“I think Alec did something, Mom. Something so bad and I can’t know for sure but now I can’t take back what I’ve done.” I sob against her.
“Did he hurt you? Are you in trouble?”
I shake my head.
She comforts me, but then separates us. Our eyes are only inches apart, and I don’t like the person I see reflected. “Then let’s start with the facts. We’ll go from there.”
I nod, thankful for the rational side of my mom, the one that can help separate the truth from my suspicions. I drop my gaze as I tell her about my plan to go to Michigan with Alec.
She tries to hide the way shock deflates her, but I know she’s calculating physical distance, the uncharacteristic reasons behind my decisions. “And now you regret that decision? Or did you two break up? Is that why you’re upset now?”
I hand her the letter from Boston College and she surveys it quickly. “Look at the date.”
“November eleventh.”
“I didn’t get it until a month later.”
“You think it got lost in the mail?”
“Maybe. But, the thing is . . .”
“What?” Mom presses, her word filled with too much concern. “What is the thing, Zephyr?”
“Alec brought me the mail that day, the day the letter came.”
“Okay.”
“But I’m not sure that’s when the letter arrived.”
“What are you saying?”
That Alec may have orchestrated the biggest mistake of my life. “I think maybe he might have had it for a while.”
“What possible motive would he have for that?”
“I think he waited until I was open to changing schools.” And then it all sounds too calculated. A small laugh jumps out at the absurdity of my suspicions. “Oh my god, I sound like a crazy person.”
“Zephyr, I’m not going to lie and tell you I approve of the plans you made to attend Michigan because of a boy, or let you off the hook without telling you how disappointed I am that you didn’t talk to me about any of this, but you are not crazy and this is not the end of the world. You can still go to Boston College.”
And the truth hammers me. “No Mom. I can’t. I declined their offer. I sent the paperwork. It’s done.”
Mom goes rigid, the color erased from her face. “Please tell me that’s not true.”
“I wish I could.”
“Oh Zephyr.” Mom releases me fully then, sinks back into her propped pillows. “How could you let this happen?”
It is a question I can’t stop asking.
• • •
I drive through town, intent on my destination. My knuckles whiten with the death grip I have on the steering wheel, but I can’t relent. It’s irrational, I know. But if I ease off the slightest bit, I’m afraid I will disappear. That I will be swallowed by all my doubts. When I reach the house, it is an effort to pull my hands free of the wheel and step out into the cold. But I do, because I have to. Mom’s advice was dead-on. Do the thing that I can control. Fact check. Talk to Alec. And listen to my gut.
I can’t separate out the timing of my letter from Boston College. The scene of Alec and that girl. Alec’s jealousy. But then there is the Alec who set aside his jealousy when Gregg got hurt, the Alec who helped me with Finn, the one who keeps me safe in his arms, promises me forever. Confusion circles in my head on an unrelenting loop and spits me out in front of Lani’s house now.
When she opens the door, she’s as surprised to see me as I am to be here. She doesn’t even bother with a greeting, just steps aside to welcome me in. Her look stretches beyond me, searching for Gregg before she closes the door behind us.
The house smells of apple pie. It’s surprising the way I remember so much of this living room from when her mom was our Brownie troop leader.
“This is unexpected,” Lani says, crossing her arms, judging me already.
“I know it’s weird timing and it’s lame that I’m interrupting you or bothering you.”
“No bother. What’s up?”
I fumble in my jacket, my fingers grabbing onto the swatch of newsprint. It is flimsy between my fingers, near weightless. And yet it is almost too heavy to exhume from my dark pocket. I fight its determination to stay hidden and haul it up, unfold the news clipping for Lani. “Do you remember this?” I don’t look at the paper. Instead, I study her eyes, the way they dart bigger when she reads the taunt etched in red. There is a dash of horror, a spec of disbelief.
“No.” She shudders.
My heart plunges because I know as I watch her reaction that this act of treachery was not committed by Lani.