Page 10

Chapter Nine

Scarlett

S eb’s in hospital.

His secret’s out now, at least. His parents know. Everyone knows. They’re keeping him in hospital for a while and I can’t imagine how stir-crazy that’s going to make him. But it’s Seb—he’ll bounce back. He has to. Bouncing is kind of his default setting. If Seb was a cartoon character, he would be Tigger.

He’s pretty out of it when I visit him; I doubt he’ll remember I was even there. I’m still glad I came, though, and grateful Seb’s parents think enough of me (and my friendship with Seb) to put me on the eight-person maximum visitor list.

Jackie Delaney made the cut, too. I know this because she comes over to me in the waiting room, just after leaving Seb’s private room, following her own brief visit. Jackie and I were best friends in middle school. But she looks me over now almost cautiously, before taking a seat next to me. It’s weird being just the two of us in the same room. We used to do sleepovers all the time, studied together, talked about boys and insecurities and what life would be like in high school. There was an assumption we’d be experiencing all of those things together. That we would always be close. And then grade nine happened. And Carter Beaumont and his minions. And the re-inventing of my entire personality.

The thought of Jackie, of all people, finding out about what happened, made me want to curl up and die. Because it’s the kind of situation Jackie would never let herself get into. And although I knew she would be nothing but supportive if she found out, there’s no way she could still respect me. So, I locked her out before that humiliation could ever happen. And while she tried to salvage the friendship, her concern was no match for my dogged determination. So, Jackie Delaney and I are not close anymore. Some of our social circles overlap and we still see each other at school and parties and gatherings and stuff. We’re still on friendly terms, but that’s it. We’re acquaintances now.

And secretly, I miss her.

I miss how easy our friendship was. How much it filled me up. And I have no idea why I’m even letting these kinds of thoughts into my head. Thoughts seeped in emotions heavy enough to drag me right off the top-step perch I need to be on to oversee and orchestrate how the world plays out around me. It’s a precarious spot up here. Seemingly more so lately than it ever has been. Honestly, it’s exhausting.

“How are you doing?” Jackie asks, large brown eyes meeting mine. “I know you and Seb are really tight.”

It’s obvious she still cares about me, even if she doesn’t like me anymore. And God, that makes it so much worse.

“I’m good, yeah.” My gaze slides to Seb’s closed door. “He’s going to be fine.”

There is no alternative to Seb being okay, so it’s the response I’m sticking with. And I breathe a sigh of relief when Jackie nods.

“Yeah. I mean, it’s Seb, right? He couldn’t bear going more than a couple of days without pulling some crazy stunt or getting into some kind of trouble.”

I laugh. I’m touched Jackie is being so nice, no matter how much harder her kindness makes it to be cold and bitchy and me. But then, Jackie Delaney is the kind of girl who’s nice to everyone. She didn’t have to go out of her way to come over and check in with me, though. There is literally no one else around right now to witness her walk away with just a brief nod, if that’s what she wanted to do. Except for the dour-faced nurse over at reception who keeps darting disapproving scowls our way, like she expects us to cause trouble for her any second. In her defense, she’s been dealing with Seb, and she knows we’re his friends. I can’t blame her for assuming we might be even half as much trouble as he can be.

“A bunch of people are coming to hang at my place later, if you want to come,” Jackie says, looking genuinely hopeful that I’ll take her up on the offer. But I’m pretty sure I’d get the same feeling hanging out with Jackie and her friends as I did with Seb and Caroline the other evening. Like a poser. The fake girl in a room of authentically genuine people. And while I may have made peace with the sacrifices I’ve had to make, I also don’t love having them rubbed in my face, even if no one would be doing it on purpose.

“Thanks.” I force my voice to sound neutral, almost formal. “Maybe. I’ve got a lot of homework, so I’ll see.”

“Okay, well, just show up whenever,” she nods, brushing her hands up and down her legs. The look in her eyes dims a little, and it’s obvious she knows I’m not going to show.

I stay in the waiting room for a while after Jackie leaves, trying to pull myself together. I hate that I feel so shaken up. About Seb. But also, about Jackie coming over to check in—the pull I’m feeling for things to be like they used to be. For feeling a sliver of shame in front of her, when I’ve made it my life’s mission not to care what people think of me.

Also, stupid Dylan Braun.

He’s on my brain, too, and that bugs me. I shouldn’t be wondering how he made it home today, after I texted last minute to tell him I wouldn’t be able to drive him. If he called his dad or if he grabbed a ride with someone else. One of his legion of fan girls, maybe. I definitely shouldn’t be wondering how his first day was. I mean, I know how his first day was—it was crap. But I have no idea how he feels about it all. The guy is a total enigma.

