These Are the Moments (3 page)

Chapter 6

Then

They promised to keep in touch. AIM usernames were exchanged. Phone numbers. And they all promised to sit together during the first youth group meeting of the school year.

Wendy could’ve cried, but she didn’t. Saying goodbye to friends seemed to be the new trend. And even though it felt ridiculous, part of her couldn’t believe that they’d all stay friends. No matter how small the town was.

Mom picked her up, big smile and a welcome-home smoothie in tow.

“The prodigal daughter!” she exclaimed. “We’ll slaughter the fatted calf!”

“Animal murder won’t be necessary, thank you,” Wendy said, settling herself in the car.

Home looked like home always did, but now it felt a little different. Or maybe she felt different.

“Did you have a good time? Tell me all about it,” Mom said.

Wendy filled her in, covering every single detail.

“Mom,” she said, “I haven’t felt this happy in a while. Did you know God was cool?”

Mom smiled. Mom loved God better than anybody. “Sure did.”

That night Wendy rushed through dinner. She pretended to listen as Claudia jabbered on about the pool party for some girl in her class. She nodded when necessary. She even cleaned the dishes.

Fifteen minutes later, she was holed away in her room, logging into her AIM account.

They were online. All of them.

Wendy felt light. And she wanted to hold onto that lightness, like a delicate bubble threatening to pop.

They invited her to group chat.

TheLandMan6: Hey hey, gang’s all here.

Owen.

ReesesnPieces22: Yeah, it feels like
forever.

The Redhead said something about tearing up over her lasagna. Blondie graced everyone with a simple hello.

SGuidry4: Couldn’t wait 24 hours?

Wendy’s turn. WMLake3: What’s everyone up to?

ReesesnPieces22: Listening to music.

TheLandMan6: Playing video games. One sec.

SGuidry4: What are you doing?

WMLake3: Who? Me?

SGuidry4: Yes you, Freckles.

WMLake3: It’s Wendy to you.

TheLandMan6: Nice try, poser. Try all you might, but you will always fall short of my epic ability to create nicknames.

SGuidry4: And may I say, I’m very sad about that.

They talked like this for a while. Back and forth, chatting over each other, the thread piling up with conversations, one on top of another. At 11:30, Wendy knew it would have to end eventually. But she didn’t want it to. She
really
didn’t want it to.

Another dialogue box popped up on her screen. A private message.

SGuidry4: Hey.

She typed back.

WMLake3: Uhh hi.

SGuidry4: What’s the M stand for?

WMLake3: My middle name.

SGuidry4: Which is? Let me guess. Marie.

WMLake3: You won’t guess.

He tried. Melissa. Morgan. Megan.

WMLake3: Give up yet?

SGuidry4: I never give up.

WMLake3: It’s Monica.

SGuidry4: Hmm. I like it. So, did you have a good time on retreat?

Wendy didn’t know much about boys. Scratch that. Wendy didn’t know
anything
about boys. Still, she felt she had a pretty good handle on Simon already. The way he’d commanded every girl’s attention. The way he flicked his hair in that very specific way. He knew what he wanted, and he knew he would get it.

WMLake3: I had an amazing time. How about you?

SGuidry4: Amazing. Even better than last year. I have a long way to go though.

WMLake3: What do you mean?

He was typing. She could see him type, pause, then type again, as if he were carefully picking each and every syllable.

SGuidry4: Let’s just say I haven’t been the best person in the past. But I’m trying really hard to change that. I’ve got this second chance, and I’m not going to blow it.

It was funny. Not funny.
Strange.
The fact that Wendy kind of believed him.

WMLake3: Well, we all have each other now.

SGuidry4: Yeah, it’s awesome. You’re going to love youth group. You’re going, right?

WMLake3: Right. Wouldn’t miss it.

SGuidry4: So. Wendy Lake.

She imagined his deep blue eyes poring into hers. She hovered over the keyboard.

WMLake3: Yes?

SGuidry4: Tell me something about you. Something personal. Since we’re friends.

Were they?
Friends?
She’d never had a boy friend. In any sense.

