The Truth about Us (2 page)

I watch her leave me. It feels like the hole inside my heart is growing bigger instead of healing.

I twirl my huge key chain around and around as I head down the driveway. I only have a couple of keys, but my chain is a huge wad of ornaments. People started adding to my collection of key chains when they noticed I was collecting them.

I walk toward the dent-free Audi. Dad bought it for Allie and me. But Allie hardly even uses our car, since Doug drives her everywhere.

He and Mom each have a Tesla electric car; he has the roadster, and she has the sedan, though she hardly drives hers anymore. He pretends buying hybrids and electric cars makes him green.

I'm about to jump in the Audi when crying reaches my ears. It's feeble, as if trying not to attract attention. I glance around and spot Carly, the little girl who lives next door, sitting on her driveway, clutching a piece of pink sidewalk chalk, crying. She's an adorable kid, and the sight of her tugs on my dark heart. I'm no body language expert, but it looks like her entire world is crashing in. Like she's been deserted by everyone. I know that feeling, so I walk slowly toward her. When I reach her, I bend down so I'm at her level.

“Hey, Carly,” I say softly. “Are you okay?”

She hiccups and rapidly sucks in breaths and blinks at me with her big eyes and manages to nod.

“Funny. 'Cause you look a little sad to me.”

Her teary eyes reach inside and wrap around my heart. “I'm supposed to be brave. I shouldn't cry,” she tells me. She glances around. “My parents are getting a divorce,” she whispers. “I have to be brave.”

My heart aches for her. Man, that sucks. “Being brave is hard sometimes,” I tell her and look around, wondering what I can do. The mini sock monkey on my key chain stares at me. Impulsively, I unhook it. “But I happen to have a solution.” I hand her the monkey. “This is a special monkey,” I say. “Her name is Brave Monkey. She has powers. Magical ones. Keep her close and she will help you be brave.”

Carly opens her eyes wider, and I stand up.

“I can keep it?” she asks.

“As long as you promise to take good care of her,” I say solemnly.

She clutches the little sock monkey in her hand and nods, her eyes big and her expression serious. The monkey was a present and it's been on my key chain for a long time, but Carly looks like she needs it more than I do right now. I can always get myself another one to replace it.

“Brave,” I tell her and wink.

“Brave,” she whispers and nods again.

I pat her on the head. “See you soon, Carly,” I say and walk to my car, watching her for a moment. She's talking to Brave Monkey, probably telling her the way things are with her parents. With a sad smile, I drive off toward Nance's.

When I arrive, I park in her driveway and open the door to hear music rumbling from the back deck. No one answers the front doorbell, but it's unlocked so I walk inside, slipping off my shoes and heading through the kitchen to the patio doors. Nance is stretched out on a lounge chair, and she waves and mouths hello to me but keeps talking on her phone.

I strip off my shorts and tank, down to my bathing suit, and spray myself with sunscreen. A second later, her brother struts out on the deck holding a twelve-pack of vodka coolers. I smile and he openly checks me out without smiling back, emphasizing how inappropriately tiny my bikini is. Serves me right. I glance down at my skimpy suit. Not exactly a suit for swimming laps.

He hands me a grape cooler and I take it, grateful for the drink even though I could do without him. I've known Scott since I was five years old, but he's still a jerk who enjoys making me feel like an entrée in an all-you-can-eat buffet. He takes his eyes off of me and scowls at Nance until she reaches for her purse and hands him some bills, and he hands over the coolers. I stretch out on the chair beside her and he turns back to me. “All grown up, hey Jess-A-cup,” he says and chuckles. “Or should I say, Jess-C-cup.”

I make a face at him, but my skin shivers under the hot rays of the sun. When he leaves the deck, I breathe a sigh of relief.

“I know, Dad,” Nance is saying into the phone, and she rolls her eyes at me. “But Mom decided it wasn't a good idea.”

I try to remember the last time my mom made a decision for me. It's a stretch.

Nance hangs up and turns to me. “Hey!”

I force a smile. “What's up with your dad?” I ask.

“He asked if I wanted to go to Vegas with him and his child bride. Mom nixed the idea. She was worried I'd roam around the whole weekend in the land of free booze and single men. Plus they didn't invite Scott. Dad said it was because he's working, but Scott can get time off whenever he wants. I don't think the child bride likes him.”

