Chapter 13

Even in the middle of winter, sometimes the weather was so nice in Newport that Ryan could sleep with the pool house doors open, a balmy, salty breeze rustling through the room and tickling his face. On those warm nights he would sleep in only his boxers and an undershirt, and he felt free.

He didn't like sleeping that way anymore. He didn't like keeping the doors open, feeling exposed to the Cohens, on display. He didn't like seeing his bare legs and that bracelet around his ankle.

It was Friday night, early and warm, and Ryan was preparing for bed. Like every other night that week, he'd escaped to the pool house immediately following dinner, not even offering to wash the dishes or take out the trash. The less time he spent around the Cohens—or really, anyone at all—the better. He thought they preferred it that way. He made them uncomfortable. They were self-conscious around him, delicate. They didn't know what to do about him.

He had mixed feelings about the weekend, but mostly he was relieved to have a few days away from school. The week had been so terrible that he was seriously considering asking the Cohens if he could transfer to a public school. He wasn't sure how long he could put up with the stares before he exploded and did something he would regret. He kept reminding himself that eventually they would all get over him and move on to the next Shame of the Week, but he wasn't sure he had that kind of patience anymore.

The only downside about the weekend was that Ryan was facing his first prolonged period tethered to the Cohens. He knew they must feel like wardens, with their juvenile delinquent locked up in a cell behind their house. Granted, it was a pretty great cell, but that didn't make his confinement much easier on anyone. He hated that he'd become such a burden on the Cohens' lives. He hated that his probation, his mistake, was messing up their family. They didn't deserve this sentence.

Ryan was crouched in front of the shelf where he kept his pajamas neatly folded when someone knocked at the door. He debated whether or not to allow them in. If it was Seth, he wouldn't have a choice; he'd come barging in on his own in a minute. If it was Sandy or Kirsten, they'd leave if he didn't say anything. They didn't come in uninvited anymore. That was new.

The door sprung open and Ryan looked back at his clothes, pulling a pair of sweatpants off the shelf. He didn't acknowledge Seth's entrance, but he knew that wouldn't deter Seth, who looked particularly energetic tonight.

"What are you doing tonight?" Seth asked, dropping onto Ryan's bed and bouncing a little.

Ryan glanced at the still-open door and frowned. He stood up and grabbed a towel from the top shelf. He'd already taken a shower that morning, but he was in the habit of bathing twice a day now, just because he could, and because it gave him something to do. He was very exfoliated for a person who'd never even heard of loofah six months ago.

"Don't tell me homework again," Seth said. "It's the weekend. We should hang out, have fun."

Ryan wanted to point out what had happened the last time they'd avoided homework and hung out on a Friday night, but he didn't.

"I know, I know, we don't have a great track record with Friday nights," Seth said, and Ryan was impressed by his ability to not only read Ryan's mind, but carry on a conversation as though it wasn't completely one-sided. "But I've got a good idea this time."

Ryan scowled at Seth, and shook his head. He clutched his towel and sweatpants to his chest and ducked into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. Seth immediately started knocking on the door.

"I'm serious, buddy," Seth said through the door. Ryan set his pajamas and the towel on the toilet lid and turned on the shower, muffling Seth's voice even further. "It even involves Luke."

Ryan had to admit he was intrigued by that, so he twisted off the faucet and unlocked the door. Seth was beaming at him on the other side.

"I should probably be offended that you'll open the door for Luke but not me, but I'll let it go because I know you're not in a great place right now," Seth said. "Anyway, what I was trying to say was Luke's coming over. Like, now. And so is everyone else. Well, not everyone, because you know, that would be way too many people for a pool house and I don't really know 'everyone' anyway."

"They're coming here?"

"Yes."

"Now?"

"Yes."

Ryan stared the ceiling. Clearly nothing good could come from this. He knew that Seth meant well, and he appreciated the thought. But after three days spent avoiding every person he knew at school, the last thing he wanted was for all of them to invade the pool house, the one place where he didn't feel like everyone was watching him and waiting for him to screw up.

"Marissa's coming," Seth said, smiling as though this news would really sell Ryan on the idea.

"No," Ryan said.

