I waste an hour and a half driving around Stoneybrook searching for Anna Stevenson. It wouldn't have been a waste had I found her, or had I had any chance of finding her. But she was long gone before I even retrieved my car keys from my bedroom. The story of Anna's flight is revealed to me by Mrs. Stevenson, who is sitting on her front steps when I pull into my driveway, having given up on ever finding Anna. Mrs. Stevenson's eyes are red-rimmed and puffy, her hair somewhat disheveled. She's waiting on the steps for Abby. Or maybe for Anna to return. I'm not really sure and she doesn't say.
I didn't have a real chance at finding Anna because while I was sitting frozen on the Stevenson's couch, watching Mrs. Stevenson cry, Anna was tearing out of my house, suitcase in hand, intending to go who knows where. As luck would have it, Mrs. Papadakis was backing out her driveway at that moment. Anna jumped in the backseat and shrieked at Mrs. Papadakis to drive her to the bus station. And for whatever reason, Mrs. Papadakis complied. Mrs. Papadakis regretted it once she returned to McLelland and walked straight across the street to tell Mrs. Stevenson what happened. Of course, by then it was too late. Anna's gone. Destination? New Haven, I hope.
Mrs. Stevenson's still sitting on the front steps when I return to my house. I suppose she is waiting for Abby then. I don't know what to do with myself when I'm in the quiet of my own home. Tiffany's still here. I hear her footsteps on the ceiling. I gather my books from the dining room and carry them upstairs. I'm disappointed to see I don't have any new messages on the answering machine. Not from Anna or Wes. It unsettles me. What if Anna does something crazy? She didn't exactly seem in her right mind when she ran out the door. I wonder if that's how I looked in New York when I hurled the vase at Wes. Completely out of control. Not a pretty sight. I call Anna's dorm, but the girl who answers hasn't seen Anna since this morning. She checks Anna's room, but the door's locked and the inside silent. I didn't really expect her to be there yet. It's an hour and a half drive to New Haven by car. The bus will take even longer.
I walk across the hall and press my ear against Tiffany's door. She's talking on the telephone, so I don't bother her. I go back to my room and lay on the bed with my phone resting on my stomach. I dial Wes' number and reach the answering machine. I'm a bit dismayed. He didn't say he'd be going out. Why didn't he call and tell me?
"This is Shannon," I say to the machine. "Where are you? I'm home now. Things didn't go so well with my friend. She's already left town. I need to talk to you. Please call me back." I try not to sound irritated. He's always so interested in where I am and what I'm doing. Well, I'd like to know the same.
I should finish my homework, but instead, I stay on the bed and close my eyes. My mind races, thinking of Anna and Mrs. Stevenson, worrying, and thinking of Wes, and worrying. Across the hall, Tiffany's switched on her stereo and the music shakes the walls. I worry about her, too. In all that worry, my stomach twists into knots, but somehow, I fall asleep. When I open my eyes again, the sky outside my window has darkened and Maria's standing over me, watching me sleep.
"What are you doing?" I ask, groggily.
"It's dinnertime," Maria informs me. "You said we'd go out."
I rub the corners of my eyes and sit up. "I know, I know. But next time, wake me like a normal person. Standing over someone and staring is creepy, Maria."
"You promised we'd go to Bellair's, too," Maria reminds me.
"Okay, okay," I say, rolling out of bed. I check the answering machine, on the off chance I didn't hear the phone ring. No messages. "Is Tiffany still home?" I ask Maria.
"She's in her room."
"Okay. Tell her we're going to dinner. She needs to come with us. I don't want her spending the entire weekend hiding in her bedroom. Decide where you want to eat and I'll get ready."
Maria nods and spins around and goes across the hall to pound on Tiffany's bedroom door. Tiffany doesn't answer, but Maria charges inside anyway. I almost feel bad for Tiffany that I removed her locking doorknob. I close my bedroom door and change out of the clothes I slept in. Then I dial the Stevenson's phone number, but receive a busy signal. Maybe Mrs. Stevenson's on the phone with Anna. Maybe they're working things out. I dial the number to Anna's dorm. I receive another busy signal and fill with a surge of false hope.
I brush my hair and fix my make-up. Across the hall, I hear Tiffany and Maria arguing. I ignore them. Whatever it is, they can fight it out amongst themselves. I'm not in the mood. I grab a coat and quickly stuff my wallet and cosmetics bag into a small purse. Before I leave, I dial Wes' number. The phone rings four times then the machine picks up. Sighing, I hang up. Where is he?