I get a text from Gavin just as I’m leaving the hospital.

Gavin

Wanna hang? Done practice. Folks r out next 3 hrs

I can’t decide if it’s worse or better that he isn’t even subtle about the fact that his text is a booty call. I guess better… if I was the kind of girlfriend who was into fooling around with him. You know, like a normal girlfriend.

Scarlett

Can't. homework. And already have plans ltr

Which isn’t a lie. I do have homework. And I might as well get it done and out of the way now. Because… I’ve been thinking, maybe I will go to Jackie’s house later. Just for a bit.

I go to a coffee shop to get my homework done, since that’s where I’m usually most productive. I park near the historic town center, then take the longer way to the Jumpin’ Bean Café, down a couple of the winding cobblestone streets I’ve always loved. They’re a bitch to navigate in heeled boots, but I’ve never let a challenge stop me from doing anything before.

When I get to the Jumpin' Bean, it’s packed. All fourteen tables taken, and the couch and chairs, too. I debate grabbing a drink and waiting around until someone leaves, but waiting around is one of my least favorite things to do, right behind making small-talk and listening to Sadie’s Broadway musical soundtracks in the car.

I head back the way I came, then slow down as I pass Board and Brews—the board game café that opened up a few months ago. It’s basically a coffee shop for nerds, right? Probably an even better homework spot than the Jumpin’ Bean.

I regret the decision as soon as I step inside, though. Silas Carmichael is standing behind the counter, ringing in a customer. Silas is Jackie’s boyfriend. Also, the guy who crashed my End Of Junior Year party before the summer with two of his friends, and smashed my father’s sixty-five-thousand dollar Chihuly glass sculpture.

Silas looks up as he hands the customer her receipt, and our gazes lock. I can tell he recognizes me because his jaw clenches and he nods, forcing enough of a smile that the dimple in his chin pops. I do the same. Sans the dimple.

My steps don’t slow, but I do let my eyes stray to the scattered tables around the cozy space as I approach the counter. Unfortunately, there are plenty of free tables.

“Hey,” Silas does that chin thrust guy greeting once I’m in front of him. “You meeting someone to play a board game or looking for a solo table?”

It’s the first time I’ve heard him speak without slurring his words, because it’s the first time I’ve seen Silas Carmichael sober. Which should tell you enough to get an idea of the kind of guy he is. He used to live in Allerston Lake—a nearby town that’s essentially Sandy Haven’s uglier, poorer, clinically depressed cousin. But he moved to Sandy Haven a couple of months ago with some foster family that clearly has an exceptionally low bar in terms of who they’re willing to take into their home. And that’s not just me passing snarky judgments—Silas has a legit grocery list of criminal arrests. He was in juvenile hall for over two years and recently got out of a month-long stint in rehab. Honestly, the guy’s got a backstory that hovers in a realm somewhere just beneath the same level of messed-up as Dylan Braun’s. No serial killers, but there was a triple homicide: Silas’ parents and Jackie’s mother. In fact, Jackie and Silas hadn’t seen each other since that tragedy when they were both ten, until this past summer. Jackie found him passed out in her camper on the first night of her soul-searching solo road trip across New England… just hours after he’d crashed my End Of Junior Year party.

As far as I understand it, Jackie somehow coerced Silas into joining her on her road trip. God knows why. Then fast forward a few months, and now they’re dating. The delinquent bad boy and the most wholesome, bubbly, rule-following gal at SH Prep. Her only flaw, as far as I can tell, is the guy standing in front of me right now, leveling me with his slate-gray eyes. He’s got a jawline that could cut glass and eyelashes to rival a giraffe’s—and a stare that would send an entire biker gang fleeing in the opposite direction.

“So?” he repeats. “Here to play board games or just a solo table?”

“Just a solo table,” I tell him.

“Sure thing.” He grabs a menu from the stack on the counter and walks around to lead me over to a smaller table in the corner. “We’re out of brownies.” He slaps the menu on the smooth wood. “I’ll come back in a few to take your order.”

So eloquent. He and Dylan could practically be twinsies. Fraternal, obviously.

I’m already re-thinking my decision to drop by Jackie’s house later. I forgot about Silas, who will almost definitely be there.

After pulling my computer out of my backpack, I get set up to work on my history essay. Silas swaggers back a few minutes later. “Know what you’re getting?”

“I’ll have an ice coffee and the vegetarian nachos.”

“Sounds good.” He reaches for the menu.

“With extra olives.”

“Extra olives,” he repeats, in a tone like he’s humoring me.

