Page 106 of 16 Forever

Maggie is not pleased to see me.

This is evident not only in her body language but in her language-language as well.

“Oh Jesus no,” she says.

“I came to cheer you up,” I say to the person upon whom my presence seems to be having the exact opposite effect.

“Carter,” Maggie says, literally smacking her hand to her forehead. “You’re in a tux. My god. You look so good. Even though it’s a little big.”

“Facts,” I say, grinning. I bought the best option the Salvation Army had: a slightly oversize tuxedo with a dark purple bow tie and cummerbund, which is currently pressing into my belly button in the most irritating way.

“But why are you— I told you not to come!”

“I know. I know you did, but...” What is the end of this sentence? Coming here made so much sense in the moment—my gut was telling me that Maggie was nervous, that she needed me, and that maybe I needed to put myself out there, make the big, selfless gesture—but now I’m seeing the alarm on Maggie’s face and all I can think is WHY THE HELL DID I COME HERE? “I thought I could... Like, just now, I saw how thrown you were by your dad. I didn’t want you to be alone in that.”

“She’s not,” Shana says, not so mean but not so nice either. Sheand Ember are standing on the other side of Maggie, positioned in a way that, intentionally or not, blocks me from the view of the other wedding guests.

“Yeah,” Maggie says, eyes shifty, clearly terrified that I’ll be spotted. “I appreciate you being here, it’s so sweet, but—It’s really not good if—I just—”

“I also brought my camera,” I say, pointing at the device strapped around my neck. I figured if anything went awry, I could just say I was here to help out by taking some photos. It’s hard to argue with that, right? It’s a nice gesture!

“You have to leave, Carter,” Shana growls, with a conviction that is highly persuasive. “Okay? That’s what she’s saying.”

“Yeah, okay.” I try to sound chill even as a small crack ripples down one of my heart chambers. “I get it. Sorry.”

“It’s not you, Carter,” Maggie says, her voice wobbling. “It’s really not. It’s just my—”

“Family,” I finish for her. Part of my logic had been that maybe Maggie’s family would bemost likelyto accept us as a couple again here, at a wedding, when everyone’s in a spectacular mood. Like when I was in fifth grade at Uncle Jed and Uncle Flip’s wedding, and Mom and Dad were so happy, they let Lincoln and me sit at the table and play on their phones for, like, two hours. Unheard of! I broke my high score inTiny Wingsby so much.

“Guess I didn’t think this through,” I say. “My bad.” I take a few steps backward toward a large tree. A fat raindrop plunks onto my neck.

“Oh, great,” Maggie says, flinching as she gets hit by one too.

“Operation: Canopy Relocation is a go!” It’s the older woman from Bean-Age Dream, wearing a suit, all business. She points toShana. “Grab your ax.” She turns to Ember. “I’ll help you move your drum kit. Maggie, you take your keyboard with the help of... You!” She points to me as I try to casually position a hand on the tree trunk. “Be a pal and carry this keyboard with Maggie over to the canopy.”

“Oh,” I say. “I probably shouldn’t—”

“Come on, man, this ain’t brain science! She picks up on one side; you get the other! Before the rain turns it into a useless piece of junk.”

“He, um, was actually just leaving, Misty,” Maggie says, nodding me away, “so I’ll find someone else to—”

“Fine, fine!” Misty says, hefting Ember’s bass drum into the air and walking it across the yard with quick, tiny steps as Shana and Ember follow with, respectively, a guitar and a high hat. “Just move it!”

The raindrops are picking up. I look to Maggie, likeYou sure you don’t want me to move it with you?

“Go, Coco! Please! Just leave!”

And I’m about to go, I really am, but then:

“Here, pick up your side,” an older girl says, gesturing to the keyboard, “and I’ll get this...”

Her sentence peters out. I realize this is Maggie’s older sister, who I vaguely recognize from when I was fifteen. She is staring at me.

I could run away. I probablyshouldrun away.

But Vivian Spear seems to have already identified me.

I decide to address the problem head-on.