"Time to go," I announce, swinging around the doorway into Tiffany's room. Tiffany's sitting on the bed, grumbling and shoving her feet into grubby sneakers. She's wearing pink sweatpants and a long-sleeved SDS phys ed shirt. I'm not convinced she's brushed her hair today.
But I bite my tongue and don't say anything. Well, nothing except, "Please brush your teeth real quick."
Tiffany compromises by going into the bathroom and gargling with mouthwash. While she's spitting it out in the sink, I spray her with Maria's blackberries 'n' cream body spray that's sitting out.
"Where are we going?" I ask Maria when we're in the car.
Maria latches her seatbelt. "Bellair's first. I already know what I want you to buy me."
"All right."
When we reach Bellair's, Tiffany refuses to leave the car. So, I lock her in and leave her sitting in the dark. I'm not going to drag her out of the backseat and cause a big scene. The store is much busier than when I came with Lindsey and Sally since it's a Saturday night. Maria leads me straight to the cosmetics section.
"Please don't tell me you want a beret with an ostrich feather," I tell her, eyeing the nearby hat display.
Maria purses her lips. "Of course not," she says, seriously. "I've decided it's time to start wearing make-up. So, please buy me some."
I raise an eyebrow. "You want to wear make-up? Have you discussed this with Mom?"
"No. Why would I? I'm asking you."
I stare at Maria, silently, for a moment. "All right," I finally say. "We'll buy you some make-up." After all, I started wearing make-up when I was twelve and Tiffany started when she was only eleven.
I steer Maria to the cosmetics counter of my preferred brand. Maria hops onto the stool and sits very still while the salesgirl matches her complexion. Maria looks like someone new when the salesgirl finishes. She could easily pass for fifteen. Maybe sixteen. It makes me uneasy, seeing my littlest sister in full make-up, looking much too old. But I take out my checkbook and pay for tubes of mascara and eyeliner, three eye shadows, and two lipsticks. Maria seems very pleased, which I suppose is what's important.
Tiffany's turned the light on inside the car when Maria and I return. She's hunched over in the backseat, scribbling furiously on the back of a receipt.
"What are you doing?" I ask her, as I climb into the car.
"Making a list of possible punishments for Tyler," she answers, not looking up.
"Oh. Okay," I reply and start the car. Maybe it'll make her feel better. "Where are we eating, Maria?"
"Pizza Express."
I sigh. "On a Saturday night?" I reply. Pizza Express is a popular weekend hang out. Kristy, Abby, and I have gone on Saturday nights before and it's a zoo. "You don't want to go somewhere else? Somewhere less crowded?"
"No."
I sigh and back out of the parking spot. I ease the car onto Essex and turn in the direction of Pizza Express. There are no free spaces outside the restaurant and as we roll by, I see the inside is packed. I find a spot three store fronts down, which isn't too bad. At least for a weekend night. Maria and I walk together on the sidewalk with Tiffany trailing behind us at a leisurely pace. We squeeze through the entrance, which is crowded with kids waiting for a free table. Kristy and Mary Anne are standing near the front with her coats draped over their arms.
"Hi!" I shout over the all the noise.
Kristy waves. "Hey! Come up here with us!" she calls.
Tiffany, Maria, and I push our way through a group of kids to join Kristy and Mary Anne. I'm surprised to see they're still together. That must have been some fight Mary Anne had with Stacey McGill.
"We can all get a table together," Kristy tells us when we reach them. She looks at Tiffany and wrinkles her nose. "Did you forget to get dressed today?" she asks.
"Who are you to lecture about fashion?" Tiffany snaps.
Kristy holds up her hands. "Sorry, sorry," she says, then shoots me a questioning look, which I ignore.
"Where's Abby?" I ask.
Kristy shrugs. "When we got back this afternoon, Mrs. Stevenson was waiting in our living room with Mom and Watson. She told Abby they had to go home and discuss something important. Mary Anne and I went over there before coming here, but no one answered the door. The lights were on. Did something happen? Where's Anna?"
Dear Lord. Is Mrs. Stevenson telling Abby? Poor Abby.
"I don't know," I tell Kristy and shrug, like I really don't have any idea.
Kristy looks a little suspicious, but Mary Anne distracts her by grabbing her arm. "Kristy, a free booth! Go get it!" she cries and gives Kristy a small shove.
