The Year We Fell Apart (18 page)

She offers me a smile and I squeeze my hand into a fist and smile back. “Here, why don’t you let me do those?”

“Oh, that’s all right, sweetie. I’m almost finished. But you know what would be a big help?” She pulls a glass casserole dish off the drying rack. “Would you mind taking that over to Bridget?”

“Sure.”

I slide into a pair of flip-flops and cross the lawn to Cory’s house. After knocking quickly, I let myself in the front door.

“Bridget?”

“In the kitchen!”

“Hey, I’m just returning your—”

They’re sitting at the kitchen table. Cory, Bridget, and of course, Declan.

Why didn’t I change out of my pajama pants before coming over here? And why do they have little yellow ducks on them? Just why.

“Oh, thanks!” Bridget says. “Is your mom back from the hospital already?”

“Yeah, she just got home.”

She nods. “You hungry? The boys are helping me get rid of some leftovers.”

“No, thank you.”

Taking another sip of coffee, she checks her watch. She’s wearing scrubs, probably about to leave for a shift. She gets up and stands behind Declan, resting her hand on top of his head. It’s the same gesture Natalie always made to Cory and me. From the way Declan’s forehead wrinkles and the intense interest he’s taken in his placemat, I’d guess I’m not the only one thinking of her now.

“It’s so good to see the three of you together again. We sure have missed you, Declan. Haven’t we, Harper?”

Bridget loves making us feel awkward. And clearly, she’s a pro at it.

I stare at the dish in my hands. “Of course we have.”

He sets his fork down on his plate.

“All right, I’m off to work,” Bridget says with a second glance at her watch. “Cory, make sure those plates find their way into the dishwasher, please.”

He nods and uses his finger to push the last bite of leftover macaroni onto his fork as she swoops down and smooches the top of his head.

Bridget stops in the doorway. “Oh, Harper honey, there’s another casserole in the freezer for you to take home. I’ll stop by tonight to check in on your mom.”

“Thanks, Bridget.”

She waves and is out the door.

“Okay,” Cory says once she’s gone. “I’m going to brush my teeth and then I’m ready.”

Declan nods while Cory stacks his plates. He drops them in the sink on his way out of the room.

Suddenly the ratio of people to uncomfortable silence is unbearable. I busy myself putting the casserole dish away in Bridget’s cupboard, praying Cory will come down quickly and make this as brief as possible.

I fiddle with my necklace, sliding the pendant back and forth across my bottom lip while I stare at the pictures stuck to the refrigerator door. One in particular catches my eye, and I lift the magnet to get a better look at it.

It’s a snapshot of Cory, Declan, and me from a few years back. I remember it being taken, on Cory’s fourteenth birthday. The three of us are wearing party hats and enormous smiles. I’m standing in the middle, one arm around each of them, looking into the camera. Declan is on my right, but rather than looking forward, he’s looking at me.

Heat creeps up my neck. The evidence is everywhere—Declan has always been a better friend than me. And I took him for granted.

He stopped calling ten days after I broke it off in October. And that was my fault too. Because I hadn’t answered a single one of his messages. Instead, I shut down. Barely left my house except to go to school. Barely spoke to anyone, which worked fine with Cory since he didn’t have much to say to me either, but it did not go over well with Sadie.

Then winter break drew closer and I started itching, right down to my skeleton, to see Declan. So on Christmas Eve, I broke my own rule. I asked Cory about him. And my heart shattered all over again. Declan had already moved on. I was too late.

Everything started to fade after that. There would be no going back, no undoing the past. So I committed to the choice I’d made. I started going out with Sadie again, and at the first party I kissed someone. And the list grew from there. With each new guy I buried the moments I’d shared with Declan a little deeper, cementing myself into a life without him. A life where I could do whatever I wanted with whomever I wanted, because it didn’t matter anymore; no one was getting hurt. And it did get easier. To fake liking those other boys, to shut my eyes and drift away for an hour. But deep down, the pieces of my past I was trying so hard to bury always mattered. Because I hadn’t just lost the Declan I was in love with. I had lost my best friend, too.

