Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
I leave Mom in the car and walk into the high school.
The hallways are empty, except for the occasional stray student heading to the bathroom.
Rounding the corner, I march up the staircase.
My heart is pumping blood at a rapid speed, but I keep my head held high for once, hoping the fake confidence will be enough to keep me from backing out of what I have to do.
Mrs. Williams’s door is open, as per usual, revealing her sitting behind her desk. Her glasses are perched on the tip of her nose while she glances over paperwork.
I knock on the doorframe.
She looks up and smiles. “Hello, Becca.”
“Can I talk to you?”
She nods.
My shoulders relax slightly. I knew she wouldn’t say no, but her expression is a lot less scary than I imagined. I stagger into her room, swaying my arms against my sides. The sleeves of my jacket are clutched between all ten of my fingers, hiding my palms.
“Please sit,” she says, motioning to her futon.
The red color is starting to grow on me, even though I’d never choose it for my own room in a million years. The fabric is worn, and I sink into the center when I sit.
“So,” she says, leaning back in her chair to give me her full attention. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
I breathe out, mentally preparing myself for what’s about to leave my mouth. “I want you to give Sadie another chance.”
Her eyebrows knit together. “I figured you were here to talk about your graduation.”
I shake my head. “No. I don’t care if I graduate or not at this point. Just please give Sadie another chance to pass her math final.”
Mrs. Williams sighs. “That was her second chance. It’s not fair to the other students if we keep bending the rules for her.”
“Please. It wasn’t her fault. It was mine. I was supposed to help her study, and I did an awful job. If anyone deserves to be punished, it’s me. Not her.”
Mrs. Williams laces her hands together and leans forward. “Do you realistically think you could teach her everything she needs to know to catch up?”
“Yes. I promise I’ll spend as much time tutoring her as I have to. If you give her another chance, she’ll pass it. I guarantee it.”
“Sadie was also running the dance committee for the winter formal, but no one’s heard from her since. She was supposed to be bringing cupcakes, and it’s tomorrow.”
“I’ll talk to her. I’ll even help her with it.”
She removes her glasses, and her lips twist in thought. She’s quiet for a moment, and I almost worry she can hear how hard my heart is racing. “Okay. One more chance, but that’s it. I’ll speak with her teacher.”
I stand and cover my smile with my hands. “Really?”
“Yes,” she says, placing her glasses back on.
“Thank you. You won’t regret it.” I start to make my exit.
“Becca?”
“Yeah?” I say, screeching to a stop a foot away from the door.
She tilts her head, examining me. Then her mouth pulls into a grin. “I’m giving you another chance too. Not just Sadie.”
My lips part, but nothing comes out. I’d given up hope of graduating this year, but maybe I was wrong to give up so easily.
“Go find Sadie,” she says.
“Thank you,” I say once more. I leave her office, heading back down the stairs to the main level. As I near the bottom step, a familiar face passes by—Caleb.
Classes haven’t been dismissed yet, so he stands out like a sore thumb against the empty hallway. His eyes are downcast, focused on his feet, and his backpack is slung over one shoulder so haphazardly it could fall off any second.
“Caleb,” I say, stopping, afraid to get any closer.
He doesn’t turn around, and his pace maintains the same urgency.
“Caleb.” This time, I raise my voice.
He pauses for half a second, and his head turns slightly in my direction.
Caleb is going to turn around.
He’s going to turn around.
Please turn around.
He doesn’t. He continues down the hallway without saying a word, without even looking at me.
I bite my lip and shift my gaze. What did I expect him to do? I’m the one who pushed him away.
My arms are full with an overflowing paper bag of groceries. There are sprinkles and every shade of cupcake liner imaginable. If anything will make her feel better, it’s baking. No one can stay mad when there’s a cupcake involved, especially not Sadie.
“Are you sure you don’t want help carrying all of that?” Mom says from the inside of the car.
I can barely see her past the groceries I’m juggling. “I’m sure. This is something I need to do by myself.”
She nods with a soft smile. “Okay, text me if you need me.”
“I will.”
Mom spent the last hour following me around the store, helping me find everything I needed. She even added a few of her own suggestions to brighten up the cupcake decorations. So if anyone asks us why some of the frosting is neon yellow, that’s Mom’s contribution.
“Okay, I love you.” She starts to roll the window up, not waiting for me to reply.