Kristy takes off across the dining room, swooping down into the booth before the prior occupants have even gathered all their belongings. The rest of us follow and squeeze into the booth. Mary Anne and I are on the ends, across from each other with Tiffany, Maria, and Kristy squished between us.
Kristy nudges Mary Anne with her elbow. "This is quite the honor, Mary Anne. We have the privilege of hanging out with Shannon Kilbourne two days in a row. I'm going home and writing about this in my diary!"
Mary Anne glances up from her menu and smiles weakly. At least she doesn't look cranky anymore.
"I have a lot of homework," I tell Kristy, testily, although deep down I feel bad. Kristy, Abby, and I used to be such a tight group. I spent all my free time at Kristy's. But we're growing up and things change. Kristy needs to accept that.
"Let's get the meat lovers pizza," Mary Anne suggests, closing her menu. "No vegetables!"
I don't have a preference and neither does anyone else. So that's what we order, along with a pitcher of root beer. When our waitress leaves, Kristy takes a few quarters out of her pocket and holds them out to Mary Anne.
"Mary Anne, will you slide out and put something on the jukebox?" she asks. "No Nicky Cash!"
"Sure," Mary Anne replies, taking the money. She slides out of the booth and crosses to the jukebox.
When she's out of earshot, Kristy leans forward and hisses, "She won't leave my house!"
I'm staring at Tiffany, who's begun scribbling on a napkin with her hand cupped around it, so no one can read what she's writing. I look away, focusing on Kristy. "What do you mean she won't leave?" I ask.
"I mean, she refuses to go home! Her stepmom came over at eleven o' clock last night, completely ticked off because Mary Anne didn't tell her where she was. She's supposed to be grounded. They got in this huge argument and Mary Anne refused to leave. She actually wrapped her arms around the banister, like Sharon was going to drag her out of the house! Then Sharon started yelling at her and woke up Emily Michelle and David Michael. Watson finally calmed Sharon down and convinced her to leave Mary Anne with us. And I don't think Mary Anne plans to leave any time soon."
My eyes flick over to Mary Anne, who's pressing in her selections on the jukebox. I don't blame her. I wouldn't leave the Thomas-Brewers either, if given the chance.
"Yeah, so we got a lot done today," Kristy says, loudly, as Mary Anne approaches us. A Nicky Cash love song has just started, which makes me laugh and Kristy grimace. Mary Anne slides back into the booth and Kristy continues, "We've almost finished all our research. I still have to find a flight attendant to interview about my future career though." Kristy rolls her eyes. "And Sally still has to find a plumber. Can you believe we spent all day with Sally White? That girl is truly vile." Kristy shudders.
"She's calling me Pigtails" Mary Anne says, pulling on one of the pigtails hanging over the front of her shoulder.
"I told Mary Anne not to give Sally the satisfaction of taking them out," Kristy says and pats Mary Anne's hand. "We invited Lindsey for pizza, too," Kristy tells me. "But her grandparents wouldn't let her come. They said she was gone all day and needed to come home. You should have heard her! Ranting and raving, on and on." Kristy pauses and looks at me, gravely. "You know what it reminded me of?"
"What?" I ask, although I already know exactly what she's going to say.
"That time in tenth grade when Lindsey became convinced, for whatever crazy reason, that I was trying to steal her position on the softball team. I'm a short stop! I don't want to play first base. And I didn't want her slot in the batting line up either. And then, do you remember what happened?" Kristy pauses again and watches me. "She hit me with a bat!"
"Not that hard."
"I had to get x-rays!"
"Because Watson insisted," I reply. I stare at my fingernails, thinking. Lindsey really didn't hit Kristy that hard. Lindsey's a power hitter. If she'd really wanted to break something, she would have. And that was a long time ago. Lindsey's been much better since then. Mostly. "She's on new medication. She's not going to hit anyone with a bat again."
Mary Anne pours a glass of root beer from the pitcher the waitress just set on the table. She passes it down to Maria and begins pouring another. "Why exactly is she on medication?" Mary Anne asks.
Kristy and I look at each other. We shrug. "We've never asked," I explain.
"I'm not sure I want to know," Kristy says. "Whatever the reason, her grandparents certainly smoothed the whole bat incident over with Mom and Watson pretty quickly."
"Lindsey Dupree is psychotic," Tiffany says, not looking up from her napkin.
"She is not," I snap.
"Building off the infamous bat incident," Tiffany starts, "do you remember that time in middle school when she spent the night and heard voices in the kitchen?"
