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“Theonething?” I fake offense.
“Maybe if you got a Cubs hat, it would go up to two.”
I tug the brim of my trusty Yankees ball cap. “Never.”
Sutton smiles.
Ellie clears her throat. “Shouldn’t we get going?”
Ellie always interrupts our conversations in some way. And Sutton and I always let her. I allow it because I know she’s not just being paranoid. I’m guessing Sutton is trying to take the path of least resistance. In total, she spends more time around Ellie than I do, seeing as they live together.
“Yeah.” I stick a Florence + the Machine CD in the car’s player before I start driving.
Ellie is juggling eating her turnover and drinking from her thermos of coffee. I don’t look back to see what Sutton is doing. What expression she’s wearing as “Dog Days Are Over” plays through the speakers.
I’m trying to run. To leave my longing and love behind.
I want to survive.
But I want her more.
The drive to Brookfield High from the Everett farm only takes ten minutes. It’s impossible to drive for more than twenty and stay within the town limits.
Ellie is out of the car as soon as we park, heading for the student council meeting she has first period on Mondays and refuses to ever be late for.
I pull the key out of the ignition and fiddle with the keychain. Stall. There’s no sound of activity from the backseat.
“Who ended it?”
“Does it matter?”
Yes. “No.”
Sutton sighs. “I did. I was sick of…”
“Sick of what?”
“I don’t know…sick of pretending, I guess. I should have ended things with him before I moved here.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Enough was changing already. And…I don’t know. I wasn’t sure.”
I look at her in the mirror again. She’s playing with a loose thread of her jeans, eyes downcast.
“Wasn’t sure what?” I prompt.
“Wasn’t sure it was over.”
“When were you sure?”
“You know when,” she says quietly.
“No,Idon’t know. You’ve avoided me since the wedding. We’ve barely talked in weeks.”
She doesn’t deny it. “Probably that night you told me about your dad. Maybe before then. I don’t know.”
I don’t miss howI don’t knowis a recurring phrase in this conversation. But I think it’s because shedoesknow, same as me.
“That…that wasmonthsago. Why—how—why didn’t you say anything?”
“Stop asking me questions you know the answers to! You weren’t supposed to…I didn’t know Ellie would say anything.”
“June…”
“No. No! Don’t call me that and stop looking at me like that, and—just stop.”
She climbs out of the car, slams the door shut, and walks away.
