Just Like Fate (14 page)

I don’t feel like I can go home—not with tear-streaked cheeks
and an inquisitive mother—so I drive. I end up in the grocery store parking lot. It looks like a scene from an apocalypse
movie: only a few cars, dim streetlights, and zombies limping
by.

Crying has messed with me, leaving me empty. I almost
wish I could bottle it back up, but the damage has been done.
When I reach up to grip Gram’s charm, my eyes widen and
I scratch myself, feeling around for it. It’s gone. I grab the
rearview mirror to check, and sure enough, the necklace that
I so desperately wanted, that I lied to my sister for, is missing. I burst out crying once again; I’m in free fall—broken and
lonely, sitting by myself on Halloween at a grocery store of all
places.

My tears only stop when my phone buzzes. I see it’s Simone but ignore her, even as she continues to text, asking where
I am. And when I read
BE SURE TO GIVE LOVER BOY A

KISS FOR ME
, I turn my phone off altogether. Going home is
even less an option now, not when my sister is there and I lost
the necklace she’s been frantically searching for. I can’t go to
Joel’s, and I don’t have the energy to explain to Simone what
happened. I want to start over where no one knows me.

A sad smile crosses my lips as I realize where I can go. I
shift into gear and get on the highway. Once I’m cruising at
sixty-five, I plug in the Joel mix I made long before he first
kissed me, the one filled with hopeful instead of toxic songs.
I sing at the top of my lungs as I fly down the road, thinking
not of Joel, but of someone else I haven’t met yet—someone
who’ll make me feel lighter and better instead of like the worst
version of myself.

Thirty minutes later I’m parking in front of a two-story
house with white siding and black shutters. I check the mirror,
and thankfully, my face is almost back to normal. There’s a
group of little kids—ghosts and princesses—scrambling away
from the doorway. I start up the front steps and ring the bell,
taking a deep breath and then another just before the front
door opens.

“Trick or treat,” I say, smiling. “I hope it’s okay that I’m
here. “
My dad looks absolutely stunned to see me, but his face
breaks with a huge smile. “There’s never been a better surprise,” he says, stepping back to wave me inside.
I only stay an hour, long enough to get the tour and chat
with Debra about her latest decorating ideas for the spare
room. It’s nothing groundbreaking, but it is a nice distraction.
In a way, it almost feels like the start of something better. I
leave with my confidence, though frayed, returned slightly. At
least enough to know that I no longer want to be Joel Ryder’s
on-the-side girl. Had I known that just an hour with my dad
could bring me even a little bit of clarity, I might have stopped
by sooner.

I spend the rest of the weekend helping my stepmother devour
the leftover Halloween candy. She made caramel apples, but I
told her I had to draw the line somewhere—and it was after
a bag of M&M’s, a full-size Snickers, and a handful of candy
corn. Then I thought better of it and grabbed an apple anyway.

“Maybe you can bring one over to your mom’s,” she says
quietly from across the kitchen table. “Tell her you made it.”
I smile at Debbie. “First of all,” I say, “my mother would
know on sight that I didn’t—she’s well aware that I can’t make
anything that doesn’t come with a packet of powdered cheese.
And second of all, I think you’re just trying to make me go see
my mom.”
“I am,” she admits. She leans forward on her elbows,
smiling softly. I think then about how much I like talking with
her—almost like an older sister. My stomach clenches when I
think of Natalie at my mother’s house—keeping me out.
“I’m not on the best of terms with Natalie,” I say. “Maybe
when she finally moves out, I’ll go by there.” Debbie tsks at
the answer.
“I never had any siblings, Caroline, so I’m not really
speaking from experience. But I promise you, there will come
a day when you really need someone—and it’d be nice to have
a sister. Everyone needs family.”
“It’s my family who doesn’t need me,” I murmur, and
stand from the table. I thank Debbie again for the apple before
heading up to my room. My stepmother’s words stick with
me, though, so when I sit on my bed, I send my mother a text.
HOPE YOU HAD A NICE HALLOWEEN, MOM
. I exhale,
just this simple act making me feel a little less like the worst
daughter in the world. Since I’m on a roll, I even text Teddy.
HEY. SEE YOU TOMORROW AT SUNDAY DINNER?
OF COURSE
, he responds right away.
DORM FOOD IS
PRACTICALLY POISONOUS. BTW, PHIL IS JOINING US.
FANTASTIC. BE SURE TO TELL HIM TO ACT CIVILIZED.
CAN’T PROMISE ANYTHING.

I help Debbie set the table Sunday evening, a comfortableness at home that I haven’t felt since living with Gram. I’m not
sure when my temporary exile turned into an actual life, but I
decide not to question it. Not when I’m finally starting to feel
like myself.

