her. This one was from Ms. Hammacher, the head of school.
Miss McFarlan,
Principal Rosenkrantz has forwarded me some very alarming emails from some of our most dedicated parents. To say you’ve created a big problem is a grave understatement. In all my years here, I’ve never had a teacher distribute a sex toy to one of her students. This is an absolute disgrace to Ocean Avenue Academy. The fact that you did not respond immediately shows further questionable judgment. Please meet me in my office on Monday morning at seven sharp.
Regards,
Pamela Hammacher
Head of School, Ocean Avenue Academy
Riki’s face burned, and her head began to throb. Curling herself into a tight ball in the corner of the sofa, she slammed her phone onto a cushion and began to cry.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Sunday, March 19
Chris had both hands on the wheel, and his face was stony as he sped down the freeway toward home. Riki snapped her eyes shut and hoped she would fall asleep, but her mind whirred relentlessly, forcing her to analyze her feelings as the silence sat between them like a coiled snake. She knew she should feel something like sorrow for the way they’d fought, but it wasn’t there. Another feeling nudged and prodded her, asking to be heard, and it terrified her. The weekend had created big cracks in their fragile foundation. She found herself clinging to those cracks, yanking on them, wanting to make them bigger until they both fell through. She wanted this to be over.
As Chris exited the freeway, Riki clicked off the radio and sat up straight, readjusting her seat belt.
He stole a glance at her. “Are you still mad?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there, okay? It’s just—” He slammed a hand against the steering wheel. “All the guys made me feel like a total dick. And I get that you were upset, but it was a mistake, okay? You wouldn’t let it go. I had to hear over and over about how you were alone.”
“Not from me.”
“I know! But you were pissed. You can’t deny that. And you’re still pissed. I can tell by your body language. You’re all rigid.”
She flopped her head against the leather seat. “All I really wanted was for you to apologize and to tell me you wished you’d been there for me.”
“I did!”
“But in an angry way.” She turned to him. “Look, I don’t want to argue with you. With all this time in the car, I’ve had a lot of time to think about us.”
“Oh God. Do I want to hear this?”
“Yeah. It needs to be said. I think you weren’t able to be there for me because you don’t really know me.”
He turned to her, his mouth twisted in a scowl. “What?”
“You only know the surface.”
He shook his head as though he had water in his ears. “That’s totally untrue.”
“No, it’s really not. I feel . . .” She looked out the window, summoning the words that needed to be said.
“What do you feel?”
She twisted a lock of hair into a knot. “You like the ocean, right?”
“I have no idea where you’re going with this, but yeah, I like the ocean.”
“So do I. But here’s the thing. I don’t want to float on a raft on the surface, catching a gentle wave here and there. I want to go down deep, where it’s dark and a little scary, where there might be eels and those little thingies that hide at the bottom. You have to look carefully to see particles of sand drifting in the water to notice them, but they’re there. And I want to see the pretty things too—the parrotfish and angelfish. I want it all. But you want to stay on the raft and pretend that nothing exists below, because the surface is so nice.” She slid the knot from her hair and turned to Chris.
“Riki, come on. I get what you’re trying to say here, but what I feel isn’t on the surface.” He took one hand off the wheel and grabbed for hers.
She felt exposed, like she was in a tiny interrogation room. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I kind of just went along with things. Maybe I was scared, or . . .”
“Or what?” he asked in a measured tone.
“I just sometimes feel like I can’t be myself around you the way I can around—”
“Brandon? Is that what you were going to say? Fuck! He’s married, Riki.”
“I wasn’t going to say that! You didn’t even let me finish.”