For This Life Only by Stacey Kade
“Hey,” Thera said when I approached, her face lighting up, and I grinned in response.
But then her smile faded. “You look . . . Are you okay?”
I hadn’t realized my sleepless night showed so much. “It’s nothing.”
Last night, my mom had made an appearance downstairs an hour or so after Sarah and I had eaten, her face white and her lips pinched. She’d said nothing about the frozen pizza or Sarah’s lack of vegetables with said pizza. She’d just wrapped up the leftovers, loaded the dishwasher, told Sarah to get her pajamas on at eight, and then disappeared back upstairs, claiming a headache.
It was only when I heard the garage door going up a few minutes later that I realized my dad must have come down as well.
Sarah didn’t notice Dad’s departure, wrapped up as she was in her fourth episode of My Little Pony.
I let her stay up until nine, figuring it would be better if she was too tired to ask questions or notice that neither one of our parents was coming in to say good night.
My dad hadn’t been home when I’d gone to my room at ten thirty. So I’d left my door open, to listen. He’d rolled in close to midnight, as far as I could tell.
Not good.
“Family junk,” I said to Thera.
Thera’s forehead furrowed as she glanced from the book in her hand to me. “Did they say something to you about me dropping you off? I didn’t think anyone was home.”
“No,” I said. “Nothing like that. They’re fighting.” I lowered my voice, years of training hard to break. “My mom took Sarah to a therapist and my dad’s pissed. Dirty laundry or whatever.”
“As if no one else has any,” she said, rolling her eyes. “The stories I could tell you . . .”
I was sure she could. For all the fuss and drama around Psychic Mary from Riverwoods members, particularly from the conservatives in the congregation, the rest of town didn’t seem to care as much. Cars came and went pretty regularly from her driveway.
“We’re not allowed to,” I said simply.
“Yeah. I get it.” She bobbed her head, keeping her focus on the shelf in front of her. I wanted to move closer, but she seemed more distant today. Maybe it was being at school, or maybe it was because she was working.
Or maybe she’d decided yesterday was a mistake.
The thought made me feel a little shaky. I leaned against the next shelf over to take the weight off my leg. “So, I was thinking, you took me to one of your favorite places yesterday, maybe I could return the favor this afternoon.” I’d planned it out last night, while I was lying awake.
But Thera hesitated, avoiding my gaze.
My heart sank. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head. “It’s nothing.”
Except it clearly was. “Did someone say something to you?”
“No. It’s fine.” Thera waved my concern away and then slid another book in place with a solid thunk.
I didn’t quite believe her, but she obviously didn’t want to talk about it. After a moment, she took a deep breath, pushing away whatever was bothering her, and turned in my direction. “So,” she said with a smile. “What did you have in mind for this afternoon?”
I grinned. “How do you feel about drive-ins?”
She blinked at me. “Like the movies?”
“Nope, like the food. There’s this place in Richmond, Dog ’N’ Suds. My friends make fun of me, but it’s one of my favorite places to go. Hot dogs and root beer in glass mugs and they bring it to your car and everything.”
Thera raised her eyebrows. “Like . . . a drive-through?” she asked, in a tone of mock astonishment.
“Shhhh!”
The annoyed voice came from somewhere behind us, and it was immediately followed by a fit of giggles.
Thera rolled her eyes, and then, with a quick look back at the main desk, she abandoned her cart and took my hand, pulling me across the library.
She led me down an aisle that ended in a small alcove full of old reference books, like encyclopedias. I didn’t know they made those anymore.
“You want to go to a drive-in,” she said with skepticism. “Didn’t those go out of business in, like, the seventies?”
“Okay, now I’m seeing why you kept our destination yesterday a secret. ‘Hey, Jace, want to go stare at a bunch of rocks with me?’ ”
She laughed.
“But I was on board, and it was good. And this will be too, promise.” It was hard to describe what I loved about Dog ’N’ Suds. Something about the feeling of being warm and enclosed in the car, with greasy but good food eaten together instead of devoured straight from the paper bag while on the way to somewhere else. It felt like a special occasion, an event instead of just another meal. Before the church really took off, when my parents didn’t have much money, they used to take Eli and me there on our birthday.
I stepped closer and tucked Thera’s hair, wild as usual, behind her ear. “Are you in?”
She tilted her chin up until her mouth was almost touching mine. “Yes,” she whispered, and I flashed back to those minutes in her car yesterday, her smooth skin and the rapid but steady tremor of her heartbeat under my fingertips.
God, this girl.
“But only if you promise they’ll roller-skate my food to me,” she added in that same husky whisper, her lips brushing mine. “I can’t tolerate anything less.”
“Smart-ass,” I said with a smile. “I think they walk it out to you in the winter.”
Thera sighed in pretend disappointment. “I suppose that’s acceptable.” She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me, open-mouthed and unself-conscious, and it took all I had not to press her back against the shelves.
The loud sound of someone clearing their throat obnoxiously a few moments later made us jump apart.
