There’s a lot to unpack there, too much for this moment, so I settle for, “Speaking of Dad . . . he’s not here. Shocker.”
She levels me with her look. “You know he would be here if he could.”
Would he, though?
“Speaking of the wedding, do you still want me to come by your room early for hair and makeup?” she asks. “I know they’re doing the bridal party first but—”
My mind snags on her words. “Bridal party,” I repeat, flooded with the memory of Kassie and me tanning on her deck that first summer we met, scrolling through wedding dress photos on her mom’s tablet.
“As my future maid of honor, you’re obligated to tell me if the dress I pick is as atrocious as this one,” she’d said, cringing at a couture dress made exclusively of feathers.
“Wait. You want me to be your maid of honor?” I asked, eyes wide and hopeful. We’d only been friends for a month.
Being her friend already felt like winning the lottery. But being her designated future maid of honor was something entirely different. I felt like a teen hero in a fantasy novel who was prophesied to save the world. The chosen one.
And that’s when it hits me. Kassie isn’t here tonight. Where is she?
“Mom? Who’s in my wedding party?” I ask.
“Your wedding party?” she repeats, bewildered. “You decided to have one person each, remember? J. T. has Ollie, you have Nori.”
I shake my head. “No. I wouldn’t leave Kassie out.”
She shoots me a funny look. “Kassie? You haven’t spoken to Kassie in years. You aren’t friends anymore.”
“We’re not?” I blink, unable to compute.
“At least, not that I’m aware of. You drifted apart. Are you sure you’re okay?”
My mouth dries and my stomach twists and turns, as though someone’s wrung it like a dishcloth.
Drifted apart. The words grate, refusing to settle in my gut. There must be a reason. Some sort of falling-out. Bad blood. A fight or disagreement that knocked us off course. Drifting apart is neutral, almost cold. Did we really just apathetically decide not to put any more effort in? That our friendship was no longer worth it? Somehow apathy hurts more than any theoretical fight we could ever have. Because here’s the thing. You fight with people you love. You ignore people you don’t care about. Kind of like Dad.
I clutch my gut, afraid I might hurl.
How could this even happen? I don’t believe for one moment that I’d just let us “drift apart” for no solid reason.
Mom keeps talking, but her words are echoey and garbled, as though we’re stuck in a fishbowl. All I can hear is the blood rushing through my ears. I repeat the words again silently. Kassie and I haven’t spoken in years. We aren’t friends anymore. Everything has changed.
I need to get out of here. Now.
SIXTEEN
Please work. Please work,” I plead to whatever cosmic force is to blame for this mess. Beads of sweat pour down my forehead as I scan my pass on the school door for the fifth time. No dice.
Renner sighs from his perch, slumped against the door. “It’s locked, Char.”
After the bathroom at Ollie’s, Renner and I went straight to the school with an unspoken urgency, entirely forgetting that it’s locked after hours for security purposes. I learned this when Ms. Chouloub and I got locked out after Halloween dance prep. We had to store the leftover decor in her car overnight.
I rattle the door again, kicking it for good measure, as if it will magically open with my rage.
“We’ll have to come back tomorrow morning. Students will be here to finish decorating before prom,” Renner says.
“But we can’t wait until tomorrow morning. I can’t stay here!” My voice echoes into the dark night.
I can’t stay in a world where I’ve lost thirteen years and I’m marrying Renner. And I can’t stay in a world where Kassie isn’t my friend. It feels criminal that she wasn’t at my bachelorette. And even more criminal that I didn’t choose her as my maid of honor. She should be by my side, taking pictures with me, holding my bouquet during the ceremony, telling me to straighten my back, and giving a charming speech about how she’s my real other half.
“You think I want to stay here?” Renner counters.
“There has to be another way. We could go through an open window.”
“All the windows are closed. I already looked,” he says.
“Well, if we can’t go through . . .” Panicked, I hastily scan our surroundings for anything. Literally anything. My sight zeroes in on a large rock in the garden along the pathway. I like to think I’m the opposite of impulsive. I always think before acting, probably too much. But right now, that cautious side of me is drowned out by desperation. Before I know it, the rock is in my hand and I’m flinging it toward the window.
Renner screams something I can’t hear as the glass shatters into a million pieces, shards of all sizes clattering to the pavement.
Holy crap. I just shattered a window and tried to break into the school like a common criminal.
Who am I?
A piercing alarm sounds, and we both cover our ears to block the screeching.
Renner is taken aback, his eyes wide and body still until he snaps into action. “Run!” he bellows before sprinting away from the school premises.
We’re off like a pair of bats from hell, tearing down the dimly lit street at full tilt. The cool night air stings my lungs. As we round the corner for our car, a police cruiser comes out of nowhere, speeding down the street toward us.
We have a split second to decide if we should go left to the walking trail or right into a six-foot arborvitae privacy hedge. We both dive right.
A branch pokes me in the eye as I huddle into a small alcove of bush next to Renner. It’s kind of cozy, except I’m wheezing and dried shrubbery prickles my knees. The scent of damp wood and cedar elicits a violent sneeze.
“Shh!” Renner warns, shooting me a furious glare.
“Oh, like I did it on purpose,” I whisper, brushing my forearm frantically at the tickle of something crawling across my arm. I don’t even want to know what evil lurks in here.
Renner’s arm grazes mine as he parts the branches to peek out. “The police cruiser is going by super slow,” he whispers. “I think . . . I think it’s Cole.” He says Cole like he’s his close drinking buddy, and I remember that Renner’s dad is the chief of police. Or at least, he was, thirteen years ago.
“I forgot. You’re above the law,” I snap, while also letting out a sigh of relief. Renner’s connections could come in handy.
“Nah, I’d still rather not get grounded.” He sits, knees to his chest, as the cruiser does yet another slow drive-by.
“Grounded? Try arrested. We’re adults, Renner. I wouldn’t fare well in prison.” I’m far too frail to make my own shiv and use it with any amount of gusto. This is the last thing I need.
“Ugh. Neither would I.”
I shrug. “True. You’d be in for it. Your face kinda screams privilege,” I say out of pure frustration.
“Well, in the end, you’re the one who broke the window,” he notes.
He has a point. But I can’t let him have it. “You’re the one who—who—”
“What? What else are you gonna blame on me now?”
I contemplate rattling off my list, which I have committed to memory for moments like this. But I don’t have the energy.
A couple silent moments pass before he peeks through the greenery again. “I think they’re gone.”
I scramble to follow Renner out of the bush, looking both ways to ensure the police cruiser is gone before trotting back to our car.
We drive in silence for a few minutes before Renner finally clears his throat. “Want me to drop you off somewhere for the night?”
The coldness of his question catches me off guard. “I like how you assume I’ll go somewhere else while you get the house. Besides, where am I gonna go?”