Day 10
Sidney
When I see the piece of paper lying on my bed, my first thought is that we didn’t even make it twenty-four hours in this house without Asher invading my room.
My second thought is that I need to do a full sweep to figure out what he’s done.
Everything on my dresser looks normal. Usually if Asher messes with my room, the telltale sign is him messing around with all of the crap I keep neatly organized on my dresser.
He finds some sort of sick pleasure in leaving things in complete disarray.
I think of my bathroom items and know I’ll need to check that out, too. But first, the paper.
It’s a postcard-size piece of white paper with Five Pines written across the top in dark blue—from one of the little notepads Nadine puts in every room of her houses.
I collected them all when we left and shoved them in my bag—the most ineffective, passive-aggressive screw you of all time.
Though it did make my vindictive little heart happy to put them in the kitchen drawer of our new house.
Ha. In your face, Nadine—I stole your stationery.
I grab the paper off of the bed and read the words written in neat blue pen.
Meet me at midnight
on the dock.
Asher. I mentally add the signature, because while his name isn’t there, the list of people who could have left the note is short.
Cryptic notes aren’t really Sylvie’s or Greg’s style, and if Mom and Dad wanted to talk to me they’d just do it.
No need for midnight meet-ups and mysterious notes.
Plus, even if there was a full roster of suspects, I’ve gotten enough ransom-style notes from Asher to recognize his handwriting.
Between dinner and then our first campfire here, I wonder when he had time to sneak in here.
But just as quickly as I think it, I remind myself that we live in the same house now and he’s just one room away.
I locked the bathroom door, but I had never expected him to be bold enough to just come right into my bedroom from the hallway.
It’s a whole new ball game now. One where we have a frightening amount of access to each other.
I suppose I should be thankful that we’re sharing a shower, so there’ll be no more Kool-Aid in my future. Note to self: never shower first.
By eleven thirty I have the rest of my room unpacked.
Kara texted me and convinced me to go to another party next weekend, since I tanked our last plans by forcing us into a last-minute move.
I should just go to bed. Avoid Asher’s mysterious meeting, and crash.
After a full day of packing and unpacking two families’ worth of stuff, I’m exhausted.
Don’t go. It buzzes in my brain like a dying lightbulb, warning me this absolutely can’t be good. Don’t go, don’t go, don’t go.
But at 11:59 I’m not lying in bed, I’m slipping on my shoes and traversing the wooden stairs down to the dock.
There’s one light pole by the walkway, but we haven’t figured out where the switch is yet, so it’s pitch black beyond the small halo of light that surrounds our deck.
On the set of wooden stairs leading to the dock I stub my toe on an uneven step and barely catch myself from falling.
Maybe this is Asher’s secret plan—let me tumble down the stairs and roll to his feet. Possibly unconscious.
I don’t see him on the dock until I’m about to kick him with my foot. I let out a little squeak when I realize the dark spot is his body. He’s sitting on the edge about halfway down, his feet dangling into the water.
“You scared me,” I mumble, standing awkwardly next to him as he drags his feet through the water like a little kid seeing the lake for the first time. He doesn’t get up, so I slip my shoes off and squat down next to him, sitting down carefully on the old wooden dock.
“You rang?” I say quietly, because my voice feels riotous in the dark stillness of the night.
“I wrote, actually.”
I spread my hands out in front of me. “And here I am.”
There’s a long beat of silence as we both fidget our feet in the water, our eyes firmly fixed on where they’re submerged.
My eyes have finally adjusted to the dark, and I sneak a glance up at Asher, who sucks in a long breath, like he’s about to confess to something horrible.
After all we’ve done to each other, it has to be truly awful to have him this nervous.
“I want to call a cease-fire.”
I don’t say anything. I’m not sure I heard him correctly. Maybe I did stumble down the stairs, and this is me, in an unconscious otherworld where Asher isn’t Asher. Maybe I’m dead. Or this is a dream.
“A truce,” he clarifies.
“I know what a cease-fire is. I’m not an idiot.”
“I would never call you an idiot.” Asher sounds annoyed. Maybe he’s as tired as I am.
“Why?”
“Because we could be doing better things with our evil-genius-style skills, Sid.”
Asher never calls me Sid. Unless you count the night he was drunk—the night he kissed me. It sends a warm fuzzy ball into my stomach that makes me uncomfortable and a little nauseous. “What do you propose?”
“I propose we combine forces against a common enemy.”
The only other people around are our parents, and I don’t see it going over well if we turn our attention to them.
“I can’t sabotage my mom’s shampoo, I still need my parents to help pay for college.
And my shampoo,” I say. “That crap’s expensive.
” I hold a lock of hair in my fingers. “I have to buy sulfate-free shampoo, and special conditioner, and these special extra-soft towels, just to keep this hair in check,” I say matter-of-factly, stopping myself from the nervous ramble that is waiting just behind my lips.
“Nadine,” Asher murmurs, and I turn to look at him, not sure I heard him correctly. “We call a truce on all of our crap with each other. And we focus on making Nadine’s summer without us so much worse than it ever was with us there.”
“That’s…” I think about it for a minute—let it marinate in my brain a little. It’s immature. So childish. “… super spiteful,” I scold, and his face drops a little. I turn my eyes to the water and then back at him. “I like it.”
He smiles and I can’t help but do the same. “So you’re in?” His voice is hopeful and surprised.
“I’m in.”
Asher
“Should we talk details?” Sidney asks. “Is this a permanent cease-fire? Or for certain hours? Or just when we’re together on a mission?”
I snort at the word mission. I guess I’m not the only one in my own imaginary one-person army around here.
“And are we talking all summer, or just until Nadine is thoroughly punished?” I’m not sure Sidney has taken a breath yet. Or blinked. “And what is the goal with her, anyway? Do you think we should—”
Here we go. “Sidney?”
“Asher?”
My name holds the same amount of disdain as usual, except it’s coming from right next to me, as opposed to our usual sparring distance, so it stings a little more.
“It’s been ten seconds since I suggested this. We don’t need a detailed strategy just yet. Can you calm your control-freak brain for two seconds?”
She narrows her eyes at me, but it seems like she’s having to try a lot harder than usual to look annoyed with me. Maybe it’s all in my head. “You’ll appreciate my attention to detail now that we’re on the same side.”
I hold my crossed fingers up in the air between us and she rolls her eyes. “I’m counting on it. Otherwise, what else can you really offer?”
“Whatever,” she mutters. “You’ll be sor—”
I laugh as she stumbles on the last word. “Go ahead,” I challenge. “Finish it.”
“Sorry.”
“Sorry you said it?”
She shrugs. “Sorry I forgot already. Being on the same side might take some getting used to.” She looks at me with a truly puzzled look on her face.
“What am I supposed to do with all of the extra time I’d usually spend”—she looks around like she’s searching the night air for the word she needs—“plotting?”
I was going to say torturing. “I don’t know, I guess we just plot together?
And we do normal summer stuff? Like we used to?
” My eyes have fully adjusted to the dark and I can see the pained expression on her face.
“I’m not saying we have to do it together,” I add, just to make sure we’re on the same page.
“I mean, the plotting, yes. But the other stuff…”
She doesn’t let me finish. “Plan.”