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Chapter Thirty-Six

Dylan

B y the time I stop running, I have no idea where I am. Wish I knew more about that map thing Scarlett was talking about on your phone. Would be handy right now. It’s cold as hell and I’m not wearing a jacket. Or gloves or hat or anything. Turns out snow isn’t nearly as awesome when you’re out in it wearing just a shirt and jeans with worn sneakers. Still beats sticking around and listening to the yelling. Hearing my family flinging opinions around about me.

I ignore my phone, which keeps ringing every two minutes. Probably Phil freaking the hell out. I need a break from him as much as I need a break from those fucking ads that follow me everywhere I go. Worst decision I ever made. Hope to God they have some new campaign in the works that’ll replace this one soon.

I give the ‘intentional breathing’ thing a shot that Morley gets such a boner about. Does nothing, though. Big surprise. Still feel like slamming my fist into the stop sign at the intersection that's as unfamiliar to me as the one I just passed two minutes ago. Instead, I fish my phone out of my pocket. Type out a text. Fully aware that texting Scarlett as a substitute for destroying shit should weird me out way more than it does.

Dylan

u busy?

She answers right away.

Scarlett

Only if u consider sucking back 3 candy canes in a row and suffering thru my Aunt Rita's 5000 Tuscany photos "busy"

Shit. Forgot she'd be celebrating with her family right now. Forgot this Christmas thing is a big deal to everyone—not just the Brauns. Another text comes in:

Scarlett

How's your Christmas so far? Everything ok?

It's like she has this sixth sense that knows when I'm anything but ok.

Dylan

Shit hit the fan during lunch. I bailed

Scarlett

Alone?

Dylan

Yeah

Scarlett

u want company?

Dylan

no

Yes.

Scarlett

You just saying that?

Dylan

Go back to christmas w ur family

Scarlett

Where r u? I'm coming to meet u

Like I said, it's as if she knows. And when the hell did that even happen? That I let someone get close enough they can read my mood through a goddamn text exchange. And that I'd rather be with her when I'm reeling than alone with my stewing rage.

Scarlett

Hello??? Where r u?

Dylan

No idea. Just passed a school w a hugeass dragon in the playground

Scarlett

I'll be there in 10

She gets here in five. I climb in the passenger seat and crank the heat. Thought "freezing your balls off" was just an expression until today. It's no fucking joke.

I give Scarr the lowdown on the Braun Christmas lunch face-off. She listens. Nods. Then says, "Well… Your cousin sounds like a real peach."

No idea why, but it makes me smile. It's corny. Not at all the reaction I was expecting. Maybe that's what makes me smile. And maybe that's what makes Scarlett start to laugh. Makes us both laugh. And stops my heart from feeling like it’s about to blow right out of my chest. Deflates my thoughts from screaming level to normal.

"I don't know what that even means," Scarlett wheezes. I tell her I sure as hell don't either.

"Okay, look," she finally says, more serious again. "Here's what I really think."

I wait as she takes a breath. Then shares her advice.

"I think… just—fuck'em."

"Huh?"

"Fuck'em," she repeats. "Who cares what your perm-haired aunt and your peachy cousin think? They don't know you. And it's not like you're even going to see them again. I mean, until next Christmas. Probably not even then, based on how today went down." She lifts her shoulder. "So just—fuck'em."

"…Fuck 'em."

"Yup." She arches an eyebrow. "Also, full disclosure—your cousin is not entirely wrong about you being hot."

I usually feel uncomfortable hearing a girl say that about me. Like my skin is crawling in some kind of silent warning signal. But it's Scarlett saying it. Which feels… different.

"Honestly," Scarlett continues. "Telling her friends she thinks you're hot doesn't make her a bad person. And she didn't say it to you. Or try to make you uncomfortable on purpose. You said she was embarrassed about it."

I think over what Scarlett's saying. Pick apart the words and turn them over.

"Yeah. I guess." Maybe she's right; there are worse things than your cousin saying she thinks you’re hot. And the thing she said about me being raised like an animal—isn’t exactly like saying I’m an animal. Just saying I was raised like one. Which isn’t totally off-base.

"Your aunt, on the other hand, sounds like a smacker," Scarlett adds after a few seconds of silence.

"So… my aunt's a smacker and my cousin's a peach?"

Scarlett grins. "I mean, I'd have to meet them in person to confirm for sure, but based on the intel I have to go on—yes, that's my professional opinion."

I think her opinion might be right. About my aunt anyway. Still don't know what it means to call someone a peach. Pretty sure it's not even an insult. Either way, the things they said about me aren't burning away at my insides anymore. Think the thing I feel most uncomfortable about is running away from Phil, after he stuck up for me to his own sister. His whole family. And he always does that—sticks up for me, no matter who it is. Even if I’m the one who did something wrong, like the time I threw that girl’s phone or trashed my room or got suspended for punching a guy at school for talking shit about me. Defended me over those ads, which he was totally against me doing. That he warned me would make everything more public and open for people to pass judgment.

