Open Road Summer(73)

“Expecting a troll?”

She laughs. “No. I don’t know what I was expecting, based on what Matt’s told me about you.”

I shrug. I will not ask what he’s told her, even though I’m nauseated with curiosity. From onstage, the next song begins, sweet and slow.

“Ah, there it is. Your song.”

She looks startled. “He told you that?”

“Sure.” As in: Sure, he told me. He tells me all kinds of things.

“Oh.” She bites at the corner of her lovely pout. Her lips are not very wide, but they’re full, perfect for making lipstick imprints. “Sorry if that’s awkward . . .”

“Of course not. Everyone has a past—people they used to love. Matt’s are just . . . better-documented than mine.”

Her lips purse at the words “used to love.” Good. I wish this banter would stop. I also wish she would stop looking at Matt like he’s a puppy under the Christmas tree, like he’s the most unbelievably delightful thing that has ever shown up in her life. But then her eyes move to the front row, which is comprised of all girls, as usual. “It must drive you crazy, all those girls.”

“Not really. I’m not insecure.” Just territorial.

“I’m sure you’re not.” I swear—I catch her eyeing my chest. Bitch. There’s a part of me that wants to find Dee and tell her I was right about this girl—Matt’s gone, and she unsheathed her claws.

“And I trust him.” I’d never really thought about it until now, but I do trust Matt—as much as I trust anyone I’ve known for a few weeks, I mean.

“That’s good.” Her smile at me is like a flickering fluorescent light. When she smiles at Matt, it’s a sunrise. “Are you guys exclusive now? He hadn’t mentioned it.”

Of course we are. Matt didn’t doggedly pursue me for half the summer so that I could be one of many. But I look at her like that comment is completely beneath me. “I’m not really the type of girl who insists on defining a relationship.”

“Hmm.” She’s not even trying to disguise her judgmental expression. “That’s good for him right now—something casual. He’s got a lot going on.”

“His mom. I know.” That’s right; I know he’s still hurting. And I would never contribute to it.

She sighs. “She was really wonderful. It’s still hard on everybody.”

Even though we’re chatting, we’re both facing the stage, watching Matt with arms crossed. “He told me that your moms were best friends.”

“Yeah.” She’s in flats, but my tall shoes make me eye-level with her, perfect for staring contests. “Matt’s family moved to our neighborhood in Chicago when we were in preschool. I can’t even imagine going home for Christmas without her. She was like my second mom.”

“Yeah. Matt said that you were like a sister to him, so I got the impression that your families are close.”

Her eyes cloud over at the idea that she and Matt are related. “We are.”

“It must be hard to be so far away. Why did you decide on Ohio for college?”

“It’s where my boyfriend was going. Ex-boyfriend.” She closes her eyes for a brief moment, withholding a full-blown wince. “You don’t have to say it—I know it was stupid.”

Yep. “Nah.”

Her tone becomes defensive, like she can sense my lie. “Well, I love Columbus, and I have my own friends there. So it’s not like I’ll transfer schools because we broke up.”

“That’s good. Do you think you’ll get back together?”

Her arms tighten. “I don’t know. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of getting me back. Besides, he was always really jealous of Matt, which was annoying.”

Enough of this little heart-to-heart. “Well, guys are jerks.”

The lights of the stage reflect back in her eyes as she watches on. “Matt’s not.”

Touché.

Dee never shows up to watch Matt’s set, and I don’t know why I’m surprised. I leave the wings before Matt’s finished, moving into an area of the crowd that I know Dee can’t see because of the lights. Even the fans’ relentless noise doesn’t drone out the words ricocheting around my mind: stay in high school to babysit you, use my tour to find a new boyfriend. Did she mean those things? I didn’t mean what I accused her of—of not understanding real pain, of abandoning me, of using me like an assistant. What kind of sociopath says those things to her best friend?

By the time Dee makes her entrance, I feel ill. The girls next to me lose all concept of personal space, sideswiping me as they jump up and down, screaming. Her shows are timed exactly, but this one feels a hundred times longer than any other as I simmer inside my guilt and the deafening crowd.

Just when I’m thinking that this night can’t get any worse, Dee starts into the last song before the finale: “Open Road Summer.” Everyone around me sing-yells the lyrics, and I wince as my name is among them.

“Riding top down with Reagan beneath the summer sky, and I swear this car could almost fly,” Dee sings. “School’s back in September, but we’ll always remem . . .”

That’s not what the crowd is singing.