Glory Road Page 28

  “Did you hear about Coach Terrell?” Scott asked Nick.

  As they talked—something about a new job, or maybe a new dog—I let my eyes close. One spot behind my forehead had begun to ache, and as I listened to the voices and sounds around me, that ache grew to a ferocious pounding that throbbed in time with my heartbeat. I relaxed my neck muscles and tried to keep my body as still as possible. The throbbing continued though, growing worse by the second.

  “What’s going on with all this?” Billy or Scott asked. His voice was muffled, like my ears were stuffy. “Is she . . . ?”

  She. Was that me? I probably could have figured it out if I opened my eyes, but I couldn’t muster the effort it would take to pull them open.

  “Shut up,” Nick said.

  “No, seriously,” the other one said. I could tell by his voice that he was smiling. Maybe even on the verge of laughter. “What’s the deal? She’s your girlfriend?”

  “No, she’s not . . . She’s fourteen. A freshman.”

  My stomach tightened into a ball and dropped.

  “So? She’s cute. Anyway, I went to prom last year with Kasey Lott. She was a freshman and it was no big deal.”

  Nick sighed. “She’s like my little sister, man. She’s a friend. That’s it.”

  Despite my total brain-haze, his words cut through the slop and left my heart—my ridiculous crush—in clear view. So that was it. He didn’t like me. Or he did, but as a sister. As a friend. Humiliation crept in, blazing on my cheeks.

  I heard shuffling next to me, then Nick was pulling me to my feet. “Come on, Evan,” he said quietly.

  He opened the passenger door and I crawled in, then he cranked the engine and rolled the windows down. Just before we pulled out of the gate, I saw Ruth. I yelled her name out the window and she ran to me.

  “Evan!” She was out of breath. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Where have you been?”

  “I . . .” I turned to Nick. “I don’t know.”

  “I’m Nick.” He held up his hands as if to proclaim innocence. “I’m a friend. And I’m taking her home.”

  “Wait, I can’t go home. I’m supposed to be staying with Ruth.” Then out of nowhere, I knew I was going to be sick. I fumbled for the handle and just barely managed to push the door open before I threw up on the grass.

  “Um . . .” Ruth took a few steps back. “I’m sorry, but you can’t come to my house like this. My parents will kill me. Then you.”

  Nick put his hand on my shoulder. “You okay?”

  I pressed my wrist to my mouth and nodded. I cleared my throat. “I feel better.”

  “Hallelujah. Let’s get out of here.” He grabbed a napkin out of the glove box and handed it to me. “I’ll let her sleep it off, then I’ll get her home.”

  Ruth eyed me. “Is that okay with you?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. I’m so sorry, Ruth.”

  “Are you kidding? This was the best night ever. Except for . . .” She gestured down to the grass next to the car.

  “But how did you . . . ? I mean, you drank it too.”

  “Only a few sips, but it was gross. I poured it out.” She pushed the door closed. “I gotta go or Gina really will leave me.” She turned and ran back to the other side of the field where Gina had parked. I checked the clock on the dashboard: 10:28.

  I left the window down as we drove away from the field. When we got to the highway, Nick turned left.

  “Wait, Ruth’s house is the other way.”

  “You’re not going to Ruth’s house, remember? We’ve been over this.”

  “But if I go home . . .” I glanced down. My white shorts had a big pink stain down the front, and judging by how my hair felt when I ran my hand over it, I was sure I looked awful. Not exactly what Mom expected the next time she saw me.

  “You’re coming to my house.” He raised his eyebrows, daring me to object. I nodded. “Good. We have the most comfortable couch you’ll ever sleep on. Though I suspect you’d fall asleep pretty much anywhere.”

  “What about your dad?”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  I closed my eyes again and relished the breeze on my face. My stomach was beginning to tumble again. I took a few deep breaths to settle it back down.

  “How’re you feeling?”

  I swallowed hard. “So-so.”

  “Next time someone hands you a cup of mystery drink, what are you going to do?”

  “Just say no?”

