The Queen of Bright and Shiny Things(91)

This is the lesson I learned from Cassie. Don’t give up. Don’t let people tell you no. She looks so quiet and timid, but deep down, she’s fierce. I understand why Ryan fell in love with her and not me. Because last year, before Shane, I was afraid of everything.

Even myself.

Especially myself.

When I hug Henry Cavendish, he goes rigid, like this is unspeakable, kind of like Shane did that first time. And I wonder if it’s been since Jude died for Mr. Cavendish, too. Jude must’ve been a wonderland of music and magic to leave such a hole in her men when she went. Eventually, he hugs me back, and I can feel his hands shaking. He’s so thin.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

He draws back, eyes dark and weary. His face is a mask of grief, new lines written on the ones that came from smiling. “I can’t promise anything. Shane probably hates me, and he’s right to. I don’t know if he’ll agree to live with me, even to come back here. But … I’m trying.”

“That’s all anyone can do.”

Before I can get myself together enough to ask for Shane’s contact info, his dad’s gone, driving his sputtering car away and down the road. Lila and Ryan surround me then, both talking at once. I’m kicking myself; that was so sudden, so fast, that I didn’t find out anything I really need to know. I wonder if he’s staying at the trailer? Probably not, Shane’s two hours away. I fill the others in on the latest while I make popcorn.

Lila seems excited. “That’s great news. Shane could be home soon!”

But honestly, I feel better about this for Shane than for me, because it means his dad’s finally waking up from a long sleep. He cares enough to fight. I believe Shane will be back, maybe not until July, but I don’t think he’d leave me forever without saying good-bye. Whatever it is, there’s a reason for his silence. I remember how he said that while he can’t promise we’ll be always together, he wants me in his life. He promised me silly texts and video chats, and I believe in him.

I believe.

And so while Ryan is goofing with Lila, I picture Shane’s face and smile.





CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Prom is in three weeks.

At the start of the year, it never occurred to me that I might go. Then, after I got together with Shane, I pictured myself in a pretty dress and him in a tuxedo. Even in my head, my weirdness about cars made it a little complicated to imagine how we’d get there because it seems unlikely that biking would work in formal wear. I walk past the girls selling tickets at the table; it’s decorated in keeping with this year’s theme, which is Sparkle and Shine. This means they’ve papered it and covered that with glitter and hung silver ribbons that flutter when people pass by.

“You should buy some tickets,” Lila says.

“Why?”

“So you can go with Ryan and me.”

“You’re going to prom with him?” This surprises me.

“Not like that.” But from her expression, maybe she wishes that was the case.

“Lila, do you like Ryan?”

“We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you. And every girl should put on a pretty dress, so she can dance in the gym.”

I smile. “You present a tempting offer.”

“You could always bring Conrad. I think he likes you.”

I stare at her. “Seriously?”


“It was just an idea. Look, if you can afford it, you should buy the tickets. Just in case.”

“Of what?” The only person I want to attend prom with, and, well, I don’t even know where he is.

Lila ignores the question, instead joining the line at the table. She’s digging into her wallet. “How much?”

“Seventy per couple.”

She counts out the cash and takes her packet. “Now you.”

It’s uncanny the way she knows I’ve got money on me today. Usually I wouldn’t, but I was planning to stop at the P&K for groceries on the way home. I dig into my backpack for my wallet, but an arm covered in worn green fabric reaches in front of me, holding three twenties and a ten. “I’ve got it.”

I whirl, unable to believe what I’m seeing. “Shane?”

Yes. It’s him—worn jeans, black T-shirt, green army jacket, and the bluest eyes in the world. His hair is a little longer than it was, curly more than shaggy. And he’s buying prom tickets? I can’t even process what this means. Joy and disbelief war within me as he concludes the transaction, then draws me gently into an empty classroom. From the pictures on the wall, this is health, but I can hardly think right now, let alone speak.

“You must have questions,” he says softly.

I just put my arms around him and lean my head on his chest, shaking. The tears trickle down my cheeks. It’s ridiculous because I’m happy, not sad, but I have no control over my emotions. He hugs me to him, resting his chin on my hair.

“Okay then, let me do the talking. I ended up fostering with this crazy religious couple. No phone. No Internet. No TV. No music. It was pretty close to hell. I think … it was actually worse than juvie.”

“They wouldn’t let you write to me? Not even a postcard?”

“I lost your address,” he admits. “When my release came, I had your letter, but by the time I unpacked, I couldn’t find it. I’m so sorry.”