WMLake3: That’s nosy, huh?

SGuidry4: Want me to go first?

WMLake3: It’s only fair.

SGuidry4: Okay then. I like girls. I like girls
a lot
. And most of my friends are girls. Except Owen, of course. I never keep girls as friends though. And it sucks.

WMLake3: Why?

SGuidry4: Haha okay, you can’t take this the wrong way. But they all . . . fall for me.

She rolled her eyes so far back that her whole head went with them.

WMLake3: Oh, please. Don’t be so modest.

SGuidry4: I’m serious. I don’t mean for it to happen. It just does. I guess I’m a flirty person.

WMLake3: You don’t say.

SGuidry4: Okay, I deserved that. I just mean that it would be nice to be friends with a girl and not have feelings get in the way.

She wanted to say
well, I promise mine won’t
, but she held back.

WMLake3: Must be rough.

SGuidry4: Okay, enough on this topic. You go.

WMLake3: Something personal?

SGuidry4: Something personal.

She wanted to say something personal that wasn’t
too
personal. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, and she certainly didn’t want to give him any kind of power.

WMLake3: I have a sister. She’s eight and her name is Claudia.

SGuidry4: That’s cheating. I demand a do-over.

WMLake3: You said one personal thing. I told you. I’m tapping out.

SGuidry4: What if I tell you another one? Will you tell me one legitimately personal thing about you?

She wondered why he cared so much.

WMLake3: I’ll consider it.

SGuidry4: Hey, deal or no deal?

This was a game. And just like with thumb-wrestling, she wasn’t ready to lose.

WMLake3: Ugh. Deal.

SGuidry4: Okay. Something personal. I want to own my own business one day. I want to work my way up to the place where I can take that kind of risk. I want to be really successful, for myself and for my family. One day, I want to be the kind of guy who can take care of other people.

A business owner?
Didn’t most high school boys just want to get to college and drink beer?

SGuidry4: Now. Something personal.

She yawned, wrinkling her whole face.

WMLake3: Tomorrow. Goodnight, Simon.

SGuidry4: You’ve got to be kidding.

She signed off triumphant. Drifting off to sleep, she wondered if he was wondering about her. She wondered why it mattered.

Chapter 7

Now

Wendy waited for her near the chapel, in a parking lot with other moms, making her feel Mom-like. Too Mom-like.

Claudia couldn’t be trusted with a car. She’d wrecked a lawnmower in seventh grade, taking out the pool equipment and a small row of hedges, and failed her DMV test five times until they passed her out of sheer pity. The world was safer with her as a passenger, giving Wendy the shiny new title of chauffeur.

The last bell rang. The announcements cued over the intercom, resonating through the campus.

“DON’T FORGET. BLAZER DAY TOMORROW. DRIVE SAFE.”

Blazers
. The bane of Wendy’s existence. Stiff jackets St. Stephen’s girls were forced to wear on formal occasions.

A flood of girls spilled out of the classrooms. Girls on their phones, girls with keys in their hands, girls with messy hair. Claudia lollygagged. She’d always been a lollygagger, dragging her feet, letting her arms hang limp at her sides. Wendy looked at her and pointed to her wrist, as if to say,
haven’t got all day
.

When Claudia opened the car door, she slumped deep down into the leather. She was a slumper, too.

“How was school?” Wendy asked.
Dear God
. How Mom-like could she get?

“Okay,” she said.

Someone knocked at the window. A girl Wendy didn’t recognize with thickly styled eyebrows waited as Claudia opened the window.

“Hey,” the girl said, just to Claudia. “You okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Claudia said, gravelly, like she was clamping down on her words.

The girl turned her eyes to Wendy, then back to Claudia. “Call me later.”

Wendy didn’t say anything until they were out of the parking lot. “What was that about?”

“Nothing,” Claudia said.

“Didn’t sound like nothing.”

“You sound like Mom,” she said.

She wasn’t wrong.

Wendy nodded. “Okay, never mind then.”

