“So it is Caleb. Because he says he lied. So it has to be Caleb,” I say. “He lied about his sister and everything else is the truth.”
“No way. He lied about something else. Or maybe he lied about his sister, but it wasn’t Caleb who did the lying. It’s just not him. I know it,” Scar says, and for some reason, though she has never met any of these people, I believe her. Caleb has been so dismissive of me—not interested in even the smallest of small talk. SN is the opposite—always wants to hear more, all of the details that add up to the entirety of my day. “I think he’s Liam.”
“No way,” I say.
“It explains why he would dump Gem for you.”
I smile at Scar but not because any part of me hopes SN is Liam. That would suck for so many reasons, not least, because of Dri.
“You’ve been listening,” I say, and feel so grateful she’s still my friend, that she will be, hopefully forever. She knew my mother. And the me of before. That’s no small thing.
“Of course I’ve been listening.”
Me: Sorry about last night. Wasn’t myself. Long story. But yes…let’s meet. I think it’s time.
SN: it’s definitely, unequivocally time.
CHAPTER 29
“You know what’s weird? There are a ton of randos at school. SN could be anyone. I mean, he could be that guy Ken Abernathy, who, like, has a real farting issue. I mean, it’s sad. He could even be Mr. Shackleman!” Scar and I are driving around. No destination in mind. Just looping the streets because they’re familiar. Unlike my former classmates, the surroundings here look the same as before: the trees may be naked, but they’re naked in the same way they were last fall and the one before that. Even my house looks almost exactly the way I remember it, even though it’s been overtaken by a new family. Only difference is there’s now a tricycle with tasseled handlebars on the front lawn and a football wedged in a bush. When we drive by, I squint so these new additions get erased from the image.
Home but not home.
Mom, where are you? Silly of me to think you’d be more here than there.
“Who’s Mr. Shackleman?” Scar asks.
“My gym teacher. He’s a total perv.”
“Oh my God. How funny would that be if SN turned out to be some old dude with, like, a neck beard?”
“Yuck. He’s balding and has a beer gut.”
“I think you’re going to have to get up on the Liam train, because he’s totally SN.” Scar pulls into the 7-Eleven, and we sit and just stare at the storefront and its big windows, into the fluorescent lights and shelves of processed food and the gleaming hot dogs on spits. I like it here in the car. A cocoon of plastic and metal.
Mom, I miss you. I love you.
“I just don’t, I don’t know,” I say, and focus. “I don’t see Liam in that way. He’s cute and all, but…it’s just kind of awkward with him. Fine. I know I sound weird and crazy picky. I should be happy anyone likes me—”
“Come on, that’s ridiculous. If you aren’t into him, you aren’t into him. I’m not saying you should be desperate. I’m just saying you might not see what’s right in front of you. Like Adam and me.” I laugh, I can’t help it. Adam and Scar. Scar and Adam. The whole thing is kind of adorable. “Okay, fine. Laugh. Get it out now. Because I’m far from done.”
“Scar and Adam sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes marriage. Then comes baby in the baby carriage.”
“God forbid.”
Here is what I want to say, but it sounds weird, even in my own head: Liam sometimes makes me feel noticed but never actually seen. I want to be seen. And maybe that’s another reason why I don’t think Liam is SN. Because SN really sees me. I believe that. He gets what I’ve been through. We connect.
“So the sex thing. Want to talk about it?” I ask. Sex—the to have or not to have question—is the only part of her relationship with Adam we haven’t dissected in minute detail yet.
“I want to do it. I mean, my girlie parts definitely do. But what if I’m bad at it, or I gross him out, or, you know, I get pregnant?”
“Remember Health last year? With the condoms? Banana. Penis. Same difference, right? And you are so not going to gross him out.”
“Even if I manage to figure it all out—how to get the condom on him—they, like, can break, or just not work, or whatever. I could go on the pill, but I don’t see how I can do that without talking to my mom, and she’d totally freak.” Scar stares straight ahead. This conversation is best had with our heads parallel. No eye contact.
“Is Adam pushing it? Have you talked to him about it?” I ask.
“Not really. I mean, I know he totally would—do it, I mean, not talk about it. Though I guess he’d do that too.”
“Why not wait and see how it goes? He’s probably a virgin too. And if your mom sees you guys hanging around all the time, maybe she’ll bring it up.”
“You have met my mother, right?”