She shrugs. “Honestly, I hesitate to say too much. We should let this work itself out before we panic.”
But I know what she’s not saying. What if I’ve had my Closing? What if Beau’s had his Closing?
Friday comes, and Mom and Dad have the rental minivan fully packed. All that’s left is to say our goodbyes before I go settle in to Megan’s old bedroom. Mom and Dad want to follow me over, to talk to Megan’s parents and make sure I have everything I need, but Jack and Coco opt to stay behind at the house and wait for them to get back, so I give them each a hug in the kitchen.
Gus is intensely whiny, stressed by the commotion of packing—a sure sign that he’s about to get dropped off at the “doggy motel.” I kneel down and wrap my arms around his tree-trunk neck, nestling my face into his downy fur. “Be good,” I tell him, then stand up and face the twins.
“Keep me updated, okay?” Coco says. “About Matt and everything.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Though to be honest, you could probably get more news from Abby.” Coco’s gaze falls, and I can tell something’s wrong. I glance around to see if Mom or Dad is eavesdropping then drag Coco down the hall by the elbow. “What’s going on? Abby didn’t like the body spray? Probably should’ve gone with edible body glitter.”
She sighs. “It’s nothing.”
“Coco, tell me.”
“She’s a bitch, okay? She’s awful.”
“Your best friend?”
Coco shakes her leg impatiently. “She’s just . . . she said some things.”
“Things?”
“Stupid, bitchy things.”
“Coco, if someone’s bullying you—”
“They weren’t about me,” she interrupts, and the situation slowly crystallizes for me. “She said Matt’s accident was your fault. She doesn’t even think that. I know she doesn’t, but she was saying it to some of the juniors to—I don’t know—impress them.”
I glance toward the living room, where Jack’s sprawled on the couch staring into space. “And Jack’s fight?” Coco nods once slowly. My vision starts to splotch, and I dig the heels of my hands into my eye sockets. “You guys don’t need to get into fights or end friendships over all this.”
Coco crosses her arms. “You don’t get it. Abby’s changing, or maybe I am. Either way, I’m so done with this gossipy little school. And it’s even worse for Jack—and no, not just because of you and Matt.”
“Coco . . . you just told Mom and Dad you wanted to stay at Ryle.”
In a rare moment for Coco, her eyes betray the hint of tears. She shakes her head until they subside. “Jack,” she musters.
“You ready?” Mom appears at the end of the hallway, clapping her hands together, and Coco’s eyes shoot me the don’t tell look as she discreetly shakes her head.
“Let me get my bags from upstairs,” I stammer, and Mom gives us a suspicious look before heading back into the kitchen. I pull Coco into a tight hug. “You fit here. You and Jack fit with me,” I whisper. “I should’ve been there for you, and when you get back . . .” She nods, and I peer down the hall at Jack again. Mom’s buzzing past him back and forth, checking for everything she could’ve forgotten. I decide to risk furthering her suspicions and go sit beside him. “Hey.”
“Hi,” he mumbles.
I lower my voice. “Remember when I was the worst?”
His eyebrows flick up, and he struggles against a smile. “When was that?”
“At least all summer,” I say, “but possibly longer.”
He finally looks at me, and despite the way his chubby cheeks have started to hollow after his recent six-inch growth spurt, he is unmistakably a stretched-out version of my baby brother. Coco’s always been the more assertive leader of the two, and it surprises me to see goofy, laid-back, go-with-the-flow Jack looking so grown up and downtrodden.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly.
“For?”
I look over my shoulder to watch Mom slip into the laundry room. “Coco told me about the fight.”
He rolls his eyes and sighs in annoyance as he cranes his neck to look for Coco. “Jack, it’s fine. I won’t tell Mom and Dad. I just wanted you to know that . . . you’re wonderful, and I love you, and I don’t want you to pick or finish fights on my behalf, and I’m sorry I haven’t been around much, and also you were wrong about the carburetor, so there’s that.”
Jack snorts a laugh. “You’re weird.”
“Are you sure? Because no one’s ever told me that before.”
“And you’re not the worst.”
“Likewise,” I say. “You’re very not the worst.”