“Ellie, you really should have told me at the beginning of summer. I could have had months to prepare myself,” she says accusingly. “Now I only have two days to figure out how tonotpush them down the stairs the second I see them.”
I love my best friend.
“That’s not necessary, my sweetginger angel,” I coo at her.
The disgusted look on her face has me doubled over in laughter when the waitress finally works up the nerve to bring us our checks.
Abby pushes her check over to me, her face still scrunched up like a toddler throwing a tantrum.
“You’re paying for me.”
“What!? I’m the one whose heart got ripped into shreds,” I yell indignantly.
A honk from the parking lot indicates that her mom is here to pick her up, and when I look out front, I see that Jack’s truck is right behind her.
“Maybe so,” she says, sliding out of the booth. “But if I’m going to catch murder charges on your behalf, the least you can do is buy me dinner.”
I shake my head as she stalks out of the diner. I watch as she shoots an ugly look at Jack, turning her back to her dad’s car so she can flip him the bird without Mr. Wheeler seeing.
Jack’s head whips toward me, looking at me through the front windows with such a bewildered expression that I end up clutching my sides and wheezing with laughter all over again.
I have no idea what’s going to happen on Monday. I don’t know what’s more ominous–the thought of Abby causing a scene by committing what the internationalcourts would probably consider war crimes, or the thought of Griffin trying to find me, begging me to forgive him and give him another chance.
Or even worse–the thought that he might not try at all.
Chapter 15
Griffin
August, Age 16
School starts again tomorrow. The last day of summer is always, in my opinion, the worst day of the year. It’s like the Sunday Scaries times a million.
But I’d gladly give up every school break if it meant I could work things out with Eleanor.
Today was pretty balmy for August in Texas (90 degrees instead of 105), so me and the guys decided to spend our last hours of freedom at the lake.
I thought getting outside would help clear my head–I was dead wrong. To anyonenotwalking around with metaphorical shattered glass in their chest, it would seem peaceful out here. All the “peace” is doing is widening the space for me to be alone with my thoughts.
We always come to the side of the lake where there’s no path, since there’s less foot traffic out this way. Plus we can watch everyone who sits on the bench directly on the other side of the lake without really being noticed.
That’s how we found out our junior high biology teacher was having an affair with the assistant principal–I swear we weren’t the ones who spilled the beans, but wehadto be the first people to know.
That bench is where I’ve been staring absentmindedly ever since Jack and David started arguing about whether or not you could skip a turtle the way you skip rocks.
“It wouldn’t work dude, they’d start flailing their feet and it would drag the momentum.”
“Okay fine, but what if it’s just the shell?”
I look back over to see Jack’s brow furrowing in serious contemplation while David looks at him expectantly, eyebrows raised, “I told you so” just itching to fly out of his mouth.
“Okay, I’ll concede that. I bet you could skip a turtle shell without the turtle in it.”
Jack crosses his arms with a sour look while David whoops in victory. Shaking my head at the buffoons I call best friends, I turn my attention back to the bench and my blood runs cold.
I see the wild mop of red curls first, distinctive enough to know exactly who they belong to.
Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I try to compose myself before I inevitably see her counterpart.
