I reach over and grab a slice of his pear, shoving it into my mouth sideways and speaking while I chew. “You know what I think has happened? Saskia’s probably lying low, licking her wounds.”
His eyes narrow. “What wounds? Is she unhappy? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Define happiness.” I grab another glossy crescent of pear and drop it into my mouth.
Novak sits back. “I’d rather you defined her unhappiness for me. Why might she have felt wounded, Angela?” He crosses his arms, marking the end of his input. For now, it’s back to me.
chapter
* * *
6
What Detective Novak will never understand is that I know what real happiness looks like. I lived it with HP that summer and the memories are burned in my mind.
We’d spend entire days together at the lake—him on the Tarzan swing while I read a novel in oversized sunglasses. He’d drop me home for dinner, much to my mom’s delight, and then show up again in an hour and we’d go for a drive in his truck to the lake, or head up to the old mill site to make out. Every time a new movie came to town we sat together near the front, like couples did, while Ezra threw popcorn at us from the back row. We slept all night in his truck a bunch of times, even when I had curfew. We’d wake early, our noses cool, and burrow down under his man blanket until the sun seared us out into the day. We were inseparable.
Each weekend, there were pit parties out on Old Creek Road where our classmates drank from kegs, hanging out on truck tailgates. I’d turn up late and strain to find HP in the crowd, but when I saw him my body relaxed. I can’t stand parties: I don’t like the chaos. Lacy turned up to every one of those gatherings, too, desperately pivoting a toe in the dirt on the periphery of all conversation, just biding her time until HP had drunk enough beers that she could squirm into his ear with various propositions.
“She’s a goddamn train wreck,” Ezra said as we sat on a rock at the end of summer, watching HP unwrap Lacy from his waist for the tenth time. “It’s so hot.”
“You’re disgusting,” I murmured, but I took the cigarette he passed me.
Ezra put his arm around my neck. “You have so much to learn about guys.”
“Don’t kid yourself, Ez, it’s a one-page manual.”
I was bluffing. My summer with HP was filled with new discoveries. Every day I got closer to him, swam deeper, so much so that by the end of August I felt like I was breathing at the bottom of a warm ocean, looking up at the surface where all I used to do was paddle. I didn’t want it to end, but like a hangnail snagging at the very back of my mind were my college plans for fall. I hadn’t been able to turn Oxford down—I couldn’t do it to my father. And as Mom kept pointing out, the family reputation was at stake. Besides, she was right about one thing: I wanted to get out of my parents’ house and our rinky-dink town, even if I still couldn’t imagine leaving without HP. How would I manage without him for eight months? At night in my own bed, I lay awake blinking at shadows. I hadn’t found a way to tell him.
HP joined us on the rock, shaking his head as he sat down. “Lacy’s the Terminator.”
“I dig that level of desperation in a girl.” Ezra nodded. “I was just teaching LJ what guys want.”
To the left of us on the dirt road someone poured kerosene onto a pile of twigs and threw in a lit match. The bonfire thumped into flame to a chorus of cheers.
“I think she knows what we want.” HP pulled me towards him.
“You two should just get married and get it over with.” Ezra stubbed out his cigarette near my thigh. “Do us all a favor.”
“I’m totally in if you are.” HP grinned at me, kissing the side of my neck. I nodded but my shoulders were tight, and HP sensed it. “What’s up with you, John?”
“These parties are all the same. The music’s the same, the drinks are the same and nobody has anything interesting to talk about.” I scratched at a bump of moss on the rock. “Summer’s curling at the edges. Everyone should just get the hell out of here.”
Both boys looked sideways at each other.
“Okay . . . I’m down with leaving. Say the word.” HP stood up and dusted off his jeans. “Or . . . is that not what you mean? What’s the deal with you tonight? You’re . . . spiky.”
“I’m bored.”
Ezra took a lazy drag of a fresh cigarette. “Bullshit. You’re mad about something. I know girls.”
“Let’s get out of here,” HP said quietly. “Unless it’s me you’re mad at.”
“It’s not.” I rolled the dead moss off the rock and looked up. “Can you drive me home?”
We parked in my parents’ driveway. As HP switched off the stereo, he asked, “Is it something I did?”
I stared at my hands. “HP, I don’t know what to say.”
There was a tapping at my passenger window and I glanced up to see my mother standing beside my door in her dress coat. She’d recently brushed her hair. As she gestured for me to wind down the window, I turned towards HP.
“Just start the engine!” I hissed. “Reverse!”
“Why?” he asked. “What’s going on?”
“I can’t . . .”
She rapped on the window again, this time using her knuckles.
“Just roll down the window,” said HP. “She’ll put her fist through my glass if you don’t.”
I looked into my mom’s face. She was a tidal wave, waiting to pour into the truck and fill up the space until we drowned. I held my breath and rolled down the window.
“Honey! I heard you two pull up and I just thought I’d come out and wish HP good luck.”
“Good luck with what, Mrs. P?” His demeanor was so calm. He hunched forwards over the steering wheel, resting his chin on it.
“We’ll be seeing a lot less of you for a while, I guess, because Angela won’t be here. And about that—I just wanted to say that even if she’s not around, you can still come over anytime and visit with me.”
HP’s face was a blank white sheet of paper, cut by moonlight.
“I’ll keep that in mind, Mrs. P.” He turned to me. “Roll that back up.” He twisted the key in the ignition and threw the truck into reverse, leaving my mom standing in the driveway in her pom-pom slippers.
I should have told him earlier, maybe before the party, but I just hadn’t found the right moment. He drove up the block to his house, which I wasn’t expecting. He banged the door when he got out, and in two strides he was over by the old birch tree. I watched from the passenger seat as he pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt and slid his back down the bark of the trunk. After a minute I joined him. His house was dark except for one light still on in his parents’ bedroom. Mrs. Parker always stayed up reading while her husband slept. HP and I sat in silence until he trod his flip-flop on top of mine.
“So, you’re going somewhere?” he said.
My heart thumped. “I got into college. I leave next week. I was going to tell you. That’s why I wasn’t into the party. I was . . .”
He looked at me hard and then shook his head, laughing. “How far a drive, LJ? Or is it the community college in town?”
“England. Oxford University.”