I know something's different by how the guard looks at me when he callsmy name. Not as much like a piece of dirt he wants to grind under his shoeas usual. "Bring your things," he says. I don't have much, but I take mytime shoving everything into a plastic bag before I follow him down thelong gray corridor to the warden's office.
Eli hovers in the doorway with his hands in his pockets, giving me thatintense stare of his times a hundred. "Welcome to the rest of your life,Nate." When I don't react, he adds, "You're free. You're out. This wholething was a hoax that's been blown wide open. So get out of that jumpsuitand into civilian clothes, and let's get you the hell out of here."At this point I'm used to doing what I'm told, so that's all I do. Nothingelse registers, even when Eli shows me news stories about Jake's arrest,until he tells me Addy's in the hospital with a concussion and a fracturedskull. "Good news is, it's a hairline fracture with no underlying brain injury.She'll make a full recovery."
Addy, that airhead homecoming princess turned badass ninja investigator,in the hospital with a cracked skull because she tried to help me. Possiblyonly alive because of Janae, who got a busted jaw for her trouble, andCooper, who's suddenly some kind of superhero the media's fawning over.I'd be happy for him if the whole thing didn't make me sick.
There's a lot of paperwork when you get out of jail for a crime you didn'tcommit. Law & Order never shows how many forms you have to fill outbefore you rejoin the world. The first thing I see when I step blinking intobright sunshine is a dozen cameras whirring to life. Of course. This wholething's a never-ending movie, and I've gone from villain to hero in a matterof hours even though I haven't done a single thing to make a differencesince I got here.
My mother's outside, which I guess is a pleasant surprise. I'm never notprepared for her to disappear. And Bronwyn, even though I specifically saidI didn't want her anywhere near this place. Guess nobody thought I wasserious about that. Before I can react her arms are around me and my face isburied in her green-apple hair.
Jesus. This girl. For a few seconds I breathe her in and everything's allright.
Except it's not.
"Nate, how does it feel to be free? Do you have any comment aboutJake? What's your next step?" Eli shoots sound bites at all the microphonesin my face as we make our way to his car. He's the man of the hour, but Idon't see what he did to earn it. The charges were dropped becauseBronwyn kept unraveling threads and tracked down a witness. BecauseCooper's boyfriend connected dots nobody else saw. Because Addy putherself in the line of fire. And because Cooper saved the day before Jakecould shut her up.
I'm the only one in the murder club who didn't contribute a goddamnthing. All I did was be the guy who's easy to frame.
Eli inches his car past all the media vans until we're on the highway andthe juvenile detention center fades to a speck in the distance. He's rattlingon about too many things to follow: how he's working with Officer Lopezto get my drug charges dropped; how if I want to make a statement throughthe media he'd recommend Mikhail Powers; how I need a strategy forreintegrating into school. I stare out the window, my hand a dead weight inBronwyn's. When I finally hear Eli's voice asking if I have any questions, Ican tell he's been repeating himself for a while.
"Did someone feed Stan?" I ask. My father sure as shit didn't.
"I did," Bronwyn says. When I don't respond, she squeezes my hand andadds, "Nate, are you all right?"
She tries to catch my eye, but I can't do it. She wants me to be happy andI can't do that either. The impossibility of Bronwyn hits me like a punch tothe gut: everything she wants is good and right and logical and I can't doany of it. She'll always be that girl in front of me in the scavenger hunt, hershining hair hypnotizing me so much I almost forget how uselessly I'mtrailing behind her.
"I just want to go home and sleep." I'm still not looking at Bronwyn, butout of the corner of my eye I can see her face fall, and for some reasonthat's perversely satisfying. I'm disappointing her right on schedule.Finally, something makes sense.
Cooper
Saturday, November 17, 9:30 a.m.
It's pretty surreal to come downstairs for breakfast Saturday morning to mygrandmother reading an issue of People with me on the cover.
I didn't pose for it. It's a shot of Kris and me leaving the police stationafter giving our statements. Kris looks fantastic, and I look like I just wokeup after a night of heavy drinking. It's obvious which of us is the model.Funny how this accidental-fame thing works. First people supported meeven though I'd been accused of cheating and murder. Then they hated mebecause of who I turned out to be. Now they love me again because I was inthe right place at the right time and managed to flatten Jake with a well-aimed punch.