Mrs. Paulson stood at the entrance to the alcove, her arms folded over her chest. “You have students waiting at the desk, Thera,” she said. But her stern expression seemed at odds with the amusement glinting in her eyes.
“Sorry,” Thera said quickly, and moved away from me to join Mrs. Paulson, who was already turning toward the front of the library. At the last second, Thera glanced over her shoulder, her cheeks flushed pink, and mouthed, Busted.
But then she grinned at me.
Yeah, everything was going to be okay.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
* * *
AT LUNCH, I FOUND myself staring at the big clock on the far wall that was ticking off the minutes way too slowly.
Just a few hours to go. I could feel a dopey smile pulling at my face and I didn’t care.
“What is going on with you?” Zach asked.
“Huh?” I glanced at him next to me.
“It’s just, you’re different.” He waved a hand at me in a vague gesture. “Suddenly you’re, like, . . . up. I don’t know.”
“Things are better today.” Instead of feeling like my limbs weighed a thousand pounds each, I could move, I could breathe.
“Because of her,” Zach said.
I went still. “What?”
Zach made an impatient noise. “Dude, I saw you getting in her car after school yesterday. Caleb saw you talking to her in the library. And in the hallway,” he said, and paused expectantly, waiting for an explanation.
“Caleb needs to mind his own business.” And keep his hands to himself.
Farther down the table, Caleb looked up from his nachos. “What’s up?”
“Psycho Mary’s daughter,” Zach said.
“Nothing,” I said at the same time.
“Bro.” Caleb shook his head, a smear of bright orange cheese in the corner of his mouth. “I’m all for a little fun, but you’re taking it too far. People saw you.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I snapped. Now the entire table was staring at me.
“What are you doing?” Zach leaned closer.
I turned to face him. “You don’t know her, and you need to stop talking. Now.”
His eyes widen
I shoved his shoulder, hard enough for him to get that I meant it. “Shut it. I’m serious.”
Zach raked his hand through his hair. “I can’t believe you’re doing this to us.”
“Us?”
“Your friends. Me. The team,” he said, gesturing to all the faces now watching avidly. “You’re the one who said she was trouble, that she liked to cause problems for fun and—”
“That bitch cost us state last year,” Scott called from the other end of the table.
I glared at him. “We had it wrong, okay? She’s not like that.” I’d never asked her about Doug and Aaron, but I knew her—and the situation—well enough now that I could guess what had happened and what hadn’t. She was not the type of person to lie about harassment or worse, which meant Doug and Aaron had done exactly what she’d accused them of. They’d just figured they wouldn’t get caught, or that even if they did, no one would believe her because of who she was. The worst part was, they were right. Most people didn’t believe Thera. Or at least not entirely.
Scott snorted. “Yeah.”
“Wait.” Caleb stared at me in disbelief. “You’re not, like, serious about this, are you?” He shook his head. “That girl has more miles on her than—”
I launched myself across the table. His tray went flying as I reached for him, fists swinging, and suddenly, everyone was shouting.
“What the fuck, dude?” Caleb half fell, half slid out of his chair, pressing his hand against his nose.
Zach yanked me back. I struggled to pull free from him.
“All right, all right!” Derek stood, leaning over the table. “Enough.”
Caleb got to his feet, glaring death at me as blood seeped between his fingers, and I shook Zack off me.
“The thing is, you’re still a member of the team, Palmer,” Derek said. “You’re on the roster.”
I stiffened. “So?”
“So, you know better than anyone that we need a good year,” Derek continued, sounding uneasy but resolute. “If she’s aiming for another crack at us, you’re giving her the perfect opportunity.”
It took me a second to understand. Derek didn’t care if the rumors were true; none of them did. It was enough that whispers existed. They weren’t willing to take the chance, so he was saying I had to choose.
My temper flared again. “Then take me off,” I said. I felt loss like a huge hole through my middle as soon as I said the words, but also a little relief at making a decision, picking a direction and taking action. If I was going to move forward, maybe that meant breaking with what was left of my old life.
“What?” Zach and Derek said it at the same time, with identical expressions of shock.
“I’m not playing. I’m not going to play again. I can’t. So take me off.” I grabbed my tray of food—or what was left of it—from the table.
“But you can’t!” Zach protested.
“You’re worried about it, I’m giving you a solution,” I said. Weirdly enough, I could hear my dad in the cold snap of my words.
“You’re choosing her over the team?” Derek asked. “That’s low, dude.”
I turned to him. “I don’t have a team anymore. I can’t play.” Juggling my tray with my good hand, I held up my left arm, which was still bent at the elbow. “In case you missed it, my life took a giant fucking left turn when I least expected. So, yeah, maybe I’m not making decisions you agree with, but I don’t have the same choices I did before. I’m not the same as before. I have to learn to live with it. You do too.”
“But—” Zach began.
I faced him. “And Thera is not your problem. She’s not a problem at all. Leave her alone. Leave us alone.”
They stared at me like I’d announced my decision to transfer to Parkland and play for them. Actually, worse than that. Like I’d announced my decision to play soccer instead.
Disgusted, I shook my head and walked away.
