chapter 18
B
y Friday, Sam still hadn’t shown up at school. He wasn’t calling me back either, and I was really worried. There was still a part of me that was scared it had to do with me, but I reassured myself that no one in his right mind would skip school for five days because of a girl. I’d e-mailed him twice more, but I’d gotten no reply. I was starting to feel like a stalker.
After school, I caught a ride with Jennica and asked if she’d mind dropping me off at Lucky Strikes. “Sure, but I can’t stay and drive you home,” she said. “Anne has dance practice, and I have to take her. My mom’s having a spa day, so I’m stuck babysitting.” She rolled her eyes for emphasis. “Why are you going there anyhow?”
“Just meeting the group,” I lied. I knew I should tell her that I was looking for Sam, but I didn’t want to feel any more pathetic than I already did.
Five minutes later, I was standing in front of Lucky Strikes, staring at the door and wondering if this was stupid. I took a deep breath and walked in.
It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness inside the alley, but when they did, I spotted Donna seated behind the cash register, reading a paperback James Patterson novel. She was so absorbed in the book that she didn’t even look up until I was standing right in front of her. I had to clear my throat to get her attention.
“Oh, Lacey!” she exclaimed. She peered at me. “Hi! How are you?”
I shrugged, suddenly feeling embarrassed to be there.
“I’m okay,” I said. “Um, I was just wondering if Sam is around.”
I felt stupid the moment the words were out of my mouth.
Donna looked confused. “Sam?” she said. “No, Lacey. He’s at the hospital.”
My heart caught in my throat. “The hospital?” I croaked. “What happened? Is he okay?”
Guilt flooded through me.
Donna was looking at me more closely now. “You don’t know?” she asked.
“Know what?” I demanded. I felt like I was on the verge of panicking.
She studied me while my heart pounded double time. It looked like she was trying to decide whether to tell me or not.
“Please, just tell me if Sam’s okay,” I pleaded. I didn’t think I could handle it if something happened to someone else I cared about. In an instant, all the awful things that could have happened to Sam flashed through my head. And for some reason, my mind got immediately stuck on Sam in a car crash. A cold chill ran through me.
“Sam’s fine,” she said.
Relief flooded through me, followed quickly by conffusion. “Why’s he at the hospital, then?”
She put down her book. “It’s his dad, Lacey.”
“His dad?” I repeated. What was she talking about? Hadn’t he died months ago?
“He woke up,” Donna said softly.
My jaw dropped. “Woke up? But … he’s dead.”
Now it was Donna’s turn to look confused. “Dead?” she repeated. “Where did you get that idea?”
A feeling began to creep through my veins like ice. Every conversation I’d ever had with Sam began to replay itself in my mind. Is this what he had wanted to tell me? But even if it was, how could he let me go on believing something so huge when it had been a lie all along?
“He’s not dead?” I whispered. Donna shook her head. “But Sam said he had a stroke.”
Donna nodded. “He did. He’s been in a coma since July. They moved him to Plymouth Regional Hospital in September. That’s why Sam and his mom moved here.”
I stared at her in disbelief. She must have thought I was totally crazy, but I couldn’t help repeating, “You’re telling me he’s alive?”
“Yes. And he woke up on Sunday night. The doctors are calling it a miracle. Sam and Joey and their mom have been at his bedside since then.”
I stared at her. I couldn’t form words. I couldn’t think of anything to say.
“Lacey?” she asked. Her face radiated concern. “Are you all right, honey?”
“Um” was all I could manage. I shook my head. “I’m sorry. Thank you.”
I felt like the walls were closing in on me. I slowly backed away from her and out of the bowling alley. It wasn’t until I was outside, in the crisp fall afternoon air, that I realized I didn’t have a ride home. Numbly, feeling like the wind had been knocked out of me and I couldn’t quite catch my breath, I began walking toward my house.
• • •
By the time I walked up my own driveway I didn’t feel any better. I knew I should be happy for Sam that he’d gotten his father back. Wouldn’t I have given anything in the world to hear the same kind of news about my dad? But the fact was, I never would hear that news; my father was gone for good.
I’d believed the same about Sam’s dad. Sam had
made
me believe the same about his dad. And that’s why I’d trusted him with my feelings, my secrets. That’s why I’d believed, in the very depth of my soul, that he understood me. But the truth was, he didn’t know any more about how I felt than Jennica or Dr. Schiff or any of the kids at school who lived in their perfect homes with their perfectly complete families.
I began to replay in my head every conversation I’d ever had with Sam. He’d never directly lied, I couldn’t actually remember the words “My dad died” coming out of his mouth. But from the day he showed up at our first meeting, saying that he’d lost his dad, I had trusted him and had assumed that he’d meant his dad was no longer alive. Why would I think anything different? But just because he hadn’t blatantly lied didn’t make the betrayal any less serious. He knew what he’d led us to believe. He knew what he’d led
me
to believe. And it hadn’t mattered.