And because of the halo effect of being with Kris, I guess. Eli's givinghim full credit for figuring out what really happened, so he's the newbreakout star of this whole mess. The fact that he's trying to avoid themedia machine only makes them want him more.
Lucas sits across from Nonny, spooning Cocoa Puffs into his mouthwhile scrolling through his iPad. "Your Facebook fan page has a hundredthousand likes now," he reports, flicking a strand of hair out of his face likeit's an annoying bug. This is good news for Lucas, who took it personallywhen most of my so-called fans deserted the page after the police outed me.Nonny sniffs and flings the magazine across the table. "Awful. One boy'sdead, another ruined his life and almost ruined yours, and people still treatthis like it's a TV show. Thank God for short attention spans. Somethingelse'll come along soon and you can get back to normal."Whatever that is.
It's been about a week since Jake was arrested. So far he's being chargedwith assault, obstruction of justice, evidence tampering, and a whole bunchof other things I can't keep track of. He's got his own lawyer now, and he'sin the same detention center where Nate was being held. Which I guess ispoetic justice, but it doesn't feel good. I still can't reconcile the guy I pulledoff Addy with the kid who'd been my friend since ninth grade. His lawyer'stalking about undue influence from Simon, and maybe that explains it. Ormaybe Ashton was right and Jake's been a control freak all along.Janae's cooperating with the police and it looks like she'll get a pleabargain in exchange for her testimony. She and Addy are thick as thievesnow. I have mixed feelings about Janae and the way she let things get thisfar. But I'm not as innocent as I'd thought, either. While Addy was zonkedout on painkillers in the hospital she told me everything, including how mystupid, panicked slight at junior prom made Simon hate me enough to frameme for murder.
I have to figure out a way to live with that, and it won't be by notforgiving other people's mistakes.
"You meetin' Kris later?" Nonny asks.
"Yup," I say. Lucas keeps eating cereal without blinking an eye. Turnsout he couldn't care less that his older brother has a boyfriend. Although hedoes seem to miss Keely.
Who I'm also seeing today, before Kris and I get together. Partly becauseI owe her an apology, and partly because she's been sucked into this messtoo, even though the police tried to keep her name out of Simon'sconfession. It wasn't part of the public record, but people at school knewenough to guess. I texted her earlier in the week to see how she was doing,and she texted back an apology for not being more supportive when thestory about me and Kris broke. Which was pretty big of her, considering allthe lies I told.
We went back and forth for a while after that. She was pretty broken upabout the part she played in everything, even though she had no idea whatwas happening. I'm one of the few people in town who can understand howthat feels.
Maybe we can manage to be friends after all this. I'd like that.
Pop comes into the kitchen with his laptop, jiggling it like there's apresent inside. "You check your email?"
"Not this morning."
"Josh Langley's touching base. Wants to know what you're thinkingabout college versus the draft. And the UCLA offer came through. Stillnothin' from LSU, though." Pop won't be happy until all the top-fivecollege baseball teams make me a scholarship offer. Louisiana State is thelone holdout, which annoys him since they're ranked number one.
"Anyway, Josh wants to talk next week. You up for it?""Sure," I say, even though I've already decided I'm not going right intothe draft. The more I think about my baseball future, the more I wantcollege ball to be the next step. I have the rest of my life to play baseball,but only a few years to go to college.
And my first choice is Cal State. Since they're the only school that didn'tback away from me when I was down.
But it'll make Pop happy to talk with Josh Langley. We've gotten backon tentative father-son footing since the good baseball news started pouringin. He still doesn't talk to me about Kris, and clams up when anyone elsementions him. He doesn't bolt out of the room anymore, though. And he'slooking me in the eye again.
It's a start.
Addy
Saturday, November 17, 2:15 p.m.
I can't ride my bike because of the skull fracture and my sprained ankle, soAshton drives me to my follow-up doctor's appointment. Everything'shealing the way it should, although I still get instant headaches if I movemy head too fast.
The emotional stuff will take longer. Half the time I feel like Jake died,and the other half I want to kill him. I can admit, now, that Ashton and TJweren't wrong about how things were between Jake and me. He raneverything, and I let him. But I never would have believed he could becapable of what he did in the woods. My heart feels like my skull did rightafter Jake attacked me--as though it's been split in two with a dull ax.I don't know how to feel about Simon, either. Sometimes I get really sadwhen I think about how he planned to ruin four people because he thoughtwe'd taken away from him things that everybody wants: to be successful, tohave friends, to be loved. To be seen.
