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  “I’ll ask Robert,” Piper says. “I know he’s been visiting her during the week. His mother was complaining about how much time he’s spent there. She thinks he blames himself because he had a flat that night.”

  My mouth opens as I turn to stare at her, wondering what to say. Jessica and Bailey both nod, mutely agreeing with Piper.

  “She’s lucky.” Piper pushes off the lockers and quickly amends, “I mean, she’s not lucky because the accident was just horrible, but she’s lucky you both care about her so much.”

  “Right.” I nod my head.

  I see Nate standing nearby. He’s staring at the girls, and I realize he must have heard Piper’s remarks. “I’ll catch you later,” I murmur, and then call out, “Hey, Nate?”

  He meets my gaze, and I concentrate on looking at him instead of letting my attention drift to Piper or the other now wide-eyed girls. I’m not worried about being seen talking to him. I’ve never been under him, and I have no intention of changing that, especially since it’s obvious that Eva has a thing for him. When I’m standing directly in front of him, I ask quietly, “Did you hear them?”

  He tips his head slightly and then glances at Piper. “You probably shouldn’t stand here too long.”

  “Because the Piper-ettes will think I’m chasing you?”

  He nods once.

  “I’m not a sycophant, so I’m not particularly concerned about what they think.”

  Unexpectedly, he laughs, and for a moment, I get why Eva and half the girls in school look at him like he’s a god. He’s beautiful when he laughs. He’s still an emotional train wreck, but at least he’s an attractive disaster.

  “You’re certainly a step up from the asshat.”

  “We’re just friends,” he says quickly.

  “You and the asshat?”

  Nate rolls his eyes. “You’re about as funny as she is.”

  “You want funny? Watch this.” I hook my arm through his. “Walk with me to our exam.”

  Once we pass the gossips, Nate looks down at me. “That’s your idea of funny? Your reputation—”

  “Will be just fine,” I interrupt.

  “You don’t know what they can be like,” he says in a low voice. “Amy Crowne used to be one of Piper’s friends. I grew up with them. It doesn’t take a minute to end up worth no more than the muck on the bottom of their shoes.”

  I’m a little shocked to get a glimpse of the person Eva sees. He’s trying to protect me, but I don’t think he realizes how much he’s sharing. He was one of them. Now they don’t even talk to him. Whether he says it outright or not, there’s bitterness there.

  “I don’t care if they ignore me,” I admit just as quietly. “I’m only around them because Eva’s my friend. Soon I’ll be applying to college, and then I’ll be gone, and none of these people will be anything but vague memories.”

  I release his arm as we walk into the room.

  “The joy of not being a native Jessupite,” he says, softening the bite of his tone with a quick smile.

  I watch him stalk to his seat and drop into it. The girls who aren’t looking at him are staring at me with blatant curiosity on their faces.

  Reid and Jamie look at me and then at Nate. He glares at them and very pointedly doesn’t look at me at all. Everyone is tense after Eva’s accident and Micki’s death. I can’t imagine that’s going to get any better once they hear about Eva’s renewed friendship with Nate and her breakup with Robert.

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

  ..................................................................

  DAY 11: “THE JOB”

  Eva

  I’M STARTLED WHEN THE doorbell rings, and nervous when I hear Nate’s voice. The awkwardness of my mother talking to Nate is enough to make me want to cringe, but he’s here, and there’s no way around it.

  “How are your parents, Nathaniel?” she asks as they walk into the room.

  “Mom’s doing fine,” he says.

  “And your father?”

  “I have no idea.” Nate shrugs. “I guess he’s alive. He sends child support for my brother; that’s all I care about where he’s concerned.”

  I’m sure my mother is flipping through her copious mental files to recall details about the Bouchet family. I’m not sure if Nate meant to lead the conversation into awkward areas, or if he simply didn’t steer away from them. I’m almost sure he wasn’t aiming to be confrontational, but as I watch him, I realize I might be wrong. His body is tensed for conflict.

