One Moment (27 page)

It was this perfect moment of clarity. And I felt things. Things I’d never felt before. Things that didn’t make sense. Until you flipped them over and they started to make the most sense of all.

But then I thought of Joey. Standing on Dutton’s deck. Looking out at Adam and me dancing. The surprise and fear and anger splashed across his face making me feel as if he hadn’t really been watching us in the yard that night, but that he’d somehow flashed forward to this moment. Seen us sitting under the rushing leaves of the thick-barked trees, wanting to kiss each other and never wanting to stop.

That’s when it hit me—the understanding that I wasn’t much better than Joey.

I pushed him away then.

Adam.

Not Joey.

I felt like I had that part all mixed up.

But there was too much swirling around in my mind. I felt as if I might just explode.

“I’m sorry,” I said in two breathless huffs as I scrambled to my feet, my fingers groping a tree trunk for balance, clawing at the rough patches of bark.

Adam shook his head. Ran a hand through his hair. “Maggie. You have nothing to be sorry about—”

“Adam”—I held a shaking hand in the air between us—“God, Adam, I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore.”

“You’ll figure it out.” Adam looked up at me with a sad smile. “You always do.”

I stumbled back, trying to get some distance between us. I was practically drowning in the waves of need and fear and hope crashing between us.

“Look. I just need some time. This is …
crazy
.”

“Maggie. I understand.” Adam’s voice was steady. He hadn’t moved from his spot on the ground. “I do. And I don’t have any expectations, okay? No pressure. I just needed you to know how I feel.”

I wanted to go home. To the only real safety the world had left to offer. I wanted to hide away in my bed, under the quilt my grandmother had made. I wanted to bury myself under the cover of all those years and erase everything that had happened.

But I couldn’t.

I had to face this.

There really was no other option.

25

Spinning Through the Stars

“Thanks, Rylan,” I said from the driver’s seat of Joey’s truck. I turned the key and the engine roared to life with a familiar sound that caused my chest to ache from missing him. It was strange, the things that brought the pain and loss rushing back to me. I was never ready to face the feelings. Not even now, a full two months after his death. “I owe you one.”

“Thank you, Maggie. For telling me everything that happened the day he died.” Rylan swiped his knuckles across his swollen eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“At least it makes some sense now.” Rylan pinched his lips together. “You’ll come to the house? Tell my parents everything?”

I nodded. “Tomorrow,” I said. “I promise I’ll call and plan a time to visit.”

“It’ll be hard for them,” Rylan said. “But good at the same time.” He looked over his shoulder at the car parked one space away from Joey’s truck, the one where three of his friends had been waiting patiently while I spilled everything I knew, then turned back to me. “You’ll have it here in the morning? Because if I don’t have Joey’s truck parked in the driveway by the time my parents wake up—”

“I’ll have it here just after sunrise,” I said. “It’ll be in this exact same spot.” I put the truck in reverse then, backed out of the parking space, and watched as Rylan hopped into the backseat of his best friend’s car.

He didn’t watch as I pulled around the side of Bozie’s Donuts. Didn’t see as I flicked on the turn signal and headed out onto Main Street, the bright lights of the restaurants I passed screaming into the dark night sky (Ha Ha Pizza, Ye Olde Trail Tavern, Carol’s Kitchen). I was finally alone.

I sucked in deep breaths as I drove, Joey’s scent so strong, even after all these weeks, that I practically tasted him. It was starting to get to me, what I was about to do, and tears burned my eyes. I’d spent so many weeks submerged in my anger, I wasn’t familiar with the jagged edge of my pain. But tonight was about facing everything, no matter how difficult it might be.

I flipped on the radio and was shocked to hear the Dave Matthews Band. Dave’s voice rippled from the speakers, filling the emptiness surrounding me. The stereo was set to CD mode, and I wondered if this song,
our
song, was one of the last Joey heard the day that he died. I felt like I was hearing the words for the first time, the line about disappearing and being gone, the other about the moon being the only one to follow.

