“I already do,” Nadia says, stuffing another cracker in her mouth.
Dinner lasts forever, with everybody making toasts and the dads having a brag war. My dad tells everyone I have a good chance at valedictorian so they’ll have to come back for graduation to hear my speech. I have to correct him and say it’s salutatorian, and it’s not like that’s a guarantee. My uncle starts quizzing me on which colleges I’m applying to.
“Boston College,” I say. “Wellesley. Maybe UC Berkeley.”
My dad frowns. “Berkeley? We never talked about Berkeley.”
I take a bite of turkey and stuffing to buy myself time. When I’m done chewing, I say, “It’s something I’ve been thinking about.”
Luckily, my aunt saves me by bragging about Ethan winning some violin competition and maybe getting to do a performance at Juilliard.
After dinner, everyone’s all cozy watching old black-and-white movies in the TV room. I’m sitting next to my dad on the couch; he has his arm around me, and I have my head on his shoulder. It is nice to have him home.
I’ve got my phone in my lap, and when it buzzes, I nearly jump. It’s a text from Reeve. My dad tries to read over my shoulder, but I scurry off to the kitchen. The text says, What are you up to? I write back, Watching TV with my family. He writes back, Same. Wanna come over?
I read the text over and over. Does he mean come over and watch TV with our other friends? Or does he mean watch TV just us, up in his room by ourselves?
I text him, Who’s coming?
And he texts back, Just you.
Wow. I wonder if his family will think I’m Reeve’s girlfriend. When my dad comes into the kitchen to get more water, I ask
him, “Daddy, can I go hang out with my friends tonight?” I don’t tell him that I’m going to a boy’s house, and that he’s the only friend who will be there.
My dad considers this. “Are you bringing Nadia and Walker?” “Um, no.”
“Then my answer is no,” he says.
“Daddy!” I make a face at him. My mom would have said yes.
I shouldn’t even have asked him. Shaking his head, he says, “Final answer, Lilli. It’s Thanksgiving, and your family’s only in town for a couple of nights. Come sit and watch the movie with us.”
“In a minute,” I say in a snotty voice. “I have to tell my friends I can’t come.”
So that’s what I write back, and then I hang around in the kitchen waiting for Reeve to text me back, but he doesn’t.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
I didn’t even bother getting dressed on Thanksgiving. I didn’t go downstairs and ask if Aunt Bette needed my help in the kitchen.
But that’s where I find her now. At the sink, doing the Thanksgiving dishes.
Or, should I say, lack of dishes.
I never expected Aunt Bette would make a turkey, because she is a vegetarian. Thanksgivings with her usually mean a whole lot of vegetable sides. Sugar squash, green beans with almonds, roasted beets, creamy mushroom soup. But tonight she only made a salad. For herself.
She’s spent the rest of the day in the attic. Painting. Alone.
“So I guess there are no leftovers,” I say, snarky.
Aunt Bette freezes. After a second she drops the dish back into the sudsy water. Then she spins around to face me. I can tell she’s mad too. “I didn’t make a lot of food, Mary, because you never eat!”
It wounds me, her pointing this out. This is supposed to be a day of giving thanks, of being with family. It’s all wrong.
I fall into one of the kitchen chairs. “My parents should have come. I don’t know why they’re punishing me like this. They never call me. Never.” Aunt Bette bites her lip, like she wants to say something but second-guesses herself. “What? Did they say anything?” Have they been calling and Aunt Bette’s not passing along the messages?
She sighs. “I don’t know this for sure, Mary, but if I had to guess, I’d say your mom’s still upset that you left in the first place.”
“I didn’t do it to hurt them!”
“Maybe not, but it did. You’re her only daughter, Mary. She’d do anything for you! I used to fight with your mom and dad because I thought they spoiled you something rotten. Gave you everything you asked for. I said it wouldn’t be good for you. But they didn’t listen. They’d bend over backward to give you what you wanted. So can you blame your mom for missing you? You were her whole world!” She turns back around, probably because she can’t face looking at me.
“I’ve been better, though. Since Halloween. Since you took that weird stuff down and quit with your weird spells.” I haven’t had any more freak-outs.
Aunt Bette shakes her head. “Mary, that wasn’t me.” She turns around, probably so she doesn’t have to face me. “I was trying everything I could to help you control yourself.”
I lean forward. Am I crazy, or is Aunt Bette? I don’t even know anymore. “What do you mean?”
Aunt Bette looks at me solemnly and whispers, “You don’t know what you’re capable of, do you?” A shiver rolls down my spine. I don’t even know what to say to that. “Well, it’s probably for the best if you don’t. It’s safer that way.”
I feel the tears come. “Please stop talking like that! You’re scaring me!”
“You need to calm down.”
“You’re the one who’s making me upset!”
Aunt Bette heads to her room. I follow her, but she’s fast. She goes to her room and slams the door. “Go to your room, Mary!” she calls through the door. “Go to your room until you calm down!”
I do the exact opposite. I strike out into the night.
Main Street’s pretty dead. All the stores are closed; everything is except for the theater. A few of them are already decorated for Christmas. As people pile out of the theater, I stand by the double doors and watch. Am I really not like them? Am I not normal?
That’s where I am when Reeve and Rennie come out. He’s walking behind her with his arms slung around her neck, and she’s laughing. “Reevie, I told you that movie was gonna suck! You owe me another movie.”
He shakes his finger in her face. “Nuh-uh. You still owed me for that cheering movie you made me watch this summer.”
“Then we’re even,” she says.
I stand there stock-still as they make their way down the street to Reeve’s truck. He opens her door first; then he goes around the other side to unlock his. Like a gentleman. Are they a couple? I don’t even know what to think.