Bet Phil’s still out there right now, driving up and down every street looking for me on his Christmas afternoon.

And suddenly it hits me—I believe him now when he says he never stopped looking for me all those years ago. That it broke him when my mother and I disappeared. Can’t imagine what he was like those first couple years, given how hard he’s taken finding out I’ve been alive all this time. Only thing I can be mad at him for is that he cares about me too much. Clings to me like every time I walk out the door is the last time he’s ever gonna see me. That feeling is probably as real and as heavy for him as the feeling I have when I get this weird fear that Eli’s gonna somehow break out of prison and come find me. Make me live with him again.Tangle up all my wires back to the way they were before.

"I need to call Phil and let him know everything's cool," I say, fishing my phone out of my pocket.

Scarlett's eyes go wide. "You haven't called him yet? He's gonna be freaking out."

It was a dick move—ignoring his calls. He will be freaking out. Thinking I'm still out walking in the cold. He picks up right away after I dial. "Dylan?"

“Yeah, it’s me… Sorry I took off.” First time I’ve apologized and felt like I got the words out right.

“You must be freezing. Where are you?”

I glance to my side. “With Scarlett. In her car.”

"Oh. That's… Well, that's good." He sounds relieved. "You doing okay?"

"Yeah." Weirdly, I am.

"Think I could come get you? Go for a ten-minute drive before we head back?"

Really don't feel like re-hashing any of that shit with him, but I tell him it's fine. Scarlett and I talk for a few more minutes. She tells me about her day so far. Sounds like her extended family is… as special as mine. Only hers didn't have a screaming debate about the way she was raised or how her past turned her into a freak.

When Phil pulls up alongside us in his Audi, Scarlett squeezes my arm. Runs her finger along the crease of my elbow. "Remember, if your aunt or your cousin or great uncle or whatever—if they say stuff about you, blow it off. Don't let it get to you." She arches an eyebrow. "Fuck 'em."

"Fuck 'em."

We say our goodbyes and I switch cars.

“Sure you're alright?” Phil asks after I shut the door behind me. His eyes are pink. Was he crying?

Shit. Makes me feel like even more of an asshole.

“Yeah…” I swallow. My throat suddenly feels really dry. Enough that it’s hard to get words out. “I shouldn’t have split like that.” I chew on my lip ring. Think the words over before I say them out loud. “Just needed to get away for a bit. Things got kind of intense.”

He laughs. “That’s an understatement.” We veer out of the school parking lot and onto the road. “Tell you what. I’ll forgive you for running off if you forgive me for fueling that whole thing about the Volt ads and the things your cousin said about you.”

“Deal.”

“Alright." He glances over at me. "And I get that you need to get away sometimes. Especially when that kind of stuff comes up. And it’s okay to take a breather... Just maybe let me know where you’re going when it happens. A call or a text or something. So I don’t worry.”

“Sure.”

We talk a bit more on the way back about the screaming match and the comments Cass and my aunt made, and we agree maybe we over-reacted. Maybe it’s not worth ruining Christmas over. Phil thinks we should apologize—says learning to apologize is one of the top three most useful skills he’s learned over the years. And to keep it short and simple.

When we walk in the house, everyone goes dead quiet. They’re all in the living room. Diane looks like she’s been crying. So do Cass and Aunt Heidi. Kenz is lying on the fluffy rug by the fire fast asleep, with Walter beside her. Even he’s too beat to come over and do his usual crotch shoving routine.

“So.” Phil claps his hands, back to his even-keeled, confident self. “Dylan and I wanted to apologize… Realized we may have both over-reacted about what you said, Cassie.” He looks at my cousin. “And Heidi”—he turns to his sister—“I get a little overprotective of this guy.” He puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes.

I don’t flinch or pull away, and he keeps his hand there.

“And I tend to get emotional about things I hear people say about him," Phil continues. "But I know you didn’t mean to be hurtful, Cass. So I’m sorry if anything I said upset either of you. Although, mostly, I’m sorry I never got to finish the three roast potatoes that were still on my plate.”

His joke breaks the tension and everyone laughs. Cassie apologizes. Even Aunt Heidi, who says she gets emotional about people saying stuff about her daughter, too. Then it's my turn.

“Sorry for yelling and uh… for taking off,” I say. “And for making Phil miss out on his roast potatoes.” Which gets an even bigger laugh than when Phil said it.

He squeezes my shoulder and my eyes meet his. Then it suddenly hits me—he doesn’t have that sad look in his eyes. He’s smiling at me and that’s all it is—just a smile. Nothing else lingering behind it.

I smile back.

Christmas doesn’t end up sucking after all.