Twelve Steps to Normal(65)

“Where are we going?”

We’ve been driving in silence for a few minutes. I open my mouth to give him a destination, but I blank. I only know I didn’t want to go to school. I hadn’t thought where we’d go instead.

Alex must sense my hesitation because he says, “I know a place.”

His sense of control puts me at ease as I settle back in the worn seat. We drive another block before Alex pulls into the donut shop a few stores down from 7-Eleven.

I smile. This is the place where my dad would buy éclairs for my birthday. He’d also get me a carton of chocolate milk until one day in sixth grade when I told him I was “too old” for it and wanted coffee instead. After one sip of the bitter tar-fluid I immediately regretted it, but I was too proud to tell him I preferred chocolate milk.

Alex holds the door open for me. I’m greeted with the warm scent of freshly sugared pastries. The glass case before us holds dozens of frosted options.

I choose a strawberry sprinkle. He chooses a chocolate glaze. On a whim I grab a carton of chocolate milk from the door of the glass cooler. Alex doesn’t make fun of me. He even pays, even though I insist I should.

“I’m the one who asked you to skip,” I say as we walk out. “I should at least buy you a donut.”

“It’s not like you had to try hard to convince me.” His warm gaze finds mine. “I wanted to come with you.”

My cheeks flush, and I turn into the same sugary, frosted goo that coats my donut.

When we get back on the road, Alex’s hand finds the radio knob. “Music?”

Sensual jazz music flows from its permanent speaker prison.

“Oh god, no,” I laugh as I release my donut from its bag. “It sounds like the sound track leading up to a bad sex scene.”

Alex accidentally taps the brakes, jolting us.

I turn twelve dozen shades of red. Why would I say that?

Alex lets out a nervous laugh, and I’m thankful when he changes the subject. “I don’t think you’ve skipped school a day in your life.”

I give a small shrug. “There’s a first time for everything.”

From the way he glances at me, I know this is his roundabout way of fishing for information. He skipped with me, no questions asked. He deserves to know what’s going on.

“It’s like… ever since I’ve been back I’ve felt like I’ve been walking on one of those fun house bridges. The ones that try and throw off your balance, you know? And every time I feel like I’m making it closer to the end, the bridge shifts and I’m trying to keep myself from toppling over.” I trace my finger around the edge of the door handle. “If that makes any sense.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “You told me the other day that you wanted the life you had before everything with your dad happened.”

“Certain things,” I admit, thinking of my list. I’d give anything to have Grams back. Of course, I still want the recoverees gone. “But the more I try and force it, the more distant I feel.”

“Maybe that’s the problem.”

“What?”

“Forcing things to be the way they were before. I know people make mistakes, and I won’t pretend like I’m an expert in what’s going on in your life, but even when people give us second chances it doesn’t mean it’s going to be the same.”

My mind lingers on that word: second chances. Despite me ignoring That Text, he’d easily fallen back into the rhythm of our previous friendship like nothing happened. My non-response must have hurt him, just like ignoring Lin, Whitney, and Raegan had hurt them. But he’d stood up for me in Mrs. Donaldson’s class, and here he was cutting class with me.

My heart flutters. Could he be giving me another chance?

“So you think someone should embrace a situation they’re put in?”

“Yeah, if it’s good.” Alex glances at me. “I know working with my mom and sister at Rosita’s isn’t glamorous, but it’s going to help us pay for college.”

I study him. He’s never been afraid to be fully himself. Most students I know still complain that their parents are so embarrassing, yet Alex talks about working with his mom and sister in his family’s restaurant so casually. With pride.

That’s when a twinge of guilt strikes me. Because I haven’t been accepting of the recoverees. They’re people who are trying to change for the better, like my dad. And despite my crummy attitude, they’ve been good to me. Even after my outburst about my progress report, Peach still makes my lunch every day. Saylor’s helped me with my homework, and even though Nonnie’s been better at giving me space, she’ll still check up on me from time to time to make sure I’m doing okay. They don’t have to do any of that, but they do.

Alex starts to merge onto the highway.

“Where are we going?”

“On an adventure,” he says, grinning. “You look like you need one.”





TWENTY FIVE


ALEX DRIVES US TO CANTOR Creek, a slightly bigger town thirty minutes down the road. Tons of seniors always make a trip here before prom because their mall is bigger than ours, which means there’s a larger dress selection. Even though the dilapidated buildings and charming storefront displays are similar to Cedarville, it feels different. Nobody here knows who we are.