Why had he done it? Had he been that desperate to fit in with us? Sam didn’t seem to care about being popular, and it wasn’t even like we were a popular group. Besides, who in their right minds would fake a parental death to become part of a clique? No, it went deeper than that. I had no doubt that losing your dad to a coma was really hard. And I was sure that to some extent, Sam
had
understood us and identified with us. But the fundamental difference was that
his dad had woken up
. Mindy, Kelsi, Cody, Logan, and I would never have that experience. We couldn’t. And for Sam to think it was okay to trick us in this way made me feel sick.
The sky darkened as I walked home, and as I reached my front door, the first fat raindrops of an approaching storm began to fall, splashing on the driveway and pinging off the roof of the house. I put my key in the lock and closed my eyes before turning it, steadying myself.
I would never let anyone in again. I couldn’t trust anyone. The world around me had crumbled, and once again, it was still me, only me, standing there on my own.
I should have known better.
• • •
Mom was home from work early again, standing in the kitchen and absentmindedly beating something in a big bowl, when I walked in.
She smiled. “Hi, honey.”
I raised a hand to wave without a word. I didn’t feel like talking to her. Or anyone else. Sam’s betrayal had been the final straw.
“Sam called,” Mom said. She wiped her hands on her apron and crossed over to the notepad that we kept by the kitchen phone. “He left a number and an extension and asked that you call him back as soon as possible. He said he tried your cell, but it went straight to voice mail.”
I gazed at her in disbelief.
Now
he had called? After I’d been trying to reach him all week? Donna had probably called him and told him what had happened.
“Lacey?” Mom asked. “Don’t you want the number?”
I glanced at the pad of paper and then back at her. “No.”
She shrugged. “Well. I’m just about to put a soufflé in the oven,” she said, turning away from me and returning to the hand beater. “I thought I’d try something new for dinner.”
“Really?” I asked, surprised. Mom used to love to cook—she subscribed to
Bon Appétit
and
Food & Wine
and a few other cooking magazines—and before the accident, she would try something new and exotic at least once a week.
“Yeah,” she said. “I think I need to stop.”
“Stop what?” I asked.
She looked down at the bowl. “Stop wallowing. Logan was right the other day.”
The rain had started to fall harder now, and the fat droplets had given way to an insistent waterfall that made it look fuzzy and almost dreamlike outside.
“I’ve been awful,” she added, gazing out the kitchen window. “I’ve really failed you kids.”
“No, you haven’t,” I said. It felt like the right thing to say, but I realized, after the words were out of my mouth, that I meant it.
“Yes, I have,” she said. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It’s been almost a year, Lacey. A year of our lives that I’ve lost. Your father wouldn’t have wanted it this way.”
“I think he would have understood, Mom.”
“Understood what?”
“Understood that we all needed to figure out things in our own time.”
Mom blinked a few times. “Maybe it’s time to start living again.”
As I walked slowly out of the kitchen, I thought about the last thing she had said. At least we
had
the luxury to start living again. Logan and Tanner and Mom and I, Sam and his mom, even Sam’s dad, could start over at any time. It made me even sadder to think about it in those terms. Because it seemed unfair, like a betrayal of Dad, to be able to just reinvent ourselves any day, didn’t it? We’d all have a thousand—a million—second chances. Dad wouldn’t even have one.
• • •
When I checked my e-mail before going to bed that night, there was one new message waiting for me in my in-box. It was from Sam.
Lacey,
I don’t even know how to begin. I know you feel like I lied to you. And I don’t blame you. But I didn’t do it on purpose. I heard about the group you were starting, and I didn’t know until the end of the first meeting that it was only for people whose parents had actually died. But by that time, I felt so much better just being there. I know you might not understand, but it felt like my dad had died, just like yours. He wasn’t supposed to wake up, ever, and in a way, I felt sometimes like it would have been better if he did just die, because then we could at least have a funeral and say a real goodbye and everything.
I was with my dad when he had the stroke. The doctors said he would never regain consciousness. And then, Sunday night, we got a call from the hospital. The nurse on duty had noticed the call light from his room was on. She went in to check on him, figuring it was a mistake, and he was sitting up in bed, looking confused. He didn’t know where he was. They called the doc and then they called us. My mom hasn’t wanted to leave his side since then. We’ve been sleeping at the hospital. She keeps saying it’s our second chance.
I know you’re mad at me. I tried to tell you, but I guess I didn’t try hard enough. I was scared about how you’d react. I thought you wouldn’t believe anymore that I knew how you felt. But I do. I’m sorry. I can’t even tell you how sorry I am. But I never meant to hurt you. And it doesn’t take away the fact that I do understand you. Please call me.
Sam
I read the e-mail three times before closing the screen. My finger hovered over the Delete key, but finally, I hit Save instead.
I understood what he was saying. But that didn’t make his actions easier to understand. Or to forgive.
chapter 19
I
tried to talk to Dr. Schiff about Sam on Saturday during my half-hour session with her. She told me I needed to stop holding other people to an unrealistic standard. I’d asked her what was so unrealistic about expecting someone to be honest. I called Jennica and filled her in on everything, and she was totally sympathetic. “I’m beginning to think that all guys are more trouble than they’re worth,” she told me. I wasn’t sure I agreed with her, though. No matter how mad I was at Sam.
