Trouble from the Start (11 page)

I'd been avoiding Avery. I had a lot going on in my life and I didn't need complications. Avery would be a complication. Besides, when I'd said I liked her, I'd seen her eyes widen slightly, knew she was giving my words more weight than I meant.

I'd meant that I liked her in the same way that I liked the pot roast Mrs. Watkins had cooked for dinner. Or at least that's what I had intended it to mean.

It was hard to remember that when I was sitting across from her. Her nails were painted with purple and white stripes, the school colors. She really was all about school. She was also comfortable with her parents, talking with them about her teachers, some of the kids at school, movies coming out this summer that she wanted to see. My dad didn't care about any of that stuff. He didn't ask me what I
thought about anything. I always felt like a deer caught in the headlights whenever someone here at the table asked me a question.

Avery stood and took her dad's plate. I breathed deeply. I'd escaped tonight without anyone asking me anything. I got to my feet and reached for the little guy's plate.

“You have any plans for tomorrow night, Fletcher?” Detective Watkins asked.

I froze. Okay, maybe not a deer. Maybe someone finally on the other side of the prison fence suddenly having the spotlights hit him.

“We're going out to eat, to celebrate the last day of school,” he continued as though he knew I was trying to decide whether to tell the truth or a lie. “We'd like you to join us.”

I imagined the kind of place they would go, one that required button-up shirts. All I owned was T-shirts. “Actually I already made some plans.”

“Well, if you change your mind, we'll be leaving around six.”

I wasn't going to change my mind. I could take only so much family togetherness. “Thanks.”

I carried the plates into the kitchen, turned on the water, and started rinsing them.

Avery set the plates she'd brought in down on the counter. “Not a fan of Cheez It Up, huh?”

Furrowing my brow, I looked over at her. It was a place with games, slides, mazes, and a mouse mascot. “That's where you're going? I figured you'd go someplace fancy.”

“It's Tyler's last day of school, too. And he squirms a little too much for fancy.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” It was also fascinating to see how they wanted to do something that included everyone.

“So maybe you'll change your mind,” she said.

I shook my head. “No, I really have something to do.” Had an appointment with a bag of peanuts at the convenience store.

She left to gather the rest of the dishes and I went back to work. I appreciated the invite, but I was used to being on my own. Things were starting to feel tight. Sometimes when I looked at Avery, it was like there was a huge rubber band around my chest, squeezing. It made no sense.

When she brought in the last of the dishes, she stood with her hip pressed to the counter, watching me.

“Am I doing something wrong?” I asked, not looking at her.

“No, I just . . . I know it's none of my business. I just wondered if you knew how you did on the algebra exam.”

I slid my gaze over to her. “Better than I thought.”

She smiled brightly. “That's great! It's one of those pesky credits you need to graduate.”

“Definitely pesky.”

She grabbed a washrag, leaned in, and placed it beneath the running water. Her arms brushed against mine and awareness zinged through me, in spite of the fact that she hadn't done it deliberately. Not like Morgan, not with innuendoes and promises.

She squeezed the rag and started wiping the counter. “So there are a lot of parties going on Saturday night,” she said casually. “I'm going to one at the beach. How about you?” Stopping her movements, she met my gaze.

I knew this was my opportunity to let her know that I hadn't meant anything by the like comment. “Probably going to Scooter's.”

“Looking to make some more money with another bet?”

“I learned my lesson the last time.”

She wiped, turned the cloth over, wiped the same spot again. “Morgan will be there, right?”

“That's what she said.”

“You'll have fun.”

So why did I feel guilty? “Look, Avery, when I said I like you—”

“I didn't read anything more than friendship into it.” She released a light laugh. “And that's probably not even what you meant. You were probably thinking more along the lines of casual acquaintances.”

“It's just a little awkward . . . all this.” I waved my arm,
trying to encompass the kitchen, the house, the neighborhood, the family. “But, yeah, friends . . . that could work.”

She flicked the towel, zinged my arm.

“Hey!” I grouched.

She smiled, the smile that wreathed her face, that made what looked plain not so plain anymore. “You should relax some,
friend
,” she said. “We don't bite. And if you said no to tomorrow night because of this whole
like
thing between us, you should reconsider. You haven't lived until you've seen my dad dance with a rodent.”

I grinned. “He dances with Chelsey, the mascot?”

“He did once. I can't guarantee an encore, but there's always a chance.”

“I'll think about it.” But mostly I was thinking that she deserved a chance at someone a lot better than me.

Saturday afternoon, I stood before the mirror in my purple gown and cap with the gold tassel. My blond hair, brushed to a sheen, flowed past my shoulders. I couldn't believe the moment had finally arrived.

As I closed my locker for the last time Thursday afternoon I'd felt both excited and sad. Excited to be moving forward, sad to be leaving the familiar behind. Rajesh and I were probably the only two at school who experienced any sadness at all.

