Authors: Tiffany Schmidt
Send Me a Sign
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Acknowledgments
For Morgan
I may have been your teacher,
but you taught me the true meanings of
grace
and
courage
Hillary looked up from her phone, squinting at me in the afternoon sun before she pulled on the sunglasses perched on her head. “There is nothing happening tonight. Nothing.”
Ally rolled onto her stomach and took a sip of Diet Coke. “There’s a barn party coming up.”
She had a streak of sunblock on her shoulder, which Hil leaned over and rubbed in. “That’s still three days away—is there really nothing planned until then? Mia?”
“Not that I’ve heard,” I answered. “But not that I’ve asked either. Do you want me to?” My cell phone was somewhere below my chaise and I made a halfhearted attempt to pick it up without looking.
She sighed. “Don’t bother. But if the rest of this summer is as crappy as June has been, then let’s just fast-forward to September.” I couldn’t see her eyes behind the dark lenses of her sunglasses, but I knew they’d look hurt; she’d had a rough week.
“Except for us, right?” Lauren asked. “We’re not part of the crappiness.”
I rolled my eyes and Hil poked me with a purple pedicured toe. “You guys know I love you—it’s the rest of this suckfest of a summer I hate.”
My phone kept beeping, but I didn’t feel like checking it. It was one of those afternoons where the weather was too perfect to take anything seriously. I allowed myself some laziness—stretching my arms above my head, soaking up as much sunshine and pool weather as possible. The summer was just beginning; I’d let it ramp up to excitement—there was plenty of time for parties and discovering if school-year flings would become summer ones. Plenty more afternoons just like this.
“Laur, you’re turning really pink,” I said, poking her arm gently and watching it transition from white to ouch-red.
“It’s not fair. You’re blond; I thought you’re supposed to burn too.” Lauren stated it like an accusation as she traded her spot at the end of our row of chaise longues for a chair beneath the shade of the patio table’s umbrella.
“Nope, just redheads.” I tossed her the bottle of sunblock. It was a bad throw, landing closer to the pool than to her hands. “But you’ll be the only one of us without wrinkles when we’re twenty, so it’s almost fair.”
“Who wants to come sit with me?”
Lauren was constantly asking questions like this. Yesterday I’d done the whole shade-time thing with her. Today I was too content to move, so I simply stared up at the deep and endlessly blue sky.
“You’re, like, ten feet away. I think you’re fine,” Hil answered.
Shifting my shoulders to unstick them from the chair, I self-consciously adjusted the top of my bikini. Again. At the mall Ally had told me buying a smaller size would make my boobs look bigger. Hil had argued that I was asking for a wardrobe malfunction.
Hil was right—and, since she caught the gesture, she knew it. She raised an eyebrow and shook her head. “The green one looked better on you. We’ll go this weekend and buy it.”
“Plan,” I agreed. I could maybe get away with this one while lying flat and tanning, but the thought of attempting to wear it while Gyver and I swam laps was enough to make me blush and look toward the fence separating his yard from mine. Laps often turned into races, and races turned into cheating, grabbing ankles, and dunking each other to get ahead. The winner was the person who didn’t choke on pool water—swimming and laughter not being a great combination. And after we raced we floated side by side, hands, feet, legs, and arms bumping as we bobbed and talked. These scraps of fabric and sequins would never stay put through all that.
“What happened to your leg?” Hil asked, interrupting my thoughts. I’d been busy studying the house next door—something I found myself doing all too often lately.
“It’s nothing. I banged it against the side in the game of chicken the other night.” I shifted my leg so she couldn’t see the bruise that wrapped around half my calf. It was the latest in a series of purple polka dots on my body.
Her eyes narrowed. “Ryan is such a klutz. He should’ve been more careful.”
“Ryan? Careful?” I laughed. “I’m sorry, are we talking about the same person?”
“Ryan’s never careful,” added Ally. She liked to state the obvious, to make sure we were all on the same page.
“Speaking of Ryan,” said Lauren. “Where are the boys? Let’s call him and Chris and Kei—” She cut herself off, clapping a hand over her mouth.
