“Yeah,” I say, nodding. “And it’s so crazy, Kiera. I feel like I’m myself again, you know? I feel like she’s been guiding me this whole summer, back to who I was. Who I should be.”
“What do you have left to do?” she asks, her thumb moving down the page.
“Just two more and then I’m done,” I say, watching as she stops at “7. Go on the Huckabee Lake trip” and “11. Find a four-leaf clover,” and…
She completely unfolds the paper, revealing the hidden number twelve. “Kiss J. C.,” the one I’ve been intentionally ignoring all summer.
I don’t know what to think about this one now.
I can’t help but have Blake’s face pop into my head.
“No way,” she says, turning it around to face me.
I know in a nanosecond Matt’s popped into hers.
“Oh, well, the initials don’t even match his.…”
“This is scarily perfect, dude,” Kiera says, cutting me off, her voice going up half an octave with excitement. “The Huckabee Lake trip. A kiss? It’s like your mom knew. Like she knew you’d need to make things right with Matt. That the trip tomorrow would be the perfect way to do that.”
I freeze, my eyes flicking between my best friend and my mom’s handwriting, the promise of everything going back to normal. Everything being okay, our friends’ angry faces and Matt’s silence gone, a drama-free senior year actually possible. It is what I want. Isn’t it?
I think about what just happened with my dad two days ago. What’s been happening this entire summer. The town houses. Packing. My life being uprooted from underneath me. How I want nothing more than uncomplicated normalcy after all of this.
“I mean, your parents got together during the Huckabee Lake trip, didn’t they? Talk about a sign.”
A sign. It does feel like that, doesn’t it?
I roll onto my back to look at the glow-in-the-dark stars we put on her ceiling when we were in elementary school. I think of the stars that night at the beach with Blake, that invincible feeling that something more could be possible. But all of it seems so distant now, my real life, my life in Huckabee and all the expectations closing in around me. The house still slipping away.
If I don’t listen to her now, about this, about Matt, I’m no better than my dad, throwing her stuff into boxes, forgetting her, ignoring her. The list has led me in the right direction this entire summer. Why would it not now?
23
The second Nina pulls into the parking lot at Huckabee High the next day and I see the navy-blue and silver charter bus, my heart starts hammering in my chest. It’s about to be filled with classmates I haven’t seen since June. Classmates who know what went down at junior prom, Matt somewhere in the hustle and bustle, and, on top of it all, Blake just… being Blake.
This is like eighteen cliff jumps and six tattoos rolled into one.
I pull my mom’s black cardigan closer to my body as Kiera and I hop out of the car, duffel bags slung over our shoulders. The last person to wear it was my mom, and I can already feel the worn wool giving me strength.
Or maybe I’m just hoping it will.
“Have fun, ladies!” Nina calls, holding two bags of chocolate chip cookies out the driver’s-side window for us.
I grimace at the word “fun” but manage to plaster a smile on my face before she can see.
“Molasses?” I ask as I peer into the bag at the cookies.
Nina shakes her head, yet another rejected secret-ingredient guess. “Nice try!”
I tuck my arm into Kiera’s as we head toward the bus, half hiding behind her as we wade through the line and check in with Mr. Sanders, what feels like a million eyes following my every move as I bend down to slide my bag into the under-bus compartment. It’s better now than it was at the end of school, their gazes less scalding, but it still makes my skin crawl.
Just wait, I tell myself. In a few hours I’m going to put this right. And no one will care anymore.
I take a deep breath and square my shoulders as I straighten up, the list making me stronger. Making me ready for any judgment that comes my way, ready for all the whispers, ready for—
I spin around and run smack into Blake.
She reaches out to stop me from toppling over, all honey-brown eyes, and messy sun-streaked hair, and full lips.…
“Blake!” I say, the feelings from the night in the truck bed slowly starting to swim back into my stomach. I quickly push them away, turning my head to scan the crowd for Matt. “Hey. Hi.”
She pulls her hand away from my shoulder, glancing to the side at Kiera, a warm smile unfolding onto her face. “You must be Kiera,” she says, charming and friendly and nice like there wasn’t a distinct shift in the quantity and tone of our texts since I went over to Kiera’s yesterday. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“Yeah! Hey. Nice to meet you,” Kiera says, giving her a once-over. “Blake, right? Our parents went to high school together.”
“Seems like that’s the case for just about everyone around here,” Blake says, and Kiera laughs, nodding in agreement.
“Tell me about it.”
Mr. Sanders pokes my shoulder with the pen he’s using to sign students in with. “Clark. Biset. On the bus if I’ve already checked you off.”
Kiera rolls her eyes at me when he looks away, shooting him an if-looks-could-kill glare. Mr. Sanders is her sworn enemy. He gave her a B– on an essay last year, and she still isn’t over it.
“See you on there,” Kiera says, grabbing my arm and tugging me toward the bus. I hesitate for a fraction of a second, opening my mouth to say something.
Does she want to sit with us? Will she come sit with us?
“See you,” Blake says, her eyes moving from Kiera’s to mine before