Claudia and Wendy had never been close, exactly. Claudia was moody and selective, where Wendy could talk to just about anyone. Six years apart made a difference, and that difference manifested in a series of awkward car rides. Wendy wanted them to be close. She wanted a gold star in the Big Sister category. She just wasn’t sure where to start.

They rounded the corner by the courthouse.

“I broke up with Casey,” Claudia blurted to the window.

Wendy nearly drove into the ditch.

Casey Patterson had been around forever, in different versions. Kid Casey used to bike past their house every Saturday, just to wave at Claudia. Preteen Casey mustered up the courage to ask Claudia to dance. (She said yes.) And Teen Casey had been the love of Claudia’s life thus far.

Everyone loved Casey. Everyone loved Casey and Claudia together. They didn’t fight. They weren’t insufferable, as most teen couples were. They were like an old married couple, in miniature form.

Wendy hit the brake, harder than she meant to. “What? Why?”

Granted, this probably wasn’t the best reaction. Granted, she probably should have waited just a beat before answering.

“I don’t know. I just did.”

“… At school?”

“Yeah, I texted him at lunch.”

Wendy felt her fingers tighten around the steering wheel. She bit at the skin of her bottom lip. “
You texted him?
”

“It’s not a big deal. Stop judging me.”

“I’m not judging you.”

Not true. She wanted to not judge Claudia. She wanted to be that supportive sister that said things like
you did what you had to do
and
he’ll get over it,
but she couldn’t. It wasn’t about sides. It was about what was right.

“I just think you should have done that in person,” Wendy said.

“Okay,” she said.

Okay? It wasn’t okay.

When they parked in the driveway, Wendy just sat for a second as Claudia grabbed her bag.

“Claudia?”

She paused, rolled her eyes and stuck her head back in the car. Deep, exaggerated sigh. “Yeah?”

“Never mind.”

Claudia slammed the door as she trotted into the house, leaving Wendy behind.

Chapter 8

Then

The first thing she noticed was the crowd, modest at best, mostly youth group people, mostly older than she was. More importantly? Mostly girls.

Owen lived a few blocks from St. Francis’, in a neighborhood with miniature backyards and a short walk to the park. Wendy and Reese showed up ten minutes late, because Reese told her, “No one shows up on time.”

She was right. Simon, the guest of honor, wasn’t even there yet.

“Okay,” Owen said, tossing pillows around to everyone. “He’s almost here. Everybody hide, yell
surprise
and chuck these at his head. Got it?”

He flipped off the light.

Wendy got that butterfly feeling in her stomach, the one that was half nervous, half excited. Girls around her giggled in the dark. Others shushed them. A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door.

Wendy watched Owen’s shadowy body yank the door open. “Happy birthday, man.”

“Thanks,” Simon said, stepping into the living room. “Why’s it so dark?”

Then it wasn’t.

“
SURPRISE!”
Everyone shouted and stood. A horde of pillows rained down.

Simon laughed, turning just the slightest bit of pink. “Thanks, guys.”

Owen turned on the music, and the party officially began. Even though this was Wendy’s first high school party, she felt surprisingly at ease. She talked to her retreat friends and inserted herself into conversations like she belonged there. It was a test that she was passing.

“So,” Reese said, taking a seat on the couch. “You still on that retreat high?”

“Retreat high?”

“Yeah, you know. How you’re all pumped up about God, and everything is
la la la
,
hooray life, I’m living on a cloud?
”

Wendy sipped at her punch. “Oh, well when you put it that way, it just makes so much more sense.”

“Uh huh,” Reese said, absently, distracted by Simon. “Gross. Doesn’t that make you want to throw up?”

Simon was talking to girls again, of course.

“What?”

“Simon,” Reese said, nodding in his direction. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. He’s a great guy. He’s just a complete idiot. I can’t figure out if he intentionally leads on any girl who breathes in his direction or if it’s just instinct.”

“Probably a combination,” Wendy said, sighing. She’d wondered the same thing.

Reese chewed at the end of her bright orange ponytail. “Okay, I’m getting more punch. Need anything?”

“No, I’m good.”

Wendy leaned back on the couch, solo. Aside from the incriminating baby photos, Owen’s house didn’t seem like his taste. The living room was gold and navy, a tad too girly, the obvious work of his mother’s hand.

