Authors: Eileen Cook
“Your mom wants to have a big family dinner tonight,” Dad said. “She wanted me to tell you.” He looked up at me. “She’s working today. It’d be nice if you got the dinner going so she didn’t have to come home and do the cooking.”
I thought of pointing out that if he really wanted to do something nice,
he
could do the cooking. “I didn’t know you’d be home. I made plans for dinner. Maybe you and Mom could have a nice romantic dinner with just the two of you.”
“It must be that time of the year. Love is in the air,” Brendan said.
I tried to freeze him in place with my eyes. “Well, you would know.”
Brendan looked at my dad. “If I didn’t know better, I would say she sounded jealous, which doesn’t make any sense, because she’s not interested in me.”
“Don’t even try to make sense of a woman and what comes out of her mouth.” Dad and Brendan bumped fists in manly solidarity. I ground down a layer of enamel in annoyance. I couldn’t fathom Chase sitting there acting like someone from a cheap beer ad talking about poker and how women are so
annoying. There were people who fist bumped, and people who belonged to country clubs, and I knew which one I would prefer to be a part of.
My dad turned back to me. “You’ll have to cancel your plans. Your mom is really excited about this dinner.” He heaved himself up from the picnic table. “I should get going. I want to get down to the garden center.”
I rolled my eyes. Ninety-nine percent of our yard looked like it had mange, with dried dirt patches and the occasional pathetic patch of grass poking up here and there. The term “green thumb” was not one that I would typically use for my dad, but for whatever reason he had a passion for the rosebush he’d planted in the far back corner of our yard. The same guy who couldn’t be bothered to do anything about the sea of dandelions would carefully fluff the dirt around the rosebush so that it was as soft as a baby’s blanket. He practically trimmed the bush with nail clippers. I suppose it could be worse; Brendan’s dad collected vintage beer cans. I was willing to bet Chase’s dad collected some kind of china figurines that used to belong to royalty.
“Brendan, you tell your dad I’ll come by and see him later this week.” Dad tapped his watch at me. “Six p.m. for dinner and don’t make salmon or nothing. I hate the way the fish smell sticks around the house when it’s hot like this. A steak would be nice.”
I watched him walk away. I wanted to hurl my helmet after him. What did he think I was, the family’s personal waitress?
Should I ask him how he wanted his steak cooked? Iron his napkin? He turned around and saw my expression.
“Don’t make that face at me. This is for your mom. She wants a nice family dinner, so that’s what she’s going to get.”
“Fine.”
He hadn’t even waited for my answer. The screen door was already slamming shut behind him.
“You know what they say: You can pick your nose, and you can pick your friends, but you can’t pick your family,” Brendan said.
“Thank you, Aristotle, for that piece of timeless philosophy.” I chewed the inside of my lip. “The thing is, I’m starting to think they might not be my family at all. Maybe I do get to choose.”
B
rendan raised an eyebrow. “Let’s go for a walk.” He cocked his head at the path that wove between the trailers and out back toward the fields.
“I don’t have time to take a walk. I’ve got to go grocery shopping so I can make a nice family dinner so we can all sit around looking at each other in silence because we have nothing to say,” I grumbled.
“What did you mean, they might not be your family?”
“Nothing. Forget it,” I said, suddenly embarrassed that I had said anything out loud.
“You can’t drop a bomb like that and tell me to forget it. Is this about the McKennas?”
I turned and shot a nervous look at the screen door. I wasn’t sure if my dad could overhear us or not. I put my finger in front
of my mouth, indicating that Brendan should keep his voice down. “I’m not talking about this here,” I whispered.
“That’s why I suggested we should take a walk,” Brendan said as if he were pointing out the obvious.
There was no getting rid of Brendan when he was focused on something like this. If I went inside to avoid him, he would stand out here and talk loudly until the entire trailer park knew what was going on. “Give me two minutes; I have to change.”
Brendan smiled, happy about getting his way. “I’ll be right here.”
When I came back outside, he was lying across the picnic bench, bopping his head to the music on his iPod. He sat up when he heard the screen door shut. He opened his mouth, and I shook my head so he would shut up and pointed toward the woods. I marched off without waiting to see if he was behind me.