About twenty minutes later, my father is upstairs looking
for a book he’s been meaning to give my brother, and Teddy
comes in with Phil in tow. Just to break my chops, Phil is wearing a button-up shirt with a bow tie (where did he even get
that?), and his hair is slick and brushed dramatically to the
side. I half expect him to pull out a monocle.

“My lady,” he says with a bow when he sees me. I swat his
shoulder and walk past, rolling my eyes at my brother.
“This is his version of civilized,” he says.
“Oh, Phillip,” Debbie says, putting her hand on her hip as
she watches from the kitchen. “You look adorable.”
Phil grins, then goes to help my stepmother carry food
to the table. Teddy catches my eye and motions to the other
room like he has to talk to me in private. I furrow my brow but
follow him. I hope this doesn’t have to do with our mom.
“Your friend is entirely unbalanced,” I say the minute
we’re in the living room.
“I know. That’s why we love him, though.” My brother
fidgets in that way he does when he’s hiding something.
Teddy’s skills at secret keeping are nonexistent, and just like
always, my stomach knots as I wait for the news to drop.
“What is it?” I ask.
“I brought you a present.”
I fight back my smile. “You did? Why?”
He scoffs. “Just say thank you, Coco.” He holds out a
small white box, and I take it with a suspicious look. When I
open it, my eyes immediately fill with tears.
“How . . . Teddy, how did you know?” Pain and happiness
fill my chest, and I blubber out a few breathless thank-yous.
My brother nods, his brown eyes getting misty. “I was
helping Natalie the other weekend with some of Gram’s
things, and when I saw it, I knew you’d want it. And I think
Gram would want you to have it.”
With the mixture of a cry and a laugh I crush my brother to
me. Between us in the small white box is a piece of my life that
is gone. It’s my grandmother’s initial necklace—something I’d
forgotten about until this moment. And now it’s mine.

“So, Caroline,” my dad starts as we sit down to dinner. “Debbie and I were wondering about your plans for Thanksgiving.”
The entire table seems to shift with discomfort at his question.

I swallow hard, trying to draw some strength from the initial necklace I’m wearing, the metal cool where it rests near my
throat. “I thought I’d stay here,” I reply.

Everyone is silent for a long moment, and I’m sure I’m
not imagining the weight of my brother’s stare from across
the table. I’d almost rather talk about anything else right now.
Hell, I’d even bring up Chris just for a chance to change the
subject. But I don’t get off the hook that easily.

“Although we’d love that,” my father says softly, “I think
your mother is expecting you there for the holiday. Your aunt
Claudia will be in town, and Teddy is going over—”

“And me,” Phil adds nonchalantly before taking a big bite
from his roll. I look up to see my dad watching me.
“Yes, and Phillip will be there. Anyway”—he presses his
lips into a smile—“I really think you should go, Caroline. I
think you have to.”
I lower my eyes. “You’re forcing me?” I say it weakly, but
I’m feeling panicked. There’s a clink as Teddy sets down his
fork.
“We’ll all be there, Coco,” my brother says. “And it’s time.
Mom needs you, and . . .” He stops, and when I look up, his
expression is pleading. “Just say you’ll go.”
I look at Debbie. She’s Switzerland: her face pleasant
and nonjudging. That’s when finally I nod. I don’t promise
to go—I don’t say it aloud. But it’s a silent agreement—with
my mother, with my family. I know that Natalie and I have a lot
of unfinished business. And as I excuse myself from the table
the minute we’re done eating, I hope that the fallout with my
sister won’t be big enough to ruin Thanksgiving for everyone.

When I wanted Joel’s attention, I never got it; now that I don’t
want it, all he does is text me. I spend the week after Halloween ignoring him, deleting messages like
i miss you
and
seriously, call me
. Because really, how much could he miss me—we
weren’t together that often. And somehow the fact that he
hasn’t actually called himself—just texted to tell me to call
him—leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

So instead of dialing, I focus on other things.
“What are we doing tonight?” I ask Simone as we walk
out of school on Friday. “I’ve got to get out of here. Not that
I’m obsessing, but there are
strangers
in Gram’s house right
now, possibly buying it.”
“Oh, Linus, I forgot about that,” Simone says. “I’m so
sorry.”
“Thanks. So how can we keep my mind off of the fact that
my home is being ripped out from under me, oh, and that Joel
is a wishy-washy man whore, too?”
Simone checks her phone. “Party?” she asks. “There’s
one at Angel’s tonight.”
“Sure,” I say, shrugging, knowing that at the very least,
Angel has videogames and I can wipe the floor with anyone
who challenges me to All-Stars Racing. And also knowing that
in seventh grade, Angel and Joel got in a fistfight at school—
there’s no way my pseudo-ex will be there.

