throw it on the floor of my closet, and head to my bathroom to scrub off the makeup. I should have known better than to worry about the robe, about the money, about any of it. I should have known better than to hope for one normal moment with my mother.
“I’m going out,” I say, slipping on my sneakers.
“Jean Louise?”
I glare back at her.
“He’s dead, Mom! You know that, right? I know you like his books, and Nana kissed him. But he’s dead. Jack Kerouac, the author? He’s dead. I keep trying to tell you that. Why won’t you listen? He died, like a long, long time ago.”
She turns to me, a faraway look on her face. “Of course I know that. Don’t be silly, Jean Louise.”
As if I am crazy. As if she doesn’t still have the envelopes right there held in her hand.
LATE MAY
TENTH GRADE
I know where I’m going, even if I don’t realize it at first.
But I’m not sure why I’m going to Aubrey’s house, or who I’m hoping to find.
The evening is warm; dusk has settled. Max’s house, the money, all feel like eons ago.
It’s nearly summer. In a few short weeks, it won’t turn dark until close to nine.
At the Anderssons’ driveway, I stop. Only the red Mustang is out front. The other cars could be in the garage.
Part of me hopes Mrs. Andersson is home. She’s not exactly warm, but she’s known me forever. Until that stuff with Ethan, she was as close to a surrogate mother as I’ve ever had.
But that was then and this is now. I’m guessing she knows what happened and hates me for it. Maybe she even told Aubrey and that’s why Aubrey isn’t my friend anymore. But if Aubrey knew about Ethan, she would have said something to me a long time ago.
There’s another possibility: Mrs. Andersson wouldn’t have guessed in a million years that Ethan could like me, or put the moves on me, no matter what she might have seen that night. Her precious son would never have done that. I would never have been worthy.
Even if Mrs. Andersson did know, that was nine months ago, and I’m with Max now, and Ethan has moved on to college. Everything is different. And she’s a grown-up, so she wouldn’t hate me. She would be worried for me. When she sees me, she’ll wrap her arms around me and welcome me in.
Don’t be such a stranger, JL! she’ll say, hugging me. We don’t see you around here nearly enough anymore!
I walk up the front steps, hope filling my chest, trapped like a cloud in a bottle. Despite me knowing better. I ring the bell and in a matter of seconds, Ethan answers.
He’s in shorts, and sneakers, a T-shirt clutched in his hand. Beyond us, his red Wilson tennis bag sits on the hallway chair.
“Hey, Markham!” My heart skips a beat and shadowy thoughts streak through, but if Ethan feels anything but happy to see me, he doesn’t let on.
“Did I interrupt something?” My voice shakes. I feel light-headed and stupid remembering how he knows about Max.
“No, just got back from two sets.” He wipes his bare chest with the T-shirt. “The ’rents are out to dinner. I was about to shower.”
I look away, my cheeks burning. I shouldn’t have come here. Not for him. Not for Aubrey. Not for anyone.
I don’t know what I was thinking.
“Come in,” he says. “Don’t just stand there.” He smiles like everything is fine and normal.
“Is Aubrey home?”
He holds the door wider, but I stay frozen on the stoop, wondering if there’s a way for me to turn around and head back in the direction of home.
“Yeah, she’s here. But don’t just stand there like a stranger; seriously, come in.”
But I feel like a stranger. I pick at a drip of cement on the brickwork that frames the front door, my stomach roiling with hunger, the sour taste of beer rising again. “It’s okay. It’s nice out. I’m good waiting here, if she’ll come down.”
He gives me a funny look. “Suit yourself. I’ll get her.” He heads back inside, toward the center hall stairs, but I call out to stop him.
“Actually, Eth, is she alone?” He turns and studies me, brow furrowed with concern. I wrap my arms tight to my chest and shake my head at him, a plea not to ask questions. I struggle not to let tears erupt. I’m being stupid getting so upset. “It’s no big deal if she