But most of the time I just wish I'd never met him.
Nate visited me in the hospital and I've seen him a few times since I'vebeen out. I'm worried about him. He's not one to open up, but he saidenough that I could tell getting arrested made him feel pretty useless. I'vebeen trying to convince him otherwise, but I don't think it's sinking in. Iwish he'd listen, because if anyone knows how badly you can screw upyour life when you decide you're not good enough, it's me.
TJ's texted a few times since I was discharged a couple of days ago. Hekept dropping hints about asking me out, so I finally had to tell him it's nothappening. There's no way I can hook up with the person who helped meset off this whole chain reaction. It's too bad, because there might've beenpotential if we'd gone about things differently. But I'm starting to realizethere are some things you can't undo, no matter how good your intentionsare.
It's all right, though. I don't agree with my mother that TJ was my last,best hope to avoid premature spinsterhood. She's not the expert she thinksshe is on relationships.
I'd rather take my cues from Ashton, who's getting a kick out of Eli'ssudden infatuation. He tracked her down after things settled with Nate andasked her out. She told him she's not ready to date yet, so he keepsinterrupting his insane workload to take her on elaborate, carefully plannednot-dates. Which, she has to admit, she's enjoying.
"I'm not sure I can take him seriously, though," she tells me as I hobbleto the car on crutches after my checkup. "I mean, the hair alone.""I like the hair. It has character. Plus, it looks soft, like a cloud."Ashton grins and brushes a stray lock of mine off my forehead. "I likeyours. Grow it a little more and we'll be twins."That's my secret plan. I've been coveting Ashton's hair all along."I have something to show you," she says as she pulls away from thehospital. "Some good news."
"Really? What?" Sometimes it's hard to remember what good news feelslike.
Ashton shakes her head and smiles. "It's a show, not a tell."She pulls up in front of a new apartment building in the closest thingBayview has to a trendy neighborhood. Ashton matches my slow pace aswe step into a bright atrium, and guides me to a bench in the lobby. "Waithere," she says, propping my crutches next to the bench. She disappearsaround the corner, and when she returns ten minutes later she leads me to anelevator and we head for the third floor.
Ashton fits a key into a door marked 302 and pushes it open to a largeapartment with soaring, loftlike ceilings. It's all windows and exposed brickand polished wood floors, and I love it instantly. "What do you think?" sheasks.
I lean my crutches against the wall and hop into the open kitchen,admiring the mosaic tile backsplash. Who knew Bayview had somethinglike this? "It's beautiful. Are you, um, thinking of renting it?" I try to soundenthusiastic and not terrified of Ashton leaving me alone with Mom.Ashton hasn't been home all that long, but I've gotten kind of attached tohaving her there.
"I already did," she says with a grin, spinning around a little on thehardwood floors. "Charlie and I got an offer on the condo while you were inthe hospital. It still has to close, but once it does, we'll make a pretty goodprofit. He's agreed to take on all his student loans as part of the divorcesettlement. My design work's still slow, but I'll have enough of a cushionthat it won't be a stretch. And Bayview's so much more affordable than SanDiego. This apartment downtown would cost three times as much.""That's fantastic!" I hope I'm doing a good job of acting excited. I amexcited for her, truly. I'll just miss her. "You'd better have a spare room so Ican visit."
"I do have a spare room," Ashton says. "I don't want you to visit,though."
I stare at her. I can't have heard her correctly. I thought we'd been gettingalong great these past couple of months.
She laughs at my expression. "I want you to live here, silly. You need toget out of that house as much as I do. Mom said it's okay. She's in thatdecline phase with Justin where she thinks lots of private couple time willfix their problems. Plus, you'll be eighteen in a few months and can livewherever you want then anyway."
I grab her in a hug before she can finish, and she suffers it for a fewseconds before ducking away. We still haven't mastered the art of non-awkward sisterly affection. "Go ahead, check out your room. It's overthere."
I limp into a sun-splashed room with a huge window overlooking a bikepath behind the building. Built-in bookshelves line the wall, and exposedbeams in the ceiling frame an amazing light fixture with a dozen Edisonbulbs in different shapes and sizes. I love everything about it. Ashton leansagainst the doorway and smiles at me.
"Fresh start for both of us, huh?"