"No?" Seth repeated. "Dude, no? It's too late for no. They're on their way here now."

Ryan's answering glare was effective, because Seth took a step back and his face fell.

"Hey, man, look, I'm sorry. I just thought, your first week back, things are rough right now, maybe you could use a good time," Seth said. "But hey, if you don't want to hang out, we'll just go inside. No big deal. I'm sure they'll understand."

Ryan hated when Seth placated him. As annoying as Seth could be sometimes, Ryan preferred him aggressive, forcing his friendship on people like a gift he was afraid they would refuse. Ryan shrugged, and put his towel and sweatpants back on the shelves. Seth got the point.

"Cool," he said. "The hors d'oeuvres are inside. I'll be right back."

Ryan let himself smile as Seth walked out of the room. Only Seth would think to serve hors d'oeuvres at a pool house party.

It had taken quite a bit of impressive rhetoric on Seth's part to convince his parents to allow this party, but looking around the pool house, he was glad he'd made the effort.

Ryan was trying hard to stay out of the center of attention. As soon as Luke had shown up—seriously lacking in a social life now, Luke had been the first to arrive—Ryan had planted himself in a chair, and he hadn't moved once the entire night. But it didn't matter. Everyone came to him.

Right now Ryan looked more relaxed than Seth had seen him in two weeks. It was nearly 11, and he was settled deep in the chair, arms stretched out on either side of him, legs spread out in front. He wasn't smiling, but his features had softened. He'd lost some of the edginess that made him look permanently angry lately. Luke had dragged another chair to Ryan's side, and his posture was similar. Anna sat between them on the floor.

"Dude, you have to check out the new Infiniti," Luke said. He dropped his voice to a whisper, and Seth automatically leaned forward to hear the rest even though he honestly didn't care at all. "They haven't technically released it yet, but my dad got some of the advance brochures last week, and it is hot."

Ryan raised his eyebrows, but otherwise seemed unimpressed

"I bet you're more of a classic kind of guy, Ryan," Anna said.

"Classic?" Luke said.

"You know, like a '64 Impala, or a '67 Firebird, or any older Mustang. Classics."

"You've got to be kidding," Luke said, and as if to prove it he forced out a loud laugh. Seth rolled his eyes.

"I like the Impala," Ryan said.

Luke shook his head. "You have got to get your head out of Chino, man. Those cars are trash."

"Classic cars are very romantic," Anna said, drawing out the last word and smiling at Ryan.

"Romantic? What are you, qu-"

"Don't say it," Anna said, holding up a hand in front of Luke's face. He instantly obeyed and his mouth snapped closed. Anna laughed, and Ryan actually smiled.

"Cohen. Cohen! Are you even listening to me?"

"Huh?"

"I was saying that we're out of humus, but you were checking out Chino again," Summer said. "If you two want some alone time, I can get everyone out of here in 30 seconds."

"Even Marissa?"

The question was sarcastic. Summer sighed and, sitting at Seth's side on the bed, exchanged a look with him. Marissa was alone at the bar, rifling through a stack of CDs Seth had brought down from his room. It was only her latest excuse. She'd managed to say no more than half a dozen words to Ryan the entire night, and while she'd done a decent job of coming up with good excuses to avoid talking to him, Seth knew that Ryan was onto her. Ryan's eyes kept drifting in her direction, but he refused to leave his chair and go to her. It wasn't just this party, either. Marissa had been avoiding Ryan all week.

"It's hard for her," Summer said softly.

"Yeah, well, it's hard for Ryan too," Seth said, keeping his voice low but not even trying to disguise the bitterness.

"I'm sure she'll come around," Summer whispered. "But what is she supposed to say to him? And what are they supposed to do? He can't go anywhere. They can't even go to dinner, or a movie."

"It's not like they went out much in the first place. All they ever really do is make out in here."

Summer nodded, and Seth glanced at Ryan again. At least Ryan seemed to be enjoying himself, and Luke and Anna were doing a good job of keeping him entertained. Seth stood up and joined Anna on the floor, hoping Summer would take the hint and drag Marissa into the group. She did, and a few minutes later Ryan was surrounded, and Seth even caught him smiling again. Marissa moved closer to him eventually, leaning against the side of his chair so he could run a hand through her hair. It was a small gesture, especially for a couple that rivaled only his parents for public displays of disgusting affection, but Seth was glad to see it.