Wendy wondered if Owen ever thought about his birth parents. Wendy wondered if Reese ever wondered about her dad. There were so many things she wanted to know about her new friends, and so many things she wanted them to know about her.

“You came,” Simon said, settling himself down beside her.

“Of course. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to throw a pillow at your head.”

“Remind me to pay you back for that later.”

She smiled, and looked down at her lap. She was nervous with him. Not blushy nervous, but more of an exposed nervous.

“Are you having a good time?” he asked.

“Adequate. Not nearly as much fun as your adoring crowd.”

He brushed a hand through his hair, and she watched it fall back into place. “They’re just friends.”

“Sure they are.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“It’s your party,” she said
.

“
What do you think of me?”

She fidgeted, twisting her ring around and around on her finger. “I don’t.”

“Oh come on,” he said. “You’ve got the strongest opinion of anyone here.”

She wasn’t so sure if this was a good thing. It certainly didn’t sound like a bad thing. She had an opinion. He wanted to know it. To get inside of her head? Probably. Out of genuine curiosity? Too soon to tell.

“I think you’re a good guy. Or that you want to be. I think all of that can get clouded by all of this. You’re honest. You’re smart. You just have the capacity to hurt a lot of people, and from what you told me, it sounds like you do.” She paused. Swallowed air. “But what do I know? I’m just a kid.”

“Point taken. I’ll never call you a kid again.”

“No kiddo, either.”

“No kiddo. No Freckles. How about freshman? Baby? Curly?”

She pointed her hand at him like a gun. “I’ll kill you.”

He grabbed hold of it. And they were kind of holding hands, their wrists floating in the space between them. “Wendy.”

“Yes.” She couldn’t stop holding his hand. She couldn’t stop watching their laced fingers, no matter how much her arm was throbbing.

“You think I’m arrogant. Does everybody?” he asked, disconnected.

“I don’t know. I doubt it.”

“But you do.”

“I don’t know you that well,” she said.

“Let’s change that,” he said, “You owe me. Something personal. Why’d you really come on retreat?”

Reese came into view, ready to join the conversation, then decided against it. A game of flashlight tag formed outside, and while half the party emptied into the front yard, Simon and Wendy stayed behind. Finally, he let go of her hand, and she rubbed her wrist discretely.

In the corner of the living room, Wendy could see a pencil-thin brunette eyeing her from the rim of her cup. She was tall and overdressed, with kitten heels and hoop earrings. Wendy ignored her.

The real reason she went on retreat. No one had asked her about that. Not even Reese.

“My best friend moved to Texas. My mom kind of strong-armed me into the idea.”

“That sucks,” Simon said, turning himself toward her. “Where’d she go?”

“Austin. Her dad got a teaching position at the university.”

“How’s she liking it?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. I haven’t really heard from her. She’s not the best at keeping in touch.”

He looked genuinely interested. Eyes wide open and fixed on her face. “So you’re lonely?”

“I’m not lonely,” she said, defensively.

“It’s okay. Everybody’s lonely to some degree.”

“I highly doubt that,” she said.

He shook his head. “Tell me more about your friend.”

So, she did. She talked about growing up with Vivian, how it felt when she left, the way that retreat had given her this new place to settle. She told him the things she’d never admitted to herself out loud.

“I like everyone so much. It’s like finding this new version of myself. I don’t want that to go away, too.”

“It won’t,” he said. “We’re friends now. We look out for each other, remember?”

How long had they been talking? Twenty minutes? More? His eyes finally broke away, feeling the glare of the girl in the corner. She waved him over, and he nodded back to her.

“I guess I should go play host now,” he said, sounding honestly reluctant. “You going to be okay?”

“Yeah, I’m great. Go play the birthday card.”

He laughed. “I’ll check in with you later.”

When he made it to the expectant girl, she draped her tiny arms around him and threw her head back laughing.
She’s pretty. Not beautiful, but pretty
, Wendy thought. And then she stopped thinking about it.

He didn’t check in later.

She didn’t notice.