I don't blame her but say nothing.

“Party poopers.” She checks her phone again and then snaps a quick selfie and puts it down. It'll show up on Instagram or somewhere later. Within minutes of posting, she'll have fifty comments telling her how pretty she is. “The child bride is pissed off because Scott's working at the golf club and Dad's still footing all his college bills. Plus he told her about the campus tour he's taking me on in September. Berkeley, Stanford, Brown, maybe Duke. She's pissed off I'm not picking a school in Washington. Honestly I think she's worried Scott and I are going to spend all the money before her child grows up. She doesn't understand that he'll never run out. He loves making money too much. It's a competition for him.” She pauses. “Do you think she's kind of low class?”

It's not the first time she's asked, but I don't answer. I'm not stupid. There is no way to win that conversation, so I do what I do best. Ignore it.

“Ugh, colleges,” I say. “I don't even want to think about them.” The year ahead has so many big decisions. Exams, colleges, career options. Maybe even taking a year off to travel, which would probably make my dad lose his mind.

“You okay?” Nance asks. She flips onto her back and stretches her arms high over her head and points her toes. I glance at her wrists. The slight scars. She doesn't hide them.

“I'm fine,” I tell her.

“Yeah?” She reaches for a pack of smokes under her chair and holds it out to offer me one. I don't smoke, but she offers me one every time as if she's convinced she'll convert me. “Liar.”

“I'm fine,” I say again. “I just don't want to think about school or trying to impress people next year.”

“It's a big year. And we will rock it. But whatevs.” Nance rolls her eyes as she reaches for the lighter and inhales and blows out smoke in my direction. “So you actually made it home on time last night? Your dad didn't freak?”

“Yeah. It was fine.” I don't mention the ride home or the boys, even though it would both surprise and intrigue her. They were hot after all. And it was pretty daring.

“My mom was up this morning.” I'm not sure why I tell her that.

“Yeah?” She watches me. “How's she doing?” she asks softly, and her cheeks suck in as she inhales from her cigarette.

“Okay.” I don't think she wants to hear the truth. Not really.

She waits for more, but when I don't say anything, she sighs. “Our parents suck,” she finally says, and her voice catches. “We might as well be orphans.” She's staring at the smoke from her cigarette as it fades away. The serious expression on her face surprises me. “My therapist says I'm acting out to try and get attention. He thinks I feel unloved.” She turns her gaze to me. Her eyes shine. As if she's daring me to deny it. Or agree.

“You're seeing a therapist again?” I ask tentatively and make a shield with my hand over my eyes and pretend to gaze at some clouds.

“Not again. Still.” She inhales deeply and blows out smoke again and then laughs. Bitter, angry laughter. “My dad insists. We all have secrets, you know. Not just your family.”

I should say something, ask more. Why? What's wrong? Obviously she has things she wants to say or talk about, but I pause too long. We hang out together for a reason. We don't over examine things. We find ways to forget them.

“You okay?” I ask, but insincerity stiffens my voice. My words sound cold and wrapped in bubble wrap.

She laughs. “Nothing a few vodka coolers won't fix.”

“Seriously,” I say. “Oh, wait, I have news!” I reach down to my purse and, with great flourish, pull out the credit card and wave it in the air. “Gold MasterCard. My mom gave it to me to go shopping.”

Nance stares at it for a moment. Presses her lips closed and sits up straight. “Nice,” she says. “I'm in. We can head to Seattle. How about the Shops at the Bravern? And then Alderwood Mall? I'll get some cash from my dad.”

Her dad supplies her with cash for clothes on a regular basis. Nance calls it guilt money. For ditching her mom for a younger woman and a new baby.

“When do you want to go?” she asks.

“I don't know. It's supposed to rain in a couple of days.” I tuck the card back in my purse.

Nance crosses her legs and lifts her bottle in the air. I raise mine and then we clink and pull back and bring them to our lips, tip, and chug.

I manage to finish the whole bottle in one go, but Nance still has half hers left when she drops it from her mouth. I grin and wipe off my mouth. “Beat that, beey-otch,” I tell her and smile wider.