But after about a dozen steps, I realized I wasn’t entirely sure where I was going.
Obviously, eating at the team table wasn’t a good idea. Surveying the cafeteria, I felt the first pinch of doubt. In cutting ties to my teammates, I’d pretty much cut ties to all my friends as well.
Whatever. I’d be fine. I would just go to the library. Thera had class, but I had plenty of other things to do, including looking at memorial pages in previous yearbooks to get ideas for Eli’s.
Shifting directions, I collided with someone coming the other way.
“Sorry,” I said, stumbling back, trying to keep my grip on my tray.
“It’s all right,” Kylie said, her dark ponytail swaying. “I think I owe you one in this department.” She bent down to scoop up the carton of milk that had tumbled to the floor, and handed it back to me. “See you,” she said, ducking my gaze.
Then she walked away without another word. No apologies, no pleas to talk. It was like we were strangers again.
“Hey,” I called after her. “Is everything okay?”
She stopped, surprised. “I didn’t think you were talking to me.”
I grimaced. “I . . . yeah. Sorry about that.” At the moment, I couldn’t quite recall why it had been necessary to cut her off so completely after we broke up. It seemed like eons ago.
I blew out a breath. “I was stupid. Hurt, I guess.” But that was before I knew what it was like to really lose someone for good.
Kylie nodded, her fingers fidgeting with her meal card. “It’s okay.” She hesitated. “They’re giving you crap?” She tipped her head back toward the table where Zach, Derek, and Caleb were arguing.
I frowned. “How did you . . . ?” Of course. She would have heard about it because of Scott or from Scott directly. “Yeah, they don’t like me hanging out with Thera. Catoulus,” I added, as if there was another Thera. “Psychic Mary’s daughter.” I was daring her to react. We used to be friends before the mess last year. Her opinion still mattered to me; otherwise it probably wouldn’t have hurt so much when she dumped me for Dylan.
But she just studied her meal card, as if the information or photo on it were new to her. “Are you happy?”
“It’s only been a couple days since we started talking,” I said carefully, “but I’m . . . better than I was.” I hesitated, then added, “She’s amazing.”
“Then who cares what they think?” she asked with a shrug. “Sometimes there’s only one choice, even if nobody else likes it. If they’re really your friends, they’ll get over it.”
I’d never thought about the crap she must have gotten from her brother or from everyone else on the team when she ended things. Shit. I’d really screwed that up.
“I’ll see you later.” Kylie touched my shoulder lightly and then moved past me.
“Hey.”
She turned back.
“I really am sorry about before. When we broke up, I mean. I was a tool. I didn’t know. I didn’t get it.” I lifted my shoulders helplessly. “I was feeling what I was feeling, and I didn’t think about you.” I’d never really had the experience of going against everyone else to do what I thought was right. So I’d failed to recognize the effort it must have taken her to do it.
She nodded slowly. “I could have handled it better, not sprung it on you like that,” she said. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted to tell you. I kind of freaked because it was, like, all the pieces of my life kept getting tangled tighter and tighter. We were friends and then we weren’t because we were more and then there was another tie to the team—always the team—and you’re my brother’s friend. . . .”
“Maybe not anymore,” I pointed out.
“Eh.” She rolled her eyes. “You can do better.”
I laughed.
“Just be careful with her, okay?”
“They’re rumors, Kylie. She’s not—”
“Not like that.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I meant how you t
I straightened up. “What? Why?”
“You put people on a pedestal sometimes and then get pissed when they mess up and fall off.”
“I’m the last person to judge someone for being a screwup,” I said, forcing a laugh.
“Exactly my point,” she said gently. “You’re so busy seeing yourself as less than, you don’t see it in anyone else until it’s too late. Until they’ve disappointed you or hurt you, and then you cut them off. It’s kind of all-or-nothing with you. Not everybody can live up to that.”
That sounded a little too familiar, like something I’d thought about my dad. “It’s not like that,” I said quickly. “I’m not like that.”
“Yeah? We were friends for six years before we got together, and you’ve spent the last six months pretending I don’t exist.”
“But that was because—”
“How long will it be before you talk to Derek again?” Kylie jerked her head toward the table where they’d settled, without me. “Or Zach?”
“They were—”
“Expressing an opinion other than what you thought was right?” she asked.
I clamped my mouth shut.
“It’s none of my business, obviously,” she said with an uneasy smile. “I’m not sure what we are anymore. Not friends, not really. But I want you to be happy, and I don’t want you to be hurt again when someone else can’t be what you think they’re supposed to be.”
Before I could respond, someone called her name from the line behind me.
She waved in response. “I gotta go,” she said to me. Then with a last careful pat on my shoulder, she was gone.
I turned to watch her rejoin her friends in line.
And at the table that used to be mine, my friends were watching too. They’d evidently caught the interaction between Kylie and me.
Zach waved me over.
But I was still pissed. I headed toward the doors to the hall instead.
Kylie was wrong. It wasn’t about expecting people to be perfect. That was my dad, not me. I was just tired of being blindsided all the time.