TEN
Just friends.
I am sitting in the driver’s seat of Cam’s car. We’re on the interstate, heading towards Atlanta.
Cam refused to ride in a pink car.
I told him I refused to not drive home because I desperately needed to be behind the wheel of a car. Driving is my escape.
So, we compromised.
He was scared at first, thinking that there was no way I could drive a stick shift, but I assured him that Scott taught me how. He used to let me drive his Cobra all the time when I was fifteen. Sure, it was illegal, but we never got caught. If we would’ve, Stanley would’ve paid our way out of trouble.
Back then, I wasn’t a good driver. I have no idea how I didn’t tear the transmission out of Scott’s car. But he was patient and taught me. I love him for it. And the reminder of who he used to be is why I am on my way home right now.
“I feel like I should coach you about my family,” I say.
“They’re that bad?” Cam asks.
“Meh,” I say, shrugging my shoulders. “My mom will love you. She will hug you and act like you’re the best thing that’s happened since bread pudding…”
“Bread pudding?” he asks.
“Hey, I love bread pudding,” I say. “Anyway, my mom will pay you attention for all of two minutes, if you’re lucky. Then she will get a text or a notification and then you’ll be ignored the rest of the weekend. Rest assured, it’s not personal. She does the same thing to me. But if she asks to take a selfie with you, just give in. There is no use in fighting it.”
“Okay…,” he says. I can hear the hesitation in his voice.
“Then there is Stanley, my stepfather,” I say. “He will be home very little while we’re there. Expect him to be cold, but polite. And when Scott shows up to tell him about his car, expect a lot of yelling.”
“Okay…,” he repeats. Now he sounds worried.
“And Scott,” I say, letting out a sigh. “Expect him to be completely hammered the whole time. He will be mean to me, but don’t worry about that. Don’t stand up for me or anything, okay?”
“Why?” he asks.
“Because he’s my stepbrother and I love him. I’m asking you not to,” I say.
“How can you love somebody who is so mean to you?” Cam asks.
“It’s okay to love people who treat you wrong. Scott, at one point, was like a brother to me. I’m not giving up on him just because he has given up on himself,” I say. “Family doesn’t give up on each other.”
“But if your family member crosses a certain line, then maybe it would be okay to denounce them.”
“There isn’t anything Scott would do to make me feel like that,” I say.
“What if he killed somebody?” Cam asks.
“Then he’d be in prison, where they would force him to remain sober,” I say. “I would visit him every chance that I could. And I would love him. And if he ever got out of prison, I’d help make sure that he stayed sober so he’d never go back.”
“I get why he liked you,” he says, his voice sounding distant.
“He who?”
“The guy who killed your friends. He was obviously a twisted person, but I get why he liked you. You’re so happy and optimistic,” Cam says. “I wish I could be more like you in that way.”
I haven’t been called happy or optimistic in a very long time.
Not since…
“I can’t forgive him,” I say. “Derek Miller. I still haven’t forgave him. Part of me wants to, but I can’t.”
“Someday, you will,” he says. “Keep trying. Every single day, try. It will happen eventually.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve had to forgive a lot of people in my life. Even if it seems impossible, it’s not. Especially for somebody like you.”
“Somebody like me?” I ask.
“You’re special, Isla,” Camden says. “It’s not very often that a girl like you comes along. What happened to you is terrible, and I wish it didn’t happen, but you’re alive. You’re alive because of a choice that you made—a choice to befriend a guy that everybody else made fun of. You didn’t care about the consequences.”
“I did care,” I say. “If it wasn’t for Scott, I probably would’ve just stayed quiet during all of it. I would’ve just watched it, but never stepped in. I was scared of losing my friends. But I knew that Scott wouldn’t let that happen. So I defended Derek. And I became his friend.”
“You don’t know that it wouldn’t have been the same without Scott,” he says.
“Yeah, I do.”
“No, you don’t. Because your stepbrother was there. I think you would’ve been strong enough to step up without him.”
“But I would’ve lost my friends,” I say.
“Yeah, maybe,” he says. “But it wouldn’t change who you are inside. You would’ve made new friends.”
“Maybe,” I say.
But I’m glad I had Scott.
“What were your friends like?” Cam asks, but I can hear a struggle in his voice as he asks the question. Maybe it’s because I told him about the bad things my friends did.
“My friends weren’t bad people,” I say, feeling like I should defend them. “In fact, they were very nice. I always had a ton of fun hanging out with them. My stepbrother and me had the same friends, and we all hung out, like, all the time.”
“It’s hard to imagine that your stepbrother is a completely different person now,” he says.