It was nearly midnight before their party was disrupted by a knock on the pool house door. Seth's dad popped his head in and smiled at the group.

"Sorry, guys, but it's time to break things up," he said.

Seth would have groaned at the early intrusion, or even at his dad showing his face at all, but Ryan had a strict curfew under the terms of his probation, so Seth didn't argue. The other kids seemed to get the idea, and they all stood up. Luke and Ryan exchanged a quick handshake, and Anna patted him on the knee.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" Marissa said.

Ryan nodded, and she leaned over and kissed him carefully on the cheek. A moment later Seth was alone with Ryan.

"That wasn't too bad, right? I mean, did you see that shirt Summer was wearing? I don't even think she had a bra on, and that is all kinds of unfair. And Anna, well I told you about New Year's, and dude, I thought she was going to crawl in my lap when we were sitting on the floor."

Ryan allowed a half-smile, and pushed himself out of the chair. He looked tired suddenly. Seth realized it had been a long time since Ryan was required to be social, or have so much attention focused on himself. Only Ryan could become so exhausted from the effort of trying to relax.

"I'm sorry, man, I should have checked with you first," Seth said.

Ryan slapped him lightly on the shoulder as he headed toward the bathroom.

"Thanks," he said quietly. Seth thought he meant it too.

On Saturday, Ryan turned down Sandy's offer of lunch in the main house. He had sneaked into the kitchen the night before, after the party, and stolen some supplies: bread and peanut butter and some pieces of fruit—nothing anyone would miss. He had leftover hors d'oeuvres stashed in the pool house refrigerator, too. He was determined to keep to the pool house for the entire weekend. He wanted to stay out of the Cohens' way, and he wanted to give himself a break from being watched all the time. He was tired of people's eyes shifting to his ankle.

But someone knocked on the door, and he stiffened.

"Come in," he said.

He was surprised to see Marissa. She'd told him at the party the night before that she would be seeing him today, but he hadn't actually expected her to stop by. Things had been too awkward between them all week. He hardly even saw her at school anymore. She no longer came to his locker between classes, and he'd started spending his lunch periods hiding in the stacks of the library. They sat together in the classes they shared, and that was about it.

Now he sat up straight on his bed, pushing a history textbook off his lap, but he didn't go to her. She stayed in the doorway, fidgeting with her hands in a way that reminded him of Kirsten when she was nervous. Marissa seemed to catch herself and slid her hands in the pockets of her short skirt. She still didn't move toward him.

"I just came by to see how you were doing," she said. Her voice was shaking slightly.

"Does Sandy or Kirsten know you're here?" he asked. "Because I'm not really supposed to have visitors. I mean, without their permission."

"I know. You told me. Kirsten let me in."

Her own words seemed to pain her, sticking in her throat so she had to force them out, embarrassed. He ducked his head so she wouldn't see his face. Was he really that transparent? He didn't know how to talk to her anymore. He didn't know how to talk to anyone, really, but she couldn't fill the silences the way Seth and Sandy could. And neither of them, it seemed, could begin to fill this one. He sat motionless on the bed, waiting. She hovered next to the pool house door. Finally, he looked up and their eyes met for the first time. She jumped like a startled deer and suddenly he understood everything.

"Look, we don't have to-" he said.

"I don't think I can make the party tonight," she said loudly, interrupting him. Ryan had no idea what she was talking about, and she seemed to read his confusion. "The party? Kirsten's fundraiser?"

Damn it. Ryan had forgotten all about the party, and in his isolation these past few days, none of the Cohens had reminded him about it. Every year the Cohens hosted a fundraiser for the Harbor School. It was the usual formal event, Ryan had been told weeks ago, with an open bar and grilled duck served on tiny, silver-plated skewers. The money would be raised through a silent auction.

Ryan had no intention of attending the party. He'd stick to the pool house for the night.