Kristy mouth drops open. "I've never heard this!" she screeches.
I point my finger at Tiffany. "That was one time and it was three o' clock in the morning. She was half-asleep!"
Tiffany finally looks up and rolls her eyes at me. Then she returns to her napkin, chewing on the end of her pen.
Kristy stares at me, hard. Beside her, Mary Anne appears slightly disturbed.
"What did the voices say?" Kristy wants to know.
"I don't remember," I reply, irritably. And I really don't. That was years ago. Seventh grade, I think. And we were all half-asleep when Lindsey freaked out and broke the fruit bowl in the kitchen. She told us she heard someone whispering while she stood at the sink, filling a glass of water. Maybe she never told us what the voice said. It was a long time ago. "Ask Lindsey," I tell Kristy.
"And get hit with another bat?"
The waitress brings our pizza then and we dig in. Kristy doesn't say anything else about Lindsey, which I'm thankful for. I don't like discussing her problems in front of other people, not even Tiffany and Maria. And Mary Anne barely knows Lindsey. I don't want her getting the wrong impression. I sprinkle parmesan on my slice and concentrate on eating. Kristy makes Maria do a pizza toast with her, which Maria finds hilarious. I've just bitten into my second slice when I begin to choke.
Wes just walked through the door.
There's a coldness churning in my stomach. I might throw up. Instead, I duck underneath the table.
"Get down!" I hiss. "Everyone get down!"
Kristy and Mary Anne's heads appear under the table. "What are you doing?" Kristy demands.
"I just...I...Sally White just walked in!"
Kristy and Mary Anne slide underneath the table so quickly that both hit their heads on the table top.
I tug on Tiffany's pant leg. "Get down!" I order. "Get under the table!"
Slowly, Tiffany and Maria come underneath the table. "I didn't see Sally White," Tiffany tells me.
"I...I'm sure I saw her," I lie. "Let me check." I poke my head out from under the table to check on Wes. He's leaning against the take-out counter, chatting with a couple middle school boys. I duck back under the table and turn, as best as I can, back to everyone else. We're very cramped underneath the table. "I'm pretty sure it's her. We don't want to take any chances. She's at the take-out counter. She'll be gone soon. We just need to wait her out."
Mary Anne looks confused. "Kristy, didn't Sally say her parents were having a cocktail party tonight?"
"Yeah, but I wouldn't put it passed Sally to ditch out on them. She's probably been combing the streets, searching for us! I hope Mom or Watson didn't tell her we'd be here."
A wave of guilt washes over me. I wish I could tell Kristy the truth. But she'd never understand. Just like Elizabeth and Janet. I poke my head out again, very discreetly. Wes is paying the cashier. There are two large pizza boxes on the counter in front of him. I narrow my eyes. What is he doing? Who is all that pizza for? There's a sinking panic in my stomach. Maybe he has another girlfriend! A girlfriend who really, really likes pizza.
"This is so dumb," Maria tells me.
Wes gathers the boxes and slides some money in the tip jar. He turns and starts toward the exit. The boys he was talking to earlier call goodbye to him. He opens the door. I'm almost in the clear.
Three pairs of shoes appear in front of my face, stopping beside our table. Two pairs of white tennis shoes and a pair of red sneakers covered in pink lace and Valentine's Day conversation hearts.
"Hello, Claudia," I say to the shoes.
Claudia Kishi, Erica Blumberg, and their strange blonde-haired friend's heads appear underneath the table.
"You don't have to scrape the gum from under the table," the blonde tells us. "You can buy a pack from the vending machine."
"Shh!" Kristy hisses. "We're hiding from someone!"
"Are you in second grade?" Erica asks, pushing her hair out of her eyes.
"Kristy, you're hiding under a table in a pizza joint," Claudia points out. "This is...sad."
Kristy scowls.
I feel my cheeks grow warm. This is so immature. I bet everyone's talking about us. "Um...she's gone. We can get up again," I announce, climbing out from under the table.
"Thank God," Tiffany grunts.
Kristy and Mary Anne's cheeks are pink, too. Both sit up very straight, trying to regain a little dignity after sitting plastered against the filthy Pizza Express floor.
"Hello, Erica, Lauren, Claudia," Kristy says , coolly. I guess she's still upset with Claudia for vomiting in her car.
"Hi, Claudia," Mary Anne echoes, but ignores the other girls.
"Where's Abby?" Claudia asks us. "I have some business to discuss with her."