I sent him one postcard. Like that was the best I could do, as if that insignificant gesture even merited a response. But Declan deserves so much better, and I can’t give up on him that way again. I’m so sick of running from what’s difficult. Sick of being scared of everything, of being the coward Graham says I am. I want to be someone worthy of Declan’s friendship; I want to earn it back.

I stick the picture onto the fridge again. “Did I miss anything good in class?”

Declan leans back, draping one arm over his chair. “Saw your photograph. The shot of the roses.”

My leg won’t stop bouncing. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” More silence. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I thought?”

“What did you think?”

“Didn’t care for it.”

I give my pendant one last squeeze and let it go. Guess I should have anticipated that response. “Oh.”

“Don’t get me wrong, it was pretty and all that. But safe. And therefore completely boring.”

“Well, thanks for the feedback.”

“Anytime.”

I tug at the hem of my shirt, gripping the fabric in tight fists. “Can we start over?”

Declan pushes back from the table and passes by me on his way to the sink. He turns on the faucet and rinses his plate. “How? Shake hands and pretend we’ve never met?”

“No, I don’t mean that. I just . . . Things got kind of intense yesterday. And I was hoping we could all do something fun this afternoon. Maybe mini golf? Give you a chance to show us your awesome caddying skills.”

Ugh.
So lame.

He shuts the water off. After a pause, he starts loading the dishwasher. “Cory and I were about to meet up with the girls and head over to the fair.”

“Oh, cool, I totally forgot that started today.”

He dries his hands on a dish towel. And doesn’t look at me. Clearly, I’m not going to get an invitation.

“Well,” I say. “I should probably head back home anyway.”

His thumb moves over his bottom lip. The same gesture he always uses when he’s thinking about something.

Cory comes back into the room, twisting his back left to right. “Warming up is the key to avoiding stomach cramps,” he says. Then he nods to me. “You ready to eat a deep-fried Twinkie?”

“Um . . .” I glance at Declan. “I mean, if you guys are okay with me tagging along. . . .”

Cory frowns at me. “What are you talking about? Of course it’s okay.”

Declan takes his keys out of his pocket. “Everyone ready?”

I tug at the extra fabric of my pajama pants. “I just have to run home and change—”

He heads toward the front door before I’ve even finished my sentence. Cory watches him go, then smirks at me.

“So this’ll be fun,” he says.

“Maybe I shouldn’t come.”

“You’re probably right. Better off keeping your distance until he leaves. Hey, how’s that been working out for you so far?”

I make a face. “Shut up.”

“Just go get changed already.”

  *  *  *  

The fair is beyond crowded. I get caught in a swarm of middle schoolers, and then bump into an older couple. I turn to apologize and fall behind my friends. As soon as I’ve caught up, Mackenzie grabs Cory’s hand and sprints toward the Ferris wheel.

They get in line and I feel a twinge of loss. Which isn’t at all justified, since it’s not like Cory has stopped including me, or that he was ever
mine
to begin with. But without swim practices, I already see less of him. And it’s little things, like the way he’s always near Mackenzie, looking out for her, that make me wonder whether he’s done looking out for me that way.

I shake it off. None of that matters as long as Cory is happy.

Gwen smirks. “You guys up for rides?”

Declan and I always ride the Ferris wheel together. Every year.

He shrugs. “Not really.”

He’s wearing his sunglasses again, and not being able to see his eyes makes me feel like he’s terribly far away. It’s as if summer is already over; he and I are miles apart.

We keep walking, passing by a deep-fried pickle vendor. I smile at Declan, but he’s looking the other way.

I clear my throat and try, for the tenth time today, to engage him in conversation. “Are you guys hungry? I could get us some snacks.”

Gwen perks up. “I could go for a frozen banana.”

I turn to Declan. “How about you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? I could—”

“I said I’m fine.”

I bite my lip. Nod. “Yeah. Got it.”

Gwen wrinkles her nose and looks at her feet. I turn and walk away.

The smell of fried dough and sausage, mildly nauseating yet comfortingly nostalgic, hangs heavy in the air around me. I stop in front of another food stand. Apparently you can deep-fry anything these days. Pecan pie, Oreos, even marshmallows.