He nodded to Marissa that he remembered the party now, and she finally walked the rest of the way into the pool house, stopping before she'd reached his bed. She rocked on her feet, her hands still buried in her pockets.

"My mom has some friends visiting from out of town, and she wants me to go out to dinner with them," she said, speaking carefully as though she was reciting lines she'd learned.

Ryan gave her a small smile, letting her go. His girlfriend never missed an opportunity to hang out with him, especially when it meant escaping her mother. His girlfriend was clingy and sometimes talked too much. His girlfriend would have been on his bed by now, crawling on top of him and pushing his hands away with a sweet smile when he tried to go too far.

His girlfriend was done with him now.

"We don't have to do this," he said quietly.

Marissa's face was blank for a moment, but then her eyes widened and she took another step toward him. "No, Ryan, I didn't-"

"I get it," he said.

"It's not like that. It's just, everything's different now. You're different now."

"I know," Ryan said. "It's over. I understand."

"No." Tears filled her eyes and spilled out over her cheeks, and she didn't bother to brush them away. "Please. Let me explain."

"What's to explain? Why bother?"

Marissa pressed the heels of her hands over her eyes, and he heard her breath hitching in her throat. He hated to see her cry, but he didn't go to her, not when she wasn't denying anything. He wondered if this had been her own decision, or if someone else—her mother, her father, her therapist—had told her that he wasn't worth the trouble. He wanted to believe that she wasn't thinking for herself, but he knew it wasn't true.

It was one thing to date a traditional bad boy, a kid with a mysterious past and a reputation for getting into trouble. Minor trouble. Ryan knew that part of the reason he appealed to Marissa was because he was unlike anything she'd ever known in Newport. He also knew that he'd now crossed a line. She'd never intended to date someone she had to visit in jail, who was monitored constantly and couldn't even take her out to dinner. She had enough of her own problems. She didn't need a boyfriend who was a convict. And she was right; he was different now. There was nothing he could do for her anymore.

"You should go," he said.

"I love you," she said, and swallowed hard. "I do. I just can't…I don't know. I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

"I know," he said. "It's okay."

It wasn't okay, but what was he supposed to say? Marissa stood in the middle of his room, sobbing freely now, her arms wrapped around her ribs. He wished she'd wipe the tears off her face, at least.

"I'm sorry," she said, and she turned and fled.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Ryan threw his history book across the room. He wouldn't let this hurt. Severing ties was easy for him. The less he had in the first place, the less he had to lose. He'd learned that lesson a long time ago.

Kirsten shut the front door with a nudge of her hip and leaned back against it with a long sigh of relief. It was only a little after one, and already she could hardly wait for the day to be over. The stack of clothes in her arms started slipping and she clutched them to her chest to keep them from falling to the floor. She blew a strand of hair out of her face and pushed off the door, heading to the stairs.

Guests would begin arriving for the Harbor School fundraiser by seven, and Kirsten had a long afternoon ahead of her. The caterers would be there in just a couple hours, she still had to return a phone call from Dr. Kim, the silent auction needed to be organized and put on display—and Kirsten hadn't even had lunch yet. She trudged up the stairs to Seth's room, where her still-grounded son was supposed to be. He'd probably wrangled permission from Sandy for a couple hours of sailing time. Kirsten pulled Seth's dry-cleaned suit off the top of the pile in her arms and laid it carefully on his bed. At least he'd made the bed that morning.

Kirsten returned downstairs and stopped when she got to the kitchen. Sunlight reflected brilliantly off the pool house windows. Ryan still had all of the shades drawn. He never opened the curtains anymore. She imagined that he needed his privacy more than ever now. She considered leaving his suit in the kitchen, where he could find it himself later on, but she knew he wouldn't be coming into the house any time soon, if at all. Kristen blew at another strand of hair and headed outside.

To her surprise Ryan answered the door when she knocked instead of just telling her to come in or ignoring her. He didn't say anything, but he walked back to the bed and let her enter. He'd spread what looked like every one of his schoolbooks over the comforter, and stacks of papers were arranged in neat piles around an empty spot at the head of the bed. Without looking at Kirsten, Ryan sat back down on that empty spot and picked up a notebook and pencil.

