The Accidentals(89)



“No kidding, you think?” His eyes are shining now. “When I lie awake at night, it’s her I feel bad for. You—I’ve got years to make it up to you. But I can’t imagine her final months. If I’d been in the picture even a little bit, I could have put her mind at ease.”

He wipes his eyes with his fingers. “There was only one time when I almost did the right thing. It was five or six years ago.”

Frederick doesn’t look me in the eye, and I feel a pit in my stomach. Maybe I don’t want to hear what he’s about to say.

“It was the only time she asked me for something. I got a note in my P.O. box, asking for two tickets to an Orlando concert.”

My heart begins to ricochet.

Two tears track onto his famous cheekbones. “I took two tickets, and I put them in an envelope on my desk.” He wipes his face on the sleeve of his shirt. “And then I started to talk myself out of it.”

I press my hands to my mouth, trying not to choke on my tears.

“I knew I couldn’t just send them and not see you. So I told myself that it was all too complicated—it was a big tour, all big venues, lots of industry people. I had to stay sharp…” His voice breaks. “I didn’t send them. I’m so sorry.”

I fold over and cry, because if he’d sent them it would have made all the difference in the world. And my mom! I had begged for those tickets, and she had said no. But then she’d swallowed her pride and asked anyway. And she’d been rebuffed.

He gets up off the floor and comes over to where I’m sitting. He pulls my damp face to his shirt. “I’m so sorry, honey. It was a terrible thing.”

“I’m still so angry,” I choke out. Finally, I’ve said so. I’ve said it with snot running out of my nose. But I’ve said it out loud.

“I know,” he says. “I know you are. And I can take it. I’m not going anywhere.” I cry, and he holds on tight.





CODA





CODA: (Italian “tail”) An ending section which brings the composition to a close.





Chapter Thirty-One





“I really don’t see why they do this on April Fool’s Day,” Jake grumbles. “That’s just mean.”

We sit on the S.L.O. together, my legs across his lap. It’s college acceptance day, and we’ve agreed to look at the Claiborne College website at the same time. Jake is all stressed out.

“Can I look at yours for you? Would that make it easier?”

Wordlessly, he passes me his laptop. The password is already typed in. He’s just reluctant to peek.

But I’m dying to find out if he’s gotten in. He wants it so badly. I press the button.

Six seconds later the screen lights up in green. CONGRATULATIONS JAKE WILLIS! WELCOME TO THE FRESHMAN CLASS.

I must have squealed, because his face breaks with disbelief. Then he grabs me by the hips and into his lap, so he can see too. “Damn. This better not be an April Fool’s joke.” His grin is enormous.

“Congratulations,” I say, hugging him.

“Now we have to look at yours.”

Right. “If you say so. Can’t we just bask in the glow of your victory for a while?”

Jake swaps our laptops, putting one on the coffee table and lifting the other one. “Go on.”

I follow the link from the email and tap in my user name, all the while telling myself it will be okay if I’m rejected. Jake wants it more. His parents are professors there. And I’ve already been accepted to a good school in California.

But, God, please.

My fingers shake as I click the button on the screen.

It turns green, and Jake lets out a whoop of joy.

“Wow,” I breathe. “I’m in.”

“You so are!” He wraps his arms around me and kisses me.

I lean in, but my brain is going a hundred miles an hour. “Can’t believe it,” I murmur against his lips. Next year just got even better. Jake and I will be together.

“Mmm,” he agrees, his tongue stroking mine. Then he pulls back. “If you’re staying in Claiborne for the summer,” Jake says, “I can drive up to see you.” Jake is working another season at the clam shack on Cape Cod.

“That sounds like fun. But if you’re working at the beach, it should be me who visits you. Except I don’t have a car. Maybe I can borrow one.”

“Awesome,” he says, kissing me again.

The door bangs open and Aurora walks in. “Sorry,” she mumbles.

Jake and I break apart. “Hi, Aurora,” he says with laughing eyes. Lately, we are never alone.

“We both got into Claiborne,” I say by way of explanation. “Just now.”

“Congratulations,” she says, her voice softer. Aurora isn’t applying to colleges this year. Her dad thinks she needs a PG year at Claiborne to shore up her résumé. “You must be so happy.”

“Yeah.” I squint at her. She isn’t happy, and hasn’t been for a little while.

“You should come to the beach this summer with Rachel,” Jake says, trying to include her.

She sits heavily on the window seat. Lately, she’s spent a lot of time there, staring out the window and drowning in her teacup.

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