The Queen of Bright and Shiny Things(58)

I get out my phone and send, im ready to talk.

A few minutes later, he replies. We ok?

Yep. I forgive you.

I don’t know if that’s enough to patch the rips in our friendship but it feels like a beginning. That night, I fall asleep feeling pretty good, and there are no bad dreams.





CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Dinner with Lila’s family goes well, though I’ve never seen so many chicken-fried foods in my life. Mrs. Tremaine seems to think that if she fries it enough, it’s not meat anymore. But the mashed potatoes are delicious and I rearrange the beef on my plate enough to make it look like I’m enjoying it. If Lila told her I’m a vegetarian, she doesn’t care, and that’s a Midwestern attitude. People seem to think if they offer meat often enough, you’ll be seduced by your salivary glands or something.

“So, Sage,” Mr. Tremaine asks. “What does your future look like? It’s never too soon to start planning.” He aims a pointed look at Lila, who sighs.

“There’s a college in Maine that looks right for me.”

“What do you plan to study?” Mrs. Tremaine asks.

“Adventure-based education.”

I can see they have no idea what I’m talking about, so I try to explain, and now Mr. Tremaine is frowning. “That sounds like you want to be a camp counselor.”

“Dad,” Lila protests.

“It’s okay.” For the rest of the meal, I clarify the difference—and about how we can change the world if people are taught young about conservation, green practices, and natural resources when they’re young.

Mr. Tremaine gives a grudging nod. “That’s true. If there had been a program like that at school when we were growing up, it wouldn’t have taken us so long to start recycling.”

“Exactly.”

When we ask to be excused and I follow Lila to her room, she’s looking at me like I’m magical. “I’ve never gotten my dad to see my point of view on anything.”

“Did you really try, or did you stomp off when he failed to get it the first time?”

“Shut up,” she mutters.

We work on homework—and gossip—until eight, then I cover myself in reflective tape. She shakes her head at me. “There’s no way I’d be seen like that, dude. I’d just get in a car even if it violated all my principles.”

I ignore that. “Night. Thanks for having me over.”

“You already said nice things to my parents. It’s cool.”

She stands in the doorway, watching until I turn the corner. It’s not a long way from her house, but I’m nervous, mostly because I’m keeping an eye out for Dylan’s truck. When I ride onto our gravel drive, my heart is racing. I hate that I’ve let him make me feel this way; I remember what it’s like to live with fear constantly gnawing at you, and I refuse to go back. After stowing my bike in the shed, I slide in the back door. Thoughtfully, my aunt has left a snack on a plate for me.

I carry it into the living room, where she’s watching a movie on DVD. “Have fun?”

“Yeah, it was fine. Lila’s mom doesn’t cook as well as you, though.”

Aunt Gabby grins. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“How are things going with Joe?”


“Really well,” she answers, both surprised and cautious. “He’s a great guy. Funny. Quirky.”

“Quirky how?”

“Well … he’s a huge Star Trek fan. Not the original, The Next Generation. Apparently he has a Star Fleet uniform that he wears to sci-fi conventions.”

“Really?” I have no idea why, but I’m startled to learn this. Joe is a fairly big guy, good build, and he looks somewhat athletic. Plus, he drives a silver Ford. In other words, he’s a pretty standard manly man, and I’m delighted to find out he’s a secret geek.

“Yep. I told him I’ll go to Indy with him this summer for GenCon.”

Whoa. If she’s willing to make plans ten months out, things must be going extremely well. “I haven’t talked to him that much, but I like him.”

“He holds up to closer scrutiny,” she says, then she laughs, because she seems to realize how suggestive that sounds.

We talk a little more about Joe, then she asks, “How’re you doing with Shane?”

“Good. We’ve had a few hiccups, but nothing serious.”

“I’d be surprised if you didn’t.” There’s no way to be sure what she means, whether she’s talking about my past or the fact that I haven’t dated much.

I lean toward the latter because Aunt Gabby tends not to rock the boat, where my dark side is concerned. She figures if the therapist said I had talked it all out, then it’s counterproductive to dredge it up again. I’m so grateful for that. It doesn’t help to have it on my mind constantly. I’m coping. Time is supposed to make things easier, so I just need to breathe and wait.

“He’s wonderful,” I say softly.

That word doesn’t begin to encompass him. I eat the cheese, crackers, and fruit while she tells me about the weekend Joe has planned. “He wants to take me to Chicago, get tickets for the theater, but I’m not sure—”

“If you should leave me for that long?” I can practically read her mind.