  “His father has another child, a little boy named Aaron,” I supply helpfully.

  My mother hears the unspoken words—that there is a different mother—and I can see the moment where she recalls the cause of the Bouchet divorce. She smiles politely at Nate and lets the subject drop.

  “Can I get you anything to drink or eat? I was just going to bring some snacks in for Eva.”

  “Do you need a hand?”

  “No.” She pats his shoulder in that weirdly faux-affectionate way of women far older than she is and motions toward the chair across from my uncomfortable sofa. “Have a seat and visit with Eva. If you tell me what you’d like, I’ll bring it in with hers. I was getting her some fruit salad, but there are sandwich fixings too.”

  “I just ate, but thank you.”

  My mother nods. “What would you like to drink? I have sweet tea, sodas, juice, and milk.”

  Like any properly raised Southern boy, Nate knows not to refuse again. The first refusal is how one says “no need to go bothering over me,” but a complete refusal would be an insult. He smiles at her and says, “A glass of water would be great if you don’t mind.”

  “Lemon?”

  “Whatever’s easiest,” he replies.

  She nods and leaves us there. We’re both silent as her heels click across the floor. There’s an elegance to the way she moves that even seems to permeate the sound of her footsteps. I’ll never be like her, but I think she’s mostly come to accept that truth.

  Nate sits quietly across from me. “Are you okay?”

  I debate how much to tell him. “I broke up with Robert this morning because he was cheating on me. That’s why he wasn’t there the night of the accident.”

  I look up and meet Nate’s eyes. He’s staring at me, and I see the temper he had when we were kids. The two of us were both short-fused then, but I know that he’s made as much progress as I have on that front. Right now, however, he looks like that progress is about to slip away.

  “I’m okay,” I add.

  “Did I mention how much he didn’t deserve you?” Nate asks. “I’m sorry though. Cheating is . . . my dad cheated on Mom and on Nora. I don’t get it. Baucom will figure out that this other girl isn’t worth even half of your little finger.”

  “She’s not all bad, but he’s not dating her either.” I decide not to tell him outright that the girl is Amy. She has been treated as unfairly as I have. All I say is, “She’s not the sort of girl one dates, apparently.”

  “I reserve the right to veto any future boyfriend choices, Eva.” He frowns again. “Actually, I can’t think of anyone in Jessup good enough for you. We may just need to veto dating in general.”

  “And here I was thinking that my father might have issue with us hanging out. You keep saying things like that, and Dad will be thrilled to hear that we’re friends again.” I smile at him. “I expected a little more rule-breaking and trouble-making. I’m starting to suspect that all the stories about you are lies.”

  He swallows, looks down, and then quietly says, “Sorry to disappoint you, but most of the rumors are very true, Eva.”

  I blush, thinking of the things I’ve heard.

  “I was a stupid drunk. I got into too many fights and accepted ridiculous dares, but I stopped drinking when I figured out that I wasn’t going to be able to be here for Aaron if I kept partying.”

  “I was teasing,” I say cautiously. “I did
n’t mean . . . I’m sorry.”

  He shrugs. “Sore subject, I guess.”

  “There seem to be a lot of those.”

  “Still worth the friendship?”

  “Definitely.”

  He nods and leans back into the chair as if he’s going to find a more comfortable position by moving. I don’t have the heart to tell him it’s impossible. The furniture here isn’t designed for comfort.

  “I saw Grace this morning,” he says after a moment. “She talked to me . . . in front of Piper. I tried to tell her that she shouldn’t, but she hooked her arm through mine and paraded down the hall like she was escorting her prize hog to the state fair. I’m expecting to be blue-ribboned any minute now.”

  I smile at the image of Nate winning a “best of” category at the fair, but then have to quickly steer my thoughts away from the things I’ve heard he’s best at. Those are not thoughts to have about him, especially with my mother due to walk into the room any moment. Nate might not notice the lingering looks I can’t seem to stop giving him, but my mother is like a bloodhound when it comes to figuring out who’s interested in whom. It’s one of the few things I hear my father tease her over: she predicts relationships the way some people predict the weather.

