Just Like Fate (18 page)

“I’m not going to move,” I tell my dad then, looking up at
him. “I want to stay here with you and Debbie.” My stepmother
lets out a breath, as if she’s been holding it in the entire time.

“Then we’re happy to have you,” my father says, smiling
in a way that is so much like Teddy, I feel an actual pain at how
much I miss my brother. Even if he’s the one who owes me an
apology for flipping out on me and my boyfriend.

I decide to let my dad call me in sick to school on Thursday
and Friday. It doesn’t take much convincing, especially since
the bruise on my face is still really swollen. I have plans to
meet up with Chris after the ritual Sunday dinner at my dad’s,
but when my brother calls around noon to say he isn’t coming, I know I have to fix things with him. I send Chris a text:
rain check on tonight. sorry. family stuff.

I expect him to make a joke or say he’s going to hunt me
down anyway, but instead he writes back,
MY FAULT?
I furrow my brow.
NOT THIS TIME . . .
I’ll have to tell Chris about the fight eventually, especially
since he’s going to see the bruises sooner or later. But first I’m
going to meet up with Teddy and put the entire mess behind
us.
It’s after three when I finally get up the nerve to leave my
house, the bruise on my cheek still noticeable even with a ton
of Debbie’s foundation. My brother doesn’t know I’m coming, but I’m surprising him with his favorite—Debbie’s homemade quiche—so he can’t exactly turn me away.
Then again, I probably should have called because
nobody answers my brother’s door as I pound on it. I realized
when I got to his floor that I left my phone in the car—which
is a clear indication that I must have a concussion.
I groan, thinking that Teddy and Phil are probably at the
library. I leave the covered pie plate on the floor next to their
room. I’m halfway across the downstairs lobby when I realize
that I didn’t leave a note on the dry-erase board on his door. I
should at least let my brother know that I’m the one who left
the food.
I press the button for the elevator, but when the doors
slide open, the world seems to drop out from under me. From
inside the cramped space, Chris’s eyes widen when he sees
me standing there. His arm is slung carelessly over the shoulders of a pretty brunette while she’s still mid-laugh. Quickly
Chris pulls away. The girl offers me little more than a curious
glance, but I know at once that she’s Maria. Devastated, I take
a step back.
Chris looks between me and Maria before opening his
mouth. “Oh. No, I—”
“Shut up,” I say, thinking back on everything Teddy said
that day. Chris and I were supposed to be together tonight, but
when I cancel, he comes here? He sees her? Has he been with
her all week? A dagger, sharp and poisoned, twists in my gut.
I’ve been so stupid. I should have just stayed away, stayed
in my old life with my family—my mother, sister, and Simone.
Ever since Gram died, I’ve been reckless—running away from
my problems, trusting people I shouldn’t, getting jumped in
the school bathroom. And it seems like everything horrible
started right here. Right with Christopher.
I turn to leave. Chris jumps forward, grabbing my upper
arm to spin me to him, but when he sees me up close, he gasps.
“Caroline, what happened to your face?” He puts his
palm on my cheek as his eyes go panicked and feral. “Who
did this to you?”
But my pride and heart are aching too much for me to tell
him. I hate him for sounding so concerned, so protective. He’s
made a fool out of me, just like Teddy thought he would.
“Get off,” I say, pushing him away. Behind him, Maria
purses her lips and looks at the ground. I back toward the
door, shaking my head. “Don’t call me, Chris,” I say. “Don’t
show up. Don’t
anything
. I’m done.”
I turn before he can touch me again, jogging toward the
exit. I hear him cut after me, but I dodge to the right the minute I’m out of the building and then flatten myself against the
outer wall while he runs toward the parking lot, screaming my
name. The pain in his voice nearly unravels me, but I won’t be
just another girl to him. I wanted to be
the
girl.
It was only a coincidence that I parked on the street when
I got to the dorm, but I’m glad as I make my way toward my
car. My body is shivering, but it’s not from the cold. This is
what it’s like to be hollowed out, to have hit rock bottom.
When I get in my car, I find my phone dropped down
between two seats. I fish it out and stare down at the screen,
not sure who to turn to anymore. Suddenly I think about
Debbie’s words about needing family—about maybe needing
a sister. I dial my mother’s house, but when Natalie answers, I
nearly hang up. I force myself to talk and ask in a cracked voice
for our mother.
“Caroline,” my sister says. “What’s happening? You
sound weird.”
I close my eyes and listen to the hum of my engine as I let
my car heat up. I’m not sure where to start—so I go back to
the beginning. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when Gram died,” I
whisper. “I hate myself for it, Natalie. I would do anything to
take it back.”
My sister takes in a harsh breath, speechless for a moment.
“I shouldn’t have said those things to you,” she says. “You had
every right to go out that night, Coco. You didn’t do anything
wrong.”
The affection in her voice makes me feel like we’re kids
again, sneaking to look at our Christmas presents under the
tree while our parents were still asleep. Natalie and I weren’t
always this far apart. We used to be friends.
“I’m having a really bad week,” I choke out finally, adjusting the rearview mirror to look at my face—actually
look
at my
face. I’m shocked by what I see, the distortion in skin tone, the
swelling. The utter sadness in my eyes.
“Nat?” I ask. “Are you busy right now? I could use someone to talk to.”
“You’re willing to talk to me again?” she asks, a little teasingly. “Of course, Caroline. Are you at Dad’s?”
“I’m on my way home now.”
“Then I’ll meet you there,” she says. “And hey, I’ll even
bring the bottle of wine Aunt Claudia left behind.”
I choke out a laugh. “Don’t you think she’ll ask about it
when she comes in for Thanksgiving?”
“Naw,” Natalie says. “She’ll just bring more. I’m going to
throw on sweats and head over. I’ll see you soon.”
I let out a held breath as I hang up. Even though it’s been
years since my sister and I have been close, it seems almost too
easy. In a way, I think maybe I never really lost her at all. And
so with the comfort of that thought, I leave the Clinton campus, letting the hurt fade rather than trying to bury it.

