The Unexpected Everything (49 page)

ME

Awesome, you're in?

TOBY

PALMER

Okay, I'll see you tonight

I have to go talk my boyfriend off the ledge

Suddenly he's worried about his British accent??

ME

Actors.

Weird, right?

CLARK

Can I see you tonight?

ME

Seeing a movie with the girls.

Tomorrow?

CLARK

It's a plan.

And I am sorry about telling Tom.

I just needed to get some perspective.

ME

I get it.

I'll see you tomorrow.

Xx

•  •  •

“So do you guys have an arrangement with management or something?” Toby asked as she leaned across the glass case in the lobby of the Palace Movie Theater, looking down at the candy. “That the only movies you can get us into for free are the bad ones?”

“I didn't think it was that bad,” Palmer said from the other side of the lobby, as she looked at one of the coming-attraction posters. “I liked the dog.”

“I don't think that's the best indication of a movie's quality,” I said, looking around from my spot behind the counter, next to Bri. We were the last ones there—after the show ended, Bri had swept up and we'd helped by pointing out where she needed to sweep. All the moviegoers had gone, and after Craig the projectionist exchanged an awkward greeting with Toby (their date had not been a success), we had our run of the place.

I looked at Bri doing her last checks of the theater, locking the front door so nobody would wander in and making sure everything was turned off, I was impressed that she was hiding her secret so well. But maybe she'd gotten used to it over the last month, or
we just hadn't been paying attention. But as I looked around at all of us hanging out, Palmer and Toby none the wiser to what was going on in our midst, I began to really feel like this might be okay. That we'd get through this, Wyatt and Bri would fade out, and nobody needed to get unnecessarily hurt in the process.

“What do you guys want to do now?” Palmer asked, heading over to me and Toby, while Bri did actual work, taking inventory of the popcorn kernels and condiments. “Diner? Or we could go to the Orchard?”

“Orchard,” Bri and Toby said in unison.

“Oh,” Palmer said, looking crestfallen. “But . . .”

“If you want food, P, just get something to go,” I suggested.

Palmer pointed at me. “I knew there was a reason we keep you around,” she said, pulling out her phone and taking a few steps away.

“Order me French fries!” Toby yelled after her, then turned to me. “Think she heard me?”

“I think she heard you,” I said, laughing. “I just don't know if she listened to you.”

“Okay,” Bri said, setting her clipboard down. “Done.”

“Can we leave?” I asked over Toby, who, rather than walking up to Palmer, was just yelling, “French fries!” at increasingly louder levels.

“Almost,” Bri said. “I just have to make sure that everyone's out of the bathrooms and that they're not a complete disaster.”

“How long?” I asked, taking out my phone. “I'll see if Clark wants to meet us at the Orchard.”

“We should be good to leave in ten,” Bri said, picking up her phone to check the time, then leaving it on the counter as she headed for the bathroom. “And tell Toby I want in on her fries.”

I started to text Clark as Toby reached into her bag for her own phone, then sighed as she looked at the screen. “My phone's dead,” she said, dropping it back in her purse.

“Why is your phone always dead?” I asked, shaking my head at her.

“Give me yours,” Toby said, grabbing for it, and I held it out of her reach.

“Wait a sec,” I said. “I'm texting Clark.”

Toby rolled her eyes at me and then reached for Bri's. “Because you
never
talk to Clark,” she said, already scrolling through Bri's apps.

“Okay,” Palmer said, coming back to join us. “Food'll be ready in ten.”

“Did you get my French fries?” Toby asked.

“Did you
want
French fries?” Palmer asked, sounding extra confused. “Why didn't you say something?”

“Palmer!” Toby said, then looked up to see Palmer's expression. “Oh,” she said, smiling. “Gotcha. I just—” Bri's phone dinged with a text update just as I finished writing my text to Clark. “Oh, Wyatt texted,” Toby said, squinting at the screen, and I looked up at her and felt my stomach plunge.

“Maybe you shouldn't see that,” I said, quickly reaching for Bri's phone, but Toby took a step away, still reading, her brow furrowing. “Tobes, just use mine,” I said, desperately trying to get in front of this, holding my phone out to her.

“I . . . ,” Toby said, and now I could see that she was scrolling up, reading Bri's text messages, her hand shaking and her eyes filling with tears. “I don't understand what . . .”

“What are you talking about?” Palmer asked, looking at me
as my pulse started going double time. This was happening. It was happening right now.

And there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it.

“Done!” Bri said triumphantly, emerging from the bathroom smiling at us. It faltered, then faded, when she saw Toby. “What's going on?” she asked, and I saw her eyes dart from her phone to Toby's face and then to mine. I gave my head a tiny shake.

“Why is Wyatt texting you?” Toby asked, her voice was trembling. “Why is he telling you that he misses you and it's been too long and he needs to see you tonight?”

“Wait, what?” Palmer asked, her jaw dropping open. She looked at Bri. “Is this a joke?”

“I . . . ,” Bri said, looking at me, then back to Toby. “Okay, so . . .”

“You've been hooking up with
Wyatt
?” Toby asked, her voice rising. “My Wyatt?”

“He's not yours,” Bri said softly, and I closed my eyes for a moment, wishing that we'd talked about how to handle this if Toby found out. How had we not had a contingency plan in place?

“What?” Toby asked, looking like she'd just been punched in the stomach.

“He's not yours,” Bri said, and I could see she was blinking fast, the way she always did when she was starting to cry but was trying to fight it. “You guys made out
once
. It's not like you two were even together—”

“Seriously?” Toby asked, shaking her head. “You're seriously saying that?”

