CHAPTER Ten
On Monday morning, Rollins shows up to give Mattie and me a ride to school, just like normal. What isn’t normal is the silence in the car. Rollins doesn’t even have the radio on. Mattie, who’s exhausted from tossing and turning all night, rests her head against the window with her eyes closed. The only sound is me flipping through the pages of my math notebook, pretending to study for a nonexistent quiz.
I peek at Rollins every once in a while. His shoulders seem tense, and his face is like a mask. I wonder what he’s thinking about, if—like me—his mind is set on that terrible moment when I closed my eyes and pouted my lips . . . and he just stared at me.
Thinking of the moment again makes me shrink into myself. I look out the window for the rest of the car ride, counting down the seconds until we get to school and I can get away from Rollins.
“Thanks for the ride,” I say too loudly when the car comes to a stop in the school parking lot. Rollins opens his mouth like he’s going to respond, but I’m too quick and shut the door before he can say anything.
“Whoa Nelly,” Mattie says, hurrying to keep up with me. “What was that back there?”
“What was what?” I toss back at her. She pulls on my sleeve, forcing me to stop.
“You know what. Deathly silence. Something happened between you and Rollins, didn’t it?” Mattie crosses her arms over her chest.
“I thought you were sleeping,” I say, shoving my notebook into my backpack.
Mattie’s voice turns stern. “Sylvia Bell, you tell me the truth right this instant. Why are you and Rollins acting so weird?”
Fairly sure I’m not going to get out of this interrogation without telling Mattie exactly what happened, I sigh. Before I say anything, though, I look around to make sure no one is within earshot. “If you must know, I gave Rollins every opportunity to kiss me on Friday night.”
Mattie squeals. “Really? Vee, that’s great!”
I glare at her. “You know what’s not so great? He just stared at me like I was stupid or something. It was the most awkward moment of my entire life.”
Mattie shocks me by laughing.
I spin on my heel and walk toward the school’s entrance, furious. I should have known better than to tell Mattie. There’s no way she can understand the implications of what happened between Rollins and me. Our friendship is basically ruined. There’s no going back to just being friends. That moment will always be hanging there between us.
Mattie catches the back of my shirt. “Slow down. I’m sorry for laughing. It’s just that you probably stunned the poor guy. He’s been pining after you for months, and all of a sudden you throw yourself at him? No wonder he’s confused.”
I shake off her hand. “I didn’t throw myself at him.”
“Come on. Admit it. You’ve been giving him mixed signals ever since Zane died. At first you were all like, ‘Woe is me. I’ve been betrayed. I’ll never love again.’ And now you want to make out with Rollins? It’s a little bit sudden, is all I’m saying.”
I cock my head. She does have a point. I’ve been pushing Rollins away for so long now. It must seem strange for me to change my tune so quickly. Maybe I’m being a little too dramatic. I should give him another chance.
“Listen to your genius little sister. Rollins worships the ground you walk on. I’m sure that didn’t change overnight,” Mattie says teasingly. “Just talk to him at lunch. And don’t forget to ask him about seeing Scar with me and Russ this weekend.”
“All right, all right,” I mutter. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Atta girl.” Mattie slaps me on the back.
At first, I’m not even sure Rollins is going to show up at our meeting place under the bleachers at lunch. Five minutes pass, then ten, then fifteen. Finally, I hear the familiar crunch of leaves as he makes his way toward me. Taking a big bite of my brown-sugar cinnamon Pop-Tart, I nonchalantly stare out at the empty football field, like I haven’t been counting the minutes until he showed up.
“Hey,” he says, plopping down next to me.
“Hey,” I say, and then take another bite.
I notice Rollins is sitting a little farther away from me than usual. He doesn’t meet my eyes. Instead, he pulls out a Sharpie and focuses on the intricate design he’s been doodling on the bottom of his shoes for the past few weeks.
“Sorry I’m late,” he says. “I was talking to Anna. It sounds like she can get me an interview with Who Killed My Sea Monkeys for my zine.”
