Reeve, he laughed the hardest of all. He was the first to leave the table, and everyone just followed him, even though he couldn’t have known where our classroom was. He left his tray on the table.
I ended up throwing away his lunch with my own.
* * *
Before Reeve, I was one of the smart girls, especially in math. I was the shy but friendly one. I was a little socially awkward, sure. The girl with the long blond hair from the island. But after Reeve, I was the fat girl.
I close the album. I’m not that girl anymore. I hadn’t been her for a long time. But being back on Jar Island, with Reeve, with my old pictures and stuffed animals and things—it makes it feel so fresh.
I hear Aunt Bette downstairs, quietly doing the dishes.
Our dinner tonight was awkward, to say the least. This morning I imagined telling Aunt Bette every detail about my epic first day—the look on Reeve’s face when he saw me again, him trying to talk to me, him trying to find out where I’ve been for the last four years. She’d let me have a glass of wine, and we’d toast to the start of a great new year.
Since none of that happened, there was nothing to tell Aunt Bette. Needless to say, I didn’t feel hungry. It would have been rude to get up from the table, though, so I just sat there quietly while she twirled spaghetti on her fork and read some art journal.
I feel empty inside. Hollow. I just really need to talk to my mom and dad, hear their voices. They’ll probably try to convince me to come back home, and I might let them.
The next five minutes I spend pacing around my room with my cell phone over my head, trying to get enough bars to call them. I can’t get a signal. When we lived here before, cell service was practically nonexistent on Jar Island. There were a few random spots where you could get reception, like near the lighthouses, or sometimes in the Lutheran church parking lot, but for the most part Jar Island was a cell-phone-free zone. I guess that hasn’t changed.
There’s a telephone downstairs in the kitchen, but I’d rather not talk to my parents in front of Aunt Bette. I might start crying.
I hear Aunt Bette climb the stairs. I peek out my door and watch her walk to her room.
I guess I could try talking to her. I used to confide in her about all kinds of things. Whenever she’d visit in the summer, we’d walk down the hill and buy hot chocolates on Main Street. Even in August. She’d tell me about things I know my parents would freak over. The month she spent living in Paris with a married man, the series of paintings she did of herself nude. Aunt Bette has lived about a million and one lifetimes. She could have good advice for me.
Aunt Bette is already in bed. Her eyes are closed. But I guess she hears me, because they suddenly open. “Mary?”
I step into the room and crouch by her bed. “Are you asleep?”
She shakes her head and blinks. “I don’t think so. Am I?”
Even though I’m on the verge of tears, I laugh. “Am I bothering you?”
“No! Please!” She sits up. “Are you okay?”
I take a deep breath and try to get a hold of myself. “It’s strange to be back.”
“Yes. Of . . . of course.”
“I don’t know if I belong, after everything that’s happened.”
In a low voice Aunt Bette says, “This is your home. Where else would you belong?”
“Nowhere, I guess.”
“I’ve missed you, Mary.” A faint smile spreads across her face. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too,” I lie. Then I go back to my room and crawl into bed.
It takes me forever to fall asleep.
CHAPTER EIGHT
LILLIA
MY MOM’S IN HER BEDROOM ON THE PHONE WITH OUR dad, and Nadia and I are watching TV downstairs, sharing a pint of homemade dulce de leche ice cream from Scoops. At first, when I asked if she wanted some, she said no, even though it’s her favorite. I knew she was thinking about what Rennie said at cheerleading practice. I brought the carton over to the couch, and she watched me lick the ice cream off the top of the lid. “Just one bite,” she said, exactly like I knew she would. All the girls in our family have a sweet tooth.
The dryer dings, and I pause the show we’re watching. I go over to the laundry room and stuff the clean clothes into a basket and bring the basket back into the living room. I used extra dryer sheets, and the clothes smell so snuggly. I put my face up to a T-shirt and inhale the warmth. I start folding a stack of T-shirts, and then I see Nadia’s tank top. I put stain remover where there was strawberry daiquiri, and it came out. I didn’t even bother with my cashmere sweater. I just put it in the dry cleaning bag and hoped for the best.
“Here’s your shirt back,” I say, handing it over.
Nadia’s face goes white. “Um, thanks.”
“I got that stain out.” I watch her closely. “Alex said someone bumped into you and spilled their drink.”
“Yeah.” Nadia takes a big bite of ice cream, avoiding my eyes.
“Where’s Alex’s shirt? I tried to find it in your room so I could wash it and give it back to him.”
She hesitates and then says, “It’s at Janelle’s. Remember I was going to sleep over there after the party? I told her to bring it to school today, but she forgot.”
My phone buzzes. It’s Ashlin. Everyone’s meeting over at Bow Tie tonight after Rennie gets off work.
“Who’s that?” Nadia asks. “Are you going out?”
I set my phone down, because this is serious. “Nadia, you tell me right now. Did you drink at Alex’s, even though I told you not to?”
“No!” She has two bright splotches on her cheeks.
“Then promise me. Promise on our sister bond.”
Nadia won’t look at me. “Lillia, cut it out. I already told you.”
My heart breaks right in half. She’s won’t promise because she’s lying. She’s lying to my face like it’s nothing. I’ve never lied to Nadia. Not ever, not once. I’d never do that to her. “I’m giving you one more chance. You tell me the truth right this minute, Nadia, or else I’m telling Mommy everything.”
Nadia’s eyes go big and scared. “Okay! Wait! I had, like, maybe a half cup of strawberry daiquiri. I didn’t ask for it. One of my friends gave it to me. I thought it was a virgin one. I just took a couple tiny sips, so I wouldn’t waste it. It’s not a big deal. You drank at parties when you were a freshman!”