Tanner had Cody’s sister, Sarah, over on Sunday. They watched TV and played video games, and I could hear them laughing. I felt a strange blend of relief, pride, and jealousy. Relief, because it meant there was hope for Tanner. Pride, because if I hadn’t started the group that included Cody, Tanner wouldn’t have met Sarah. And, embarrassingly, jealousy, because Tanner was learning how to cope while I seemed to be getting more and more lost by the day.
On Monday morning, I walked into trig class to find Sam waiting by my seat.
“Hey, Lacey,” he said, like we were the only two people in the room.
“Hey,” I mumbled, both wanting and not wanting to see him.
“Lacey,” Sam said, putting his hand on mine. I bit my lower lip and moved my hand away. “I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Look, I’m sorry,” he said. “I really am. Did you get my e-mail?”
“Yeah,” I said. I paused. “And I’m glad your dad woke up.” I really was, and I wanted him to know that.
“Thanks,” he said. “And Lacey, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
“You lied to us,” I whispered. “You lied to me.”
“I never lied,” he said, shaking his head. “I just—I just didn’t correct the misunderstanding.”
• • •
After school I walked home by myself. I didn’t know where Logan was, and Jennica had to stay after school to work on a history group project.
The sun was low in the sky. The days were getting shorter and the nights longer, but that was okay; I liked the darkness. It was only four in the afternoon, but the first colors of sunset were starting to gather on the horizon.
I was so lost in thought five minutes later that it barely registered when a vehicle slowed beside me.
“Lacey?”
It was Sam in his Cherokee, his window rolled down. “Lacey, get in,” he said. “It’s cold out.”
I shook my head, not stopping. “I’m fine.” But Sam kept inching his Jeep along.
“I’ll follow you the whole way home if you want,” Sam said. “But wouldn’t it be easier to just get in? It’s not getting any warmer.”
I snorted and quickened my pace. “I like to walk.”
But Sam was right. I only had a denim jacket on, and the cold was starting to seep into my bones. It was another fifteen minutes home. I’d be fine, but the heated interior of a car was admittedly tempting.
“Please, Lacey? Just give me a chance to talk to you for five minutes.”
I hesitated, watching my warm breath crystallize into little white clouds. Finally, I got in.
“Thanks,” Sam said. He glanced in the rearview mirror as I buckled my seat belt. Then he pulled slowly away from the curb.
We didn’t say anything for a little while. Then Sam said, “Look, Lacey. I’m sorry.”
I shrugged and looked out the window. The oranges and pinks to the west were inching farther up the sky as the horizon began to tug the curtain down on the day.
“I’m glad for you,” I said. “I’m glad your dad is fine.”
“No you’re not,” Sam said. His words sliced into me, and I turned to look at him.
“I am,” I said. “Really. I would give anything in the world to have my dad back. And I’m glad that’s happening to you. But the thing is, you tricked me. You made me feel like you understood me.”
“I
do
understand.”
My breath felt heavy, and the air around me seemed suddenly in short supply. I gazed at the sky again and thought about what Sam had said about rainbows. It had all been just words. “You
can’t
understand!” I said. My eyes felt dry, and I blinked a few times, trying to get the burning sensation to go away. “Your dad is alive, Sam! You have another chance with him. You can talk to him and tell him about your day and tell him you love him. Even when he was in a coma, you could say all those things to him, and there was a chance he could hear you.”
“Lacey, don’t you think your dad can hear you too?” he asked.
I rolled my eyes. His words that night about rainbows and my dad looking over us just sounded ridiculous now. “No,” I said. “And I think you’re pretty much the last person who should be saying something like that to me.”
We had pulled into my neighborhood. I was silent as Sam parked his Jeep alongside the curb in front of my house. I glanced at him and was surprised to see how wounded he looked. I suddenly felt a little bad.
“Is he doing okay?” I asked. “Your dad, I mean?”
Sam nodded. “It’s hard to watch him,” he said. “He can’t move the right side of his face. He talks funny, and he can’t remember a lot of words.”
“But he’s alive,” I couldn’t help but add.
“Yeah.”
Then, before he had a chance to say anything else, I climbed out of the Jeep and slammed the door behind me. I could feel Sam watching me the whole way to the house. I had to stop myself from looking back at the street when I let myself in the front door.
• • •
That night, Sam sent an e-mail to everyone in the group.
When I came to the first meeting, I didn’t realize right away that it was supposed to only be for people whose parents had died. By the time I realized, I didn’t know how to tell you guys. I felt really good around you; it feels weird to have a parent in a coma too, and we didn’t think he was going to wake up, so I felt like I’d lost my dad too. I didn’t mean to trick anyone, and I’m really sorry if anyone feels that way. You guys really helped me, and I would love to keep spending time with you if you’ll have me. Cody wrote back an e-mail, copied to the rest of us:
Glad your dad’s okay. You don’t have to apologize to us.
No one else responded—or if they did, they didn’t CC everyone. I wondered how Cody could act so forgiving. Did Mindy and Kelsi feel the same way I did? Or was I the only one who was upset?
But the thing was, I was the one who had opened myself up.
I was the one who got hurt.