6. Peter
6
Peter
I was staring in Everett’s window again.
Since he’d come back to town, I could hardly do anything else.
I tried to shake myself out of it sometimes, go back to the kids and play and be the same Peter I always had been, but just like before, Everett had put a hook in me and was tugging me along, ruining everything just by being there.
Well, back then, I hadn’t thought he was ruining everything. He’d been like the sun, shedding new light on all my games and all my toys and everything I wanted. He’d made it all better .
And then he’d left. That was when he’d started ruining things.
“Are you going to talk to him?” Aurora asked quietly.
This time, she’d come alone. I was standing in the backyard at the edge of the tree line. Between us and the house, there was one big oak where his grandma had hung a tire swing. It was gone now, but me and Everett would sit on it together and spin back and forth, this way and that.
Now, he was in the kitchen doing something that looked like the exact opposite of swinging.
“Why would I talk to him?” I snapped.
Aurora shrugged. “Because it’s probably better for you than standing out here alone.”
My eyes only narrowed into smaller slits.
“And because he’s your friend,” she added, even quieter.
He had been my friend, sure, but that was a very different thing than staying my friend.
Friends didn’t leave. Friends stayed with you and played forever and never, ever asked you to change.
Not that Everett had asked, exactly . . .
“He is not my—” I started, turning my glare on Aurora at the same time that her eyes went wide.
“Uh oh,” she whispered.
A second later, the back door banged open, hitting the kitchen wall, and Everett himself leapt out into the yard.
Aurora spun and disappeared, but me? I was stunned. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I just stood there, frozen in—in something like terror, as Everett staggered over the soft ground toward me.
Even if he was different now, taller and more—more like his dad, I wanted him to rush up to me. I wanted him to throw his arms around me and say he was so happy to see me. I wanted things to go back to how they’d been before he’d abandoned me and ruined everything.
“Hi,” Everett said, out of breath, tipping forward but with his hands outstretched like he was trying to calm down a spooked dog. “Hi, please don’t run. I’m—I’m Everett.”
That knocked me out of my shock, at least a little.
“Yeah,” I said, “duh.”
He nodded fast, straightening his back, trying to smile even when it wavered on his lips. “So you...know who I am?”
What the heck? “Obviously.”
“Great. That’s...That’s so great. I—I think I knew your dad? He must’ve told you about me?”
Um, no he didn’t. I didn’t have a dad.
I scowled at him, leaning back and crossing my arms.
“I’d really like to—to see him again. You see, I just got back to town, and we—well, we were friends, back when we were your age. Really good friends.”
Yeah, before Everett had gone and gotten all stubbly on his face and weird. Why was he so tall now? I hated how much taller than me he’d gotten. That wasn’t fair. None of this was fair.
“It’d mean the world to me if we could catch up,” he said, “and I was hoping maybe you could—if you could let him know I’m looking for him?—”
“Why are you looking for my dad ?” I spat. There I was, right in front of him, and he wanted my freaking dad? Was that all he had to say to me?
“Well, yeah. Like I said, we were friends.”
I stared at him, unsure what to say. Did he...was he talking about me ? Couldn’t he recognize me?
He couldn’t want to see me enough to get all tongue-tied and sparkle-eyed like this. If he did, then why had he left ?
“What’s your name?” Everett asked, leaning in again, like he was afraid I’d bolt and he wanted to catch me before I could. His eyes were wide, the whites obvious all around that sparkly blue.
“Really?” I shot back at him. “You don’t even know my name ? I?—”
What the heck was I supposed to do with that? It was one thing for Everett to have left me, but to have forgotten me completely? We’d been best friends for years .
I remembered sitting there in the dark in front of the box television when his grandma was asleep and his parents had gone out to dinner for a date night, both of us on the floor in front of the couch with our legs stretched out under the coffee table. We said it was because it was easier to get the snacks, but it was more than that.
Really, it was just easier to sit close to each other if we sat on the floor. It was easier to sneak our hands together under the coffee table without wondering who was going to catch us or if they’d have something to say about it.
We could sit there and watch a movie and bump our knees together. And I could still remember watching him from the corner of my eyes as the blue glow of the television fell over his face, remember catching him looking back at me and the way it felt when everything fell away and we stared at each other, the movie forgotten. I remembered biting my lip and feeling a spark in my chest that was almost, almost like flying. I remembered the thrill of knowing that something was going to happen but not knowing what, the rush of warmth in my cheeks as I started to smile.
I remembered when he turned my way, the way his throat bobbed when he swallowed, how slowly he leaned in. Close and close and closer still.
And then, I remembered the warmth of his lips, how they tasted salty-sweet like the Cracker Jacks we’d been eating. We hadn’t known what we were doing, but that hadn’t mattered because kissing him felt nice, felt right. He was Everett and I was Peter and I could hold tight to his hand while he closed his eyes and his dark brown lashes fanned across his cheeks.
I could close my eyes too, and then there was just his mouth on mine, the warmth of his breath against my skin.
He’d made a little sound, almost like a hum, and my heart had swollen big in my chest and I’d been so, so damned happy because this —this was something new for both of us and it was fun and tingly and perfect and ours .
And then the light in the foyer had come on, and we’d both jumped back, turning to the TV with red cheeks. The credits were rolling when his parents came in, but I didn’t know for how long.
They checked on us, asked about the movie, asked if I was staying the night, and when they left, even if we were too embarrassed to kiss again, Everett had reached for me under the table and threaded his fingers between mine.
That night, I’d hoped for so much .
Now, my lips trembled. My eyes stung as I stared at him. And gods, I hated that tickling track down my cheek when I started to?—
I wasn’t crying! I didn’t cry . That was stupid. I’d have to be an idiot to cry over a boy who couldn’t even remember my name.
“Don’t you dare ,” I hissed, my voice hitching even as I stuck out my chin. “Don’t you dare say you don’t remember me, Everett Bailey.” He flinched at the way his name came out of my mouth, hissed and angry. “I won’t ever forgive you. I swear I won’t.”
He blinked at me, and I watched the color drain out of his face. His hair was darker now, or maybe it was just the twilight sky that’d turned the strands of golden-brown invisible. It made his face seem all the paler.
“Do you . . . know Peter?” he croaked.
A growl tore out of me. “You’re so stupid !”
I spun and took off into the trees, running fast, no thought for the branches that lashed out and scratched at my skin. They didn’t matter. The cold underfoot didn’t matter.
All that mattered was getting away. Away from him, away from Cider Landing, away from everything .