“Yes, I know,” I say, trying for levity. “Clearly I should not have gotten within twenty yards of a white couch with chocolate, and I don’t remember —” I inhale. “Obviously I sat on some.”
He walks over and looks down at the smear. Then he looks at me. Back at the smear.
“Okay, enough already,” I say. “I screwed up. It happens. Sit and drink your Coke. Or don’t.”
“You’re shaking,” he says as I open my soda. “Is your aunt going to be that mad about the sofa?”
“She won’t be happy. Just drop it, okay? I made a mistake.”
“Did you change your jeans?”
“What?”
He sits on the clean end of the couch. “If you sat on chocolate, it’d be on your jeans. It’s not.”
“Thanks, Sherlock.”
He keeps eyeing me, and then says, “The obvious alternate explanation is that your aunt sat on chocolate. But you’re not even considering that. You’re questioning whether you might have. You’re getting defensive, and you’re shaking. What’s going on?”
“Maybe you know how that got there.”
His face screws up in a confusion he couldn’t fake. It takes him a moment before he says, “Are you suggesting I —?”
“Of course not. I’m being a smartass. So, since you seem in no hurry to leave, how about explaining what you were doing across the road from Mae’s building? Don’t say you just happened to walk by. I watched you standing there.”
“I was waiting to talk to you.”
“You want to talk? Great.”
His gaze goes to the stain. “You think someone broke in and —”
“That’d be crazy.”
He stares at the smear. Then he looks at me. “What else was wrong when you got back from my place?”
“Who says I got back? You were waiting for me, remember?”
He shifts his weight. “I knew you’d already be here. I was just… figuring out what to say. I sat in the car for a while. Then I walked over, but I still wasn’t sure how to do this so…” He straightens. “Forget about that. When you did get here, there was more than a chocolate stain, right? Something that made you think someone broke in.”
“No one broke —”
“You were spooked. Spooked enough to leave. I know you’ve been having bigger problems than kids being jerks. The fire…” He rubs his mouth. “I was there, waiting to talk to you. When I heard the alarm, I took off, but I had no idea it was an actual fire or I would have made sure you were okay.”
“That was the second time.”
“Second time…?”
“The second time something happened to me after school, and I saw you there. Remember?”
“Wednesday, when I bumped into you. Did something happen then, too?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m just pointing out that I saw you there.”
“Then someone broke into the apartment, and you saw me again. Which looks really —” He stops. “You thought I set the fire?” A vehement shake of his head. “No. I didn’t break in here, either. I was with my dad all afternoon, and we got back after you left.”
“Okay.”
“I didn’t break in or set that fire, Skye. But someone did, and you need to talk to your aunt. Figure out what’s going on. Don’t bother with Vaughn. He thinks —”
“Skye?” The front door closes. “You didn’t answer my text. Ready to go?”
“Just a sec,” I say, rising.
I head to the hall, and Mae starts toward me and then stops short, her gaze fixed over my shoulder.
“Jesse?”
He nods. “Hello, Ms. Benassi.”
She looks from me to Jesse. “May I speak to you, please, Skye?”
“I was just leaving,” Jesse says. “I came to talk to Skye and got in a bit of a…” He makes a face and points at his cheek. “She fixed me up.”
“That’s very thoughtful of her, under the circumstances.” Mae’s voice is ice. “But I’m going to ask my niece not to entertain visitors while I’m out.”
“I wasn’t entertaining,” I say. “There was blood.”
“I apologize,” Jesse says. “I should have made sure it was okay for me to be here unchaperoned.”
“While you were bleeding?” I say, but he shuts me up with a look and says, “I’ll see you at school.”
“Have you apologized, Jesse?” Mae says.
I flinch. “Mae, just —”
“No, really.” She walks to Jesse and looks up at him. “I heard about your behavior on Skye’s first day back. You upset her. Enough that she told me about it, which, if you remember anything about my niece, means she was very upset. Do you think she needed that? From you, of all people?”
I try to intercede, but Jesse shakes his head, gaze dropping as he says, “No, she didn’t. I was a jerk.”
“Then clearly, if she is bringing you into her home and helping you, you have apologized, and you have not done or said anything to upset her since that first time. Seeing her at school caught you off guard, and since that moment, you have been nothing but kind to her. Correct?”
“Mae, please,” I say.
“I just want an answer from him, Skye. I know it’s yes. To all of the above. Or he wouldn’t have the gall to be here.”
Jesse is breathing hard enough for me to hear it. His mouth opens. Nothing comes out.
“He’s apologized,” I lie. “That’s why he came here. To say he’s sorry. He has. Now he’s leaving.”
Mae snorts and walks into the living room.
Jesse says, “I —”
“Yes, I know,” I whisper. “I didn’t hallucinate hearing those words from your lips. I’m still waiting for them.”
He nods. “I’m really —”
“I don’t want them now.”
He looks ashamed of himself, the same look I got shortly after we became friends, when some guys razzed him, and he acted like we weren’t friends, and I called him on it.
You’re right, Skye. I’m sorry. Really, really sorry.
In that look, I see the Jesse I remember, and I don’t want to. I’ve given him ample opportunity to say this, and now I’m in trouble because I helped him – before he even bothered to mumble sorry. Now he apologizes, and like the last time, it’s only because he’s been called on it.
“No, strike that,” I say. “I don’t want an apology ever. Chance missed.”
His cheeks darken. “Okay, but please, just let me —”
“Skye? What’s this on my sofa?” Mae calls.
Before I can reply, Jesse passes me, striding into the room. “That was me, Ms. Benassi. I bled on your sofa. I apologize. I’ll get it cleaned…” He trails off. “I mean, no, that’s not it. Someone broke —”
I grab his arm and call, “Jesse’s leaving. Now.”
I haul him to the door as he whispers, “I wasn’t thinking. I wanted to help, and that was the wrong way to do it. You need to tell her the truth.”
I open the door. “I’ll see you Monday.”
“And you’ll tell Mae, right? She has to know what’s happening.”
I push him out the door. When I head back into the living room, Mae’s examining the spot. “This doesn’t look like blood.”
“It’s chocolate. I’m going to fix it, and I won’t eat or drink in this room again.”
She turns to me. “We need to talk about Jesse.”
“I’m sorry I got snippy. He’s right, though, that I didn’t think it through, bringing him in when you were gone.”
“Because it’s Jesse. You know him. Or you know the boy he was.” She walks over to me. “What you remember is a child. He’s a young man now.”
If she’s implying that guys go from being sweet kids to monsters, well, we could have a long chat about that. But haven’t I been telling myself that this isn’t the same Jesse, and that I need to bear that in mind? I shouldn’t have brought him up here after what I suspected.
So I nod. Just nod.
She continues, “I made the same mistake when I suggested you two could reconnect. I remember the boy he was. Given what he did to you at school, that’s clearly not the young man he’s become. Maybe it’s because of his brother. Maybe it’s just puberty, hormones, I don’t know. But the boy I remember was sweet and gentle. This one…” She inhales. “Jesse was asked to leave Southfield for fighting. Fistfighting,” she clarifies, as if I might think he got into a dustup on the debating team.