“Awesome,” I say, hoping my enthusiasm doesn’t sound too fake. Rollins writes, designs, and produces his own magazine, which he passes around school and hands to strangers on buses. Though he editorializes about stuff that happens at school and world events in general, his focus is definitely on music.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “I’m pretty stoked.”
Silence.
I take another bite of Pop-Tart. It tastes like sand.
“So . . . anything new with you?” Rollins asks, his voice strained. He’s clearly trying to move past this weirdness between us.
I search for something to talk about. Then I realize I haven’t even told Rollins about my aunt Lydia randomly showing up on our doorstep. Under normal circumstances, Rollins would have been the first person I called.
“Yeah, actually,” I say. “You’ll never guess who showed up Friday night after—after you left.”
Rollins looks uncomfortable at the reference to his abrupt departure. “Who?”
“My aunt Lydia, who I’ve never met before. I guess she ran away to California when she was a teenager and never came back. Until now. Anyway, she turned up on our doorstep with a suitcase.”
“Crazy,” Rollins says. “What does she want?”
“She claims she just wants to get to know her family, but I think that’s just a cover story. She could have come back at any time, right? Besides, some really weird stuff has been happening since she got here.”
Rollins twirls his Sharpie, looking interested. I’m relieved that Lydia’s sudden appearance has given us something neutral to talk about. “What weird stuff?”
“Well, think about it. I got into that accident on Thursday night. What if she had something to do with it? She could have gotten here on Thursday and stayed at a hotel or something. Maybe she’s able to slide. Maybe she forced me to steal my dad’s car and drive out into the country.”
Rollins looks doubtful. “But why? What would be her motivation?”
“That’s the kicker. My dad said she got into a huge fight with my mom when they were in high school. She vowed to destroy everything my mom ever loved. Hence the car accident. She’s trying to kill me.”
Rollins clears his throat. “If she actually slid into you, wouldn’t she need something with your emotional imprint on it? She would’ve needed it before she even got to your house, since someone slid into you the night before, right?”
Stupid, rational Rollins.
“Well, what about this? Last night I woke up to a crashing noise. When I went downstairs, I found my dad throwing pictures everywhere. He busted his own wedding portrait. He was totally out of it, like someone else was controlling his actions. When he finally realized where he was, Lydia showed up. And she was wearing his bathrobe.”
The dubious expression on Rollins’s face gives way to thoughtfulness. “That is a pretty big coincidence.”
“Right? If she slid into him, she was forcing him to break wedding pictures of his dead wife. Pretty sick.”
“I don’t know. It still seems like a stretch. Saying you’ll destroy everything someone loves is pretty melodramatic, like something you’d say during a fight and then forget five minutes later. I seriously doubt she’s trying to wreck your family. I bet Lydia just realized how lonely she was and decided to come back and meet her nieces.”
I crumple up the wrapper from my Pop-Tart. “Maybe . . .” I say, even though I don’t really believe it. “Oh, hey. I’m supposed to ask if you’ll go with me and Mattie and Russ White to Scar this weekend.”
Rollins goes back to doodling on his shoe. “Russ White?”
“Yeah, you know the senior who should be in our grade but skipped a year in elementary?” Rollins’s face is blank, and I remind myself that he wasn’t here in elementary school. “He’s the guy who drives the silver pickup you’re always drooling over.” Rollins nods in recognition.
“Apparently he’s the white knight of library fines,” I joke, and go on to explain the story of how Russ introduced himself to Mattie. Rollins chuckles.
“So would you be willing to play chaperone with me on Saturday? I know you wanted to see Scar, so we can kill two birds with one stone.”
Rollins sighs. “I guess so, but I’m not going to lie—I’m not all that psyched about spending another Saturday night babysitting your sister.”
“We won’t have to babysit her,” I say, slightly irritated. “We can sit in the back and whisper snarky things during the stupid parts, like always. I just need to be in the general vicinity.”
Rollins must sense my annoyance because he reaches over and grabs my shoulder. “Hey, of course I’m in. Friends?”
I take a deep breath. This is what I want, isn’t it?
“Friends.”