  “You need to tell her not to do that again. People will think things about her, and it’s”—he shifts position in his chair again—“awkward to explain to her, but I don’t want people giving her trouble. She seems like a nice girl, but . . . you know how people are about girls who talk to me in public.”

  “You do know I’m not going to ignore you in public,” I point out evenly.

  The clatter of my mother’s heels heralds her return. I don’t turn to look at her; instead, I watch Nate. He tenses as she approaches, and I’m reminded how different things are from the last time he was at my house.

  “Do you have summer plans, Nathaniel?” She sets the tray atop the coffee table, hands me my bowl of fruit salad, and then hands him his glass of water. A twist of lemon garnishes his glass. Even now, during her post-accident hovering, she’s still a polite hostess.

  Mutely, I take a bite of my fruit salad to keep from saying something regrettable.

  He sits straighter as he replies, “Jobs aren’t as easy to come by with my schedule limitations.”

  “Limitations?”

  “I watch my brother when his mother needs help, but her schedule changes—sometimes at the last minute. He has CF, cystic fibrosis, which sometimes means complications.” He sips his water and then carefully sets the glass on a coaster. “Sometimes he’s fine though, so I have some applications in already. Nora found a summer camp last year that Aaron liked, and if he doesn’t get sick, he’ll go there during the day.”

  My mother sits in the other chair, so we are seated in a loose triangle. She’s to my right, and he’s to my left. The whole thing feels unsettling to me. She’s brought herself a glass of sweet tea that I know from experience has enough sugar in it to make my teeth ache. Considering my sweet tooth, that’s an accomplishment.

  “That’s good of you to help with him,” my mother murmurs.

  “Someone has to, and our father can’t be bothered.” Nate shrugs like it’s not a big deal, although his tone makes it abundantly clear that it is. “My brother deserves a family, and Nora works a lot of hours so she can provide for them.”

  “Nate’s very devoted to his brother,” I interject.

  My mother looks from me to Nate and smiles. “I’m not sure how I didn’t put the pieces together when the nurses talked about ‘Nate,’” she muses. “So you’re the same young man who was there with my Eva at the hospital. After all these years, you turned up when she needed you.”

  “It just happened.” He shrugs. “I visit Aaron, and when I saw Eva, I figured she could use a friend.”

  My mother sips her drink. “The nurses spoke highly of you.”

  This time, I can tell that it’s not the uncomfortable chair that’s making him squirm; it’s my mother’s very polite words. He was born and bred in Jessup, which means that he can see the cunning in my mother. He’s obviously not sure where she’s going with this yet, and neither am I at first.

  Then she says, “So if you had a position with flexible hours . . .”

  It clicks, and as much as I like the idea of having a way to keep Nate close, I quickly interject, “Nate’s probably looking for something more out and about, Mom.”

  She waves her hand at me as if to shoo away my objection. “Eva was heartbroken when you stopped visiting her when you were children.”

  “I was an idiot,” he says. “I’m going to be here for her now though.” He shoots me a look I can’t read. “She was my best friend, but things got messed up in my life when my parents split.”

  “Despite your father’s example, you seem like you’re turning out well. You’re certainly shouldering lot of responsibility,” my mother says. “The nurses told me that you were instrumental in Eva’s mood improving.”

  Right about now, I wish the sofa would rip open and swallow me. My mother has moved from polite Southern woman to bluntness tempered by a sweet voice. I close my eyes for a moment as I try to push away the mortification that I’m feeling.

  Neither Nate nor I say anything, so my mother continues, “Tell me more about your brother.”

