25
“Zorie!” my mom shouts from across the campsite, relief in her voice. She rushes ahead of the men and throws her arms around me. “You’re all right.”
“Mom . . . ,” I say, hoping the right words will come out, but I’m stuck between her concern and the shit storm that’s approaching.
She pulls back and holds my face. “You’re fine.”
“I’m fine.”
She moves one of her hands to Lennon’s face. “You’re okay too?”
He nods. His expression is taut.
“What in God’s name is going on?” my father roars over my mother’s shoulder. He’s not talking to me. He doesn’t even give me anything but a cursory look. His eyes are on Lennon, and he pushes my mom aside to get in Lennon’s face. “You snatch my daughter away and take her into the woods?”
“I didn’t snatch anything,” Lennon says, eyes narrowing.
“I asked him to take me,” I tell my dad. “Reagan left us. She was our transportation home. And Lennon knows the park—”
“I don’t give a damn,” my dad says. “Reagan came home five days ago. Five days! You’ve been alone in the wilderness with my daughter—my daughter,” he shouts at Lennon.
“Dan,” my mom says, trying to pull him away from Lennon.
Dr. Viramontes clears his throat. “Zorie, I’m glad to see you and Mr. Mackenzie are well.”
“There was never anything to worry about,” I say, giving him a tight smile. “I’m sorry you were dragged into this.”
He shakes his head. “I’m just glad you’re all right. I invited you here, so I feel responsible.”
“Damn right, you’re responsible,” my dad snaps. “These are underage kids.”
“I find that most of our club members are smart, self-aware individuals who don’t need a babysitter.”
My dad snorts. “Then you’re obviously not a parent, because these kids don’t know their asses from their faces.”
Dr. Viramontes holds up his hands in surrender. “I told you before, I’m not going to fight with you. Since my club member is seemingly unharmed and accounted for, I will leave you to sort this out among yourselves. I just ask that you don’t upset the other campers. We’re here to witness nature, not disturb it.” Dr. Viramontes glances at me, a look of pity on his face, before he turns to walk away.
My mom gently inserts herself between Lennon and my dad. “Let’s talk about this civilly.”
“The time for being civil has passed,” Dad says.
Something snaps inside my head. I glance back, making sure Dr. Viramontes in out of earshot, and then I turn to my father.
“It absolutely has,” I tell him. “It passed when you threatened Lennon last fall in that hotel. Yeah, that’s right. I know. I know everything.”
“What hotel?” Mom says.
Something close to rage passes over my father’s features. “Oh, really? Did he tell you that I caught him trying to use a stolen credit card and that he took a swing at me?”
“Yeah, and that’s the bruise you told Mom and me that you’d gotten at a construction site,” I shout. “You lied about that. You lied about Lennon. Instead of telling his parents, you took it upon yourself to administer justice that you had no right doing.”
“What in the world are you talking about?” Mom says. “Dan, what’s going on?”
“I caught him trying to get a hotel room for the two of them,” Dad says.
Mom blinks rapidly. When she opens her mouth, a strangled noise comes out.
“That’s right, he did. And my love life is my business alone,” I tell my dad. “You took my best friend away from me. You ruined both of our lives just to keep your dirty little secret.”
A tense silence follows. I can’t believe I just said that. It just . . . came out, and now, as Mom’s eyes narrow quizzically, I wish like anything I could take it back. I glance around to see if anyone at the campground can hear us arguing; no one seems to be paying attention but Avani, who looks as if she can’t decide whether she should stay or go.
“Zorie,” Mom says evenly. “What dirty little secret?”
“Nothing.” I can’t look at my dad. Why did I open my mouth?
“Zorie,” Mom repeats, this time more firmly.
“Lennon was at the hotel because it was homecoming,” I tell her, tears sliding down my cheeks. “Dad was at the hotel because . . . he was seeing another woman.”
My mom stares at me and then calmly turns to my dad. “Was this Molly?”
He nods once, quickly.
“I see,” my mom says.
What?
“That’s it?” I look back and forth in disbelief, at her, then him.
“I know about her,” she says. “We were going through a rough patch. We’re past that now.”
Now it’s my turn to stare with an open mouth. When I finally speak, I sound like an idiot. “How . . . ? When? You knew? You didn’t tell me. You knew?”
My mom glances at Avani, who is still standing nearby, pretending to look at the night sky. “It’s not something I’d like to discuss in public. But yes, your father told me about . . . the other woman. He ended it. We worked through our issues.”
“He cheated on you,” I whisper.
“I’m not discussing this with you now,” she says quietly.
“You didn’t discuss it with me at all!”
“It wasn’t your business,” she says, now angry. Her dark eyes shine with intense emotion. “It was mine. Mine alone. And your father’s.”
“Am I not part of this family?” I ask. “Don’t I deserve to know that my father is a piece of shit?”
“Hey!” my mom says.