It finally feels like that might be true.
Bronwyn
Sunday, November 18, 10:45 a.m.
The day after Nate was released, I gave my one and only interview to themedia. I didn't mean to. But Mikhail Powers himself ambushed me outsidemy house, and as I expected when I first saw the full force of his charmturned on our case, I couldn't resist him.
"Bronwyn Rojas. The girl most likely." He was dressed in a crisp navysuit and subtly patterned tie, gold cuff links glinting as he held out his handwith a warm smile. I almost didn't notice the camera behind him. "I'vebeen wanting to talk to you for weeks. You never gave up on your friend,did you? I admire that. I've admired you throughout this entire case.""Thanks," I said weakly. It was a transparent attempt to butter me up andit totally worked.
"I would love your take on everything. Can you spare a few minutes totell us what this ordeal has been like for you, and how you feel now that it'sover?"
I shouldn't have. Robin and my family had held our last legal meetingthat morning, and her parting advice was to keep a low profile. She wasright, as usual. But there was something I'd wanted to get off my chest thatI hadn't been allowed to say before.
"Just one thing." I looked into the camera while Mikhail smiledencouragingly. "I did cheat in my chemistry class, and I'm sorry. Not onlybecause it got me into this mess, but because it was an awful thing to do.My parents raised me to be honest and work hard, like they do, and I letthem down. It wasn't fair to them, or my teachers, or the colleges I wantedto apply to. And it wasn't fair to Simon." My voice started shaking then,and I couldn't blink back the tears any longer. "If I'd known ... If I'dthought ... I won't ever stop being sorry for what I did. I'll never doanything like that again. That's all I want to say."I doubt that's what Mikhail was hoping for, but he used it anyway for hisfinal Bayview report. Rumor has it he's submitting the series for Emmyconsideration.
My parents keep telling me I can't blame myself for what Simon did. Justlike I keep telling Cooper and Addy the same thing. And I'd tell Nate, ifhe'd let me, but I've barely heard from him since he got out of juveniledetention. He talks to Addy more than me now. I mean, he should talk toAddy, who is obviously a rock star. But still.
He finally agreed to let me stop by and catch up, but I don't feel my usualexcited anticipation as I ring his doorbell. Something's changed since hewas arrested. I almost don't expect him to be home, but he opens thecreaking door and steps aside.
Nate's house looks better than it did when I was feeding Stan. Hismother's staying here and she's added all sorts of new touches like curtains,throw pillows, and framed pictures. The only time Nate spoke to me at anylength after he got home, he said his mother had convinced his father to trya stint at rehab. Nate didn't hold out much hope for it, but I'm sure havinghis father out of the house temporarily is a relief.
Nate flops into an armchair in the living room as I make my way over toStan and peer into his cage, glad for the distraction. He lifts one of his frontlegs in my direction, and I laugh in surprise. "Did Stan just wave at me?""Yeah. He does that, like, once a year. It's his only move." Nate meetsmy eyes with a grin, and for a second things are normal between us. Thenhis smile fades and he looks down. "So. I don't actually have a lot of time.Officer Lopez wants to hook me up with a weekend job at someconstruction company in Eastland. I have to be there in twenty minutes.""That's great." I swallow hard. Why is it so hard to talk to him now? Itwas the easiest thing in the world a few weeks ago. "I just--I guess Iwanted to say, um, I know you went through something awful and Iunderstand if you don't want to talk about it, but I'm here if you do. And Istill ... care about you. As much as ever. So. That's all, I guess."It's an awkward start, made worse by the fact that he won't look at meduring my sad little speech. When he finally does, his eyes are flat."I've been meaning to talk to you about that. First, thanks for everythingyou did. Seriously, I owe you one. I probably won't ever be able to repayyou. But it's time to get back to normal, right? And we're not each other'snormal." He averts his eyes again, and it's killing me. If he'd look at me formore than ten seconds I'm positive he wouldn't say this.
"No, we're not." I'm surprised at how steady my voice is. "But that'snever mattered to me, and I didn't think it mattered to you. My feelingshaven't changed, Nate. I still want to be with you."I've never said anything that matters so much in such a straightforwardway, and at first I'm glad I didn't wimp out. But Nate looks like he couldn'tcare less. And while I'm not fazed by external obstacles thrown my way--Disapproving parents? No problem! Jail time? I'll get you out!--hisindifference makes me wilt.
