“And while I was there, I sort of…met this girl.”
He stops cold and I almost run into his backpack. He turns around, his eyes wide with surprise. “Why were you staying with your grandmother?”
I stare at him. I wasn’t expecting him to go there and don’t have a great answer for this. “I was just… dealing with some family stuff. It was complicated. I just needed to get away.” It’s not the whole story, but so far, I’m not lying.
His eyebrows knit together. “Coop,” he says. “We all know you were in rehab.” Then he stops cold and stares at me. “Wait, did you meet a girl in
“In rehab? Why would I be in rehab?” My mom swore she didn’t tell that ridiculous story to anyone outside the school administration. And Sam has never seen me drink or smoke or pop a pill. Even if he’d heard that, how could he actually believe it? How can he just be telling me this now?
“Come on, why else would you take off suddenly in the middle of the school year, not come back for three months, and when you do, tell everyone you were traveling in Europe.” He rolls his eyes. He’s got a point. “Besides, your mom told Cameron’s mom that you were away ‘dealing with some issues.’ What else would we think?”
Great.
I step in front of him and start walking down the trail toward the car. I didn’t want to start some kind of major confrontation about where I was last spring; I just wanted to tell him about Anna. I’m tired. I could have died on that rock today. And now my brain isn’t working fast enough to feed me new lies and help me keep up my cover. All this lying is exhausting, so I decide to give up, play it straight.
“Look,” I say without turning around, “You don’t have to believe me, but I wasn’t in rehab. I was living with my grandmother in Illinois for three months and then I came back. Now I go visit her. And Anna.” It feels good to say her name aloud.
I can hear Sam’s footsteps behind me, but he doesn’t say anything and neither do I. Once we reach the car, we silently load up our packs and get inside. I turn the key in the ignition and crank up the heat, and then I reach for my iPhone, looking for music.
Sam buckles his seat belt. “Is that why you stayed there for the rest of the semester?” he asks.
I don’t look up but I nod.
“Because of Anna.”
I inhale sharply when I hear Sam say her name, and I turn to look at him. “Yeah, because of Anna.”
“Who lives in Illinois.”
“Unfortunately, yeah.”
He gives me this
Omitting details about the decade I visit, I tell him everything there is to know about Evanston, Illinois, and what I do when I’m there. I even give him the history, going all the way back to last March, when I first arrived at my grandmother’s house and enrolled at Westlake. A half hour later, he not only knows all about Anna, he knows about Emma and Justin, Maggie, and the Greenes, too. Anna was right. My shoulders are lighter right now than they’ve been in months.
When we reach the bottom of the mountain, Sam points out a diner that serves twenty-four-hour breakfast, and I pull in and park. I’m just about to get out when my phone chirps. I pick it up and read:
Miss you here.
Come next weekend? There’s someone I want you to meet. :)
“You want to get us a table?” I ask Sam. “I’ve got to reply to this message.”
“From Anna?” he says, like he’s enjoying being in the know. If he only knew how impossible that is.
“It’s from Brooke. Give me a sec. I’ll be right in.”
Sam shuts the car door and heads inside. It occurs to me that, as much as I miss Brooke, and as much as I’d love to tell her what happened today, I’m glad I’m not in Boulder right now. I can’t remember the last time I wanted to be exactly where I was.
I type the words:
Miss you too,
but can’t do next weekend (Anna).
A minute later, her reply arrives:
Bummer.
I’m just about to shove my phone in my pocket and join Sam when I have an idea. Anna told me I’d better bring flowers next time, but I can do a hell of a lot better than that. I start typing.
There’s someone I want you to meet too.
Wanna come along?
November 1995
27
Evanston, Illinois
“God, it’s freezing out there!” Brooke pulls her leg inside and slams the car door shut again. She tightens her jacket around her body and shivers.
“Actually, I was going to ask you to wait in the car. Do you mind?”
“Are you kidding? We just drove three hours, the last of it in an electrical storm, and now it’s, like, twenty degrees out there.” It’s actually closer to ten but I decide not to tell her that. “I am
“What?”
“Keys. Heat. Music.” She points at the ignition. “Keys?”
I hand her the car keys and reach behind me to grab the huge bouquet of flowers I bought on the way here. “I’ll be over there.” I point at the crowd of people gathered in the field surrounded by white pop-up tents. “See the guy in the blue parka? That’s her dad. As soon as you see Anna join us, give me ten minutes and then come over. Got it?”
“Got it.” She turns the key backward in the ignition, cranks the heat up to ninety, and starts spinning the radio dial, looking for a station. She stops in midspin and shoos me away. “Go. I’m fine.”
As I close the door, I hear the gunshot off in the distance and I follow the signs to the starting line. Anna’s dad is still huddled up with the other parents, each of them clutching a matching Styrofoam coffee cup in one hand and checking a stopwatch in the other.
I stand in the empty space next to him. “Hi, Mr. Greene,” I say quietly, and he turns to face me. I keep the flowers low at my side, but visible.
He studies my face and says, “You’re here.” Then he looks back at the course and takes a big sip of his coffee.
I shift in place. “Yes, sir. I’m here.”
“Anna told me you would be, but I didn’t believe her.” He looks down at the flowers and brings his cup to his mouth again, tips his head back, and drains it.
“I wanted to tell you personally how sorry I was about homecoming. I would have been there if there was