  A half grin. “That’ll work.”

  He turned onto Glory Road and slowed down as the car bumped gently over the dips in the red dirt.

  “Why are you so nice to me? I just . . . I’m curious.”

  I’d been wondering it for a while, actually. I think deep down, some part of me had known all summer that he didn’t really like me. That he was just a nice guy who liked good music and who needed someone to hang out with in a new town. Maybe I qualified because I wasn’t like most of the girls in Perry and because, as he’d said, I didn’t ask him too many questions. But this one was important.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. I feel like I want to take care of you or something.” He waited a moment before speaking again. “Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like if my dad had . . . if I had a sibling. Someone to watch out for.” He glanced at me. “I guess I took it a little too far with you. I’m sorry.”

  “No, it’s fine, it’s . . . I like it. I like having you around.”

  He ran his hand through his hair. “Seriously though, if something happens again—not just something like this, but anything—if you need help, I’m here for you. Got it?”

  I nodded, slowly this time to not upset my brain again. “Thanks.”

  He parked in his driveway, then cut the lights. “Now, let’s get you inside. With any luck, Dad’s already in bed.”

  We crept into the house, but as soon as I sat on the couch and pulled my sandals off, Mr. Bradley appeared from the back hallway.

  “Have fun?” he asked before he saw me. “Evan. What are you doing here?” He turned to Nick in confusion.

  “Please don’t tell my mom,” I blurted.

  “She needs to stay here tonight,” Nick said. “I’ll run her home early in the morning, but she can’t go home like this.”

  Mr. Bradley was watching me. “Yes, I can see that.”

  I crossed my legs, hoping to hide the pink stain on my shorts, then tried to smooth my hair. “She just . . . She’ll be so mad at me.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure,” Mr. Bradley said. “She won’t be happy, but I don’t think anger will be her first reaction.”

  “You’re going to tell her.” I massaged my forehead with my fingertips, making circles over my temples with my thumbs.

  “No, I’m not. It’s not my place,” he continued. “But it is yours.”

  I groaned, let my hands drop, and leaned back against the cushion.

  He sighed, then turned to Nick. “Get her a blanket and a pillow, then say good night.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Nick did as his dad asked, then retreated to the back of the house. I lay in the dim living room and stared at the ceiling. My head still felt like it was on a merry-go-round, but if I stayed still and breathed shallow breaths, it slowed enough for me to close my eyes. I had no idea how I was going to deal with tomorrow—picking up my stuff from Ruth’s, getting home without Mom figuring out what had happened, coming up with a suitable explanation for my stained clothes and tangled hair—but that was hours from now. I’d come up with something.

  Then again, maybe Mr. Bradley was right. Maybe the truth was best. And here was the truth as I saw it.

  1.Nick was just my friend, which sucked, but it was probably just as it should be.

  2.All that pushing and stretching, all the limit testing I halfway thought I wanted? I was beginning to think it wasn’t worth the trouble.

  3.Still, anything was possible. Just like Ruth said.

  I woke up the next morni
ng to Mr. Bradley tapping me on the shoulder. “Evan.” He pulled his hand away and hitched his voice up a notch. “Evan.”

  I covered my exposed ear with my hand and said something that was supposed to be, “Why are you yelling?” but it came out jumbled.

  “Up and at ’em,” he said. “I just woke up Nick so he can get you back home. I don’t want your mom to worry.”

  I pushed myself up into a sitting position. My eyelids felt glued together. I rubbed them hard and squinted in the morning light. Mr. Bradley’s hair was rumpled on top, like he had skipped the brush when he got out of bed. “She won’t worry. She thinks I’m at Ruth’s.”

  “But she won’t for long, will she?” He eyed me until I shook my head.

  “Good.” He stuck his hands in his front pockets and tilted his head to the side. “Everything okay with you?”

  “Yeah. I’m fine. Why?”

  He shrugged. “I just didn’t see you as much of a party girl.”

  I snorted a laugh. “I’m not. Definitely not.”

