CHAPTER 22
Everyone had been waiting for me to blow out the candles. They’d all been gathered around the cake with the lights dimmed, candles lit, and the chair beside Jamie had been empty and waiting for me. A scowling Jamie, with a paper birthday hat on his head. Mom must’ve forced him to wear it.
When I’d hurried to sit beside him, he’d muttered under his breath, “You suck.”
Yeah. I’d left my introverted brother to manage our birthday party alone. I kind of did suck.
The Pembletons didn’t stay after that, to no surprise. But Dr. Pembleton did swing by the ballroom to shake Dad’s hand. “Here’s my personal number,” he’d said, passing Dad a business card. “Call me, Dave. Let’s actually find the time to catch up.”
And he’d shot me one last amused smile. “I’ll look for you on campus in the fall.”
The birthday party kind of dissolved not long after that.
Mostly because Lydia stormed out, and word had spread that something had gone down out in the serenity garden, souring the Sabrina Carpenter songs the DJ had started to play.
Most of the kids from school bailed after eating their fill of cake, and by the time it was ten o’clock, the only ones left in the ballroom were my family, Daisy, and Ms. Jennings, who was dancing with a cup of wine she’d brought.
“On the bright side,” Daisy said as we watched Ms. Jennings bob to the beat, completely uncaring how she looked. We sat at a table, and Daisy’s heels were off, her legs in Jamie’s lap. “It wasn’t a total fail.”
Jamie frowned at her. He didn’t seem to mind that she was using him as a footstool, his hands resting on her shins. “It totally was.”
“Nuh-uh. I mean, Phase One was all about impressing the Pembletons for Carter’s sake—”
“Which she didn’t do,” Jamie cut in.
“I mean, she did. At first. For, like, ten minutes.” Daisy gave me a supportive thumbs up. “Not a total fail, Nell.”
Sure, not a total fail. Seventy-five percent of one. I’d possibly ruined Carter’s relationship with his parents, embarrassed him in front of them, and left him to fend for himself. As for Phase Two, if a kiss counted as a confession, I’d passed. But actually explaining my feelings… A total fail.
Beck had never come back in from the garden, either. I tried not to overthink it, but I couldn’t help myself. I’d left him out there with Lydia, and she’d left. Had he gone with her?
Dad and Destelle came over with a plate of cake in his hand, gesturing at it with his fork. “Which of you wanted the chocolate cake?”
For our birthday cake, we’d done a half-chocolate, half-vanilla cake, with vanilla and chocolate frosting respectively, because Jamie and I had such different tastes. “I did,” Jamie said.
Dad took a bite of it. “Good choice,” he said around his mouthful.
Daisy looked at my sister. “Where’s Harry?”
“He won’t be here til tomorrow.”
“Something came up?” I guessed.
“Overbooked flight.” Destelle arched a brow. “They were asking for people to swap flights, but I said nope. I wasn’t going to give my sister any more room to give me crap.”
I looked away, picking at the tablecloth.
Destelle eyed the seat beside me before taking it, catching Jamie’s eye. “Can you give us a sec?”
Daisy swung her legs off Jamie’s lap. “Come on,” she said, reaching for his arm. “Let’s get a slice of cake before they pack it away. Or before your dad eats it all.”
Dad’s cheeks were puffed out from the big bite he’d taken, and he trailed after them.
Destelle leaned back in her chair, peering at me with a strange expression on her face.
It’d been so long since I’d seen her that I couldn’t recognize her.
“You were right about Jamie’s sweatpants,” she told me.
“I would’ve gotten him high waters. I had no idea he’d grown an extra foot since I’d been gone.
Has Mom been feeding him fertilizer for breakfast? ”
I knew exactly what her words were. A white flag.
I looked over at my sister, closely, for the first time.
Her hair was curly and beautiful, curlier than Jamie’s, and totally different than my pin-straight locks.
Her features were slightly older, too, the roundness of her cheeks gone, but her eyes were still bright.
She looked mature, but still herself. “You have wrinkles,” I said.
She kicked at my chair leg lightly. “It’s rude to point out, you know.”
“I’m your sister.” I gave her an awkward smile. “I’m supposed to be rude.”
Destelle returned it.
“I’m sorry for being a brat on the phone,” I said, and even though I’d felt justified at the time, the tantrum I’d thrown embarrassed me now. I turned so she couldn’t see my heated cheeks. “I was taking my anger out on you.”
“I said a lot of stupid things when I was your age. I think it’s a rite of passage.”
“Like how you said you’d never come home for Christmas because of Mom and Dad?”