I think about getting some to take back to the group, but Declan only likes marshmallows when they’re raw. I would know, because we used to have bonfires all the time at the tree house. Cory and I would make s’mores, and Declan would just eat all the ingredients straight out of the packages.

He even brought some that last night we spent together. We’d planned to build a fire, but then the rain started and we went up into the tree house and dessert didn’t seem quite as important after that.

“What looks good?”

Gwen stops on my left and checks out the menu board. I straighten and tuck my hair behind my ear. “Oh, hey. Um . . . sorry, what did you say you wanted before?”

“Frozen banana. Ever tried one?”

I shake my head.

“They’re addictive. And not as terrible for you as fried cookie dough, so that’s a bonus.” She taps my arm. “Come on, my treat.”

We go over to the stand she saw and order two dipped in chocolate. She hands me mine and we sit down on a nearby bench.

I take my first bite. “Interesting.”

“Kind of like banana-flavored ice cream, right?” She wipes one side of her mouth with a napkin. “So, do you want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?”

“You don’t have to. I just couldn’t help but notice this is a particularly hostile chapter in the Declan-Harper saga.”

“We don’t have a saga.”

“You do. But that’s beside the point.”

I wipe my palm on my shorts. “We were together for a while. He hates me now. That about sums it up.”

“Please, he doesn’t hate you.”

“Um, were you not there a minute ago?”

“Yeah, and he was being kind of a jerk. But trust me, Declan only wishes he hated you.”

I cough a laugh. “That makes me feel so much better.”

She smiles. “Well, it should.”

I pick a flake of chocolate off my dessert. “I just feel like there’s all this space between us now, and I don’t know how to get rid of it. It’s like every time he looks at me, he’s disappointed that I’m not the person I used to be, you know?”

Gwen crisscrosses her legs. “People change. And sometimes that means drifting apart. But other times it just means working harder to find some common ground.”

I think about everything Mom said in the kitchen earlier today, and I try to picture the next year of my life. I try to figure out what it would take for Declan to be a part of it, but I keep getting stuck on last October and every terrible moment between us since. Actually facing Declan’s reaction to the truth was the scariest thing imaginable, so I never gave him the chance. Because as much as I wish I could undo the past or change the present, what I’m really afraid of is the future.

“I’m willing to work,” I say, almost to myself.

We finish the food and walk back to meet up with the group. We pass a fresh-squeezed lemonade stand—the kind that’s really just half a lemon and a bunch of sugar-water. Personally, I think it’s disgusting. But Declan loves the stuff.

I order one and follow Gwen back to the group. She pulls a toothpick out of her pocket and gnaws on it, casually angling away when we get close.

“Here.” I hold the drink out to Declan. “I ordered this by mistake. Want it?”

“You sure you don’t?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

He takes it from me. “Thanks.”

He gives me a small smile. It doesn’t show his dimples, and I know he’s just being polite. But it’s progress. And when it comes to Declan, I’ll take whatever I can get.

SADIE IS TEXTING AS SHE
walks and nearly trips over a small child playing on the sidewalk. I yank her elbow, pulling her out of the way. She doesn’t even look up.

“Hey, who do you think is cuter, Mike or that sophomore John?”

“You’re considering dating a sophomore? How progressive.”

We split to walk around a couple of window shoppers and meet back up. She rolls her eyes and pockets her phone. “I’m not dating either of them.”

“Well, in that case, John.”

“Mm, I knew you’d say that. But then, we both know you don’t have the best taste in guys.”

I cross my arms. “Guess you shouldn’t have asked if you didn’t want my answer.”

“Whatever.” She starts walking a little bit faster, turning left onto Ninth.

We pass by Second Helpings, and I pause to see if I can spot Mackenzie working behind the counter. The mannequins in the window are dolled up in floral aprons and skirts with petticoats underneath. Vintage cat-eye sunglasses and sparkly brooches are also scattered around the display, along with a few old postcards that rival the one I sent to Declan in terms of ridiculousness.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to start dressing like a 1950s housewife too.”

“I was just looking for Mack. Don’t think she’s working today, though.”

Sadie keeps walking without comment. “Want to get some food or something?”