“We should check to see if the blackberries are ripe,” Brendan suggested, either ignoring that I was annoyed with him or completely unaware. He motioned for us to take the path that led down to the old Laughton fields. Mr. Laughton used to keep a herd of sheep there. They were long gone, but their grazing paddock was still there. The fence was mostly rotted away, although you had to be careful in places or you would trip over a section. At the far side of the field, giant wild blackberry bushes grew. As long as you were willing to sacrifice a layer or two of skin to the thorns, the berries were free for the taking.
In the shade of the woods it was at least ten degrees cooler. I lifted my hair off my neck so I could feel the cool air.
“So tell me what’s up,” Brendan said.
“It’s stupid.” I suddenly felt embarrassed to say it out loud.
“I’ve always listened to your stupid ideas. Why would I stop now?”
I couldn’t stop a laugh from sneaking out. “You really should go into counseling with your ability to make people feel better and open up.” I took a deep breath. “Don’t argue with me, just listen; okay?”
Brendan nodded.
“I know this sounds crazy, but I think, I mean, I think there is a chance . . .” I stumbled, trying to find a way to put it into words without sounding delusional.
“You think you are Ava McKenna,” Brendan guessed.
“I don’t know. I think I
could
be.” I shrugged. “There’s a bunch of stuff. It isn’t just that I look like the picture. I’m the right age. There’s the fact that my parents have no baby pictures of me. Who doesn’t have baby pictures of their only kid? My mom says it’s because the trailer flooded, but she’s lying about some things, and there is this whole list of odd coincidences.” I counted the items off on my fingers. “I found out she was questioned by the cops when Ava went missing, but when I brought it up to her, she acted like it never happened. And it’s not just her; there are no pictures of me as a kid at any of the staff events at the hotel. It’s like I never existed before the age of three.”
I looked over at Brendan. I couldn’t read his expression. We walked in silence until I couldn’t stand it any longer. “So? What do you think?”
“Stranger things have happened.” Brendan shrugged. “But, if you’re asking me which is more likely, that the shitter trailer you live in leaked and ruined your baby photos or that your parents kidnapped you from the McKennas, then I’m going to lean toward the leak.”
“What about the fact that my mom lied about the cops talking to her?”
“Your mom isn’t exactly the best at dealing with things that make her uncomfortable. Remember when you had that hamster and she told you that he ran away and was living with Santa at the North Pole? And how the hamster had his own little elf hat and shoes and apparently had a natural talent for making toys?”
“People tell their kids those kind of lies all the time. Who wants to crush their child’s heart by telling them that Mr. Fuzzy is garden compost?” I said.
“Fair enough, but my point is that your mom didn’t tell you the story just to make you feel better; I think she told it so
she
would feel better. I’m not even convinced she didn’t believe it. So if she can convince herself that Mr. Fuzzy, who couldn’t run on his wheel without falling off, could wield power tools to make toys, she could definitely delete any memories of the police talking to her.”
I kicked a rock on the path and watched it skip along. “It’s
not that I disagree with what you’re saying, and if it was just one thing, I might feel differently, but it’s everything added together.”
“You’re not thinking it all the way through. What about everyone else?” Brendan asked.
“What do you mean?”
“This isn’t exactly a major city. Wouldn’t other people on the island notice that your parents suddenly had a kid? How would they explain suddenly having a toddler?”
I felt my brain screech to a stop. I hadn’t thought about that. “Maybe they told people I was adopted,” I said, knowing it was lame even as it came out of my mouth.
“You know I don’t necessarily have a huge amount of respect for the police, but I have to think they would have been a bit suspicious if your parents suddenly adopted a kid the same age and general appearance of a kid that had just gone missing. It’s not exactly a case that requires Sherlock Holmes to solve.”
I started walking faster. I was mad at myself for not thinking of how my parents would have had to explain things. I felt stupid, and I hate feeling stupid. I wished I hadn’t said anything to Brendan. If I had kept it to myself, I could still hold on to the secret dream that I was Ava. Part of me always knew that it wasn’t really possible. I wasn’t going to wake up and discover I had this amazing life, but I had really liked imagining what it would have been like.
“Are you pissed?” Brendan asked, trailing after me.
“No.”
