be seen with me in public. Why you can’t tell people about us. But...”

My heart clenches as I wait for him to finish. I know I won’t like what he has to say. I know it’s going to hurt me really, really bad.

I’m not wrong.

“But...” His blue eyes seek mine in the darkness. “That’s why it’ll never work out with us.”





30

The rest of the weekend is pure and utter misery.

When I stumble home three hours after escaping through my bedroom window, my parents are there to pounce on me. I don’t remember much of what they say or threaten me with. I’m not listening to them because my head is still back at Jack’s house. Back with Chase, who told me we’re not going to work out.

He didn’t break up with me. I specifically asked if that was the case. It wasn’t.

He just doesn’t see a future for us.

“It’s impossible” were the parting words I got before he deposited me into an Uber that he paid for. And those two words run through my mind like a broken record as I sit in the living room and receive the lecture of all lectures from my parents.

They know I wasn’t at Scarlett’s or with any of my other friends. Fortunately, they also know I wasn’t at Chase’s. Unfortunately, they know this because my dad stormed over there, demanding to know where his daughter was. Apparently Chase’s mother was terrified by Dad’s outburst. The mayor threatened to have him arrested, and Mom had to drag Dad to the car.

I, of course, am blamed for all of this—total bullshit. Just because I went AWOL doesn’t mean Dad had to show up at the mayor’s house and yell like a madman.

On Sunday, I’m not allowed to leave the house, not even to go to the shelter. Dad calls in sick for me, which gives me a sliver of hope because at least he didn’t outright quit on my behalf again. That means there’s a chance I’ll be allowed to go back next weekend.

When Monday morning comes, I’ve never been more excited for school. My parents took my phone again, so if Chase texted me during the rest of the weekend, I have no clue. But I intend on intercepting him at his locker before AP Calc and demanding to know what he plans to do about our relationship.

I don’t get the chance. When I near the senior locker bank, Macy races over to me before I can look for Chase.

“Everyone is saying you hooked up with Charlie this weekend!” is her opening statement. Her eyes are cloudy, but I can’t tell if she’s jealous or disappointed. “Is that true?”

“Of course not,” I lie and then cringe when I remember Chase’s gentle accusation that I keep our relationship a secret from everyone.

“Then why are people saying it?” Macy demands, hands on her hips.

“Because people are stupid,” I mutter under my breath.

“Scar and Yvonne aren’t stupid and they’re the ones saying it.” Her tone grows increasingly haughty. “Scar says your parents called her house this weekend looking for you, because you said you were going there, but really you were secretly meeting Charlie. She’s pissed at you.”