Chapter 1 #2
They should be heading out soon if they want to make it to Dallas before dark. Caroline’s sister just had a baby, and she’s been itching to go meet the newest member of the family.
And I’ll be here, closing up the place while everyone else celebrates.
I finish off the last bite of cake, licking chocolate frosting from the side of my fork. “Thank you so much. Now get out of here. You’re going to be late.”
“She’s right,” Armand says, already shrugging into his jacket. “And our hotel room is nonrefundable.”
Caroline laughs. “Well, we can’t waste money now, can we?”
The look she shares with Armand is so full of quiet affection it makes something in my chest ache. It’s not dramatic or movie perfect. It’s real. And just for a second, I wonder what it would feel like to have someone look at me that way.
Caroline waves for me to follow her into the back office. I trail behind, wiping my hands on my apron.
“Here are the keys,” she says, pressing them into my palm. “If it’s dead tonight, go ahead and close up early. Oh—and this is for you.” She holds out an envelope, thick enough to make my stomach flip. “Open it once we’re gone.”
“You didn’t have to?—”
“We wanted to, Jo-Leigh,” she interrupts gently. “You’ve worked so hard since day one, and we just want you to know how much we appreciate you.”
My throat tightens, and my eyes go glassy. “Thank you.”
She pulls me into a quick, fierce hug, then backs away when Armand calls her name from the front. I tuck the envelope into my pocket like it’s something sacred and head back to work.
The rest of the shift flies by in a strange, comforting blur.
Sweet Caroline’s is famous for its desserts, so I spend most of the evening boxing up slices of pie and cheesecake.
The tips come fast and generous and I can’t help but wonder if Caroline let something slip to the regulars.
Each customer has a kind word, a bit of advice, a blessing for the road ahead.
For once, I don’t feel like just a face behind the counter.
At eight sharp, I flip the sign to CLOSED and twist the lock.
The diner is quiet now, humming only with the sound of the fridge and the faint clink of dishes as I clean.
I mop, wipe down the tables, refill napkin holders.
It’s a ritual. A way to keep my hands busy, to avoid the silence that waits for me outside.
The trash takes three trips. I don’t rush.
Finally, I drop into the booth by the window, the only light coming from the neon FRESH PIES sign still buzzing faintly in the window.
I pull out the envelope. The card is simple.
Soft pink, with my name written in Caroline’s neat handwriting.
Inside, a handwritten note and cash. My breath hitches.
Five hundred dollars. Crisp bills tucked carefully behind the card.
I blink hard as tears well up again. It’s too much. More than I’ve ever been given in one sitting. Part of me wants to march back to the office and leave it on her desk, but I know better. Caroline would see that as an insult, and her note confirms it.
Jo-Leigh,
You’ve been a bright light in our lives from the day we met you. You know we always wanted kids, but weren’t blessed, so please let us do this for you.
Love Always,
Caroline
Well, crap. How can I refuse the money now?
I tuck the bills into my wallet with the rest of my tips, still a little stunned. My eyes flick to the clock. There’s this itchy, restless feeling crawling under my skin, and I’m not sure what to do with it.
Adele’s voice keeps looping in my head. Are you coming to my party? Why would she invite me? We’ve barely exchanged two words in the last six years. Pity? Maybe. That, I can believe. But the crazy thing is I kind of want to go.
I spent all four years of high school surviving. I’ve kept my head down and stayed invisible. I didn’t go to dances or games. I didn’t make memories. I just kept my head above water. Is it ridiculous to start living now, after graduation?
I glance around the empty diner. Everything’s clean and locked up. Still smells faintly of sugar and fryer grease. I could go, just for a bit. See what it's like. Then come back and crash in Caroline’s office like I planned.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I grab my bag, slip out the back door, and lock it behind me.
This is a bad idea, I tell myself as I climb into my car. I shouldn’t waste gas driving all the way out to the lake. But being alone right now feels like too much. So I turn the key, and to my surprise, the engine starts without hesitation.
I take that as a sign.
The drive out to Lake Verret is quiet and it’s easy to find the party. I just follow the line of parked cars snaking along the road and the distant glow of firelight flickering through the trees. Judging by the crowd, half the town showed up, not just the seniors.
I pull off to the shoulder and park behind a dusty pickup, then make the trek toward the bonfire, the crunch of gravel under my shoes oddly grounding.
