Reunited (22 page)

“
Tiernan
.” Judy pursed her lips.

“Seriously, Mom. Don’t you think it was a little harsh that they expelled me over that? I mean, it didn’t even congeal!”

“They had to drain the entire pool,” her mother said disapprovingly. “Not to mention the fact”—a small smile peeked through Judy’s scowl—“that you didn’t even . . .” Now her mother was trying hard to keep a straight face. “That you didn’t even use kosher Jell-O,” she managed to sputter as they both erupted with laughter.

“So does this mean I’m not grounded anymore?” Tiernan asked through her giggles.

“That depends,” Judy began. “I think you still might have some work to do on this trip. And I’ll consider letting you stay, but only if you’re staying for the right reasons.”

The right reasons. Ha.
When had Tiernan ever made
that
part of the equation? She’d always been more of a fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants kind of gal. The type of person who leaped before she looked. That is, if she bothered to look at all.

And what kind of work did Judy think she needed to do, anyway? Was she supposed to sit down with Summer and Alice for some big heart-to-heart like in one of those schmaltzy Lifetime original movies? And if so, just how many soul-rending conversations could a girl be expected to have in one week?

The truth was, Tiernan had no clue what the “right” reasons for staying were, only that running away had been the wrong
one. And that was a pretty good start, wasn’t it? The rest she could figure out as she went along.

“So, what do you think?” Judy asked, breaking their silence.

Tiernan was skeptical. “You’re honestly giving me a choice in the matter?”

Judy nodded.

“Well, in that case . . .” Tiernan inhaled a deep breath. “I guess I’m going to stay.”

“FASTER”

THEY TELL ME ROME WASN’T BUILT IN A DAY,

BUT WHEN I MET YOU, I KNEW RIGHT AWAY.

AND WE WERE MOVING FAST

BUT TIME WAS GOING SLOW

YOU SAID LET’S MAKE IT LAST

AND WATCH THE FLOWERS GROW

BUT I WANNA GO FASTER

I WANNA GO FASTER

A GORGEOUS DISASTER

WE WATCH IN SLOW-MO.

—from Level3’s second CD,
Rough & Tumble

ALICE HATED THE GARDEN CONSERVATORY. SHE HATED THE WET,
greenhouse smell that overpowered the scent of Quentin’s sweat on her shirt collar. She hated the little plastic signs that identified each flower, shrub, and tree by family and species, while her own brain was cluttered with so many things unknown.

“Do you think we can go back up yet?” Summer asked for the third time.

Even though it was the smallest of the hotel’s atriums, they’d been wandering around the Garden for hours. At least it felt like hours. In purgatory, one tended to lose all sense of time.

“Let’s give it ten more minutes,” Alice said, stabbing her straw into her frozen lemonade, trying to cleave the glacier it had become.

Until a few hours ago, Alice had floated through the day living inside a bubble of bliss—replaying her sweet memories of last night with Quentin, laughing over nothing with Summer and Tiernan. Then Mrs. Horowitz had shown up and popped it.

Now that Tiernan was leaving, everything felt different, fragile. Even Alice’s daydreams of last night were losing their
euphoric quality, eclipsed by the dark shadows of her anxious thoughts. She’d been psychically willing Quentin to call for the last two hours while simultaneously trying to keep her expectations in check.

“What if his mother confiscated his cell phone? Tiernan’s mom did that.”

“
He’ll call
, Alice. Just be patient.”

Patience. Hah.
She took a sip from her lemonade, but all she got was a mouthful of lemon-tinged water. If she couldn’t even be patient with a slushy, how could she be patient with a guy she liked? But Alice could never seem to stop herself from sucking up the sweet part first.

He should have called her by now. Or at least texted, right
?

What if the reason Quentin wasn’t calling was that he had a girlfriend, like Finn did? What if they were both just a couple of players, and they were in their basement, laughing about her right now?
No
. She pushed the thought from her brain. But that just let a new image in—it was an airport, and Judy was dragging Tiernan through security on a leash.

“Do you think Mrs. Horowitz will let her say good-bye to us? I mean, if she’s not already on a plane flying out of here.”

“Maybe.” Summer put her finger over the end of her straw and gave her lemonade a shake.

“It’s just so weird,” Alice said. “I thought this trip was just going to be me and Tiernan, and then you showed up . . . and now it’s just going to be me and you.”

“Mm-hmm,” Summer said, bending down to run her fingers along a flower, its red petals so tall and waxy, they looked plastic, fake.

It wasn’t that Alice had a problem being alone with Summer. The truth was, it was easier to make decisions with two people rather than three. But it wasn’t the way things were supposed to go. They were supposed to be together—all three of them—having fun, like they had this afternoon. Sheesh, she was really failing miserably at this “no expectations” thing.

Of course, Alice had made the transition from three to two before, back when she’d gone from being best friends with Summer and Tiernan to being best friends with MJ. In many ways, two was the more logical number for a friendship. Marriages were built for two. So were kayaks and buddy movies. And just how many people could squeeze in to your innermost circle anyway?

Even during the glory days of her friendship with Summer and Tiernan, it was a rare moment when all three were equally close. There were always shifting allegiances, always an odd one out. It wasn’t like any of them did it on purpose. It was just part of the package deal with a three-person friendship. That, and the fact that if only two of you were together, chances were you’d talk about the third. Nothing you wouldn’t say to her face (at least that was the unwritten rule).

Alice tossed her lemonade in the trash. She could hear the chunk of crushed ice breaking apart on impact.

