Brooks and I call one another every week. That’s my agreement with Jacinta. I keep the peace, and she keeps the phone stocked with enough minutes to call my best friend.
“Taking any photos?”
“Yeah,” he murmurs down the line. “Council let me shoot some of the town for their website.”
“What?” I smile down the line. “Brooks, that’s amazing.”
He groans in discomfort at the praise. “I think it helps that Gran holds some sway in town.”
“How is she doing?”
A sigh. “Not great. She spent a few days in the hospital this week. She’s getting sick more and more often. I know it sounds morbid, but we’re grateful we got this amount of time with her, you know? We moved back with the expectation that she’d pass soon after. She’s been going strong for eighteen months so far. It’s been nice.”
“Still,” I sympathize.
“Yeah.”
“Last year of school.” I change the subject. “Prom planning must be in full swing.”
He barks out an unimpressed laugh. “Oh, yeah, I’m running point on organization.”
“Smart-ass. Have you got a date?”
The soft sound of him clearing his throat sounds distinctly down the line. “Evelyn asked me.”
“Aren’t you supposed to ask her?”
“She obviously got tired of waiting.”
It’s turned awkward. “Well, you always did like her tits.”
He snorts. “I did.”
I fall back onto my bed, staring at the white ceiling.
“I wish you were here,” he says quietly. “We could just go together.”
Closing my eyes, I imagine Brooks in a tux and me in a dress. Us dancing and laughing.
“That’d be nice.”
“Do they do anything like prom over there?”
I nod before realizing he can’t see me. “Yeah, a school formal. They did one at the end of last year for year eleven. I think they do another one at the end of sixth form.”
“D’you go?”
“No,” I declare strongly. “Of course not. I told you. I’m literally the weirdo loner of the school. I’m like a pariah.”
“You just need to put yourself out there, Squirrel. I hate the thought of you being alone.”
“I like being alone,” I defend.
“There’s nothing wrong with that, but one friend wouldn’t hurt.”
“I have one friend,” I argue. “You.”
“One who you can see, Henley. One who you can spend time with. One who you can think with.”
“I didn’t call you to be lectured, Brooks.”
I know he’s right, and I hate it. I hate that he can see through my words and hear my loneliness.
“I’m fine,” I lie. “I promise.”
“What have I told you about promises? Don’t ever make me one, Squirrel. I might find myself believing you.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“You’ll break my heart when I find out you’ve broken it.”
“I should go.” I swallow against the lump in my throat.
Silence meets my declaration, and I wait for him to speak.
“Give me a minute?” he asks eventually.
“For what?”
I hear the sound of his steady breath down the line. “I hate saying goodbye. Just sit quietly on the line until I’m ready.”
So we do. We sit in silence, the sound of our breathing echoing back and forth before he finds it in himself to hang up.
Three days later, I receive the text I’ve been dreading.
Brooks: Gran died.
He doesn’t answer my call or reply to any of my texts or emails. Brooks speak for I’m hurting and I don’t want to discuss it.
“Mom,” I test hesitantly.
“Hmm.” She looks up from the TV.
“I need to ask you something, and I need you to hear me out before you say no.”
Narrowing her eyes, she lifts the remote and turns the TV off to offer me her full attention.
“I need to go back to Lake Geneva.”
“No.”
“Mom, please,” I plead. “Just for a few days. Moira Riley died.”
She looks down, a cast of sadness touching her features.
“Mom, Brooks needs me. I have nothing there anymore. I’ll be home within a week. I promise. I just want to be there for my only friend.”
“You could have friends here,” she argues weakly.
I don’t speak.
“I’m sorry, Henley. With Derrick. . .”
“Derrick wants nothing to do with me,” I spit. “And quite frankly, I want nothing to do with him.”
“Your home is here.”
“I know that.” My tongue feels heavy with the lie. The truth is, no one place feels like home to me anymore. I belong nowhere.
She stares at me, and I hate that I don’t know what she’s thinking. I want her thoughts to be read out. Her excuses and her lies ready for me to combat. Instead, I sit as quietly as she does, pleading with my eyes.
“When’s the funeral?”
“I don’t know.” My voice cracks, and I cough to clear it. “Brooks won’t answer my call. He’s hurting, Mom. I need to be there.”
I’m not above begging. I’m not above dropping to my hands and knees and pleading with her to let me do this.
“I’ve not asked you for anything. I’ve settled in without issue or argument. Please, Mom.”
“Okay,” she finally agrees, and my eyes bulge in surprise.
“I’m not a monster, Henley.” She shields her hurt. “I told you, everything I do is because I love you.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, and she looks at me expectantly. “I love you,” I add, hoping like hell she accepts my lie.
Smiling triumphantly, she pushes her shoulders back. “This actually works out well. Dylan was wanting us to take a few days away, and I was hesitant to leave you.”
And there we have it. Her decision has nothing to do with her letting me go and everything to do with needing me out of her hair to relieve her guilt about running off with her boyfriend.
“I'll be sure to thank Moira Riley’s corpse for you.”
She laughs, and I force one out myself. Best to keep the peace until my ass is on that plane.
“I’d like to leave as soon as possible if it’s okay. To make sure I don’t