“I know. When I think about all the time we had together, sometimes I wonder if they’re even real. Scott was my best friend. We did everything together,” I say. “He would even ditch his girlfriend if I asked him to hang out. We had a close relationship. He really was my brother.”
“Did he pick on that kid?”
“No,” I answer. “Back then, Scott never would’ve made fun of anybody.”
“What about your other friend? The one you said would come to school with bruises,” Cam says. “What was she like?”
“Olivia. Her mom died when she was young,” I tell him. “Her dad was an alcoholic. She didn’t talk much about it, but every time I went over to their house, there would be empty bottles of alcohol and beer cans all over. I only went there a couple times and we never stayed long. But she would come to school often with bruises. I asked her about it once, and she told me if I ever asked her again she wouldn’t be my friend anymore. I didn’t want to lose what we had, so I kept my mouth shut. I shouldn’t have. I regret it.”
“Do you hate the guy who did it?”
“It depends on the day,” I answer. “Some days, I pity him. What was so bad about his life that he needed to take it out on thirteen teenagers? They weren’t perfect, but neither was I. We were young and were learning. Who knows what they might have turned out like if he hadn’t killed them.”
“But they hurt him too,” he says. “The guy."
“Yeah, they did. And I’m not excusing that,” I say. “But they didn’t do anything that was worthy of death. They were teenagers who were still learning how to socialize. And Derek Miller had a choice. I was his friend. I liked him a lot. I would have helped him if he would’ve asked, but he never did.”
“Yeah,” Camden says. “I suppose he did have a choice.”
“We all have a choice in life. I always hope I choose the right thing. Because I know better than anybody that making a mistake, even one as simple as being unkind to somebody, can be a deadly mistake.”
…
When we arrive at my home, Camden sits up.
“This is your house?” he asks.
I nod. “Yep.”
“Your house is massive.”
“Stanley’s house,” I correct. “Not mine.”
I pull up to the front of the circle drive and get out. Camden follows me inside. When we walk in, nobody is there, not surprisingly. I told Mom we were coming, but I’m sure she just conveniently forgot.
My phone goes off, so I pull it out.
Mom: My appointment is running a little long. Should be home in a few hours or so. Love you.
I roll my eyes as I show Cam the text.
“Is she at the doctor?” he asks.
“No. She gets professional selfies taken once a month,” I say.
“A professional selfie?”
I shrug. “My mom is weird. I warned you already.”
He walks up to a portrait that my family took—Stanley, Mom, Scott and me. It was before the shooting a year and a half ago. I had just gotten my braces taken off and it was the first family photo we had taken in three years, mostly because I had refused to take pictures with my braces on.
“You look so happy here,” Camden says. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile this big.”
“Scott got me laughing. I don’t even remember what we were laughing at, but he could always get me laughing. Mom said I ruined the pictures because I pretty much laughed the whole time,” I say.
“That was a good day,” I hear Scott say.
I turn around and see him standing at the bottom of the staircase.
“I didn’t know you were home,” I say, then point at Cam. “Jerk Wad, this is Camden. Cam, this is my brother, Scott.”
“Your brother. Wow,” Scott says, walking down into the foyer. “I can’t believe you didn’t introduce me as your step monster.”
“I considered it.”
Camden walks up to Scott and sticks out his hand. Scott ignores it.
“So, you’re dating my sister,” Scott says.
“Not dating,” I tell him. “Cam is my friend.”
“Friend of my baby sister, what are your intentions,” he says, walking closer to Cam.
Scott decides now to play the big brother act?
“Scott likes to pretend he’s older, but he’s really only three months older than me,” I tell Cam. “Don’t let him intimidate you.”
Camden just smiles at me, then looks at Scott. “Isla and I are friends.”
“That’s it?” Scott asks.
“That’s it,” Camden answers.
Scott looks at me with one eyebrow raised. I know this look. He doesn’t believe me.
“Seriously, Scott. Just friends. I promise,” I tell him.
“Okay,” Scott says, finally believing me. He points at Cam. “But if you hurt my baby sister, I will run over you with Isla’s pink car.”
I laugh as I picture Scott driving my car towards Cam, and Cam running away.
Both Cam and Scott turn to look at me.
“What?”
“I haven’t heard you laugh since…,” Scott’s voice trails off.
I quickly change the subject. “Mom won’t be home for a while. Want to go get some coffee?”
“Coffee? Since when do you drink coffee?”
“Since college,” I answer.
“Huh,” he says. “As much as I don’t want to ride in your pink car, I really want coffee.”
“We brought his car,” I tell Scott.
“Oh, thank God,” he says.
Why does nobody want to ride in my pink car?
Wait, stupid question. Even I don’t want to ride in that car.