"I don't see the point. We've got separate lives, and nothing in commonnow that the investigation's wrapped up. You need to get ready for the IvyLeague, and I--" He lets out a humorless snort. "I'll be doing whatever theopposite of that is."
I want to throw my arms around him and kiss him until he stops talkinglike this. But his face is closed off, as though his mind's already a thousandmiles away, waiting for his body to catch up. Like he only let me come hereout of a sense of obligation. And I can't stand it.
"If that's how you feel."
He nods so fast that whatever tiny flicker of hope I might've beennursing disappears. "Yup. Good luck with everything, Bronwyn. Thanksagain."
He stands up like he's going to walk me to the door, but I can't take fakepoliteness right now. "Don't bother," I say, stalking past him with my eyeson the floor. I let myself out and walk stiffly to my car, willing myself notto run, and fumble through my bag with shaking hands until I find my keys.I drive home with dry, unblinking eyes and make it all the way to myroom before I lose it. Maeve knocks softly and enters without waiting for aninvitation, curling up next to me and stroking my hair while I sob into apillow like my heart just broke. Which I guess it did.
"I'm sorry," she says. She knew where I was headed, and I don't need totell her how it went. "He's being a jerk."
She doesn't say anything else until I wear myself out and sit up, rubbingmy eyes. I'd forgotten how tired full-body crying can make you. "Sorry Ican't make this better," Maeve says, reaching into her pocket and pullingout her phone. "But I have something to show you that might cheer you up.Lots of reaction on Twitter to your statement on Mikhail PowersInvestigates. All positive, by the way."
"Maeve, I don't care about Twitter," I say wearily. I haven't been on theresince this whole mess started. Even with my profile set to private, I couldn'tdeal with the onslaught of opinions.
"I know. But you should see this." She hands me her phone and points toa post on my timeline from Yale University:
To err is human @BronwynRojas. We look forward to receiving yourapplication.
Epilogue
THREE MONTHS LATER
Bronwyn
Friday, February 16, 6:50 p.m.
I'm sort of seeing Evan Neiman now. It snuck up on me. First we weretogether a lot in big groups, then smaller ones, and a few weeks ago hedrove me home after a bunch of us hate-watched The Bachelor at Yumiko'shouse. When we got to my driveway, he leaned over and kissed me.
It was ... nice. He's a good kisser. I found myself analyzing the kiss inalmost clinical detail while it was happening, mentally congratulating himon a stellar technique while noting the absence of any heat or magnetic pullbetween us. My heart didn't pound as I kissed him back, and my limbsdidn't shake. It was a good kiss with a nice boy. The kind I'd alwayswanted.
Now things are almost exactly how I thought they'd be when I firstimagined dating Evan. We make a solid couple. I have an automatic date forthe spring break dance, which is nice. But I'm planning my post-Bayviewlife on a parallel track that has nothing to do with him. We're an until-graduation couple, at best.
I applied to Yale, but not early decision. I'll find out next month alongwith everyone else whether I got in or not. It doesn't seem like the be-all,end-all of my future anymore, though. I've been interning for Eli on theweekends, and I'm starting to see the appeal of staying local and keeping upwith Until Proven.
Everything's pretty fluid, and I'm trying to be okay with that. I think a lotabout Simon and about what the media called his "aggrieved entitlement"--the belief he was owed something he didn't get, and everyone should paybecause of it. It's almost impossible to understand, except by that corner ofmy brain that pushed me to cheat for validation I hadn't earned. I don't everwant to be that person again.
The only time I see Nate is at school. He's there more often than he usedto be, and I guess he's doing all right. I don't know for sure, though,because we don't talk anymore. At all. He wasn't kidding about going backto separate lives.
Sometimes I almost catch him looking at me, but it's probably wishfulthinking.
He's still on my mind constantly, and it sucks. I'd hoped starting up withEvan might curb the Nate loop in my head, but it's made things worse. So Itry not to think about Evan unless I'm actually with him, which means Isometimes overlook things that I shouldn't as Evan's sort-of girlfriend. Liketonight.
I have a piano solo with the San Diego Symphony. It's part of their HighSchool Spotlight concert series, something I've applied for since I was afreshman without ever getting an invitation. Last month, I finally did. It'sprobably due to residual notoriety, although I like to think the auditionvideo I submitted of "Variations on the Canon" helped. I've improved a lotsince the fall.