"Another party to get drunk at?" Kristy asks. "Who's going to get alcohol poisoning this time?"
"Cokie was already drunk," Mary Anne snaps. "You know that."
Kristy purses her lips. "I know. But still, Claudia's track record..."
Claudia rolls her eyes and turns to me. "Abby told me Anna was coming into town this weekend. Where is she? With Abby?"
I shift, uncomfortably, and begin picking at my slice of pizza. Then I remember my hands were all over the floor and drop them to my lap. "I guess she changed her mind," I lie.
"Oh, that's too bad," says Lauren. She straightens her purple and white-checked headband and continues, "We were in orchestra together. I used to play the trombone. You should tell her to call me."
"Yes, I'll do that," I say, dismissively.
There's an awkward silence. Kristy and Mary Anne takes long sips of their sodas. Erica picks some lint off her teal-colored corduroy jacket. It's very cute. I wonder where she bought it. I bet Wes would like me in it. I'm about to ask where she bought it when Claudia picks up a slice of our pizza and bites into it, then while chewing asks Tiffany, "What are you writing?"
Tiffany doesn't look up. "I'm plotting revenge on my ex-boyfriend," she explains.
"Does he have a car?" Lauren asks.
"Oh, time to go!" Erica cries, hooking her arm through Lauren's and pulling her away.
"Yes, it is time to go," Lauren agrees as she's dragged off. "I have to go home and feed my cat."
Claudia takes a drink of Mary Anne's root beer. "See you later," she says and follows after Erica and Lauren, still eating our pizza.
"Claudia," Kristy sighs, shaking her head.
"That blonde girl's weird," I tell them.
"She and Erica fraternize with the enemy," Mary Anne says, bitterly. "Stacey."
Okay.
"Why don't you guys go wash your hands," I suggest. "Tiffany and I will save the table."
Mary Anne, Kristy, and Maria slide out of the booth and head toward the bathroom. I watch them disappear down the hallway. Then I turn to Tiffany and pluck the pen out of her hand.
"You don't need to exact revenge on Tyler. The best revenge is living well."
Tiffany grabs the pen back. "Okay, yeah, thanks, Grandma Kilbourne," she says, sarcastically. Grandma Kilbourne died long before we were born. It's not like I'm quoting her.
"Keying his car or spreading rumors about him won't solve anything, Tiffany," I tell her, seriously. "And it won't make you feel any better. Tyler hurt you and you can't avenge that. You'll hurt for awhile, but in the end, you must move on. Or else you're only going to cause more problems for yourself. Trust me, punishing him for hurting you won't help."
Tiffany grunts.
When the others return, I go and wash my hands. Tiffany doesn't come. She's stopped writing finally after filling two napkins. I can't imagine what she was writing out. She stuffs the napkins into the pocket of her coat and doesn't take them out again. She spends the rest of the time staring into space, glowering at nothing. Our pizza has grown cold. The rest of us pick at it, making small talk. Kristy and Maria do most of the talking. Mary Anne listens. I half-listen, but my mind is on other things, other people.
My parents are home when Tiffany, Maria, and I get back. Dad's locked in his study. As we pass by the french doors, I see him sitting at his desk with a tumbler in front of him, turning the pages of one of his enormous law books. Upstairs, Mom's in their bedroom, talking loudly on the phone and laughing. Tiffany, Maria, and I slip into our own rooms and shut the doors.
There are no new messages. Not from Anna. Not from Wes. I sit on my bed with the phone in my lap, staring down at it and worrying. What if something's happened to Anna? I dial the Stevenson's house. The answering machine picks up after the second ring, but I don't leave a message. I dial the number of Anna's dorm, but only reach another busy signal. Then I call Wes.
"Hello, Wes? This is Shannon," I say to the machine when it picks up. "Where are you? Why haven't you called me? I'm home again. Call me whenever you get in."
I hang up.
The phone rings immediately, causing me to startle. I take a breath and pick up the receiver.
"Hello?" I answer.
"Shannon?"
"Anna!" I exclaim, gripping the phone tight. "Anna! Where are you? I looked everywhere for you! Are you all right?"
There's a long silence. "Of course I'm not all right," she finally answers, flatly. "Didn't you hear those lies my mother told?"
I bite my lip. I never considered how this conversation would go. "Anna..." I start, gently. "I don't think they were lies. I...I believe your mother. I think she's telling the truth."
Silence.
"Where are you, Anna?"