I’d meant it a little flippantly, but Destelle’s face fell a little. “You remember that?” Destelle let out a quiet sigh. “I didn’t not come home because of Mom and Dad. And not because of you, either.”
“I get it.” I turned back to the tablecloth, fingers tracing a wrinkle. “You’re an adult.”
“I didn’t think it mattered that much, me not coming home. Mom and Dad were always so busy with their cases, and I figured you and Jamie had your own lives that I’d be butting into.” She nudged my chair again. “I didn’t realize you liked me that much.”
“You’re my only big sister,” I grumbled. “Of course I love you… a little.”
Destelle smiled at that, and the familiarity of it made my heart feel warm, and I hadn’t realized how much it’d been hardened toward her until that moment.
“Give me a sec,” she said, getting to her feet and heading over to the table where she’d initially sat.
Destelle grabbed her brown crossbody bag and came back, unzipping it.
“Of course I wouldn’t come without a birthday present. ” And then she pulled something out.
It was a stack of notecards, probably three inches thick, all hole-punched onto a thick keychain. I frowned as I took them, and the top notecard, in pink writing, read WORDS.
When I flipped it open, I found another word written. AUTODIDACT. And then a date in the corner. Four years ago in August.
I flipped another notecard. SONDER. Four years ago, September.
“I know you probably don’t practice like this anymore,” Destelle said as I flipped through.
“But I remember you making flashcards of words when we were little. When I couldn’t come home when you started high school, I started doing this.
Whenever I came across a word I didn’t know, I wrote it on a notecard.
I figured maybe there’d be one in here that you didn’t know how to spell. ”
The notecards went on and on, and when I skipped to the final one on the keyring, the date read four days ago. VELLEITY.
“Even though I didn’t come home,” Destelle went on, quieter, “I still always thought of you. I know it’s not the same, but… well. I hope you forgive me, Nellie.”
Pressure pricked at my eyes, and I reached for her, nearly slipping out of my chair to wrap my arms around her.
Her frame was the same, but my arms were longer, and I was able to hold on to her tightly.
“I’m sorry for being so angry,” I said as I buried my face into her hair, inhaling the sweet scent of her shampoo. “For not talking to you sooner.”
“We’re just sisters who bicker and tick each other off,” she said, smoothing her hand down my back. “But we’ll be better at actually communicating.”
I sniffed into her shoulder, clinging to her the way I’d used to when I was little. The embrace was completely different now, but comforting at the same time. “Deal.”
When we pulled away, Destelle tucked some of my hair behind my ear, in the same way Mom always did. Her gaze was soft and exactly how I remembered it, and I felt like folding myself back into her arms and letting my sister hold me once more.
“Are they a couple?” she asked.
I followed where she was looking to the cake table, where Daisy was trying to wipe a fingerful of chocolate frosting onto Jamie’s cheek. He caught at her wrist, both of them grinning like fools.
“Daisy and Jamie? No.” I actually laughed. “No, just friends.”
Destelle hummed a little under her breath, her gaze shifting. “Are you two a couple?”
At first, I had no idea what she meant—until I followed her gaze to Beck. He stood just outside the ballroom archway, as he had earlier, only this time he seemed far more nervous.
And it felt like all the butterflies in my stomach had taken off all at once.
I wasn’t sure I said anything to Destelle before walking away—if the sound of her snickering under her breath was any indication, I hadn’t. A magnet had pulled me up and out of my seat, and I crossed the ballroom to Beck, where he’d ducked further out into the hall.
“I didn’t want to interrupt,” Beck said hesitantly, eyes flicking toward the ballroom as he reached up and coasted a hand through his hair. “Your sister is home, and after everything with the Pembletons, I wasn’t sure if you—”
“I was waiting for you.”
Beck blinked a few times, as if, even after everything in the garden, he was surprised by my surety.
There was so much to say, but everything was almost wrapped up inside. The DJ cut the music, which meant we’d be heading home soon. “Do you have to take your aunt home? Maybe we could—”
“Beckham?”
We both turned to find my dad stepping out into the hallway, still holding his half-eaten plate of cake. There were still circles underneath his eyes, but his expression was brighter than it’d been in weeks. Brighter than it’d been the first time he’d seen Beck.
“Would you like some cake?” Dad asked Beck, and then lowered his plate. “Not this one—I’ve been eating this one—but a different slice. Before we pack it up. I can grab you one.”
“Oh, I’m okay.” Beck, too, looked as awkward as Dad sounded, but offered my dad a small, genuine smile. “Mr. Brighton, do you think… Maybe could—can I take Nellie home?”