Meet Me at Midnight - Jessica Pennington Page 0,48

just met each other.

Asher told me to stop thinking about it, but maybe what I really need to do is stop remembering. I need to go back to the first day of that first summer together, and start over. Or maybe it’s the last week of that first summer that I need to redo.

And I will. The water is getting colder, and I stroke and kick, and kick and stroke, feeling the burn in my muscles. I’ll give Asher one chance. One. And if he turns the tables on me—when he turns the tables on me—I’ll strike even harder. But for now, I’ll show Asher just how wrong he is about me. I can be so much nicer than he could ever hope to be.

Asher

I’m not sure why being pissed at Sidney finally motivates me to start my letter to Mr. Ockler, but it does. Maybe because I need something to take my mind off of how horribly this whole truce is going. Why is it so difficult for Sidney to just treat me like a normal person? My phone is lying on the bed in front of me, and I stare at the blank note screen. From the bathroom door, I can hear Sidney getting ready. The faucet going on and off, and things clinking against the counter. I’d love to know what takes her so long in there. Maybe she just really likes spending time in the bathroom.

I tap the yellow screen and think of all of the things my dad told me to tell Mr. Ockler. How excited I am about this opportunity (that my dad got for me), and why I’d be great as a financial planner (because people like me). You would think being a financial planner had more to do with being great with numbers, but the hardest part of it is actually sales. Building up a client base, going door-to-door meeting people and letting them know your services are available, getting people to give you control of their money. Dad loves to talk about how he spent the first eighteen months of his career walking door-to-door—scorching heat, pelting rain, the coldest snow in all of Michigan—building up a client base before his company would let him open a new office. How the first five years, he worked nonstop. The funny thing is that he thinks he doesn’t anymore, because he can work remotely, but he’s always on his phone or his laptop. He doesn’t let a notification go unnoticed. Same job, different office, if you ask me.

Dear Mr. Ockler,

I’m really excited to work with you. I’d be a great financial advisor because, while I have zero interest in money or numbers or the stock market, people always like me. They probably wouldn’t mind me standing on their porch and trying to sell them something. My dad says if I don’t write this letter he’s going to stop feeding me.

I laugh at my own joke, and the noise coming from the bathroom stops. I must sound like a lunatic. The thought of it makes me laugh again. Let Sidney be freaked out and think she’s sharing a bathroom with some sort of weirdo. If she’s going to treat me like one, I might as well lean into it.

Dear Mr. Ockler,

I’m beyond thrilled to work with you. I’d be a great financial advisor because I’ve had a ton of experience planning and plotting. Not with money, mostly with condiments, and sugary beverages, and things that smell funny. But still. I’ve seen movies and I know every good business has a rival. You’ll be glad you have me on the team when it’s time to fill a lobby water cooler with fish, or draw something inappropriate on an office window with shaving cream.

I imagine old Mr. Ockler dressed in black, spraying shaving cream on office windows, and laugh so hard my head finally slumps against the bed, muffling it. And I swear I hear a soft chuckle come from the bathroom. But maybe it was just my imagination.

DAY 14

Asher

There’s exactly twenty-six hours of radio silence between Sidney and me after we make our harrowing escape from Nadine’s yard. Not a word as she got into my car at The Little Store. A silent drive back to the house. Yesterday, she was gone all morning, and then painted her rocks through the afternoon. Before dinner she disappeared with what looked to be a tote bag of those same rocks, telling her mom she’d be out with Kara