I ended up throwing away his lunch with my own.
* * *
Before Reeve, I was one of the smart girls, especially in math. I was the shy but friendly one. I was a little socially awkward, sure. The girl with the long blond hair from the island. But after Reeve, I was the fat girl.
I close the album. I’m not that girl anymore. I hadn’t been her for a long time. But being back on Jar Island, with Reeve, with my old pictures and stuffed animals and things—it makes it feel so fresh.
I hear Aunt Bette downstairs, quietly doing the dishes.
Our dinner tonight was awkward, to say the least. This morning I imagined telling Aunt Bette every detail about my epic first day—the look on Reeve’s face when he saw me again, him trying to talk to me, him trying to find out where I’ve been for the last four years. She’d let me have a glass of wine, and we’d toast to the start of a great new year.
Since none of that happened, there was nothing to tell Aunt Bette. Needless to say, I didn’t feel hungry. It would have been rude to get up from the table, though, so I just sat there quietly while she twirled spaghetti on her fork and read some art journal.
I feel empty inside. Hollow. I just really need to talk to my mom and dad, hear their voices. They’ll probably try to convince me to come back home, and I might let them.
The next five minutes I spend pacing around my room with my cell phone over my head, trying to get enough bars to call them. I can’t get a signal. When we lived here before, cell service was practically nonexistent on Jar Island. There were a few random spots where you could get reception, like near the lighthouses, or sometimes in the Lutheran church parking lot, but for the most part Jar Island was a cell-phone-free zone. I guess that hasn’t changed.
There’s a telephone downstairs in the kitchen, but I’d rather not talk to my parents in front of Aunt Bette. I might start crying.
I hear Aunt Bette climb the stairs. I peek out my door and watch her walk to her room.
I guess I could try talking to her. I used to confide in her about all kinds of things. Whenever she’d visit in the summer, we’d walk down the hill and buy hot chocolates on Main Street. Even in August. She’d tell me about things I know my parents would freak over. The month she spent living in Paris with a married man, the series of paintings she did of herself nude. Aunt Bette has lived about a million and one lifetimes. She could have good advice for me.
Aunt Bette is already in bed. Her eyes are closed. But I guess she hears me, because they suddenly open. “Mary?”
I step into the room and crouch by her bed. “Are you asleep?”
She shakes her head and blinks. “I don’t think so. Am I?”
Even though I’m on the verge of tears, I laugh. “Am I bothering you?”
“No! Please!” She sits up. “Are you okay?”
I take a deep breath and try to get a hold of myself. “It’s strange to be back.”
“Yes. Of . . . of course.”
“I don’t know if I belong, after everything that’s happened.”
In a low voice Aunt Bette says, “This is your home. Where else would you belong?”
“Nowhere, I guess.”
“I’ve missed you, Mary.” A faint smile spreads across her face. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too,” I lie. Then I go back to my room and crawl into bed.
It takes me forever to fall asleep.
CHAPTER EIGHT
LILLIA
MY MOM’S IN HER BEDROOM ON THE PHONE WITH OUR dad, and Nadia and I are watching TV downstairs, sharing a pint of homemade dulce de leche ice cream from Scoops. At first, when I asked if she wanted some, she said no, even though it’s her favorite. I knew she was thinking about what Rennie said at cheerleading practice. I brought the carton over to the couch, and she watched me lick the ice cream off the top of the lid. “Just one bite,” she said, exactly like I knew she would. All the girls in our family have a sweet tooth.
The dryer dings, and I pause the show we’re watching. I go over to the laundry room and stuff the clean clothes into a basket and bring the basket back into the living room. I used extra dryer sheets, and the clothes smell so snuggly. I put my face up to a T-shirt and inhale the warmth. I start folding a stack of T-shirts, and then I see Nadia’s tank top. I put stain remover where there was strawberry daiquiri, and it came out. I didn’t even bother with my cashmere sweater. I just put it in the dry cleaning bag and hoped for the best.
“Here’s your shirt back,” I say, handing it over.
Nadia’s face goes white. “Um, thanks.”
“I got that stain out.” I watch her closely. “Alex said someone bumped into you and spilled their drink.”
“Yeah.” Nadia takes a big bite of ice cream, avoiding my eyes.
“Where’s Alex’s shirt? I tried to find it in your room so I could wash it and give it back to him.”
She hesitates and then says, “It’s at Janelle’s. Remember I was going to sleep over there after the party? I told her to bring it to school today, but she forgot.”
My phone buzzes. It’s Ashlin. Everyone’s meeting over at Bow Tie tonight after Rennie gets off work.
“Who’s that?” Nadia asks. “Are you going out?”
I set my phone down, because this is serious. “Nadia, you tell me right now. Did you drink at Alex’s, even though I told you not to?”
“No!” She has two bright splotches on her cheeks.
“Then promise me. Promise on our sister bond.”
Nadia won’t look at me. “Lillia, cut it out. I already told you.”
My heart breaks right in half. She’s won’t promise because she’s lying. She’s lying to my face like it’s nothing. I’ve never lied to Nadia. Not ever, not once. I’d never do that to her. “I’m giving you one more chance. You tell me the truth right this minute, Nadia, or else I’m telling Mommy everything.”
Nadia’s eyes go big and scared. “Okay! Wait! I had, like, maybe a half cup of strawberry daiquiri. I didn’t ask for it. One of my friends gave it to me. I thought it was a virgin one. I just took a couple tiny sips, so I wouldn’t waste it. It’s not a big deal. You drank at parties when you were a freshman!”