“You may beat me at drinking, but I beat you at life,” she says and belches loudly.

“I love it when you talk dirty to me,” I say, relieved the serious stuff is forgotten.

“You would,” she retorts.

I reach for a new vodka cooler as Nance blows another smoke ring into the air. I watch it drift up and slowly expand until it's gone. The smell bothers me, but like many things with Nance, I put up with it and don't say anything. She leans back against her lawn chair and grins.

“So, liquor pig,” she says. “Let's talk about boys.”

“Boys?” I ask as if Nance asked a question.

“Hot boys,” she says, and it makes me remember how Penny and I used to tease Nance about how guy crazy she was. At least that hasn't changed. My cheeks burn remembering how Penny and I swore we'd be mature teenagers, not girls who cared too much about makeup, clothes, and boys. We swore we'd never do stupid things just to be popular. Like drinking or smoking.

One of us was wrong.

“We need to find summer flings,” Nance says. “Not Josh.” Josh being my on-again, off-again something or other. We're off. For good, I hope. It's awkward.

“I'm over Josh,” I tell her and swallow back a healthy amount of the new cooler, enjoying the buzz that's starting to lighten my head.

“Good. I mean, despite his ‘good on paper' pedigree, Josh's not worthy of a summer fling.” Nance takes a dainty sip of her drink and watches me over the top of the bottle.

“Good on paper?” I say.

“You know what I mean. There's a certain kind of guy that girls like us will be expected to date next year. But not this summer!”

I pretend to gag, but she shakes her head sadly and blows out a smoke ring.

“It's true. We're seniors this year, and everything we do matters. The right parties, the right people—we're going to need Josh-like boyfriends. Only Not Josh 'cause he smells like chlorine.”

The first part sounds like Carol talking. Nance's mom worries a lot about what other people think. She's already nagging Nance about who's going to take her to prom. She wants it to be a boy with a good family name, to show the world she still has clout even if her husband left her. Her priorities are questionable, even to me.

Nance tosses the rest of her cigarette into her bottle and claps her hands together. “Anyhow, this is a summer for boys!” Nance says. “Last chance for summer flings.”

“We're not going off to war,” I say, rolling my eyes at her.

“No. We are going to be seniors. It matters. But first, boys.”

I close my eyes and an image of Flynn fills my mind. I quickly open them, startled, and take a drink to wash his image away. Nance doesn't notice my distraction and continues on about summer flings and summer parties until she stops to light another smoke.

“Jennifer says there're lots of hot guys hanging out at Alderwood Mall. We can go there to shop
and
check out the merchandise.” She wiggles her eyebrows up and down. “I can't believe Jennifer's dad actually made her get a job this summer, though I love that she showed him by getting one at the lingerie store. At least she gets to dress slutty.”

“My boobs aren't perky enough to work at a lingerie store,” I say, looking down at them.

“Oh, your boobs are fine.”

I stick my tongue out at her, and we drink more and gossip as time passes by.

Later, after going inside to pee, I stumble back to the deck and Nance is on the phone, FaceTiming someone. I can tell it's a guy by the way she's flipping her hair. She turns the phone to me. “Say hi to Bryan,” she says. I pirouette for him and then bow, giggling, and almost trip. God. The coolers have definitely gone to my head. I don't even like Bryan. He's a jerk, just like his politician dad.

I plunk down on my chair but Nance seems intent on chatting him up. “Not fling material,” I say too loud.

She laughs but shushes me at the same time.

“Bryan. Bryan. Do you have a trust fund?” I yell with drunken gusto. “That's not going to get you Nance action this summer.”

She waves her hand at me to shut me up. I listen for a while but quickly get bored and pull out my own phone. There are no new texts from anyone, so I flip to my eBay app. I'm addicted to watching bids on eBay.

I search dresses. After all, Mom said I could buy a dress.

I scan a bunch and then see one that makes my eyes pop. I laugh because it's so ridiculous and yet so perfect at the same time. It's short. Gold sequins. Ostrich feathers. Giorgio vintage. I imagine myself wearing it to school on the first day. Or better, to my college interviews. That cracks me up even more. Ostrich feathers at a college interview.