I looked at the moon as I turned onto Blue Springs Road, moving farther from the center of town, the lights, the people, and wondered if Joey could still bathe in its light. I hoped so. He had always loved the night.

When I got to the field, I slowed the truck, flicked on the blinker, and almost drove past. It felt wrong somehow. Being there. All alone.

But it was the only way.

So I turned in, bumping along the uneven ground beneath the tires as Joey’s key chain clanged against the dash, and steered myself to the center of the empty field.

“Okay, Joey,” I said into the silent, too-still cab of the truck. “It’s you and me. Let’s do this.”

I shoved the driver’s side door open and reached behind me for all the things I would need. Yanked them free. Heaved them over the side of the truck’s bed. And climbed in the back.

I made myself a little bed using Joey’s inflatable camping mattress and the quilt I’d pulled off my bed, then I lay back, looking up at the sky.

“You here, Joey? Because I have some things to say to you.”

The only response was a chorus of crickets. But that was okay. Easier, even, than if he’d still been alive and I had to face him—his eyes and his smile and the whisper of his touch—with all of this for real.

“You crushed me, Joey.” I took a deep breath. Swiped at the tears that had begun to fall. “You crushed me into a million pieces. First by dying. Then with all of your lies. I feel like I don’t even know who you were anymore.”

A batch of clouds floated across the deep blue-black sky, glowing from the backlight of the moon. I wanted a message, something I could be sure about. But I couldn’t read anything in their shapes or outlines.

“I know everything now. All of your secrets.”

I closed my eyes.

“I know you’re not a bad person, Joey. You must have been very confused. But the thing is, none of this was fair to me. And I hate that a part of me hates you now. That you’ll never be back to help me see you as something new. I just hope that one day I’ll be able to forget this messed-up side of you that lied, and lied, and lied.”

An owl called out to the night from the top branches of a nearby tree. I wondered if somehow it was Joey, trying to ease my pain.

“Hopefully one of these days, I’ll see past all that. Get back to the memories of before, when things were right and it really was just you and me. Back when I was stupid enough to think it would be forever.”

I sat up then. Reached into the bag of Bozie’s Donuts and pulled out a devil’s food.

“Shannon told me that you made a decision the night of Dutton’s party. That you’d decided to drop the whole thing with her. That you’d chosen me.”

I took a big bite out of the donut and concentrated on the burst of flavor in my mouth. Perfectly chocolate. And then I was ready.

“Joey, I need to tell you one thing. I don’t choose you. Not anymore. And if you’d lived … if you’d been around long enough to play it all out, I’d have told you the same thing. I do
not
choose you.”

I listened, waiting for a twirling ribbon of warm summer air to bring me a whisper. An apology. Some kind of understanding.

But still, there was nothing.

“It’s over, Joey,” I said. “I’m letting you go.”

I lay back again, wiping the crumbs off my hands, remembering the taste of our first kiss. I played it back then. All the moments that made up our friendship and love and commitment. The way he had made me believe things were. And the way they were in reality.

I spent the entire night there in that field, lying in Joey’s truck, my grandmother’s quilt tucked around me. I dozed off a few times, but for the most part I simply let myself feel everything I’d been avoiding for weeks. Let it wash over me and take me where I needed to go.

I thought about Adam, too. Couldn’t help it. He was there in the field, laced into all the memories in a whole new way.

I missed them.

Both of them.

Joey.

And Adam.

The thing was, while I missed Joey with a sadness so heavy its weight practically pressed me against the ground, Adam was the one I longed to see. It was Adam’s voice I wanted to hear. His hands I was dying to touch.

But that part was crazy. Intense. And more than a little wrong.

So I pushed it away as I watched the moon cross from one side of the sky to the other and lost myself wondering if Joey was somewhere up there, spinning through the stars.

26

All Tied Up

Meet me @ the creek?
I typed into the keypad on my phone.

My stomach was all tied up. But I did it anyway. I hit Send.

I chewed on the nail of my right thumb, waiting.

