Last Year's Mistake - Gina Ciocca Page 0,20

away the mark. I leaned closer, curious to know the answer.

“Ran into a door,” David mumbled.

Violet seemed oblivious to his discomfort and touched his face again. “Scars are sexy.”

“Right. I knew that. I did it on purpose.”

More giggles. Then she leaned up on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck, and my stomach started to cave in on itself.

Stop looking. Walk away. Escape, now!

Violet put her lips against the scar and kissed it. “There,” she said. “All better now.” And just as I managed to convince myself that maybe that was the worst of it, her mouth moved to his, and she kissed him for real.

It was like driving by an accident. Even when he put his hands on her waist and tilted his head in response, I couldn’t peel my eyes from the scene.

It occurred to me then that even though we’d both dated other people, I’d never actually seen David kiss another girl. I’d never given any thought to how it would make me feel.

It felt like my vital organs had simultaneously imploded.

I felt hurt, too, though I had no right to. Violet had asked if I’d be okay with it, and I’d said yes. So why did I want nothing more than to hurl something heavy and blunt directly at her head and tell her to keep her whore slut hands off him?

Something rough and sharp dug into my finger, and I realized I’d gripped the edge of the deck hard enough to turn my knuckles white. That unsanded knothole brought me back to reality. I took a step away, irritated at the effort it took to get myself under control. But before I could turn around and walk into the house, something in the bay window across the way caught my attention.

Candy stood in the Kensings’ kitchen, her hand pressed against the glass. My eyes met hers, and I knew she’d seen exactly what I’d seen. The look on her face, though, told me she’d seen something else, something far worse.

She’d seen the look on my face when it happened.

Eight

Connecticut

Winter, Freshman Year

David and I weren’t the only ones to become fast friends after he and his father moved into our neighborhood. My parents loved his dad, and whenever David stayed for dinner, my mother always invited Mr. Kerrigan, too. They fit into our lives like they’d been there all along. So naturally they were both invited the night my mother cooked up a storm for my fifteenth birthday.

I looked around the table, feeling happy and glowy at having all my favorite people gathered in my honor: my parents, David and his dad, Aunt Tess and Uncle Tommy. And Miranda, of course.

My mother had asked me a hundred times if I’d wanted a party, but I hadn’t. I knew my parents were still struggling financially, and the last thing I wanted was to put another burden on them. I also didn’t want to admit that most of my girlfriends had followed in Maddie’s footsteps and boarded the Sloppy Ho train, deciding school was little more than their personal runway. Or maybe they’d always been like that and I hadn’t noticed. Either way, we’d drifted, and it didn’t make sense for me to sponsor the next occasion where they’d break their backs trying to outdress and outmakeup each other.

Nope. I just wanted the people who cared about me the most, and whom I cared about the most, sitting at one table. And that’s exactly what I got.

Halfway through dinner my dad stood up and cleared his throat. “Amanda and I have an announcement we’d like to share with all of you.” He put his arm around my mother, who’d stood up too.

Miranda’s fork clattered to her plate. “Oh my God, are you having a baby?”

“No!” my mother cried.

The whole table laughed and Dad shook his head. “No, no babies, sweetie. But it’s something almost as exciting.” He stopped to kiss Mom’s temple. “After a very long, very trying couple of years, this morning I signed a contract for my very first book deal.”

An explosion of screams and cheers immediately filled the dining room. My mother teared up on cue. Within seconds we were all out of our seats, piling hugs and handshakes and back slaps on my father, and the intensity of my happiness could have burned a hole through the floor.

“Daddy, how did this happen?” I asked when we’d all taken our seats again. “You never even told us someone was interested!”

“I didn’t want to