eyes jump to mine. Her lips press into a stern line. “There will be rules, however.”
Vandy argues, “Emory doesn’t have rules!” and I can see a little part of Mr. Hall’s soul die.
“Emory’s girlfriend doesn’t live next door.”
My dad clears his throat. “Neither will Vandy’s boyfriend.”
I look at him. “What does that mean?”
“I’ve thought a lot about it, and I’ve decided to put the house up for sale.” He bobs his head. “It’s time. You have a lot of problems in that neighborhood, Reyn, and I won’t stand for it anymore.”
I know he’s talking about Fucking Jerry, and I’m just…
I’m shocked.
His eyes search mine. “Are you okay with that? I know they said you needed something familiar, but I think they’re dead wrong.”
It’ll suck, not being next door to Vandy anymore. Not being able to look out my window and into hers. It’ll be hard to let all the other things go, too. The treehouse. The spot between our driveways where the three of us had painted our initials in the wet cement. The sidewalks we used to—very badly—skateboard down. The backyard where my dad had first taught me how to throw and catch a football. So many of our childhood moments live there, suspended in time, and some of them were bad. Some of them were fucking awful. But most of them were good.
Dad’s right, though.
I’ll never be left alone there. It’ll keep chasing me around doggedly, relentlessly. Like with the pills, it’ll only be a matter of time before there’s another misunderstanding. Another infraction. Another dumb mistake made in the service of dodging my reputation. If I’m ever going to become someone bigger than my mistakes, then I’ll need somewhere new to do it.
“I’m okay with it,” I decide.
Vandy’s voice is wounded. “Reyn…”
“Hey, I doubt we’ll be going far.” I nudge her knee with mine. “Plus, there’s still school.” I’m seized by sudden panic, whipping around to look at my dad. “There is still school, right? Collins isn’t booting me, is he? The charges were dropped, but the scholarship is morally conditional and if—”
“I’ll handle Headmaster Collins,” my dad assures me. “I’m sure we can all clear things up.”
Our food arrives just then. We all crowd back into the booths while it fills the table, and I wasn’t lying before. I can absolutely eat my food and Vandy’s. No question.
We’re about halfway through the meal when Vandy suddenly bursts, “I want to get my license.”
Her dad groans. “Can we not take it one thing at a time? You don’t even know how to drive yet.”
Emory smoothly replies. “Yeah she does.”
Vandy looks at him gratefully. “And I’m good at it, too.”
Her mom drops her fork. “Since when?!”
“I taught her,” Emory explains, shrugging. “She’s right, she’s pretty good. I’d rather see her drive herself than be someone else’s passenger. Uh, no offense, Reyn. You know how it is, can’t help it.”
I nod back. “I get it.”
Mr. Hall intervenes, “This is something we can discuss later.”
But I already know from the look on Vandy’s face that she’s going to win. Not because she’ll be eighteen in four months and won’t need their permission for anything, but because I was right. My girl knows what she wants.
And she’s not afraid to fight for it.
Not anymore.
On Wednesday morning, I wait for her at my Jeep, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. Even begging off school and sleeping most of the day yesterday, I’m still working off a massive sleep deficit. It probably didn’t help that I’d been up late, video chatting with Vandy. At this point, sneaking through her window would be a stupid move. Beyond stupid. So we’re resigned to settling.
A sane person would have skipped school again to catch up on sleep, but then that sane person probably isn’t on thin ice with the administration for being arrested over the weekend. That sane person also probably isn’t dating Vandy Hall, because the sight of her in her uniform skirt tends to make me feel the exact opposite of sane. I prod my sore lip with my tongue as I watch her come toward me, my eyes dragging down to catch a glimpse of the skin beneath her hemline. The way her eyebrow quirks when she drops her bookbag on the driveway tells me she knows.
“Hey,” I say, reaching out to tug the waist of her skirt.
She falls into the space between my legs without hesitation, winding her arms around my neck, and if I start every day with her looking