Page 7

WAVERLY

A fter classes, I drove to the Bergamens’ to pick up my eleven-year-old brother. He stayed at his best friend’s house every afternoon after school until someone from home could collect him.

When Mrs. Bergamen opened the door to me, she smiled in surprise. “Waverly! I didn’t realize you’d be picking up Gates today. Are Bob and Katherine out of town again?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh, you poor thing, you, stuck babysitting again . And on the first weekend with college back in session, too.” Tipping her head sympathetically, she clasped her hands together and said, “You know what? Why doesn’t Gates just stay here tonight?

Jackson’s been begging for him to have a sleepover, anyway. This would work out best for everyone.”

I hesitated before answering, “Are you sure?”

“Of course, sweetie.” She waved out a hand to scoot me along. “You should be out having fun with your friends, not looking after your little brother.”

Which told everyone right there how little Mrs. Bergamen actually knew about me.

“Gosh, I remember those days like they were only yesterday.” She gave a wistful sigh before smiling at me. “So you don’t even worry about Gates, you hear?”

Nodding, I finally said, “Let me just clear it with my parents real quick.”

“Sure thing. Go right ahead.”

I pulled my phone from my pocket and turned away to dial my mom.

“I forgot to mention,” Mom answered by way of greeting. “There are some frozen chicken nuggets in the freezer you can warm up for dinner.”

“Actually,” I bit my lip, knowing how much she hated changes in plans. “I’m at Mrs. Bergamen’s house, and she asked if Gates could stay the night with them.”

There was a pause before Mom asked, “ Ashton asked that?” as if I were talking about a different Mrs. Bergamen.

“Yes,” I said.

“And you’re there? Right now?”

“Yes.”

“Let me talk to her.”

I tried not to let it bother me that my mother had no trust in my word whatsoever, and I dutifully turned back to the front door and held out my phone to Jackson’s mom. “She wants to talk to you.”

“Of course, dear.” Mrs. Bergamen graciously took my phone, and she chatted happily with my mother, smiling and laughing before she handed the receiver back.

“All set,” she announced.

I brought the phone to my ear, and Mom said, “Call me if there are any problems. I hate it when you’re home alone.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I murmured before hanging up.

In front of me, Mrs. Bergamen said, “I’ll have Evan drop Gates off in the morning after breakfast.”

“Okay.” I faltered, not sure what to do now. “Thank you.”

“He’ll be just fine,” she assured as I shuffled a step back. “You go have fun now.”

She sent me an encouraging wave, and I mumbled my deference before turning away to start back to my car.

My mind was already spinning with thoughts of everything I could do now that I had the whole house to myself for the entire night. I could read anything I wanted in whichever room I pleased, watch whatever I liked on the television, and eat what I?—

Ooh, I could order Chinese. My family detested egg rolls and cashew chicken. I wouldn’t have to listen to anyone complain about the smell if I ate that.

Mouth already watering, I decided that’s exactly what I was going to do: eat out.

At home, I parked in my spot in the back and trudged up the flower-lined path to the rear entrance. The house smelled like lemon cleaner when I stepped inside, due to Mom giving the kitchen one last scrub-down before she left, I’m sure.

I glanced around the quiet, dimly lit room and flipped on a light before walking a full circle around the island.

After Zane killed himself, I had refused to go anywhere near the kitchen, so my parents had eventually sold that house and bought a new one.

Except this place had an island in the kitchen, just like the last one.

And to this day, I couldn’t seem to pass through the room without making sure there wasn’t a body just hanging out on the floor around the corner with its flesh sliced open.

When I did the full circle, finding the kitchen free of dead babysitters, I released a relieved breath and lugged my purse and backpack through the house and around to the staircase in the foyer. Upstairs, my room was on the left, above the kitchen.

I clomped inside and flipped on the light with my elbow, but that didn’t exactly brighten anything.

The walls were gray, the hanging photos were in black and white.

The bedspread, curtains, desk, and dresser were black.

Even the one stuffed animal I had was a black and white cow.

Color came in small splashes, either on bits of clothing or covers of books.

My room was about as dull and unimpressive as I was.

I used to like it that way. I actually preferred the lack of color because I didn’t have much use for life. I was basically just waiting until my time here was over.