I was worried I’d get nothing.

But then I did.

Ur ready?

I took a deep breath.

Yes.

It had been almost a week since Adam confessed everything. A lot had happened in that time, and I felt proud that I’d faced all of it on my own. I wished that it could go back to being simple between us, and that I could just spill it all out to him—my talk with Shannon, how she’s still hanging on to Joey like he’s coming back to her, our talk with the police, the relief I felt over their appreciation at our honesty, how the case was officially closed. But nothing would ever be simple between Adam and me, not ever again.

I stared at my phone, waiting for his response, panic flashing through me that I had waited too long.

But then my phone chimed, and his reply appeared.

B there in a few.

My entire body sighed with relief.

“I’ll be back in a while,” I said over my shoulder, hopping up from the couch in our living room, where my parents were watching a movie I’d chosen but couldn’t get into.

“Where are you going?” my mother asked from her perch on the couch, a cup of iced tea in her hand.

“The creek,” I said. “Just to … hang out.”

“You look like you’re up to something,” she said, her eyes crinkling with a question. “Your cheeks are all red.”

I waved a hand in the air as I walked past her, toward the sliding glass door that led to our back deck. “Nothing to worry about,” I said. “I’m just sick of sitting around here.”

“Good.” My mother sat forward, placing her glass on the coffee table.

“Very good.” My father held a hand up in the air as I passed him, and I swatted it in a high five. “Stay out past your curfew or something. You deserve it.”

“Noah!” my mother said, her voice high, but full of humor. “I don’t know if that’s the best idea.”

“The girl needs to have some fun.” My father looked up at me, his eyes sparkling with the fire of some explosion on the television, and winked. “But be safe.”

“Yeah,” I whispered as I slid open the door and stepped out into the darkness of the night, hoping I hadn’t just made the biggest mistake of my life.

When my feet hit the dirt path at the edge of our yard, I started to doubt myself. There was nothing safe about what I was planning to do.

Above, leaves fluttered in the moonlight, and I wondered if their whispers were meant for me, if they were imprinted with a code that I needed to decipher. Some kind of important message that would help me get this right.

I focused, listening to their rippling cross over my head, hearing one word in the muggy wind.

Hurry.

Hurry.

Hurry.

I picked up the pace then, as that word echoed through my head. Hoped that I hadn’t run out of time. I had to get it right. This last thing. I couldn’t lose him, too. And there was only one way to protect what was left between us.

My arms pumped against my sides, helping me gain even more speed. The thick air rushed at me, pulling my hair over my shoulders, whipping it into the silver light of the moon. I wanted to be there, couldn’t move fast enough. Each second felt like forever.

But of course, when I turned that last bend and saw him sitting there, I almost stopped and ran back the other way.

Because there was no way to be sure which was the right choice to make.

But I had to trust myself.

There was no one else.

Adam turned as I kicked off my shoes. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey.” I folded my legs beneath me and took my place next to him on our rock.

“Didn’t know if you’d ever call,” he said with a half smile, “after everything I told you.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I needed to work some things out.”

“Right,” Adam said, turning his face to the rushing water of the creek.

“It was all pretty messy,” I said.

Adam nodded.

“And I’ve been pretty pissed.”

“You have a lot to be pissed about.”

“I’m talking specifically about the parts that had to do with you.”

Adam clutched his hands together in his lap. “Do you need me to apologize again?”

“No. I know you’re sorry.”

Adam didn’t look at me. “I am.”

“And I know that you were trying to protect me.”

“I was.”

“I’m ready to thank you for that part,” I said. “For trying to keep me safe. And putting me first.” I took a deep breath, noticing the air shift around me. I actually felt lighter.

He looked down then, nodded as though he understood something I hadn’t even said, that shaggy blond hair obscuring my view of his eyes. Eyes I suddenly wanted to see more than anything.

“Maggie.” Adam sighed. Bit at his lip. “I just want you to trust me again. I hope you can remember, even with everything, that you know me.”