“I have a weird question for you,” she started. “What did you and Tiernan used to talk about, when you talked about me?”

Summer looked at her strangely.

“You know, when I wasn’t there?”

“When weren’t you there?” Summer asked with a smile.

“I don’t know. When I was at piano lessons. Or sick, or on vacation . . .”

Summer took a sip of lemonade, then chucked it in the trash even though it was still halfway full. “We talked about how you would look better if you wore your shirts tucked out,” she said, with a self-deprecating eye roll. “Are you mad?”

“Nah.” Alice laughed. “The tucked-in look was never really working in my favor. You know, with my thick waist issues.”

“Not anymore,” Summer said.

“Please.”
Alice pinched her stomach as evidence.

“That’s called skin, Alice. Anyway, I think you look great.”

Alice shook her head like she was trying to shake off the compliment. But Summer wasn’t one of those people who said something just to make you feel good. In fact, she spoke so honestly, some people thought it made her a bitch.

“What about me?” Summer asked. “What did you and Tiernan used to say about me, back when we were kids?”

The first thing that jumped into Alice’s mind were all the times during middle school that she and Tiernan had talked about Summer and boys. How Summer seemed to crave attention
from the opposite sex like most people craved food and water. Not that she was about to admit to that.

Plus, it wasn’t as if she and Tiernan said those things to disparage Summer. They were just concerned she might be selling herself short. Or did their triangular friendship have sharper edges than she remembered?

“Remember your essay from Mrs. Howe’s class in seventh grade?” Alice finally said, relieved to come up with a safer topic. “The one where we had to write about our role models?”

Summer nodded. She had written about Alice and Tiernan.

“Well, after school that day, you had a dentist appointment, so you didn’t come over to hang out in the Pea Pod. Tiernan and I talked about your essay all afternoon. It made us cry.”

Alice looked at Summer’s face, trying to read it, but her nose was buried in a fuzzy purple flower. “Who did you write your essay on?” Summer asked, changing the subject.

“Nelson Mandela,” Alice said with a laugh. “It was total BS. I mean, nothing against the man who ended apartheid, but . . . he wasn’t really
my
role model, you know what I mean?”

Summer stood up and faced her. “You should have done it on your parents.”

Never in a million years would Alice’s seventh-grade self have considered her parents role models. But now that she was older, she could almost see it. Sure, they smothered her a bit, but that was part of the package as an only child. And she’d rather have too much attention than too little, like Summer,
who, between her five other siblings, was barely on her parents’ radar.

“I always loved going to your house,” Summer continued. “All those old books your parents kept around. And I loved staring at the African masks in your living room, and those Guatemalan tapestries.”

Growing up, Alice always assumed that everyone fit into their families as well as she did, but when she thought about the Daltons, she realized that wasn’t the case. It wasn’t as if anything tragic was going on at Summer’s house. Her parents loved her and fed her and shelled out for new sneakers twice a year. They just didn’t really
get
her. Even Tiernan, who seemed to argue with her mother even in her sleep, was at least
like
her mother. Maybe even too much.

“Remember how your mom used to make homemade banana bread and serve it to us warm with sweet cream butter?”

Alice nodded. “But your parents always got Dunkin’ Donuts on Sunday mornings.”

“They still do,” Summer said disdainfully. “And the TV’s always on.”

Alice remembered how the Daltons ate all their meals around the television, and not even all together as a family, just whenever they felt like it. No wonder Summer liked all the attention from boys. She probably just wanted attention,
period
.

They walked in silence all the way to the elevators, each of
them checking their cell phones for messages. Summer read through a few texts. Alice’s inbox was empty.

“You mind if we take the stairs?” Summer asked.

Alice followed her up the concrete stairwell, listening to the sound of their footsteps echo off the walls. She wanted to say something to Summer, to admit that maybe she hadn’t always been the most loyal friend. But if she started digging through the past now, who knew what else she might unearth?

Maybe it was a good thing Mrs. Horowitz had shown up and saved them from going down that road. After all, if Summer hadn’t gotten over the incident freshman year, she wouldn’t have bothered to come on this trip. Would she?

Alice had replayed that scene at the Winter Wonderland Dance in her mind a million times. It was ugly, yes. But it wasn’t like she was the only one at fault. Summer had lied to her, plain and simple. All Alice had done was respond to that.

When she’d bought the Level3 tickets, Alice had assumed that enough time had passed since that horrible night. But now that she was actually with Summer and Tiernan again, it was almost as if she could actually feel the wounds of their past festering below the surface, like a cut trapped under a Band-Aid when what it really needs to heal is just light and fresh air.

If Alice were a braver person, she’d bring it up right now. Just go ahead and get the whole thing out in the open once and for all. In her mind, she always thought of herself as someone who wasn’t afraid to speak the truth. But the
real
truth was
that Alice hated to talk about unhappy stuff. And why should she bother to bring up that ridiculous night when the subject could just as easily be avoided? Especially now, when they were finally getting along so well.

Summer fumbled through her purse for her room key, then opened the door. The room was dark, curtains drawn, and Level3 blared from the stereo.

I DUG A HOLE

YOU BROUGHT YOUR FLASHLIGHT

YOU WERE AFRAID OF THE DARK

I WAS AFRAID OF DAYLIGHT

“Don’t turn on the light,” Tiernan called out as Alice reached for the switch. She stopped her hand just in time while Tiernan and her mother giggled from the shadows. When Alice’s eyes adjusted, she could see them, lying on their backs on the bed by the window.
What the—?