Until about a year and a half ago during the first week of my freshman year at Haverick.

That’s when Mom had gotten me a job at the campus library through one of her connections, insisting I needed to get out and learn what the workforce was like.

I was training at the front desk, being instructed how to check in and out books when he’d walked up to the counter, wanting to borrow a copy of Your Blueprint for Pleasure .

The librarian had asked him to be patient with us because I was just learning my job, and Keene’s face lit up with a mischievous grin.

“I’m her first, huh? I’ll be sure to go gentle.”

And he’d turned that naughty smile my way, only to blink in surprise and fall almost immediately sober as he straightened before backing a respectful distance away.

It was the first time he’d focused his attention on me in almost ten years.

He’d clearly forgotten about the girl he’d met at the grief center on its opening day, while I’d never once lost track of him, not through all the years that had passed.

I would sit on the sidelines during open time, watching him and his seven play in the big conference room located in the middle of the center.

Their group was loud and rowdy, and more often than not they were laughing and having fun.

Even when one of them seemed to have a rough session, the others would crowd around until they inevitably cheered the sad member up. They were a true team.

I had equally hated and envied Keene all those years for having his six close friends and me having no one, until there he was again, standing three feet away across a counter from me and looking directly into my eyes in the library.

I swear, at that moment, something inside me woke up, stretched its arms over its head with a mighty yawn then started to pace restlessly back and forth in my chest. Whenever he returned to the library, that thing in there sat up alertly, taking notice and anxiously itching to come out and play.

It was as if he’d filled my life with color. And now, I could no longer enjoy my dull, pathetic room or my dull, pathetic existence that used to make me perfectly content.

Keene Dugger had a way of ruining everything .

His earlier taunt still rang in my ears.

See you tonight. Oh, wait. No, I won’t.

Two years ago, I wouldn’t have cared about a stupid party, no matter what anyone said. But now I stewed and wondered. Wouldn’t it be something if I strolled in and just shocked the crap out of him with my presence?

Then again, he probably wouldn’t even notice if I did go. He’d be too busy trying to score with every other female present.

My phone dinged with an incoming text, and my gut muscles tightened. Mom must’ve changed her mind and wanted me to go collect Gates from the Bergamens after all. She really did hate it when I was home alone. Too much opportunity for me to hurt myself.

With a sigh, I checked the screen. But the text was from Xander instead.

So you’re coming tonight, right?

Under the message, she listed the address of where the party would be taking place. I bit my lip as I studied the street address, memorizing it and trying not to think about the fact that this was where Keene lived.

Not wanting to leave Xander on read, I typed a quick reply.

I don’t have anything to wear.

Except that didn’t scare her off at all.

Just come in what you’re wearing now. It’s not that big of a deal. Or I’ll find you something from my closet if you want.

Ugh. She was going to talk me into this, wasn’t she? What was it going to take to make her realize I didn’t do parties?

But he was going to be there, my next thought chased all the others away.

I seriously doubt we wear the same size,

I wrote back, still trying to resist.

Not unless I padded my bra with oranges.

Just trust me.

She wrote back before adding,

I got this. Ooh, now I’m excited. Can I do your makeup and hair too? I mean, only if that’s okay with you. But can I? Please. Please. I absolutely LOVE all things fashion.

Oh no. She wanted to turn me into a human Barbie.

As if already sensing my dread, she sent another text.

But you don’t have to let me. Come as you are. I just want you here.

My shoulders slumped.

Alright. What’s a good time?

Before pushing send, however, I paused and asked myself what I was doing. This was complete insanity. And yet still, that little voice in my head that said, he’ll be there , forced my thumb to press the screen, sealing the deal.

Xander replied instantly.

Really? Oh my God! Yes. Thank you, thank you, thank you! You won’t regret this. It’s going to be so much fun. And how about seven or seven thirty? We’ll get ready together. No one’s going to start showing up until eight or nine, I bet.

I glanced at my watch. That gave me an hour and a half.

After sending her a thumbs-up emoji, I spent the next ten minutes having a mini panic attack, asking myself repeatedly what I’d just done. I started to write Xander back at least half a dozen times to back out and tell her I couldn’t make it.

And I kept listing the cons in my head as I took a shower, preparing to go.