  Nate doesn’t seem the least bit put off by my mother’s order. “Aaron’s a great kid. He has cystic fibrosis, though, so he has to constantly be on guard for infections, and he has treatments and medicines. He doesn’t have diabetes so far, and he’s doing well. There’s no cure, but there are treatments. A lot of people with CF live into their thirties or older.” He pauses and scowls. “Our sperm donor, however, can’t be bothered to raise a kid with a health issue. He says it’s too ‘hard’ to see Aaron, as if what’s hard for Aaron doesn’t matter. I’m not going to turn my back on my brother. When he wants me around, I’m there as much as I can. It’s harder because they live over in Durham, but the drive isn’t horrible and Aaron’s worth it. I’m nothing like my father.”

  “I can see that,” she says mildly.

  Nate sounds so passionate that it would be impossible not to see how much he loves his brother. It’s no wonder that Nate has no friends at school. So much of his time is given to his brother.

  “Nate is reliable, but he’s also busy,” I point out.

  My mother doesn’t even acknowledge that I spoke. She continues, “I need to hire someone to help Eva when I’m at the office. You were a help to her in the hospital, have experience with injured or ill children, and of course, you look strong enough to help her. Plus, she obviously trusts you or you wouldn’t have been sleeping in her room”—she glances at me now—“which your father won’t hear about . . . as long as you don’t keep trying to object to Nathaniel’s accepting the job.”

  “Mom, you can’t blackmail me by threatening to tell Dad.” I cross my arms and glare at her. “I don’t need a caretaker, and even if I did, you can’t bully someone into taking the job.”

  “It’s fine, Eva,” Nate interjects when I take a breath. He turns to look at my mother. “I can’t do it if Aaron gets sick. If he needs me, either he comes here with me or I’m off that day, depending on how he feels. Sometimes, he’s just too tired to go do anything. If that’s the case, he could come with me. If not, I need to stay at his house.”

  “That’s reasonable.” She’s studying Nate, and I can’t help but think she looks far too happy with herself. “Can you start tomorrow?”

  “Sure.”

  “I expect Eva is planning to go to the funeral, and she’ll object to her father or me taking her. It’s graveside, which means it’ll be more difficult to navigate her wheelchair. I don’t think Grace is strong enough.”

  “You’re willing to let me go without you?” I interject. My mother is attentive to every funeral, wedding, baby shower, or significant anniversary of the people we know in Jessup.

  “I can go if you don’t mind, but I th
ought you might want space.” My mother watches me as she speaks, and I can tell that there’s more going on here than I understand. This feels like a test of some sort, and I don’t know the right answer.

  “I’ll take her.” Nate’s answer breaks the sudden silence. He glances at me. “If you want to go . . . I was going anyhow, but if you don’t want to go, it’s fine. You just got home.”

  I don’t want to go, don’t want to see anyone yet, and I really don’t want anyone to see me.

  I have to go though. Fear won’t keep me at home.

  “Grace is coming too,” I tell him.

  Nate nods. “I figured.” He glances at my mother then. “The problem is travel. I’m not sure how comfortable Eva would be in my truck.”

  “Nate can drive my car,” I suggest. “That way Grace can ride with us too.”

  “Perfect!” my mother says with a small hand clap, obviously pleased that we’ve played into her hands.

  I know my mother isn’t plotting against me, at least that’s my usual theory, but as I look at her satisfied expression I worry. At the same time, I’m relieved that I’ll see Nate more, glad he’ll be with me at the funeral, and grateful that he’s seemingly unconcerned about my mother’s gleeful expression.

  After my mother excuses herself to check in on her work email, Nate and I exchange a quiet look before he says, “She maneuvered both of us without blinking.”

  “You don’t have to do this.” It feels weird to realize that my mother is going to be paying Nate to spend his days with me. My family hiring him to spend the summer with me is awkward. I suggest, “She can find someone else, you know?”

  Nate is quiet again. In our years apart, I think I’d forgotten how often he retreats to silence. Not for the first time, I think that his reputation as enigmatic at school is a cover for his tendency toward quietness. When he speaks, his words are measured. “I need the money, and I like seeing you.”

  He holds up a hand when I open my mouth, so I stay mute as he adds, “Plus, it gives me a way to explain being here that doesn’t make people think the wrong thing about us.”