I’m swimming in a tank, watching the humans go by. I’m
underwater, so I can’t hear them. I’m a fish, so I don’t speak
their language. Mostly I don’t know the word “happiness”—it
doesn’t seem to apply to me anymore—but I’m not sad either.
I’m just here—sitting on Joel’s beanbag chair playing the role
of girlfriend in the fake movie version of my life. Watching the
formerly mellow male lead bounce off the walls about Friday’s
Electric Freakshow concert.

“I’m so glad your mom didn’t find out that you skipped
class again. I still can’t believe you did that. And here I thought
you were such a good girl.” He grins, something mischievous,
flirtatious. But it only turns my stomach.

“She’s kind of clueless most of the time,” I say flatly. The
thought of getting in trouble doesn’t deter me. In fact, I’m
thinking of cutting history tomorrow.

Joel’s moved on. “I looked up the set lists online. I think
they might open with ‘Magnets for Fate.’ I hope they do: That
would be so bad ass.”

You used to be so reserved—I guess this is what amps you
up.
Or have you been brainwashed?
Have I?
“My mom’s letting me take the Suburban,” he says from
across the room. “We can take a few more people if Simone
and her man-of-the-week want to ride with us.”
“Don’t talk about her like that,” I snap. Joel tosses a pillow
at me.
“You know I’m joking,” he says. “Simone’s cool.”
“Yes.” I look at him sternly. “She is.” I watch him walk into
his closet to flip through his assortment of hoodies. “Besides,”
I say. “Simone’s not coming.”
“Why not?” he calls, not looking back. “How could she
miss it? I mean they probably won’t get back to the city for
another two ye—”
“I already told you a million times,” I say, annoyed. “She’s
grounded
.”I suddenly realize that Simone’s a sweet talker—that
she’s gotten passes from her parents before while grounded.
That maybe it’s something more. I haven’t told Simone that I
slept with Joel, but I’m not exactly great at hiding things either.
She knows I’m lying to her about something, and she thinks
I’m madly in love with Joel Ryder and have ditched her every
night for him. But in reality, I’ve been spending it in my room.
Alone. Simone can’t make me forgive myself, and she can’t
bring Gram back. Those are the only two things I want—and
they’re impossible.
“What’s Simone doing with her tickets?” Joel asks. “Does
she want us to scalp them? Because if so, we have to leave even
earlier.”
“We’re already leaving at four,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“That’s early enough.”
“Baby,” Joel says, turning toward me again. His eyes are
bright, and he’s smiling, but the word “baby” does nothing
to endear me now. “I’d have gone last week if I could,” Joel
continues. “But hey, at least we get to go together.”
“At least,” I mutter. I want to sprint away from this place,
from this life. But the lead in my shoes is the fact that in a few
days, I’ll get to see my favorite band of all time. Music is the
only thing that reaches me inside the fishbowl. So when Joel
leans down to kiss me, I just close my eyes. And pretend I’m
somewhere else.

