Meet Me at Midnight - Jessica Pennington Page 0,47

I won’t comprehend any of it—“and then we’ll circle back up to the road.”

“Oh.” That’s a much better idea. A much simpler and safer idea. He doesn’t need to know that.

“Follow me.”

“So you can run ahead and leave me to get snatched?”

“Snatched? By what exactly?” His eyes are wild. “We’re not going to jail tonight, Sidney. I mean, unless you decide to go rogue again.”

“Fine, let’s go. Lead the way, Oh Wise One.”

Asher looks down at my feet. “We can’t just leave it here.” He’s eyeing the squatty little statue still lying on the grass.

“I can’t steal it.”

“Oh, so jacking a boat for your big escape is fine, but tacky yard sculptures is where you draw the line?” He rolls his eyes. “Can you just stop arguing with me for ten seconds?”

I start mouthing one … two … three …

“We’re not stealing it. We’ll bring it back when we can actually put it where it goes.” He waves his hand toward the house. “It was sort of hidden behind that bush, I doubt she’ll even notice it’s gone.”

I squat down and secure Edith under my arm again. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Asher

Along the lake, everyone has a dense crop of trees that divides their property from the next. They’re great for privacy and crap for walking through. My legs are getting torn up as we make our way through the long patch of trees and undergrowth a few houses down from Nadine, cutting our way back to the road.

Maybe it’s the branch that cuts a thin slice along my knee that finally pushes me over the edge. “Just pretend I’m someone else.” I can hear Sidney behind me, swearing under her breath as she probably gets her own cuts and scrapes, but I don’t look at her. I’m tired of the scowl she’s had permanently plastered on her face all night.

“Excuse me?” she says, her voice aimed at my back like an arrow.

“I’ve seen you talk to people like a normal human being. I’ve seen you be nice to Kara, to Caleb, to a random person who checks out your groceries.” My voice is level. “I know you’ve got it in you, somewhere deep down. So when we get back to the house, just pretend I’m not me…” I hold a branch up to pass under it, and let Sidney go ahead of me. She gives me a skeptical side-eye glance as she passes under it. As if I’d snap her with a freaking tree branch. The look on her face makes me want to. “… if that’s what you need, to make this truce work.”

“Is that what you’re doing?”

“I don’t need to.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Sidney … just keep walking.” I let her get a few steps ahead of me. It’s not like we’re getting lost in this twenty-foot stretch of trees. “And stop thinking about it.”

DAY 13

Sidney

Kara sits down on our blanket while I strip off my tank top and shorts. “You couldn’t make Asher do this with you? I thought he was your new swimming buddy.”

We’re at the beach, where the river cuts through the sand and empties into Lake Michigan. Some professional swimmers have those tiny training pools with a fake current that keeps them from going anywhere. I have this. And Kara, because my mom said, “If you’re going to try to strip me of my record, at least don’t drown while doing it.” Not that I’m going to drown, but when currents are involved it’s better safe than sorry.

I don’t want to talk about why I couldn’t ask Asher to come with me. Instead, I tell Kara he was busy, with as much indifference as I can muster, and I jog into the water. Into my happy place. I kick my legs harder, lengthen my strokes, thinking about the movements. If I can overcome the current and push myself forward, maybe I can overcome other things.

When I’m swimming, it’s easy to let my brain go on autopilot. I think about what Asher said. Just pretend I’m someone else. I think back to the first summer, and try to let that Asher into my brain again. The Asher who showed me stars and left me birthday surprises, and built fires with me. I try to convince myself that all the summers since never happened. As the current beats against me, I think about everything we did that summer—all of the boat rides and trail hikes and beach trips. The nights by the bonfire. The newness of having