Fletcher hadn't joined us at Cheez It Up. He hadn't been at the graduation ceremony rehearsal yesterday afternoon either. I hadn't seen him around today. I had a feeling that while he might have done better on the algebra exam than he'd expected, he hadn't done well enough to pass the class. Maybe he was making himself scarce
because he hadn't graduated. And here I was: number three.

I heard a car honk. My keys in one pocket of the capris beneath my robe, phone in the other, I went downstairs and strolled into the kitchen. “Kendall and Jeremy are here, so we're heading over to the school,” I told Mom. We had to arrive an hour before the ceremony began so we could be lined up properly for our entrance.

“Gosh, Avery, are you a judge?” Tyler, asked from his place on the stool at the island. He knew all about judges. He'd been in the foster system.

I ruffled his dark hair. “No, squirt. I'm graduating. Remember? This is what you wear when you graduate.”

Mom walked over and gave me a big hug. “We'll be in the stands rooting for you.”

“All of you?”

She smiled. “Absolutely. Your dad's on his way home now.”

Sometimes work kept my dad from attending the school events. We didn't have a lot of crime, but it always seemed to hit when there was something special planned.

I wrapped my arms around Tyler and squeezed him hard. “See you later, squirt. Don't forget to yell when they call my name.”

“I won't!”

The horn honked again. I hurried out and slipped into
the backseat. Jeremy took off like we had all night. The guy never went a single mile over the speed limit, which was reassuring to Mom and Dad, but sometimes drove me a little nuts. I thought about the rush of wind going past when I was on the bike with Fletcher. He definitely didn't obey the speed limit.

Kendall twisted around and smiled at me. “Can you believe it? We are about to be officially done with high school.”

“After the way my week started out, I am more than glad.”

“I think things have died down.”

“Pretty much. Fletcher did what he could.”

“Speaking of Fletcher, why wasn't he at the rehearsal? Did he not graduate?”

I lifted a shoulder. “I'm not sure. I haven't really had a chance to talk to him. And how would I ask? If he didn't graduate, he's probably embarrassed.”

“I can't see him attending the ceremony,” Jeremy said. “It's not mandatory. If he let Mrs. Muldrow know he didn't want to do it, she'd take him out of the lineup.”

“That's true,” Kendall said. “Still, I bet he didn't graduate.”

It bothered me that she thought that, even if I was thinking the same thing. If he'd been too proud to let me tutor him, he would be too proud to admit he hadn't
graduated. My parents might know, although I couldn't see him sharing that with them either.

“If he's at the party tonight—” Kendall began.

“He won't be. He's going to Scooter's.”

“Would you rather go to Scooter's?” Kendall asked.

“No.” I looked at Jeremy, trying to decide how much he knew.

“I told him,” Kendall said, as though she could read my mind.

I groaned.

“I'm not telling anyone,” Jeremy said. “If you want to go to Scooter's, it's fine with me. I don't care which party we go to as long as Kendall's there.”

Releasing a small sigh, Kendall reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “I am so lucky.”

She was, she really was. “I don't want to go to Scooter's,” I told them. “We got the whole like thing straightened out. Basically he was just saying that he didn't dislike me. But there is no interest. Which is good.” Because I couldn't see myself with someone who didn't graduate high school, someone who failed classes—either because they weren't smart enough or they weren't trying. And I couldn't see myself with someone who had gotten into some kind of trouble with the police.

No matter how nice he seemed when we talked.

“The beach it is,” Jeremy said.

“Great!” Kendall and I said at the same time, then laughed.

Jeremy turned into the school parking lot, pulled into a slot, and turned off the car. Kendall leaned over toward him. “Last kiss as a senior before we graduate.”

I doubted that as they locked lips and I got out of the car. I figured they'd sneak in a dozen kisses before we marched onto the field to get our diplomas. The car windows had practically steamed up before they emerged. I could have gone on without them, but Kendall and I had started kindergarten holding hands. It seemed like we should at least walk together to our last big moment of school. Our last names would stop us from sitting together in the chairs that had been set up on the football field, so it just seemed important that we take this final stroll across the parking lot together.

As though she was thinking the same thing, Kendall slipped her hand into mine. “Been a hell of a journey,” she said. “Thanks for being there with me through it all.”

I squeezed her hand. “Didn't want to be anywhere else.”

We walked hand-in-hand into the stadium. Then we separated and I tried to concentrate on the moment so I could hold on to these memories forever. Lining up for the procession in, taking our seats. Listening to the speeches. Rajesh nailed his and got a standing ovation. I was so happy for him.

When the last speech ended, the principal, Mr. Craven, began calling out the names. One by one, students marched across the stage to receive their diplomas. I clapped wildly for Kendall and Jeremy.