Natalie has night class tonight, but I call her on the way home.
I never told her about Gram’s necklace, and although I know
it’s part of why I’ve been avoiding her, the thought of going
alone with Joel to the concert has me almost panicked.
“Hey,” I say when she picks up. “I was calling to see if

“I love him!” Natalie screams into the phone. “Wait . . .
how do
you
know I love him?”
“I heard you on the phone,” I say. “Anyway, Simone isn’t
using her two tickets, and if you want to go—“
The sound of Natalie’s even louder screams on the other
end of the line cut me off and make me hold the phone out
from my ear. “So that’s a yes, then?” I ask when she’s finished.
“Yes!” she says excitedly. “Yes, definitely. Oh, wow, this is
going to be awesome. I have to start planning what to wear.”
“I’ll help you pick something,” I say. The voice coming
out of my mouth sounds like someone else’s, someone normal. “If you’re going to snag a rocker, a sweater set won’t cut
it.”
Natalie laughs, and later, after I hang up—I’m glad I called
her.

“Tricia’s back,” the girl behind me says when I sit down in
homeroom Tuesday morning. I turn tentatively, not sure if
she’s talking
to
me this time. When she nods, reaffirming that
she is, I feel my heart sink. I might have been hoping Tricia
would never return.

“Don’t worry,” the girl says. “If she touches you again,
we’ve got your back.” She motions to the blonde next to her.
“Yeah,” her friend adds. “That was messed up. Two on
one is some nasty stuff and totally not cool. Not to mention
Aaron’s a douche nozzle anyway.”
I laugh, unable to stop myself from glancing over at Aaron.
He’s wearing his varsity jacket as he stares down at his folded
hands, looking miserable. He was one of the first people to
talk to me yesterday, saying that it was all a misunderstanding. I didn’t stick around to listen to his pathetic ramblings,
though. Looking at his sorry self now, I might even forgive
him—if I didn’t completely resent him for dragging me into
his drama.
The door opens and Tricia pauses at the entrance, her
normally slicked-back hair loose around her face. I’m surprised to see the embarrassment in her eyes, the way she looks
at her shoes as she walks to her seat. The tough girl I remember from the bathroom is smaller now, even if only in presence.
“Heard her parents freaked,” the girl behind me says.
When I turn to her, she smiles. “I’m Darcy, by the way. Sorry I
was a wench before. I’m not exactly a people person.”
“She usually hates them,” the other girl chimes in.
“Anyway,” Darcy says as we wait for Mr. Powell to show
up. “Tricia’s suspended from the cheerleading squad for the
rest of the season for”—she uses finger quotes—“‘unbecoming behavior.’”
“What about the chick with the boots?” I ask, still able to
feel their weight.
“Rita? Oh, she doesn’t care about you. Probably doesn’t
even know your name.” She turns to her friend. “She’s cool
now, right?”
The girl nods. “Yeah, she said she has no beef.” They
smile as if I should be happy, but I’m not. Not exactly.
“Thanks,” I say, twisting in my seat. I check my phone,
knowing that normally I could text Chris—let him cheer me
up. But there are no missed messages. No calls. We really are
over.
Almost immediately after I put my phone away, Darcy
taps my shoulder with a note. I unfold it, checking the clock
to see we still have another minute or two before class. I’m
stunned to see it’s from Tricia. Her pretty handwriting curls
down the page in what can only be described as an apology
letter without an actual apology.
She tells me that she’s been forbidden from dating Aaron
ever again, that she’s been banned from cheerleading, and the
best part—her parents made her write this letter. I try not to
laugh, knowing it will seem cruel, even if it’s out of disbelief.
By the time I get to the end, I think about saving the paper to
show Simone because there’s no way she’ll believe the nerve
of this girl.
I decide to be the bigger person and hand Tricia back her
humiliation. But first I scribble “TRUCE” at the top.