He laughed. “You’re totally pissed. You should see your face. You asked me what I thought. You should know not to ask me if you don’t want to know the truth.”
“I’m not mad about that,” I lied.
“So, you’re just randomly annoyed?”
I stopped short and Brendan almost ran into me. “I have plenty to be annoyed about,” I said. “What about the thing with you and Rebecca? Are you going to look me in the eye and tell me you suddenly discovered you had feelings for her? Because I’m pretty sure the only reason you slept with her was to annoy me.” I crossed my arms over my chest and waited to see what he said.
“Yeah. Pretty much. I mean, I’d also sleep with her because I’m a guy and she was offering, but the main goal would be to tick you off.”
I stared at him with my mouth open. “You’re disgusting. So you’re admitting that you did sleep with her. I knew it.”
Brendan cocked his head. “Now, if I didn’t know better, I would say it matters to you if I slept with her or not.”
“I don’t care.”
“Yeah, you do.” Brendan smiled. “If it makes you feel better, I didn’t sleep with her.”
I looked into his face. “Really?”
Brendan’s smile widened triumphantly. “So you do care.”
I wanted to scream. “Do whatever you want. Do
whomever
you want. It’s your life; feel free to screw it up any way you want.”
“At least I know who I am.”
“What does that mean?”
“You talk about how your mom doesn’t always like to face real life, but you do the same thing. You decided that your real life doesn’t measure up, so it isn’t going to even count until you can run away and pretend to be someone else. No wonder you were excited about the idea of being Ava McKenna. It’s a dream come true. You don’t have to make up a better life; you had one all along before it was taken away from you.”
“That’s not true,” I stammered.
“Look, I know I can be an asshole sometimes. I take the easy way out and I don’t try hard enough on things that don’t come easily to me. I’m sarcastic and arrogant. I’m not good about talking about my feelings. I’m not stupid, but I’m not book smart, I never got algebra, and when we had to read Shakespeare, I couldn’t figure out what the hell he was saying half the time.”
“What’s the point of this? Do you want me to tell you, ‘Oh no, that’s not true, you’re a great guy’?” I said.
“No. I don’t need you to tell me. All those negative things I said? Those are true. You know what else is true? I’m funny; I can make people laugh. I’m willing to take risks and go after what I want. I’m street smart and I can read people. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for the people I love.” Brendan threw his arms up in the air. “Don’t you get it? I like who I am. Who I really am. Not who I wish I was, or who I plan to be someday. And for the record, I like you, too, even if you don’t.”
“I like myself,” I said quietly.
“Then why do you keep trying to run away? Don’t you get that even if you were the missing princess Ava, you would still be you?”
“This isn’t about wanting to be a princess.” I wanted to yell in frustration. “Haven’t you ever felt like this isn’t your real life? That this can’t be it. That something good, something amazing, has to happen, because if you wake up thirty years from now and realize that you still live in a shitty trailer, and work as a greeter at Walmart, and the highlight of your day is getting cheese half off at the grocery because it’s close to its expiration date, you will start screaming and not be able to stop.”
“You know what would be worse? Waking up thirty years from now and realizing you’ve missed your whole life because you were waiting for a chance to be someone different.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
Brendan shook his head, clearly not convinced. “I stopped by today because I have some news. Nanny Goodall is coming here.”
“How did you know that?” I asked. I couldn’t imagine that Chase would have mentioned anything to Brendan, although the idea of the two of them somehow talking without me being around to supervise made me very nervous.
Brendan wriggled his eyebrows. “I invited her.”
I felt my heart speed up. “What do you mean, you invited her?”
“I called her office and hinted at what we knew. I suggested that if she wanted to keep things a secret, she would show up
here.” He spread his arms like I should leap into them as a thank-you.
“Why did you do that?”
“Because the whole point of this is to pull a con that gets you enough money to go to school.” Brendan looked around as if the trees might call out another answer. “That’s what we set out to do, isn’t it? I thought you would be happy. Any doubt that she lied about something disappeared the second I had her on the phone. She was very interested in what I had to say. She was the one who said, and I’m quoting here, ‘Perhaps there is a way to make it worth your while to avoid dragging the whole situation up.’
Worth my while.
I could practically hear her pulling out her checkbook on the phone.”