“You’re not going to talk to me like that,” Dad says. “Joy’s right. It wasn’t your business.”
Lennon crosses his arms over his chest. “You made it her business when you fucking lied to her.”
My dad points a finger at Lennon and stalks toward him. “You listen to me—”
“No, I won’t,” Lennon says. “You want to punch me? Then do it, old man. I was too stupid to realize it then, but I know now that I didn’t need to be afraid of your threats. We have a camp full of witnesses here. You want to hit a minor? My parents will see you in court.”
“No one is hitting anyone,” my mom shouts, angrily pushing my father back. “This is ridiculous. And everyone’s emotions are out of control, so this is not the time or place to discuss this. The only thing I care about tonight is that Zorie and Lennon are safe. We will go home and talk about the rest of it later.”
“I’m not taking that punk home,” my father says, then peers over my mom’s head to address Lennon, pointing an angry finger in his direction. “You can find your own way. God knows you feel adult enough to trample through the woods with my daughter. Get a taxi, catch a bus, call your own parents. But you’re not riding in my car.”
“Dan,” my mom argues.
“No, it’s fine,” Lennon says, mouth rigid. “I wouldn’t dream of accepting a favor from him. I’ll catch my own ride.”
“We both can,” I agree, clasping Lennon’s hand. “Because I’m not getting in the car with you either, Dad. I’m staying here with Lennon.”
“Like hell you are,” Dad says. “You’re going home with us.”
New plan.
New plan.
New plan.
I can’t think of a new plan! I’m crying, and vaguely aware that half of the campground is now staring at us—and probably some of them are people I know. People I wanted to meet. Sandra Faber! My God, a renowned astronomer could be witnessing all of the ugliness, right along with everyone else in the region who could help me potentially get into Stanford.
But none of it matters now, because my heart is shattering. My family is a sham, and I’m about to lose Lennon again.
“I’ve never hated you more than I do right now,” I tell my father.
Hurt flashes behind his eyes, but instead of talking to me, he points at Lennon. “You did this. I blame you for corrupting my daughter. And guess what, hotshot? Nothing’s changed. You’re not allowed to see Zorie.”
“I don’t take orders from you,” Lennon says.
“You may not, but she does,” he says, nodding toward me. “And if you don’t remember, I’ve got proof of what you did last fall.”
Lennon shrugs. “My parents know about the credit card, and they know about the hotel room. They also know I’m here with Zorie, and you don’t see them flipping out.”
My dad is going to kill him. Straight-up murder. I seriously wonder if I should call for help, and then I see him physically force himself to calm down. Hard breaths. Crack of the jaw. Eyes on the ground. “Zorie, you’re coming home with us. And that’s final.”
He’s serious. This is all falling apart.
What am I going to do?
“I won’t leave you,” I tell Lennon through my tears, turning away from my parents. “I won’t let him do this to us. I won’t lose you. I won’t lose you,” I repeat, desperate, fisting my hands in his shirt.
Lennon’s face is stony, and he’s glancing over my shoulder at my father. His head dips low, and he speaks quickly in my ear. “Go home with them. I’ll be okay here. And we’ll figure something out.”
How? How will we figure something out? I can’t see how this can work. But more than that, I can’t see my life without him in it. I tried living like that over the last year, and it wasn’t living. It was surviving.
Without thinking, I stand on my toes and kiss him. It’s quick and hard, and I’m still crying. He kisses me back, and it feels like goodbye.
“Joy,” my father says coldly, “talk sense into Zorie before I say something I regret. We’re leaving in three minutes.”
“I came here to take photos of the meteor shower,” I protest weakly. It doesn’t even matter anymore, and I’m fighting a battle I’ve already lost. “I was supposed to meet Sandra Faber.”
My dad shakes his head. “You lost that privilege when you lied to us about who you were coming out here with.”
“I came to the Sierras with Reagan! She didn’t tell me Lennon was coming along, and she definitely didn’t tell either one of us that she was going to abandon the glamping trip and take off with her friends. Lennon and I didn’t know we were going to be stranded in the middle of the wilderness. We didn’t plan this!”
“Life is hard,” my dad says, turning away from me sharply, storm clouds behind his eyes. “None of us plan for any of it.”
* * *
The atmosphere inside the car is silent and oppressive as my father drives out of the camp’s parking lot. I turn around in the backseat and see all the red lights of the star party. Lennon is already lost among the masses, so I can’t even see his face one last time. All I can see is my freedom slipping away as white meteoroids streak across the black sky. Dust and particles, some no bigger than a grain of sand, disintegrating as they pass through Earth’s atmosphere. Something so small can create a brilliant flash of light. It looks like a miracle. Unearthly.
Shooting stars.
No wonder people wish upon them.
And though I know they aren’t really stars, and that wishing is pointless, I watch the white streaks zipping over the mountains, and I wish. I wish so hard. Don’t let me lose him again.