Ivy nodded glumly. Stratford was supposed to basically be the devil incarnate. Exactly how she’d planned to spend her summer—being lectured by Satan himself. How fitting. Her whole life was going to hell anyway. Might as well get some face time with the boss.
Garrett put his arms on his knees and started messing with his wristbands, which is what he did before he said something serious. Ivy would know. It was what he did before he broke up with her.
Across the room, the freshmen watched, like eager little gossip vultures.
“Ivy girl, listen—about us. I’m sorry. I know things haven’t been easy for you since we—since I—”
“No.” The word cut through Garrett’s fumbling speech. “No, Garrett.” Ivy pushed herself up, wincing, and threw the bag over her shoulder. “Listen, it was great to talk to you, and thanks for saving my life, but really—I have to go.”
He stared up at her with those pretty, soulful eyes he had, and for the first time, she turned her back on him.
And with that, Ivy walked away from everything she wanted.
Mattie
Monday, June 1
“Watch it!” Mrs. Byrne said, laughing, as Mattie dropped the very last box on her toe. “You’re lucky that’s just pillows. Otherwise you could have paralyzed me for life.”
Mattie forced a smile. “Sorry, Mom.” He knew she was trying to cheer him up, but there was only one person who could do that right now—and he wasn’t here. He wasn’t answering Mattie’s phone calls. (Or his texts. Or his Facebook messages.)
“Look,” Mrs. Byrne said, prancing to the huge window and throwing open the curtains dramatically. “The view! And you have your own balcony!”
Mattie followed his mom to the huge window, which turned out to be a sliding door. It opened onto a gigantic veranda. Next to an actual trellis, practically choked with crawling ivy. This room was basically made for sneaking out. He had to admit it wasn’t totally bad.
His mom unlocked the door and stepped outside. His aunt’s house was huge—the biggest in the neighborhood—and located on top of a hill, so it had a perfect view of the trees and other immaculate homes. In the distance, the lights of the city twinkled like weak stars. It was beautiful.
“It’s great,” Mattie told his mother. She smiled and put her arm around him.
“It’s not so bad, right, Mattie? I’m sure Derrick will visit.”
Mattie wasn’t so sure. Things with Derrick hadn’t felt right. Not since . . . well. They just hadn’t felt right.
“Or,” his mother continued, “at least he will when he sees some pictures of your aunt’s house. This place is great, right? Look at the pool!”
Mattie grasped the stone railing and looked down. He was directly over the pool, which was beautiful. It was an infinity pool, so the edge just seemed to stop, and you could swim up and enjoy the view from anywhere. There was a small, trickling version of a waterfall in one corner, and a bubbling hot tub in the other.
“Yeah,” Mattie admitted. “It’s pretty cool.”
And it was. Mattie’s aunt Janice had all the money in the family. She’d won the lottery in the late nineties (and not just a puny million-dollar jackpot) and she’d invested it. No one guessed that a weirdo art teacher who lived in a three-hundred-square-foot studio downtown would be able to triple her winnings in just ten years, but Aunt Janice had taken to numbers, to investments, to palling around with men in sharp suits, and she’d done it. And now, she was enjoying it. Clearly. The house was incredible—a mix of ancient Rome and classic Southern style. Huge, but somehow not gaudy. It was pretty, actually. It was art.
Mrs. Byrne put both her arms around her son and pulled him tight. “I’m going to miss you, kid,” she said, her voice suddenly misty and soft. Her blond curls tickled his nose.
“Then don’t make me stay,” Mattie pleaded. When his mother pulled away, she half smiled at him and rustled his hair, the same way she’d done when he was a little boy. “I wish I didn’t have to, but you made a deal with your dad. You can’t have an F on your report card.”
Mattie grimaced. In a serious lapse in character, and for the very first time, he’d cheated on a psych test. Him. Perfect Mattie Byrne. His teacher had caught him with the notes in his lap and, well, in less than an hour, both his parents had been in the assistant principal’s office for an emergency meeting, and Mattie was receiving two things he’d never received before: suspension and a failing grade.
Fortunately, Mattie’s dad was good friends with the football coach, who was good friends with the principal, and, since Mattie had a perfect record, they’d agreed to let him retake the course during the summer. If he got a B, they’d pass him, and the F would be wiped from his record.
Unfortunately, in Mattie’s tiny little town, summer courses weren’t offered. (But three hours away? Of course!)