“Okay,” Palmer said, looking at me, clearly wanting backup. “Let's—”

“Here's the thing,” I said in my most soothing voice, taking a step forward. “I think we all just need to take a breath and focus here. If we just—”

“If there was nothing wrong with what you were doing with Wyatt, why didn't you tell me?” Toby asked, still gripping Bri's phone. “Why keep it a secret?”

“Because I knew you'd do this,” Bri said, her voice breaking. “I knew you wouldn't get it.”

“So you've just been lying,” Toby said, and I could tell that she was still struggling, on some level, to understand what was happening. “You've been lying to all of us all summer.”

“It was for the best,” Bri said a little desperately, shooting a look my way. “And it was . . . for all of us. For our friendship . . .” She looked at me again, like she was waiting for me to jump in and fix this. “Andie, tell her.”

Toby whipped around to face me. “You knew about this?”

“I only just found out,” I said. “But—”

“You kept this from me?” Toby asked, her voice breaking. “You lied to me?”

“And me,” Palmer said, shaking her head. “How could you do that?”

“I was just . . . ,” I started. “It was the only thing that made sense. There was no reason for Toby to get hurt if it could be avoided.”

“Oh my god,” Palmer said, shaking her head in disgust. “Don't try to
spin
this, Andie. Are you kidding me?”

“That was not your call to make,” Toby yelled at me, her face getting red.

“I just wanted us to stay friends,” I yelled back, and Toby let out a short mocking laugh.

“Well, that worked out
really
well, didn't it?”

“Toby—” I started, looking around the group, at all the people who were currently furious at me, willing myself to think fast enough, to figure out how to fix this.

“You were supposed to be my best friend,” Toby said to Bri, and I could see that she was crying now too, tears she tried to wipe away with angry swipes across her face.

“I am,” Bri said, looking up at Toby, her voice anguished.

Toby shook her head and dropped Bri's phone on the counter. “No,” she said quietly, sounding shattered. “You're not.” She walked across the lobby, yanking the glass door open and then pausing once she got outside, looking around for a moment before turning right and walking toward the parking lot, her shoulders hunched.

Bri looked down at her phone on the counter, then swallowed hard as she picked it up and put it in her back pocket. “You guys should probably go,” she said, her voice cracking.

“Bri—” Palmer said, but Bri was already talking over her.

“Really. I just want to be alone, okay?” Palmer and I looked at each other, and I knew we were both weighing the same thing—trying to decide if she really meant it, what we should do in this totally uncharted territory. “Please,” Bri said before either of us could come to a decision. “Please just go.”

Palmer gave me a tiny nod, and I took a step toward Bri—not sure what I was even going to say but feeling like I couldn't just leave like this, without a word. But Bri crossed her arms tightly over her chest and looked down, giving me every indication that she meant what she said—that she wanted to be alone.

Palmer walked toward the door first, and I followed, still
a little unable to believe that this had happened, was still happening, right now. It was like a slow-motion car accident that nobody was doing anything to stop. I followed Palmer out the door, out of the air-conditioned theater and into the hot, humid night, the cicadas sounding even louder than usual somehow.

“Toby was my ride,” Palmer said, and I nodded.

“I'll drive you.” It felt like we were trapped in a bad play, neither one of us saying what we really wanted. We started to walk to the parking lot, and I looked back one more time to see Bri, looking lost in the empty theater, her hands over her eyes, her shoulders shaking.

I made myself look away, and Palmer and I walked to my car, not speaking to each other while she canceled her diner order and I texted Clark to let him know about the change of plans. I unlocked the car and Palmer got in, slamming her door hard and then turning to face the window. I looked over at her as I started the car, practically feeling the anger and resentment coming off her in waves. We didn't say a single word on the way back to Stanwich Woods. Every time I'd take a breath to say something—I didn't even know what—Palmer would turn away from me more in her seat, until she was totally facing the window and all I could see was her back.

When I went through the gatehouse, Jaime barely looking up from his novel to wave me in, Palmer said, “You know, Tom's been acting really weird.”

Normally I would have made a joke here, asking her
how can you tell?
or something along those lines, but I knew this was not the moment for that. “He has?”

“Yes. Like he's been hiding something.” She turned to face
me. “He knows, doesn't he? You told Clark, and he told Tom.”

I nodded, swallowing hard. I was almost to Palmer's house, and even though the street was deserted, I put on my blinker to turn into her driveway. “But—”

“So not only were you keeping a secret from me, you were making my boyfriend lie to me.”

“I had to tell someone,” I said. “I was doing the best thing I could think of to keep us together and I just wanted to know—”

But she was already unbuckling her seat belt, shaking her head as she got out of the car. She slammed the door hard and walked fast across her driveway, not once looking back at me.

•  •  •

When I got home, my dad wasn't waiting up to talk to me. I could see the light was on in his study, but I didn't make a move to walk down the hall. What could he possibly do in this situation? And I didn't want to tell him about what had happened. Because even if he had advice that was helpful, I couldn't let myself get used to it—because who knew if he'd be here the next time I needed him.

I shut the door to my room behind me and leaned back against it for just a moment. I pulled out my phone, hoping against hope that there would be a text chain going, everyone admitting that they were sorry, and that we could all move past this. But there was nothing. I started to send a message, then stopped when I realized I had no idea what I would say. I selected just Toby's name and started to write, trying not to see the last time we'd texted, when she'd been excited about the movie.