TODAY IS HOMECOMING, BUT INSTEAD of meeting my friends in homeroom I’ve been sitting in my car for the last several minutes. Groups of freshmen snap selfies outside of the gym while flaunting their mums like badges of honor. Red-and-white ribbons billow in the breeze and entangle their legs as they parade through the double doors.
My freshman mum from Jay is still hanging in my closet. I remember when he gave it to me, and how most of the ribbons were wrinkled and glue-gun spiderwebs hung from the fake petals of the mum. Even the lettering of my name was crooked. I knew it was a haphazard disaster, but I was so enamored with him that I didn’t care.
Jay had walked me the long way to my English class that day, specifically maneuvering past the gym so the basketball guys could see us together. When I sat down at my desk, Alex was looking at me like he was trying not to laugh.
“What?” I’d snapped.
He was eyeing my droopy mum. I’d spotted Lacey in the hall earlier. It was easy to tell he’d put some effort into hers.
“Nothing,” he’d said. “He walks with you like you’re some show dog.”
I rolled my eyes and brushed it off, telling myself he was jealous. But once we were at Breck’s house party after winning the game that night, I couldn’t help feeling like I was his Wavette accessory—that I could have been easily replaced by another girl on my team.
Maybe this is what happens when you fall out of love with someone. You begin to realize all the times you were let down. All the times you brushed something aside because your heart was too preoccupied by the what-ifs and what-could-bes. That maybe you should have listened to the nagging part of your brain when it said you could do better.
I run my hands over my steering wheel. I don’t want to go inside and watch as Whitney’s treated mediocrely by someone who’d rather flirt with some college girl who spends Saturday nights bringing beer to a high school party. There was one point in time where Whitney and I valued each other’s honesty, but I know that’s changed. If I brought it up, she’d think I was jealous. I don’t want another fight—especially since I’m still walking on unstable ground with her.
I’m putting my keys back in the ignition right as a truck pulls up beside me. I immediately recognize the deep-green paint job and the rusting bumper.
Alex.
Nervous energy tingles in my fingertips. I spent another hour with him backstage yesterday after they finished the first act, and in between scene changes we studied for our Algebra II test. We’d spread out on the dirty theater floor, reading our notes beneath the glow of our cell phone lights. Whenever he leaned over to compare answers, delicate prickles of energy would explode like tiny fireworks in my brain.
He’s the only part of my twelve-steps list that I haven’t actively worked on. But if I don’t confront him about the text, I’ll never know.
Before I even consider what I’m doing, I walk around to the driver’s side and tap on the glass.
As Alex lowers his window, I notice he’s wearing his typical attire: a black long-sleeve shirt with a green DEEP FLAME PRODUCTIONS T-shirt over it. His black beanie sits atop his head, and his mop of dark curls appear springier than usual as they peer out underneath.
He grins at me. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“Do you want to skip with me today?” I blurt.
He looks surprised. “Sure,” he says without question. “Hop in.”
My insides flood with relief. I walk around and climb in the passenger’s side. As soon as my door closes, Alex puts the car in Drive and we flee from the parking lot, away from all the gilded mums and past memories that hang over my head like heavy clouds on the verge of a thunderstorm.
“Where are we going?”
We’ve been driving in silence for a few minutes. I open my mouth to give him a destination, but I blank. I only know I didn’t want to go to school. I hadn’t thought where we’d go instead.
Alex must sense my hesitation because he says, “I know a place.”
His sense of control puts me at ease as I settle back in the worn seat. We drive another block before Alex pulls into the donut shop a few stores down from 7-Eleven.
I smile. This is the place where my dad would buy éclairs for my birthday. He’d also get me a carton of chocolate milk until one day in sixth grade when I told him I was “too old” for it and wanted coffee instead. After one sip of the bitter tar-fluid I immediately regretted it, but I was too proud to tell him I preferred chocolate milk.
Alex holds the door open for me. I’m greeted with the warm scent of freshly sugared pastries. The glass case before us holds dozens of frosted options.
I choose a strawberry sprinkle. He chooses a chocolate glaze. On a whim I grab a carton of chocolate milk from the door of the glass cooler. Alex doesn’t make fun of me. He even pays, even though I insist I should.
“I’m the one who asked you to skip,” I say as we walk out. “I should at least buy you a donut.”
“It’s not like you had to try hard to convince me.” His warm gaze finds mine. “I wanted to come with you.”
My cheeks flush, and I turn into the same sugary, frosted goo that coats my donut.
When we get back on the road, Alex’s hand finds the radio knob. “Music?”
Sensual jazz music flows from its permanent speaker prison.
“Oh god, no,” I laugh as I release my donut from its bag. “It sounds like the sound track leading up to a bad sex scene.”
Alex accidentally taps the brakes, jolting us.
I turn twelve dozen shades of red. Why would I say that?
Alex lets out a nervous laugh, and I’m thankful when he changes the subject. “I don’t think you’ve skipped school a day in your life.”
I give a small shrug. “There’s a first time for everything.”
From the way he glances at me, I know this is his roundabout way of fishing for information. He skipped with me, no questions asked. He deserves to know what’s going on.
“It’s like… ever since I’ve been back I’ve felt like I’ve been walking on one of those fun house bridges. The ones that try and throw off your balance, you know? And every time I feel like I’m making it closer to the end, the bridge shifts and I’m trying to keep myself from toppling over.” I trace my finger around the edge of the door handle. “If that makes any sense.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “You told me the other day that you wanted the life you had before everything with your dad happened.”
“Certain things,” I admit, thinking of my list. I’d give anything to have Grams back. Of course, I still want the recoverees gone. “But the more I try and force it, the more distant I feel.”
“Maybe that’s the problem.”
“What?”
“Forcing things to be the way they were before. I know people make mistakes, and I won’t pretend like I’m an expert in what’s going on in your life, but even when people give us second chances it doesn’t mean it’s going to be the same.”
My mind lingers on that word: second chances. Despite me ignoring That Text, he’d easily fallen back into the rhythm of our previous friendship like nothing happened. My non-response must have hurt him, just like ignoring Lin, Whitney, and Raegan had hurt them. But he’d stood up for me in Mrs. Donaldson’s class, and here he was cutting class with me.
My heart flutters. Could he be giving me another chance?
“So you think someone should embrace a situation they’re put in?”
“Yeah, if it’s good.” Alex glances at me. “I know working with my mom and sister at Rosita’s isn’t glamorous, but it’s going to help us pay for college.”
I study him. He’s never been afraid to be fully himself. Most students I know still complain that their parents are so embarrassing, yet Alex talks about working with his mom and sister in his family’s restaurant so casually. With pride.
That’s when a twinge of guilt strikes me. Because I haven’t been accepting of the recoverees. They’re people who are trying to change for the better, like my dad. And despite my crummy attitude, they’ve been good to me. Even after my outburst about my progress report, Peach still makes my lunch every day. Saylor’s helped me with my homework, and even though Nonnie’s been better at giving me space, she’ll still check up on me from time to time to make sure I’m doing okay. They don’t have to do any of that, but they do.
Alex starts to merge onto the highway.
“Where are we going?”
“On an adventure,” he says, grinning. “You look like you need one.”