“Mom?”
The window stops moving.
“I love you,” I say. It comes out as awkward as talking through a mouthful of marbles, but I needed to say it. She needs to know it. Especially after today.
Her tears sparkle with a happiness I haven’t seen in a long time. Her fuchsia pink lips break into a smile, and she stares at me in awe.
I raise my shoulders and cringe. “Okay, I have to go now. Bye.”
She laughs, rolling the window up the rest of the way.
As I march up the driveway, I shuffle the bag enough that my fingers can form into a fist to knock. It’s weak and probably too quiet for anyone to hear. Just as I’m about to knock again, the lock clicks, and the door unlatches, opening ever so slightly.
Sadie peers through the opened crack. “What do you want, Becca?” Her voice is flat.
“I came to apologize.”
“For what?” This isn’t her usual warm tone. It’s frozen into an icy river, sending a shiver down my back.
“I’ve been a jerk. And you can hate me forever if you want, but I want you to know I’m sorry about everything.”
“It’s fine,” she whispers.
“No, it’s not fine. I’ve been a terrible friend the last few months. I deserted you when you needed me most, but I was too distracted to see that.”
When she lost Ethan, she lost me too.
The door opens a little farther, revealing her unbrushed red hair. She isn’t wearing any makeup, and her strained eyes are sunken in. Her chin trembles, and she takes in a weak breath. “I did need you.” She rubs her cheek, but I know her too well. That means she’s trying not to cry. It’s her tell.
“I can’t fix what I’ve already done, but I want to be here for you now .
. . if you’ll let me. I convinced Mrs. Williams to let you retake the math test and, as long as you show up for the dance, you’re going to be able to graduate.
” I shake the bag of groceries. “There’s everything you need to make cupcakes. I also might’ve bought some ice cream.”
She eyes the bag. I can see the wheels turning in her head. Will she forgive me? Will she give me another chance? Do I even deserve one?
“You really did that for me?”
“Yes. And I want to help you with the dance if you’ll let me.”
After a moment, she half laughs. “Never in a million years did I think I’d see the day you offered to help with a dance.” The corner of her mouth tilts up, and she steps away from the door, opening it wide for me to walk through.
I almost trip over the stacks of newspapers that fill the entryway.
“Sorry, I haven’t had a chance to take those to the recycling center,” she says.
We pass the living room where Sadie’s older sister sits with her eyes glued to her phone screen. She’s using the front camera to apply another layer of mascara on her already covered lashes. She catches me watching. Her eyebrow raises, oozing her confidence. “Did I say you could stare at me?”
“Did I say you could talk to me?” I snap back.
Sadie rolls her eyes. “Easy you two.” She pushes the kitchen door open. It flies back on its hinges the second I pass through.
I set the bag on the counter and start pulling out the different things I bought. The ice cream is buried somewhere near the bottom, so I have to empty the bag to find it.
Sadie stands off to the side with her arms crossed in front of her oversized blue T-shirt. “You went a little overboard at the store,” she says.
I chuckle. “Well, I bought everything we need for the dance tomorrow.” I take both of the ice cream pints, one in each hand. “Chocolate or cookie dough?”
“Cookie dough.”
I open it and stab a fork into the top like a pitchfork.
The first time I saw Sadie eat her ice cream with a fork, it threw me off, but it grew on me.
Although I opted for a spoon, I have been known to use a fork when all the spoons are dirty and I’m desperate.
It’s not that bad, as long as the ice cream doesn’t sit too long.
Once the ice cream starts to melt, though, there’s no convincing me to use a fork.
Sadie takes a big bite of ice cream. Yes . . . a bite.
My teeth hurt just watching it happen.
Sadie scrapes the top of the ice cream, forming lines in a crosshatch pattern instead of taking more bites. “Can I be honest with you?”
I nod, my heart speeding up a little.
“I know you put a lot of effort into finding all these ingredients, but I don’t know if I’m up for the dance. I started skipping school again, and . . . I’m considering dropping out.”
“Sadie . . .”
“I know.”
“You’re so close. You’ve wanted that scholarship for years.”
She sniffles, and a tear falls to the floor. “I’ve been having a really hard time thinking about my future lately.” She wipes her cheek on the back of her arm. “You know, he was headed here that day,” she whispers.
“I know.”