“And extra cheese, but only if it’s regular cheddar or mozzarella.”

He pulls back. “What the hell else kind of cheese would it be?”

“Seriously?” I balk.

“No. This is my joking face.”

Clearly, he’s not the kind of guy who’s just a jerk when he’s drunk.

“It could be Colby, or Monterey Carter, or Queso Blanco,” I inform him. “Or Oaxaca, or Cotija, or Gouda, or—”

“It’s mozzarella.”

“Perfect.” I give him a sardonic smirk. “Then I’ll have extra.”

“For sure.”

“Also, guacamole, but on the side.”

“Anything else?” he asks sarcastically—not like he’s, you know, an actual server whose job is literally to take people’s food orders. No way I’m going to Jackie’s later, if this jerk’s going to be there.

“Yes. A side garden salad. Extra tomatoes.”

“No matter what tomato variety?” He arches a dark brow. “Or only if they’re some sort of rare organic striped, cone-shaped Himalayan variety?”

I hold his gaze for a beat. “I’m allergic to organic striped cone-shaped Himalayan tomatoes.”

The corner of his mouth curls up. “I’ll make sure to double-check, then. Wouldn’t want you having a reaction.”

“God, can you imagine?”

“The horror,” he deadpans, sliding the menu off the table with a twinkle of humor in his eyes. Then he turns and strides off to the kitchen, a few feet behind the counter.

I lean back in my chair. Jackie’s place might be a fun time, after all. I could spar like this for hours.

I syphon through my notes and get started on my paper. Ten minutes into it, my phone buzzes. A text from a number I don’t recognize.

Unknown

u around this wkd? Might come to Sandy Haven

I text back.

Scarlett

Who's this??

Unknown

Carter. From Lake Willowmere a couple summers ago

I suddenly feel sick to my stomach. Why is Carter Beaumont texting me? Bringing up the incident that almost got him dragged to court. An incident that happened over two years ago.

I swore I wouldn’t let that guy have any kind of effect on me if he ever contacted me again, and yet my insides are churning as wildly as they did that summer two years ago. My skin feels like it’s slowly heating up and my breaths are heavy and shaky. I don’t understand. Why is he doing this? Why now? Why at all?

I stare blankly at my phone, and I swear, it’s like I’m there—relaxed and sprawled on my back, the wood of the dock rough and warm beneath my skin. Carter stretched out above me, one golden palm sliding up my stomach, fingers dipping beneath the string tied at the front of my bikini top, the other clutching his cellphone…. That crooked smile I thought was the nucleus of everything that summer… The aroused glint in his eyes, and the gentle brush against my skin as the flimsy scrap of fabric slid down my ribs and fluttered to the dock. The red flashing circle on his screen I dismissed because the only thing in focus in that moment was his gaze on my body and the desire it reflected for me—a gangly grade nine nobody. When Carter was everything I thought was unattainable for someone like me. He was cool, and a revered wide receiver and the dreamiest guy I’d ever laid eyes on. The fact that he was from a different town and another school only made him more exotic in my eyes—even more out of my league. But he wanted me. And I was such a wide-eyed lamb, and he was such a cunning wolf, the whole thing was destined to evolve into either an eye-rolling cliché or a gut wrenching “should have seen it coming” finale.

Suddenly, I’m furious. Why am I letting a text from this guy affect me like this? I decide if and when to unlock those corrosive memories—not him. I am not that same na?ve, pliable girl from freshman year. And if Carter thinks he can still mess with me, he is in for a shock. Just the idea of him presuming he’s still stronger or more worldly or superior to me makes my blood boil. As far as he’s concerned, he is nothing to me. Just like that summer was nothing. My biggest wish is for him to know that what he did hasn’t affected me one bit. I go out to parties and have a blast, have a gorgeous, popular boyfriend. I am on top of the world, and he didn’t so much as graze my self-esteem. It would be satisfying to know that if he trolled my Insta account, he at least saw all the photos—physical proof of how little that summer affected me. I text back:

Scarlett

Carter Clarke?

There is no Carter Clarke. I want him to think he had such a minimal impact on me that hearing from a Carter in relation to Lake Willowmere doesn’t immediately conjure up memories of him and what he did to me. That there might be another “Carter” who I associate just as equally with Lake Willowmere.

Unknown

r u serious rn?

Scarlett

Yes why?

There’s a pause before his reply, which feels good. Hopefully, I’ve knocked him down a peg. Or at least, rattled his ego.

Unknown

It's Carter Beaumont

Scarlett

Carter Beaumont? God that was like 2 yrs ago. What do u want?

Unknown

u around this wkd?