For some inexplicable reason, it made me sad when Fletcher's name wasn't called. I'd hoped we were wrong, that I just hadn't seen him in the rush of four hundred and fifty seniors gathering for the ceremony. But he was noticeably absent. I knew he had no one to blame but himself. He hadn't put in the work; he didn't deserve to graduate. That was the way life worked. Effort was rewarded. Laziness wasn't. I tried to imagine him going through another year of high school. He'd be two years older than most of the seniors. I couldn't see him doing it.

I was focusing so much on Fletcher that I nearly missed them calling my name. As I walked up the steps and across the makeshift stage on the fifty-yard line, I could have sworn that I heard Tyler yelling my name. Taking the scroll that wasn't my real diploma—it would come later—I was hit with both a sense of joy and a spark of terror. Years of familiarity would be behind me. Who knew what the future might bring?

I stood in the shadows of the stadium bleachers and watched Avery take her diploma. She was wearing that smile, the one that made my gut clench.

I didn't know why I'd come here. Why I was torturing myself like this. Five more points. That's all I'd needed to pass the exam. Five more points and I'd be down there, proving to my old man that I wasn't a loser.

I'd asked hard-assed Turner to give me another problem, to give me a hundred, to give me however many he thought would justify adding five points to my exam. He'd just looked at me with dead eyes and said, “No exceptions, Mr. Thomas. You didn't get enough of the problems that I gave everyone else correct. Why should I be inconvenienced and have to spend my time creating another problem and checking it because you hadn't mastered the
material in a timely fashion? I'll see you next year.”

Like hell.

I'd listened to the T's being called, inserted my name where it should have been, imagined myself taking that scroll . . .

God, I was pitiful.

The last student name was called. The graduates stood. The alma mater rang out through the stadium as the band played and people sang. When the final words were sung, caps went sailing in the air, applause echoed—

Time to go. I headed for the parking lot. I didn't want to run into anyone, didn't want to be seen. I was stupid to come here. I got on my motorcycle, revved it up, and took off. I wasn't sure where I was going; I just knew that I needed to feel like I was going somewhere.

I rode around until it got dark. I didn't want to go to Scooter's party. Didn't want to go home. Didn't really want to go back to the Watkinses'. But I knew Avery's dad would come looking for me if I didn't eventually show up there, even though it was a curfew-free night because of graduation. I could stay out all night without him getting on my case, but I couldn't think of anything I wanted to do.

Well, I could think of one thing—go to the beach. But that was a bad idea.

I pulled into the driveway, lowered the kickstand, and turned off the bike. I headed for the stairs, heard a door
close, and froze. Avery.

I didn't want to talk to her tonight, yet I did. I knew she'd ask me her usual questions—

“Got a minute?” a deep voice asked.

Detective Watkins. Disappointment slammed into me, not so much because he was here but because Avery wasn't. Slowly I turned. “Sure.”

He sat down on one of the steps, indicated I should join him. I dropped down, stared at the street, the sky. Too many lights to see the stars. I didn't want to talk to him, had a feeling I knew why he was here.

“Did you think I wouldn't notice that your name wasn't called out tonight?” he asked quietly.

“Thought you were there for Avery.”

“We were there for you, too. You're eighteen. I'm not legally your guardian. School isn't going to give me any information. But I expected you to tell me if you had troubles.”

“It wasn't trouble. I didn't pass algebra. It's not a big deal.”

“I'd argue differently. I think it's important to get your diploma. Do you just lack the one credit?”

I sighed. “Yeah.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Hadn't really thought about it. I want to get my own place. I don't have to have a diploma to fix cars.”

“What if you decide at some point you want to go to college?”

I barked out a laugh. “Yeah, right. I'm college material.”

“You could be, if that's what you wanted.”

“Well, it's not. I hate school.”

“So you're going to let high school beat you?”

His words were like a punch. “What do you want me to do?”

“Think about summer school. Get that one credit you need.”

“Why do you care? Even in the beginning, way back when I was a stupid kid and you were a patrolman and I got caught shoplifting some sponge cakes and peanuts—why were you nice to me about it?”

Clasping his hands, he dangled them over his knees, studied them. “When I was seventeen I got mixed up in something I shouldn't have. Someone helped me, showed me that I didn't have to keep on the path I was traveling on. It made a difference.” He looked at me. “You're not a bad kid, Fletcher. You've had some tough breaks. Right now, life sucks. Probably will suck tomorrow, too. But hopefully one day it won't.” He patted my knee. “Think about summer school. You could ask Avery to help you learn all that
x
variable stuff you'll never use. She took after her mother when it comes to brains.”

He unfolded his body and started down the steps.

“Hey, Detective Watkins?”

Turning, he faced me.

“You still see that guy who helped you?” I asked.

He grinned. “Every day. I married her.”