"Are you nervous?" Maeve asks as we head downstairs. She's dressed forthe concert in a burgundy velvet dress that has a Renaissance feel, her hairin a loose braid threaded with small jeweled pins. She recently got the partof Lady Guinevere in the drama club's upcoming King Arthur, and she'sgone a little overboard getting in character. It suits her, though. I'm moreconservative in a scoop-necked jacquard dress with a subtle gray-and-blacktonal-dot pattern that nips in at the waist and flares out above my knees."A little," I reply, but she's only half listening. Her fingers fly across herphone, probably arranging yet another weekend rehearsal with the boy whoplays Lancelot in King Arthur. Who she insists is just a friend. Right.I have my own phone out, texting last-minute directions to Kate, Yumiko,and Addy. Cooper's bringing Kris, although they're having dinner with hisparents first, so they might be late. With Kris's parents, that is. Cooper'sdad is slowly coming around, but he's not at that stage yet. Yumiko textsShould we look for Evan? and at that point I remember I never invited him.It's fine, though. It's not a big deal. It was in the newspaper, and I'm surehe would have mentioned it if he'd seen it and wanted to come.
We're at Copley Symphony Hall, in front of a capacity crowd. When it'smy turn to play I walk onto a huge stage that dwarfs the piano at its center.The crowd's silent except the occasional cough, and my heels click loudlyon the polished floor. I smooth my dress beneath me before taking a seat onthe ebony bench. I've never performed in front of this many people, but I'mnot as nervous as I thought I'd be.
I flex my fingers and wait for a signal from backstage. When I start, I cantell right away it's going to be the best I've ever played. Every note flows,but it's not only that. When I reach the crescendo and the soft notes thatfollow, I pour every ounce of emotion from the past few months into thekeys beneath my fingers. I feel each note like a heartbeat. And I know theaudience does too.
Loud applause echoes through the room when I finish. I stand and inclinemy head, absorbing the crowd's approval until the stage manager beckonsme and I walk into the wings. Backstage I collect flowers my parents leftfor me, holding them close while I listen to the rest of the performers.Afterward I catch up with my friends in the foyer. Kate and Yumiko giveme a smaller bouquet of flowers, which I add to the ones already in myhands. Addy is pink-cheeked and smiling, wearing her new track teamjacket over a black dress like the world's unlikeliest jock. Her hair's in achoppy bob that's almost exactly like her sister's except the color. Shedecided to go full-on purple instead of back to blond, and it suits her."That was so good!" she says gleefully, pulling me into a hug. "Theyshould have let you play all the songs."
To my surprise, Ashton and Eli come up behind her. Ashton mentionedshe'd be here, but I didn't think Eli would leave the office so early. I guess Ishould have known better. They're an official couple now, and Eli somehowmanages to find time for whatever Ashton wants to do. He's wearing thatmoony grin he always has around her, and I doubt he heard a note I played."Not bad, Bronwyn," he says.
"I got you on video," Cooper says, brandishing his phone. "I'll text itonce I make a few edits."
Kris, who looks dashing in a sports jacket and dark jeans, rolls his eyes."Cooper finally learned how to use iMovie, and now there's no stoppinghim. Trust me. I have tried." Cooper grins unrepentantly and puts his phoneaway, slipping his hand into Kris's.
Addy keeps craning her neck to look around the crowded foyer, so muchthat I wonder if she brought a date. "Expecting someone?" I ask.
"What? No," she says with a breezy wave. "Just checking things out.Beautiful building."
Addy has the world's worst poker face. I follow her eyes but can't catch aglimpse of any potential mystery guy. She doesn't seem disappointed,though.
People keep stopping to talk, so it takes half an hour before Maeve, myparents, and I work our way outside. My father squints at the twinkling starsabove us. "I had to park pretty far away. You three don't want to walk therein heels. Wait here and I'll bring the car."
"All right," my mother says, kissing his cheek. I clutch my flowers andlook at all the well-dressed people surrounding us, laughing and murmuringas they spill onto the sidewalks. A line of sleek cars pulls forward, and Iwatch them even though it's too soon for my father to be among them. ALexus. A Range Rover. A Jaguar.
A motorcycle.
My heart pounds as the bike's lights dim and its rider removes hishelmet. Nate climbs off, skirting past an older couple, and advances towardme with his eyes locked on mine.