  He pulled his lips into a thin, straight line. “Hmm.”

  “I know it doesn’t seem that way, but I’m really not.” I tugged at the edge of the blanket I’d slept under. “I did have fun though. Most of it, at least. But I think I’ll stay away from the . . .” Just the thought of the pink stuff made my stomach lurch.

  He smiled, then stuck his head in the hallway and called Nick’s name. We both heard a loud grunt in response. He grabbed his keys off the kitchen table. “Come on. He’s not getting up anytime soon. I’ll drive you home.” He opened up the back door. “After you.”

  “Did you know Nick was going to the party last night?” I asked as we neared our house.

  “Of course.”

  “And you were okay with it?”

  He pulled into the driveway and stopped. Mom was in the yard watering her plants. My head swam a little at the sight of her.

  “I’m not crazy about parties in strange places. Especially places the cops used to bust when I was in high school. Especially not when there’s alcohol around. But Nick knows the deal. I trust him as long as he doesn’t give me a reason not to trust him. So far it’s worked.”

  “That’s pretty much my mom’s rule too. But there’s no way she would have let me go to this party.”

  He glanced ahead to where Mom stood still, probably wishing she’d put on some real clothes. “Try not to be too hard on her. She loves you a whole lot.” He turned back to me. “I think she’d do anything to protect you, including keeping you away from a party you probably shouldn’t have been at in the first place.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but he continued. “Look, Nick is older than you. Three years is a big deal when you’re young. When Nick was fourteen, I wouldn’t have let him go either. No way.”

  He grabbed the door handle. “You’ll have to get out one of these days. Might as well get it over with.” He gave me a small smile, then opened his door.

  CHAPTER 31

  Water is good for your garden, but just as in life, too much of a good thing can be a detriment. Overwatering can cause a flood and wash away soil and necessary nutrients. Establish a regular watering pattern and stick to it. Your plants will come to expect their daily quench, and it just might become a life-giving routine for you as well.

  —AARON IRVING, GRACE IN THE GARDEN

  JESSIE

  At the hottest part of the summer—usually around mid-August—I liked to start my days with a watering hose in hand. Spending so much time and energy on the plants at Twig sometimes caused my own garden to suffer, but at the very least, I always made sure it had plenty to drink. Offering sustenance to my faithful shrubs and colorful annuals left everything a little brighter and fresher.

  Standing at the side of my house in my short cotton robe and flip-flops, coffee mug in one hand, hose in the other, I found it easy to get lost in a daze. Evan had spent the night at Ruth’s, Mama hadn’t yet made the trek from her house to mine, and the road was empty of cars. My mind was free to roam, although these days, it wasn’t going anywhere easy.

  It’d been almost two weeks since I trotted to Ben’s house with my gift of weed killer. I’d willingly set aside all my misgivings, all my hesitations, and followed what had felt like a sure thing straight to his front door, but instead, I found her.

  “She’s not you, Jess,” he’d said in his car just days before that. His words had been like a balm, like warm honey. He’d felt so solid, so real, so much of what I wanted. But seeing Marissa in his house, her arms around him, her lips near his ear—it was a stark reminder of how much love can hurt. I’d told myself years before that I wouldn’t hurt again—and neither would Evan—and I needed to keep that promise.

  He’d called of course—when I got home from his house, my phone was already ringing—but I didn’t answer. When he sent texts, I skimmed them before turning my phone facedown. He came by the shop only once. I was busy with customers, so he’d waited on the front porch, probably thinking I’d come sit with him as soon as I was finished, but I couldn’t. It was too much. Like when you opened the door to a hot oven and the heat blasted out—not burning, exactly, but letting you know a blaze was in the realm of possibility. I knew fire could remove impurities, could burn away excess and reveal the truest elements, but it could also whittle away, leaving you with nothing.

