“What are you doing here?” Vivian asked, still casual.
“Leaving,” Heather said. She threw herself forward, down the hall and into the kitchen. She was fighting the feeling that she was going to be sick, fighting the memories threatening to drown her: the times she’d drunk cocoa from that mug, her lips where Vivian’s now were, her lips on Bishop’s—Vivian’s Bishop.
Her phone was still plugged into an outlet near the microwave. Her fingers felt swollen and useless. It took her several tries before she could unplug it.
She couldn’t face passing Bishop and Vivian again, so she just hurtled out the back door, across the porch, and down into the yard. Idiot. She was such an idiot. She tasted tears before she knew she was crying.
Why would Bishop go for her, Heather? He was smart. He was leaving for college. Heather was a nobody. Nill. As in zero. That’s why Matt had dumped her too.
No one had ever told her this basic fact: not everyone got to be loved. It was like those stupid bell curves they’d had to study in math class. There was the big, swollen, happy middle, a whale hump full of blissful couples and families eating around a big dining room table and laughing. And then, at the tapered ends, there were the abnormal people, the weirdos and freaks and zeros like her.
She wiped away the tears with her forearm and took a few seconds to breathe and calm down before she returned to the car. Lily was picking at a mosquito bite on her big toe. She stared at Heather suspiciously when Heather got in the car.
“Did you see Bishop?” Lily asked.
“No,” Heather said, and put the car in drive.
WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 3
dodge
DODGE HAD LOST THE RECEIPT FOR NATALIE’S NECKLACE, and instead had to pawn it for half of what he had paid. He needed the money. It was August 3; he was running out of time. He needed a car for the Joust. A junker would do—he was even thinking of buying one off Bishop. So long as it drove.
He had just finished a shift at Home Depot when he got a text. He hoped for a wild second it was Natalie; instead it was from his mom.
Meet us @ Columbia Memorial ASAP!!
Dayna. Something bad had happened to Dayna. He tried calling his mom’s cell phone, and then Dayna’s, and got no response.
He barely registered the twenty-minute bus ride to Hudson. He couldn’t sit still. His legs were full of itching, and his heart was lodged underneath his tongue. His phone buzzed in his pocket. Another text.
This time, it was from an unknown number.
Time to go solo. Tomorrow night we’ll see what you’re really made of.
He shut his phone, shoved it in his pocket.
When he reached Columbia Memorial, he practically sprinted from the bus.
“Dodge! Dodge!”
Dayna and his mom were standing outside, by the handicapped ramp. Dayna was waving frantically, sitting up as tall as she could in her chair.
And she was grinning. They both were—smiling so big, he could see all their teeth, even from a distance.
Still, his heart wouldn’t stop going as he jogged across the parking lot. “What?” He was breathless by the time he reached them. “What is it? What happened?”
“You tell him, Day,” Dodge’s mom said, still smiling. Her mascara was smudgy. She’d obviously been crying.
Dayna sucked in a deep breath. Her eyes were shining; he hadn’t seen her look so happy since before the accident. “I moved, Dodge. I moved my toes.”
He stared at Dayna, then his mom, then Dayna again. “Jesus Christ,” he finally burst out. “I thought something happened. I thought you were dead or something.”
Dayna shook her head. She looked hurt. “Something did happen.”
Dodge took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. He was sweating. He jammed on the hat again. Dayna was watching him expectantly. He knew he was being a dick.
He exhaled. “That’s amazing, Day,” he said. He tried to sound like he meant it. He was happy; he was just still wound up from the trip over, from being so afraid. “I’m proud of you.” He leaned down and gave her a hug. And he felt the tiniest convulsion in her body, like she was holding in a sob. Dodge’s mom insisted they go out to eat to celebrate, even though they couldn’t really afford it, especially now with all the bills.
They ended up at an Applebee’s outside Carp. Dodge’s mom ordered a margarita with extra salt and nachos for the table to start. Nachos were Dodge’s favorite, but he couldn’t bring himself to eat. His mom kept prattling on about Bill Kelly: how Bill Kelly was so nice, so thoughtful, even though he was grieving; how Bill Kelly had set them up with the appointment and made a phone call on their behalf and blah, blah, blah.
Her cell phone rang in the middle of dinner. Dodge’s mom stood up. “Speak of the devil,” she said. “It’s Bill. He might have news. . . .”
“What kind of news?” Dodge asked when she had stepped outside. He could see her pacing the parking lot. Under the glare of the lights, she looked old. Tired, kind of saggy. More momlike than usual.