Meet Me at Midnight - Jessica Pennington Page 0,101

I can’t. And just telling Asher to ask me questions seems ridiculous.

So here I am, luring him into it. I had expected him to ask me about my most embarrassing moments. To pry into my questionable dating past, and make me admit embarrassing things like who my first kiss was with. I didn’t expect him to find out that six years ago I was scribbling our initials on rocks like some sort of lovesick psycho. I had completely forgotten about that rock; it should have been scooped up by some little kid years ago.

“I was thirteen, so, you know, keep that in mind.” My cheeks redden and I feel a little sick, but Asher distracts me by staring at my chest. Blatantly. Which is not like him at all. And just as I’m about to call him a pig and remind him where my face is, I realize what he’s actually looking at. My necklace. His necklace. And it feels like we’re on even footing again, me with my love-rock and him with his necklace. And before I can think more deeply about the fact that the L-word just flew through my brain, the waitress arrives with our food. Asher sweeps the stone off of the table and tucks it back into his pocket.

When it’s just the two of us, I swallow a chunk of cherry chicken salad before saying, “Okay, hit me with the rest.”

Asher talks around a bite of his cherry cheeseburger. “You’re not getting off that easy.”

“You think that was easy?”

“I’m not using them all tonight, Sid. I want to keep you on your toes.” He takes a sip of his drink and smiles, but he looks nervous. “I do have one more for you tonight.”

“I used to stuff my mouth full of food when I was little. So full I’d panic and spit it all out.”

He shakes his head at me, looking completely bewildered. “What?”

“Chipmunk. That stupid nickname you and my dad torment me with. You asked me once where it came from.”

“Not it,” Asher says.

I shrug. “Okay, well, I’m deducting a question for that anyway, because you would have gotten around to it.”

“I want to know why it all started.”

I look at him blankly, hoping he doesn’t mean what I’m 99 percent sure he means.

“The pranks, the hating me…” Asher takes a sip of his drink. “Spill.”

THE FIRST SUMMER

Sidney

Once a week or so, Mom and Sylvie like to load us all up and take us to one of the little towns nearby. Quaint, cute, and cozy are words they use to describe the small streets lined with touristy shops. Windows are filled with clothes, and art, and the kind of signs you’d hang in a vacation home, with sayings like HOME IS WHERE THE LAKE IS. It’s not usually too bad—the parents don’t mind if Asher and I wander off on our own. The last trip, the two of us had lunch at one of the little restaurants where the tables on the patio are made of crisscrossed metal, and everything smells like fish from the river nearby. Asher paid for us, and I told myself it wasn’t a date, but it sure felt like one.

But this trip is painful, because Mom didn’t invite Sylvie or Greg, or Asher. It’s just the two of us, popping in and out of shops. Mom is apparently trying to shove a summer’s worth of shopping into her last week. I get a book at the town’s little bookstore, and Mom lets me replenish my paints in the craft department of the megastore we pass on our way back to the lake. When we get back to the house I deposit my things on the kitchen table and stop in my room to see what I can do to tame my hair a little. And then I set out to find Asher.

Asher spends most of his time—well, with me. He’s usually the one to find me, and that realization sends a little bubble of something warm into my chest. We only have four days of vacation left, but it’s not like I can’t see Asher again. Our parents usually get together every couple of months, and while we’re not usually included, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind us hanging out. Maybe they’d get together more often if Asher and I were—were what, dating? Do eighth graders actually long-distance date? It would only be a couple years until one of us could drive, and this isn’t exactly a normal situation, seeing