  And there was Sumner too. While I was trying to shake Ben out of my heart, my memories, and my tangled emotions, Sumner was, in a way, easier. At least time with him didn’t feel painful at the edges. As soon as he returned from his trip to Scotland, he’d come to my house and whisked me away to dinner. He asked me to show him the best of Perry, so I took him to Jack & Mack’s, where we ordered onion burgers and root beer floats and laughed at the old black-and-white photos on the walls depicting the Perry of my childhood. Strangely enough, it wasn’t that different from how it was now. Somehow time had marched on, yet stayed completely still at the same time.

  I was still thinking about the old photos at Jack & Mack’s when I heard the unmistakable rumble of Ben’s Jeep coming up the road. I whirled around toward the path that led to my front porch, but there was no way I could get inside without him seeing me first. I stood still, hoping he’d pass by without noticing me, while at the same time suppressing an urge to do something to get his attention—wave, yell, run.

  When he slowed and pulled into the driveway, I dropped the hose and turned the faucet off, using my other hand to pull my robe around me a little tighter. I took a deep breath before I turned around. That’s when I noticed Evan beside him in the passenger seat. Evan, who was supposed to be at Ruth’s house.

  When he stopped the car, he said something to Evan and she peered at me before responding. She looked miserable, and he looked only slightly better. Finally he opened his door. I inhaled, trying to gather my strength but not feeling like I had much left. Then Evan climbed out and walked toward me.

  “Hey,” she said quietly.

  I reached out and touched her arm. “What—?”

  “I promise I’ll explain later, but can I just . . . ?” She gestured to the house, then glanced back, not at me, but at Ben. He gave her a half smile. When I turned back to her, she was already climbing the porch steps and reaching for the handle of the screen door.

  “What’s going on? Why is she with you?”

  “It’s kind of a long story.”

  I shot him the same look I gave Evan when I knew she was keeping something from me.

  “She’s fine. Really. She just needs some sleep. And a lot of water. She’ll tell you the rest.”

  I nodded and rubbed my hand over my forehead. Whatever had happened to put her in his car rather than sleeping at Ruth’s, I wanted to hear it from her.

  “Jessie . . .”

  I hesitated a second before turning back to him, and when I did, his eyes had changed. He scuffed the toe of his shoe on the ground in front of him. “I got a note in my mailbox the other day. Someone wants to
buy my parents’ house.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah. It’s kind of crazy. It’s this couple looking for a place to raise goats to make cheese. They said they were out driving, looking for land, and saw the old carpet and junk by the street in front of our house. Thought maybe we were getting ready to move.”

  “What’d you say?” My unsteady heart was pounding in my chest, my ears, my fingertips. “Did you tell them you’d just moved in?”

  He stared up at the sky, then back at me. “I’m going to sell it to them. I already told my parents. Well, I asked them. They loved knowing it was someone who’d use the land well.” He smiled. “The goats will probably eat my tomatoes. They were pitiful anyway. Turns out I’m not much of a gardener.”

  So that was it then. He’d come back, and now he was leaving again. We’d both go back to life as it should be. “But school’s already started. Will Nick go back to his old school?”

  He looked at me strangely. “We’re not going back to Atlanta. I’ve actually already found a house. We’ll just rent until we decide on something permanent. It’s downtown, right behind the café.”

  “You mean here? In Perry?”

  “Yes,” he said slowly. “We’re staying here. At least for . . . Well, I don’t know how long. But we both like it here. Neither of us wants to leave. Nick will finish out the school year for sure.”

  “Okay.” I tugged at my robe again. “What does that mean for . . . ?” Tears pushed at the back of my eyes, but the emotion behind them wasn’t clear.

  He rubbed his eyes. They were red and dark circles bloomed beneath them. “Marissa is gone. We ended things the night you came over. She left the next morning.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “It was . . . simple. We just didn’t make sense. We’d been trying to force this thing between us all because of Nick, but do you know what he said to me the next day when I told him we’d broken up?”

  I shook my head.

  A smile pricked the edges of his mouth. “He said, ‘Took you long enough.’” Then his smile faded. “I know there was more than just Marissa standing between us. I know we have years of stuff to sort through. I’m not oblivious to any of that.”