I can't breathe.
Maeve tugs on my mother's arm. "We should go closer to the parking lotso Dad sees us." My eyes are on Nate, so I hear rather than see Mom's deepsigh. But she moves away with Maeve, and I'm alone on the sidewalk whenNate reaches me.
"Hey." He looks at me with those dreamy, dark-fringed eyes, andresentment surges through my veins. I don't want to see his stupid eyes, hisstupid mouth, and every other part of his stupid face that's made memiserable for the past three months. I had one night, finally, where I got tolose myself in something besides my pathetic love life. Now he's ruined it.But I'm not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. "Hi,Nate." I'm surprised at my calm, neutral voice. You'd never guess howdesperately my heart's trying to escape my rib cage. "How've you been?""Okay," he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. He looks almost--awkward? It's a novel stance for him. "My dad's back in rehab. But theysay that's positive. That he's giving it another shot.""That's great. I hope it works out." I don't sound like I mean it, eventhough I do. The longer he stands there, the harder it is to act natural."How's your mom?"
"Good. Working. She moved everything from Oregon, so--I guess she'llbe here for a while. That's the plan, anyway." He runs a hand through hishair and shoots me another half-lidded glance. The kind he used to giveright before he kissed me. "I saw your solo. I was wrong, that night at yourhouse when I first heard you. That, tonight, was the best thing I've everheard."
I squeeze the stems of my flowers so hard that thorns from the rosesprick me. "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why did you come? I mean--" I lift my chin toward the crowd. "It's notreally your thing, is it?"
"No," Nate admits. "But this is a big deal for you, right? I wanted to seeit."
"Why?" I repeat. I want to ask more, but I can't. My throat closes andI'm horrified as my eyes prickle and fill. I concentrate on breathing andpress my hands against the thorns, willing the mild pain to distract me.Okay. There we go. Tears receding. Disaster averted.
In the seconds I've been pulling myself together, Nate's stepped closer. Idon't know where to look because there's no part of him that doesn't undome.
"Bronwyn." Nate rubs the back of his neck and swallows hard, and Irealize he's as nervous as I am. "I've been an idiot. Being arrested messedwith my head. I thought you'd be better off without me in your life so I just... made that happen. I'm sorry."
I drop my eyes to his sneakers, which seem like the safest spot. I don'ttrust myself to speak.
"The thing is ... I never really had anybody, you know? I'm not sayingthat so you'll feel bad for me. Just to try and explain. I don't--I didn't--gethow stuff like this works. That you can't pretend you don't give a crap andit's done." Nate shifts his weight from one foot to the other, which I noticesince my eyes remain fastened on the ground. "I've been talking to Addyabout this, because"--he laughs a little--"she won't let it go. I asked her ifshe thought you'd be mad if I tried to talk to you and she said it didn'tmatter. That I owe you an explanation anyway. She's right. As usual."Addy. That meddler. No wonder she'd been bobbleheading all overSymphony Hall.
I clear my throat to try to dislodge the lump, but it's no good. I'll have totalk around it. "You weren't just my boyfriend, Nate. You were my friend.Or I thought you were. And then you stopped talking to me like we werenothing." I have to bite hard on the inside of my cheek to keep from tearingup again.
"I know. It was-- God, I can't even explain it, Bronwyn. You were thebest thing that ever happened to me, and it freaked me out. I thought I'druin you. Or you'd ruin me. That's how things tend to go in the Macauleyhouse. But you're not like that." He exhales sharply and his voice dipslower. "You're not like anybody. I've known that since we were kids, and Ijust--I fucked up. I finally had my chance with you and I fucked it all up."He waits a beat for me to say something, but I can't yet. "I'm sorry," hesays, shifting again. "I shouldn't have come. I sprang this on you out ofnowhere. I didn't mean to ruin your big night."The crowd is thinning, the night air cooling. My father will be here soon.I finally look up, and it's every bit as unnerving as I thought it would be."You really hurt me, Nate. You can't just ride here on your motorcycle with... all this"--I gesture around his face--"and expect everything to be okay.It's not."
"I know." Nate's eyes search mine. "But I was hoping ... I mean, whatyou were saying before. How we were friends. I wanted to ask you--it'sprobably stupid, after all this, but you know Porter Cinema, on Clarendon?The one that plays older stuff? They've got the second Divergent moviethere. I was, um, wondering if you want to go sometime."Long pause. My thoughts are a tangled mess, but I'm sure of one thing--if I tell him no, it'll be out of pride and self-preservation. Not because it'swhat I want. "As friends?"