Why the hell does Carter Beaumont want to see me?

I breathe, and then type.

Scarlett

Busy. Maybe some other time

I want that asshole out of my life. For good. I also want him to feel like a nobody.

He responds right away.

Unknown

all wkd?

I hate that he’s being persistent. That this is obviously more than just a text to un-nerve me. I hate even more that I am engaged in a conversation with this sleezeball. I’m tempted to ignore him. To just not respond to his last text. But that would definitely look like I’m affected—the opposite of a casual brush-off. My reply needs to be breezy and nonchalant, like I’m barely giving him a second thought. And like I couldn’t care less if I talk to him or not.

Scarlett

Ya. Plans. Sorry gtg

I wait a few seconds, and he doesn’t text back. Still, I have a feeling this thing with him—this sudden reconnection—isn’t totally shut down. I need to be better prepared next time. God, I feel sick at the thought that there’s even going to be a “next time”, and that I won’t know when he’s going to pop up in my messages again. I want nothing to do with Carter… but if I block him, it will look like he’s getting to me—that he has some kind of power over me. And I swore I would never let that happen again.

But it feels like it already is.

If Carter decides to keep reaching out, I’ll have no choice but to respond, so he knows I’m not affected by what he did. I can’t ignore him. He’s messing with my emotions all over again, and I hate it. I hate Carter Beaumont. I hate that I’ve worked so hard these past two years to build myself up and always be the one controlling my relationships, to be immune to guys like him… and yet here I am feeling totally gutted after one unexpected text exchange.

The sting of tears burns the corners of my eyes. I need to get out of here.

My laptop makes a loud snapping sound as I slam it closed, then cram it into my backpack along with my pencil case and binder. Silas looks up at the screeching sound my chair makes when I push back from the table. “Hey!” he calls over. He’s standing in the kitchen with an oven mitt in one hand, a plate of nachos in the other, and a wicked scowl on his face. “You’re leaving? ”

I don’t answer, just shove my arms into my coat sleeves.

“Are you kidding me right now?” He practically tosses the platter onto the counter. “You gonna pay for this, at least?”

“Sorry.” I fling my backpack over my shoulder. “I have to go.”

“What the hell? You’re—”

“I didn’t even eat any of it,” I call as I stride across the worn wood floors, reining in tears. I’ll come back sometime this weekend and pay him twice whatever the stupid nachos and salad cost.

Anyway, who cares what Silas Carmichael thinks of me? I probably won’t see him again until the summer at one of the larger beach ragers. I definitely won’t be seeing him this evening at Jackie’s house. It was stupid for me to even consider going. My goal isn’t to rekindle middle school friendships and seek out fun times. My goal is to get through high school on top of the pack. To spot snakes like Carter Beaumont when they first slither from beneath their hiding spaces, and to ensure I have the power to squash them before they even start their approach.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” Silas calls after me as I shove the door open. Tiny bells jingle overhead, announcing my departure to the other seven customers who probably already heard our exchange a few seconds ago, even over their raucous conversation.

“Hope you choke on a Himalayan tomato, princess!” he adds, even more loudly.

“Hope you don’t trip and break a leg on the way to your next AA meeting, Carmichael,” I shoot back, because even when my heart is beating as rapidly as it is right now, and I’m swallowing back tears, I will never let them see me sweat.

I stall for a second in the open doorway at the realization of how mean my comeback was. Silas threw out an insult pulled from our tongue-in-cheek banter a few minutes ago. I callously made light of his most personal struggle. And while I take pride in always hitting back hard enough to achieve a full knockout, I never aim below the belt. That comment was totally uncalled for.

I dab at the corners of my eyes with my thumbs, inhaling a long breath, then turn and stride back towards the counter, my heeled boots clacking against the honey-gold hardwood floor. When I reach Silas, I pull my purse from my backpack, remove two twenty-dollar bills and set them on the counter, forcing my eyes to meet his steely gaze. “Sorry. That was shitty… I’m just—I didn’t mean to say that.”

His head cocks, and he blinks those long lashes. Bites the inside of his cheek. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” I snap, so harshly it basically counteracts my apology. But Silas doesn’t seem to notice—or maybe he notices too much, because as I turn and head back towards the door, his low voice makes me falter in my tracks.

“You sure you’re alright? Jackie’s gonna be here in ten minutes, if you want to—”

“I said everything’s fine.” I cut him off. But when I reach the door, I pause and turn my head just enough that my voice will carry over to him, but not enough that he’ll be able to see the tear that escaped and is now trailing down my cheek. “Thanks, though.”

I fast-walk all the way back to my car. Because I also made a vow to never run from anything ever again.