Ally and I connected with “oh shit!” eyes.
“And no one,” Ally finished, a weak attempt to cover Lauren’s slip-up. Weak but sweet.
Hil was sitting so still, she looked like a statue—
Pixie in Red Bikini
. I dropped down next to her on the chaise and wrapped my arms around her. I could almost not blame Lauren; we were all used to including Hil’s ex on the list of guys to invite, but Lauren tended to misspeak a little
too
often, and look a little too innocent afterward.
“Sorry, Hil,” she said.
“It’s fine.” Her words were sharp. It was the tone that made freshmen flinch and made me buy cookie dough and schedule a girls’ night for us—a voice she used only when she was hurting. Usually because her parents were involved in another custody hearing. Not because they were fighting over who got to keep her, but because neither wanted to.
“Mia, it’s hot, stop hanging on me. I’m fine.” Still the razor voice, but she was leaning into my hug. I didn’t move. “Keith’s an asshole. I don’t need him.”
She pulled her shoulders back, pulled away from me. In a fluid movement she rose from the chaise and dove into the pool, swimming a length before she surfaced and shook water out of her face. “Laur, Mia, Ally! Get your asses in here.”
Potential sunburn forgotten, Lauren obeyed instantly—the pull to be included stronger than her sense of self-preservation.
My phone beeped again as I stood. I gathered my hair into a messy knot with one hand and pulled up the texts from my mother, placing the phone on my chair so I could read them while I secured the hair elastic.
Drs called. I moved your appt to today. 4 pm.
Leaving now. Be ready when I get home.
“Aren’t you coming in?” Ally was already bobbing in the water, her toned arms wrapped around a pool noodle. “It feels amazing.”
“My mom.” I pointed to my phone. “Can’t. We’re going somewhere at four. If I’m not dressed and ready to go when she gets here …” There was no need to finish the sentence; we had years of friendship and my mom’s dramatics in our collective history. “Stay. Swim. If you’re gone before I get back, I’ll call you later.”
They were just bruises. It must have been a slow week at her advertising firm for Mom to make such a big deal about them. I probably had a low iron level or something—Lauren claimed she skewed anemic every time she went on a diet. I probably just needed to take a vitamin.
I paused before closing the door and shutting out the sounds of Ally’s high giggle and Hil’s throaty chuckle. Lauren shrieked,
“You guys!” I leaned out, plucked one of the flowers off Mom’s bright-pink clematis from the trellis beside the door. Counting the petals as the door closed behind me:
One for sorrow
Two for joy
Three for a girl
Four for a boy
Five for silver
Six for gold
Seven for a secret, never to be told …
Seven petals
.
I crushed the flower in my hand
.
Coming tonight had been a mistake. I did a quick survey of the party: Hil mixing drinks on a makeshift bar made from hay bales; Ally and Lauren dancing; Ryan cocking his wrist to throw a Ping-Pong ball into a cup of beer. Since they were all occupied, I allowed my smile to slip, let my cup dangle loosely at my side, and stepped back into the shadows that formed along the wall beneath the hayloft.
“Drop the drink, Mia. We’re leaving.” It was Gyver’s voice.
He didn’t belong here. Not that the rest of us did, but we used the old Nathanson barn for parties more often than the East Lake Historical Society used it for their reenactments, so it felt like ours.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
He grabbed the red plastic cup from my hand and threw it into the hay. “Seriously. I don’t care if I have to carry you. We need to go. Now.”
The action and the words clicked: he was the police chief’s son. “I’m not drunk. I can walk.”
“Then do. Quickly.” He grabbed my wrist and began to pull me past the stalls containing couples mid–hook up. Past the blaring iPod-speaker combo set up on the ladder to the loft and the barn door balanced on hay bales, where one game of beer pong was ending and guys were fighting over who was next.
“But what about—” Twisting back toward the loudest part of the crowd, I tried to locate Ryan or the girls. I stepped in someone’s knocked-over drink and slipped; my flip-flops had no traction on the dirt floor.