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Chad, who is clearly pretending not to notice Robby sitting there, nods toward the other room. “Hey, look. I think I see your lady friends from the clothing store over there. Y’know, the ones who were tryin’ to hide you. Shoot, is that Mindy I see tryin’ to feed Joel somethin’ weird? Wanna go and—?”
His (vain) efforts to escape an awkward situation are thwarted anyway when Vanessa catches sight of me, stops midsentence, and calls out, “Lance! Oh, hi! Hi!”
Despite Chad’s inward groan—which only I hear—I give her a smile from halfway across the room and nod her way.
“Come on over! Don’t be shy. Hey, you and you, make room,” she says to her friends, who promptly scoot over on the couch. “I want to talk with you! Come on over here, Lance!” She gently pats the cushion next to her.
Feeling somewhat obligated beyond my comfort level—and as it is her and her mother’s reunion after-party and it’d be rude not to acknowledge that in some way—I graciously oblige her and take a seat next to her on the white couch. I’m pleasantly surprised (and annoyed) by how comfortable it is. This cushion feels like I’m sitting on a fluffy cloud plucked straight from a heavenly cotton ball in the sky.
“This is a really great party,” I tell her first and foremost. “It’s a lovely way to bring together the whole town.”
“Oh, enough of that, enough,” she says with a bubbly laugh, gently swatting my thigh. “I’ve heard so much about you! Is it true you’re best friends with Heidi Klum?”
Goodness, the rumor mill of Spruce. “I met her at a party … once.”
Chad lingers a bit of a distance away, bitterly nursing his glass of champagne. Seconds later, Kirk and his wife Bonnie float up to him and strike up a conversation. Despite Chad appearing to be put at ease by their arrival, he keeps sneaking glances my way.
I give him a flat-lipped smile.
He returns it with one of his own.
“Sorry, I can’t help but notice that you came here with Chad Landry,” says Vanessa. “Weren’t you two at each other’s throats in high school? I thought he harassed you pretty badly.”
Robby shifts uncomfortably in his seat, takes a sip from his glass, then eyes me.
I deliver my answer while looking straight into Robby’s stony eyes. “He wasn’t alone in the harassing.”
Robby picks up on my words swiftly. “Hey, now.” He lifts a hand. “I never approved of the way Chad and the boys treated you. I always thought it was wrong. I even voiced my opinion on more than one occasion and got a lot of flak from the guys.”
Vanessa, who seems immune to anything emotional, simply continues to address me as if Robby never spoke. “Have you and Chad come to terms, then? I wasn’t sure at the reunion. You two seemed strained when I saw you talking at the memories and photographs tables, the ones by the wall. Then it nearly looked like he was dragging you to his table where you sat together, and I wasn’t sure if you were okay with it, from the look on your face. Then you two went off together, alone.”
I blink.
There’s a reason she was our valedictorian. The girl is smart, sharply observant, and unsettlingly keen.
Very unsettlingly keen. “We mended fences,” I reply vaguely.
“Good thing you two did,” says Robby, inserting himself again, “because there was a time I wouldn’t even talk to that guy, what with the way he was mistreatin’ you in front of everyone and all that.”
I look at Robby. “I’m guessing that ‘time’ wasn’t when you guys went to prom together as a bunch of buddies?”
Robby’s face tightens.
Vanessa puts a hand on my thigh. “I can’t begin to imagine what you went through, and I’m only sorry the efforts to end all bullying at Spruce High didn’t happen sooner. Just a few years ago, there was a coalition formed. What’s it called?” she asks one of her friends, then snaps her fingers and answers herself. “Spruce Teens Against Bullying. They even wanted to make it a holiday, but the mayor here is a bit of a pushover and didn’t approve it. He’s too convinced the town is just perfect all the time. It’s no wonder my mother’s thinking of running against him at the next election.”
“Who even is the mayor?” asks one of her friends, a curly-haired young woman I only half-recognize. No one answers.
“Spruce Teens … Against Bullying …?” I repeat back to her.
Vanessa nods. “That’s it.”
“So the acronym of an anti-bullying group is … STAB?”
Everyone around the couch collectively stares back at me, as if just now noticing this.
Vanessa, calm as ever, replies with: “Well, I suppose fixing that possible oversight can be the first item on my mother’s list of to-dos when she is elected mayor of Spruce.” To that, her friends let out a ringing trill of tension-breaking laughter and giggles.