Music thumps from a massive speaker setup, and voices carry over the crackling fire. Laughter. Shouting. That strange energy that only comes with the end of something big and the start of something unknown.
People are gathered in clumps. Some drinking, others dancing, some just talking.
It’s the same social structure from school, just transferred outdoors.
The popular kids in the center, glowing in the firelight.
The fringe kids orbiting like satellites.
I hover at the edge of it all, heart hammering.
I’ve never felt more out of place or more curious.
I stuff my hands into the pockets of my hoodie and keep to the shadows, just watching.
Maybe tonight doesn’t have to mean anything.
Or maybe it could mean something after all.
But one thought keeps plaguing me. How am I even supposed to do this?
“Hey, you don’t know me because I’ve spent four years staying out of your way, but surprise! I’m here now. Cheers!”
“Hey, I’m Jo-Leigh. I’ve known you since seventh grade, even though you probably didn’t know I existed.”
“I had the weirdest dream about a party like this once…”
I almost laugh out loud, but instead, I clutch the nearest tree like it might keep me from floating away.
A memory blindsides me. It’s so vivid it nearly knocks the wind out of me.
My mom, curled up on our sagging couch with a bowl of popcorn, eyes glued to the screen as Sixteen Candles played for the hundredth time.
She loved that movie. Said Jake Ryan was the blueprint for a perfect guy.
Right now, I feel like Sam—awkward, invisible, clinging to the edges of a party that doesn’t even know I’m there.
I haven’t thought about my mom in ages. I swallow hard.
This is a bad idea . I turn to leave.
“There you are!”
I jump like I’ve been tased. Adele materializes at my side, all blonde curls and glossy confidence. She’s changed into designer jeans, boots, and a crop top that shows off her perfectly flat stomach.
“Hey. Sorry I’m late,” I mumble.
“Don’t be sorry,” she grins. “Come on. There are some people I want you to meet.”
Before I can protest, she loops her arm through mine and pulls me into the firelight, straight into the middle of her group.
“Look who I found! Joey-Leigh is here!”
God, no. I want to crawl into the nearest cooler and stay there until sunrise. And she didn’t even get my name right!
“Hi,” I say, voice barely audible.
“We didn’t think you were going to come,” a girl says, smiling. I can’t remember her name to save my life.
Adele squeezes my arm. “I knew she would. Jo would never let me down!”
Jo? We’ve literally never had a full conversation, and now I’m “Jo”? This whole thing feels like a fever dream.
“Oh! Ricky! Jo is here!”
I blink as Ricky, the star quarterback and Freedom High’s golden boy, makes his way toward us, grinning like I’m someone worth noticing.
“There’s my girl,” he says, pulling me into a hug that knocks all the air out of my lungs.
I think my brain just short-circuited.
“Come on. Let’s get you a drink,” he says, already dragging me away from Adele before I can process anything.
He leads me to a table and scoops some bright red liquid from a punch bowl into a plastic cup. The alcohol hits my nose before it hits my lips.
“Are Adele’s parents here?” I ask, eyeing the setup.
“Nah. They took off around seven. This place is ours tonight.”
I take a cautious sip and immediately cough. Holy vodka .
Ricky just grins and leads me to a nearby picnic table where we sit. I keep a death grip on my cup, more for something to do with my hands than any real desire to drink.
“So, what are your plans for the summer?” he asks casually.
The summer? It’s literally December.
“I’m going to be working a lot,” I say. “What about you?”
He shrugs like the question bores him. “The parents are sending me to Europe for a graduation present. Then LSU in the fall. Early draft pick. I’m sure you heard.”
Of course I know. The school threw an assembly over it. There were balloons. A banner. Applause. I even heard some whispers that his dad made a big donation to grease the wheels.
“I heard. That’s awesome,” I say, because what else can I say?
“What school are you going to?”
“I’m still deciding.”
He nods, not really listening. “I kinda wish I could take a gap year, but my dad’s all ‘you’ll miss your shot at the pros.’”
I look at him. “What would you do if you could take a year off?”
“Travel,” he says instantly. No hesitation. Like it’s the obvious answer.
I nod, taking another sip to avoid responding. The punch burns less the second time around. He would travel. I would work because I don’t have a choice. We’re sitting at the same table, but we’re a world apart.
“This is going to sound lame,” Ricky suddenly says, “but I’m really glad you came tonight. I’ve had a crush on you forever.”