"I'm in Danbury at Adelaide's. I took the bus here. My mother's already tracked me down, so you don't have to worry about tattling to her."
"I wouldn't do that," I protest, although, honestly, I know I would.
"I just wanted to let you know I'm okay," Anna tells me. Her voice is still flat, but she doesn't sound angry. "And I'm not coming home for Thanksgiving. I'm coming back to Danbury with Adelaide, then we're going to Long Island. We're going to find Michael Bergman."
I nearly drop the phone. "What?" I shriek.
"I need the truth and Dad's not alive to tell it to me. Michael Bergman's the only other person who really knows."
"Are you insane?" I demand. "What does Adelaide think of this? Put her on the phone!"
"No. You don't need to talk to her."
There's a scuffling on the other end, like someone's grabbed the phone. I hear muffled voices arguing, then a door slam.
The next voice I hear is high and squeaky. "Anna is totally off her rocker!" Adelaide shouts at me. "I don't know what's happened to my clear-minded, sensible roommate. I've shoved her into the hall and locked the door, so she can't take the phone away. She's totally lost her head. I don't know what to do with her!"
I bite my lip. I don't know either. "Are you really going to Long Island next weekend?" I ask.
"Not if I can help it!"
"Anna will calm down in a few days," I assure Adelaide. "She isn't thinking clearly. She learned some things today that she can't accept yet." I know Anna and Abby idolize their dad. It's much easier to villainize their mother, who is still alive and not the most attentive parent. "She told you everything?" I ask.
"Some version of it."
I snort. I wonder what Anna left out and glossed over. "I believe Mrs. Stevenson," I tell Adelaide. "She made mistakes and so did Mr. Stevenson. Not anyone's completely at fault."
"I figured."
"Keep an eye on Anna. Promise me," I say. "Don't let her do anything stupid."
"I won't."
We talk awhile longer until Anna begins pounding on Adelaide's bedroom door. Then we hang up. I walk downstairs and stare out the dining room window at the Stevenson's house. It's dark. Not unusual. But maybe tonight it is. Where are Abby and Mrs. Stevenson? Maybe Mrs. Stevenson's on her way to Danbury. Maybe she'll bring Anna back. I fold my arms across my chest and continue staring. Then I angle my body, so I can see down the street to the Thomas-Brewers'. Almost all their lights are on. I'm sure their house is noisy and chaotic like always. I wonder what they're doing. But no way am I walking down there to find out.
Upstairs, the shower turns on. By the loud banging of the cabinet doors, I know it's Tiffany. Good. She'll take a shower, get cleaned up, and feel more like her old self. Finally, I tear myself away from the window and return to my bedroom. I take out the book we're reading in World lit, a collection of short stories by Anton Chekhov. I've just finished the first story when the phone rings. I jump quickly to answer it.
"Hello!"
"Hello, Shannon?" Wes answers.
"Where have you been?" I demand.
There's a short pause. "I was out. You told me you'd be with your friend all day. I've been gone most of the day. I just now got home and listened to your messages. You sound...irritated."
"Where were you? Who were you with?"
There's another short pause. "I was at school for a couple hours. I'd forgotten Friday's tests there. I graded the tests, then went over to Mark's house. Mark, my roommate from Stoneybrook U.? His wife is out of town and he invited a couple of us over. Is that...okay?" Wes asks, unsurely.
I realize how accusatory I sound. I'm acting crazy again. I'm going to scare him off, just like I did in New York. I manage to control my tone. "Of course that's okay. I was just worried," I tell him.
"Well, next time I'll call and tell you where I'm going then. As long as you do the same."
"Of course. I'm glad you care."
"Well, you are my girlfriend," Wes says. "So, what happened with your friend? Why did she already leave?"
"It's a long story," I say with a sigh. I should never have doubted him. I must learn to control myself better. "But she isn't coming home for Thanksgiving, so that means I'll be able to go to your parents' house." I decided that earlier while crouched beneath the table at Pizza Express. Wes needs to know I'm as committed to this relationship as he is.
"Really? That's great, Shannon. My parents will be so excited to meet you."
"I'm excited to meet them," I reply, which is partially true. I'd like to meet Wes' parents, but I don't want them telling other people about me. That's what parents do. They talk about what their kids are doing and who they're dating. Normal parents, at least. "What are you doing now?" I ask Wes. "I've had a terrible day and I need to see you."
"I'm not doing anything. Come over."
So I do.