"That's a lot of homework. I guess you got a little behind in your classes."

Ryan glanced quickly at her without moving his head. Kirsten shifted the clothes in her arms.

"I got your suit dry-cleaned, for the party tonight," she said, draping the clothes over the back of an armchair.

"I'm not going."

"What? Why not?"

Ryan's only answer was a shrug, and he continued writing in his notebook. Kirsten leaned on the back of the chair and watched him.

"Ryan, you have to go. It's to raise money for your school."

He didn't even bother with a shrug this time, just turned a page in his notebook and ignored her. Ryan had never been outwardly petulant with her before, and she found herself strangely relieved at his attitude. At least she had experience with this kind of stubborn, typical teenaged behavior.

She carefully cleared a spot on the edge of the bed and sat down, folding her hands in her lap.

"I know it isn't easy, facing everyone after what's happened," she said. Ryan didn't look up, but his pen stopped moving across the page. "But you can't stay locked up in here forever."

"So suddenly you're worried about me being locked up?"

The naked anger in his voice made her flinch. Ryan still wouldn't look at her, but he was gripping his pen so tightly that his knuckles were white. She wasn't prepared for a confrontation. Part of her wanted to leave now, give Ryan his space and let him resolve this anger on his own. Or let Sandy help him later. But she couldn't. This was her problem to fix, her relationship to mend.

"Ryan-"

"Look, forget about it. It's fine. I just don't want to go to the party."

"It's not fine," Kirsten said. "Of course I was worried about you. I was terrified for you. I hated that you had to go back to that place."

Ryan sat up, pushing his notebook off his legs and finally meeting her eyes.

"You let me go," he said, his voice rough. "You could have talked to the cops, you could have called Sandy, you could have done something. But you didn't. You left me there."

"Is that what you think? That I just…abandoned you?"

He shook his head, dismissing her, clearly not wanting to hear anything she intended to say. Kirsten leaned toward him, her own frustration building.

"I did everything I could for you, Ryan," she said.

"Right. That's why I ended up in juvie for 10 days."

"You know that's not my fault," Kirsten said. "I called Sandy when you were arrested and he got to you as soon as he could. I tried talking to the police, but you attacked one of them. You resisted arrest, you-"

"I know what I did," Ryan said.

"Do you? Do you really have any idea what you did to yourself, or to this family?" Kirsten didn't bother trying to contain the rush of words. "You think I turned my back on you, but you turned your back on me, on us, first. We've tried to help you, we've tried to give you everything you need. And you almost threw it all away for a Friday night."

"I never asked you to give me anything."

"You didn't have to," Kirsten said. "You're here right now because we care about you and because we want what's best for you."

"You want what's best for me?" Ryan leaned forward, forcing eye contact. "Sandy's the one who got me out of juvie. Seth came to visit me. But you never even said goodbye at the police station. You couldn't even look at me."

Kirsten opened her mouth automatically to reply, but his words deflated her. She turned away from him instead and stared straight ahead, wishing the curtains were open so she could see outside, so she didn't have to feel so trapped. Had she really not said goodbye? She couldn't remember. She had tried so hard not to remember.

When she looked back at Ryan he was sitting back again, his eyes closed. He was struggling to regain some composure, his lips drawn in a tight line and his jaw clenched so hard Kirsten could see a muscle twitch.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I just thought…" He trailed off and she gave him a moment to finish. She guessed she already knew what he wanted to say. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear it.

But he just shook his head, looking suddenly exhausted. It hurt Kirsten to look at him.

"It's fine," he said. "I'll go to the party. I'll do whatever you want."

She opened her mouth to tell him he didn't have to go, but she wanted him there. She wanted him to leave the pool house and spend time with his friends and relax for just a little while. She couldn't stand keeping him cooped up for another night.

"Thank you," she said

As she closed the pool house door behind her, Kirsten considered what Ryan might have wanted to say. He'd thought he was part of her family. That she would take care of him like she would her own son. That she would protect him.

Kirsten clasped a hand over her mouth. Suddenly she was glad, after all, that the curtains were closed. She didn't want Ryan to see her cry.