"As whatever you want. I mean, yeah. Friends would be great.""You hate those movies," I remind him.
"I really do." He sounds regretful, and I almost crack a smile. "I like youmore, though. I miss you like crazy." I furrow my brow at him and hequickly adds, "As a friend." We stare at each other for a few seconds untilhis jaw twitches. "Okay. Since I'm being honest here, more than a friend.But I get that's not where your head is. I'd still like to take you to a shittymovie and hang out with you for a couple hours. If you'll let me."My cheeks burn, and the corners of my mouth keep trying to turnupward. My face is a fickle traitor. Nate sees it and brightens, but when Idon't say anything he pulls at the neck of his T-shirt and drops his head likeI've already turned him down. "Well. Just think about it, okay?"I take a deep breath. Being dumped by Nate was heartbreaking, and theidea of opening myself up to that kind of hurt again is scary. But I putmyself on the line for him once, when I told him how I felt about him. Andagain, when I helped get him out of jail. He's worth at least a third time. "Ifyou'll admit that Insurgent is a cinematic tour de force and you're dying tosee it, I'll consider your proposal."
Nate snaps his head up and gives me a smile like the sun coming out."Insurgent is a cinematic tour de force and I'm dying to see it."Happiness starts bubbling through me, making it hard to keep a straightface. I manage, though, because I'm not going to make things that easy onhim. Nate can sit through the entire series before we leave the friend zone."That was fast," I say. "I expected more resistance.""I already wasted too much time."
I give a small nod. "All right, then. I'll call you."Nate's smile fades a little. "We never exchanged numbers, though, didwe?"
"Still have your burner phone?" I ask. Mine's been charging in my closetfor three months. Just in case.
His face lights up again. "Yeah. I do."
The gentle but insistent honk of a horn penetrates my brain. Dad's BMWidles directly behind us, and Mom lowers the passenger window to peeroutside. If I had to use one word to describe her expression it would beresigned. "There's my ride," I tell Nate.
He reaches for my hand and squeezes it quickly before letting go, and Iswear to God, actual sparks shoot across my skin. "Thanks for not tellingme to get lost. I'll wait to hear from you, okay? Whenever you're ready.""Okay." I move past him toward my parents' car and feel him turn towatch me. I finally let myself smile, and now that I've started, I can't stop.That's okay, though. I catch his reflection in the backseat window, and hecan't either.
Acknowledgments
So many people helped me along the journey from idea to publication, and Iwill be forever grateful to all of them. First, a profound thank-you toRosemary Stimola and Allison Remcheck, without whom this bookwouldn't exist. Thank you for taking a chance on me, and for your brilliantadvice and unwavering support.
To Krista Marino, thank you for being an incredible editor and for yourdeep understanding of my story and its characters. Your insightful feedbackand guidance strengthened this book in ways I didn't realize were possible.To all the team at Random House/Delacorte Press, I'm honored to becounted among your authors.
Writers are so much better when they're part of a community. To ErinHahn, my first critique partner, thank you for being an honest critic, atireless cheerleader, and a good friend. Thank you Jen Fulmer, MeredithIreland, Lana Kondryuk, Kathrine Zahm, Amelinda Berube, and AnnMarjory K for your thoughtful reads and words of wisdom. Every one ofyou made this book better.
Thank you, Amy Capelin, Alex Webb, Bastian Schlueck, and KathrinNehm for bringing One of Us Is Lying to audiences around the world.Thank you to my sister, Lynne, at whose kitchen table I sat andannounced, "I'm finally going to write a book." You've read every wordI've written since, and believed in me when all this seemed like a pipedream. Thank you, Luis Fernando, Gabriela, Carolina, and Erik for yourlove and support, and for putting up with my laptop at family gatherings.Thank you, Jay and April, who are part of every sibling story I write, andJulie for always checking in on book progress.
Deep gratitude to my mom and dad for instilling in me a love of readingand the discipline required for writing. And to my second-grade teacher, thelate Karen Hermann Pugh, who was the first to ever call me a storyteller. Iwish I could have thanked you in person.
All the love in the world to my kind, smart, and funny son, Jack. I amproud of you always.