We park on an intersecting street near the back alley in case
the police show up and we have to run to our car. Simone
applies red lipstick to her luscious lips while I smear on balm
with my pointer finger by the light of the flip-down mirror.

“Ready?” she asks, opening her door.
“Let’s go.”
We knock, but no one answers—the music’s too loud to

hear—so we just walk in. The entryway is crowded with conversations. A few people glance at us and nod or wave before
diving headfirst back into noise.

“Did you tell the girls we were coming?” I ask. One second later, like they’re tracking us with GPS devices, Gwen and
Felicity are by our sides.

“It’s about time,” Felicity shouts over the bass. “Did you
go for coffee in Canada or something?” She’s wearing plaid
pants that literally no one else on earth could pull off with a
pair of black suspenders, one over her shoulder and one hanging by her side. “I need confirmation that Ryan Elgin is hot
for me.”

I glance at Gwen, who shakes her head “no” so slightly that
it’s barely noticeable. She looks back down at the phone in her
hand, and I wonder if she’d self-destruct if she ever lost it.

“Why do you think he’s into you?” Simone asks curiously.
Ryan Elgin is the captain of the football team, the class president, and a Mormon. Felicity may dress ironically straight
edge, but Ryan’s the real deal: square as they come. There’s
no way he’s flirting with anyone other than a God-fearing
cheerleader or student council member who needs saving.

“He looked at my sisters,” Felicity says, leaning in like it’s
a secret but still shouting so we can hear. She motions to her
chest in case we didn’t get the reference. A couple of guys near
a tray of chips look at us . . . well, at her.

“They are quite nice, your sisters,” Simone says, making
Gwen laugh. “I mean who doesn’t check them out once in
a while?” She wiggles her eyebrows at Felicity. “I’m just not
sure. . . . I mean, you know Ryan. And his . . . beliefs.”

“I think I can lure him to the dark side,” Felicity says.
“Come on, he’s playing a game in the living room. I’ll stand
near him and you guys hang back and watch. See if he checks
me out again.”

Gwen rolls her eyes but follows Felicity; Simone grabs my
hand and pulls me through the sweaty masses on the main
level of the house. Once we’re though the entryway and hall,
we need to cut through the kitchen to get to the living room.
But there’s a major pileup near the refrigerator, so we’re forced
to stop. My eyes fall on the kitchen table, where a group of
guys is playing cards.

Angel is at the head of the table, and because the universe
obviously hates me . . . Joel is to his left.
Like he can feel my stare, he looks up. He leans back in his
chair, eyes on me, wearing an expression I can’t place. Simone
sees him and squeezes my hand, then looks at me, concerned.
Angel hits Joel on the arm—it’s his turn. He looks down at the
cards in his hands and plays one, then he leans over and says
something to Angel.
Great, back to ignoring me in public.
Simone tugs at my hand—the bottleneck is gone and so
are Felicity and Gwen. We’re almost to the kitchen doorway
when Joel stands and works his way around the table and
through the crowd; before I realize what’s happening, he’s
standing right in front of me, invading my personal space.
I drop Simone’s hand and stare at him. She turns her body
away but stays right next to me, giving me privacy but telling
me that she’s here for me when I need her.
“I thought you and Angel hated each other,” I say.
“Guys don’t hold grudges,” he says, shrugging. His voice
is low—the only reason I can hear him is that he’s talking right
into my ear. “We’re good.”
“Oh,” I say, “well, excuse me. You’re in my way.” I point
toward the doorway, fully intending to follow the girls into the
other room and focus my energy on gauging whether a Mormon likes a hipster.
Joel takes another step closer to me; our chests could
touch if I took a deep enough breath . . . considering I’m holding it, there’s little worry of that happening.
“Hey, Ryder, you still in?” someone calls from the direction of the table. I look and five pairs of eyes are on me. Joel
doesn’t flinch; he stares at my face.
“I’m out,” he says loudly. His breath smells like mint.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, searching those dark
eyes for an explanation. They’re on fire tonight.
“I’m doing what you wanted,” he says. “I don’t want to
lose you. I don’t want you to be confused about us. I’m telling
everyone.”
He steps even closer still and puts his palms on my jaw
and his lips on mine. I hear Simone suck in her breath as Joel
kisses me—hard—right there in the middle of Angel Hernandez’s party for the entire world to see.
I want to pull back and smack him; I want to tell him that
one kiss doesn’t make it all better. But it’s a grand gesture like
they do in movies, and it kind of
does
make it better. So instead
of pulling away, I wrap my hands around his low waist and
hold him tight, letting it happen. Completely in the moment,
I don’t think of anything else but being here . . . with him. I’m
addicted to Joel, getting my fix. At least now, everyone knows
he’s addicted to me right back.