—
I’m in Theo’s room now. I’ve only been in here once, when I told him about my new job, so I take advantage of the opportunity to look around. He doesn’t have anything on his walls, not a single framed picture on his desk. Not much to see. Apparently, he’s a minimalist, like his mother.
“You think they’re going to get a divorce?” Theo asks, and it surprises me that my heart sinks at the thought. Not because I particularly like living here, but because we have nothing to go back to. Our house is gone. Our Chicago lives. And if we were to stay in LA and move to some sad little apartment, my dad couldn’t afford to keep sending me to Wood Valley. I’d have to start again somewhere else. I’d have to say goodbye to my silly crush on Ethan, to my friendship with Dri and Agnes, to my whatever with SN. When Rachel told my dad to not come back, did she expect me to leave too? Are we kicked out?
“I don’t know,” I say.
“Would make things easier,” Theo says.
“For you, maybe. I have nowhere to go.”
“Not my problem.”
“No, it isn’t,” I say, and stand to leave. I’ve had enough of these people.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it. Was your dad going to call me a…Never mind.”
“He wouldn’t have. He’s not like that.”
“Whatever. Want to smoke up?” Theo reaches for his rolling papers.
“No thanks. And for real, he wouldn’t have called you anything bad.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“I know my dad. He was going to say flamboyant. Which, come on, you kind of are,” I say, and wonder if I’ve overstepped my boundaries. I hold eye contact with Theo, to let him know that I am not trying to be hurtful, just honest.
“I knew in, like, kindergarten that I’m gay, so I figure I should own it, you know? Give the people what they want,” Theo says, and starts digging through his drawers. “No one should be spared my fabulousness.”
“Lucky us,” I say, but I smile. I’m starting to have a new appreciation for Theo. He approaches life with manic enthusiasm, an antidote to most of Wood Valley’s laconic teenagerness. There’s a layer of kindness underneath him too, and he’s authentic in his own over-the-top way.
“So who are you texting with all the time?” he asks, and again it occurs to me that he could be SN. Maybe he wanted to help me without having to face our bizarro new family situation. Maybe I’ve misinterpreted; maybe SN’s flirtation was actually just Theo’s enthusiasm. I hope not.
“None of your business,” I say, which doesn’t seem to bother him in the least.
“Since you don’t smoke, wanna stress eat instead? I have some emergency Godiva somewhere around here,” he says, and finds what he’s been looking for: a giant chocolate bar.
“I’m in,” I say.
“So you think your dad signed a prenup?” Theo asks, and I hate him all over again.
CHAPTER 16
SN: three things: (1) had waffles this morning in your honor. (2) when I graduate, I really want to disrupt the beverage industry. I mean water, coffee, tea, juice, soda, and a few weird hybrids. WE CAN DO BETTER. (3) I used to dream about my sister all the time, and I’d wake up all shaky and it sucked, but now I don’t dream about her at all. turns out that’s worse.
Me: (1) I don’t dream about my mom anymore either, but sometimes I totally forget that she’s gone. I’ll think, oh, she’ll love this story, I’ll tell her when I get home, and then I remember all over again. That’s the worst. (2) I didn’t have waffles this morning. I had some sort of organic wheatberry granola from Whole Foods that the stepmonster loves, and tho it was delicious, I still have no idea wtf a wheatberry is. (3) I’ve never used the word “disrupt” in relation to any industry. What does that even mean? Are you sure you’re 16?
SN: 17, actually. and I now have my billion-dollar idea: wheatberry juice!
Me: You are so Wood Valley. What? A MILLION-dollar idea wasn’t good enough?
—
I head straight to work after school. I’m not avoiding home. Not really. But what if my stuff has already been packed up again into my duffel bags—Gloria would do it carefully and respectfully, take the time to fold my bras, ziplock my shampoo bottles—and the whole Rachel-Dad experiment is over, just like that? Poof. What will happen to me?