Room to Breathe

Chapter 16 Then

Then

“Hey, Indy, we’re going,” Mom said, coming into my room with a short knock.

I was looking under my bed for the textbook I hadn’t been able to find since that fateful day last week.

The day that nobody in my house was talking about.

The one we were all just pretending didn’t happen.

But I couldn’t forget. My body kept reminding me in my sleep.

I woke up often to loud banging sounds only real in my dreams.

My dad hadn’t been into work. I’d heard him making calls, presumably to clients, from his home office, talking about taking some time off due to Thanksgiving, but that everything was progressing just fine.

I thought they might disagree if they had been standing on our porch a week ago.

I’d spent hours Googling Dad’s law firm and staring at the smiling faces of his partners, wondering who the liar and thief was.

Because obviously it was one of them. If I’d been able to talk to my friends about this, we would’ve figured this out, analyzed their features and expressions and bios, and determined who our lead suspect was.

It might’ve helped me to make light of this whole situation.

Instead it felt the opposite of light. It felt so heavy.

The internet was just as silent about what had happened at my house that day as my parents were.

I couldn’t believe this hadn’t made the news.

Maybe because the FBI hadn’t found anything yet.

If charges were brought, this wouldn’t stay a secret.

Then I’d be able to talk about it with somebody, wouldn’t I?

But if that was the reason I’d be able to talk about it, then I didn’t want to.

Maybe they’d find nothing on anyone and we could all just pretend our way back to normal.

“Going where?” I asked now, sitting back on my heels without my book. We were going to have a test the day we got back to school after break and I hadn’t studied at all. At least I thought we were going to have a test. I couldn’t remember.

“To Thanksgiving dinner at the Eubanks’,” she said with a smile. It wasn’t her real smile, but it was pretty good.

I blinked in surprise. That dinner started in fifteen minutes. Yesterday she’d told me that we weren’t going. I hadn’t seen any of my friends since the incident. I’d skipped school last Friday and turned down a hangout on the first Monday of vacation. Nobody thought anything of it.

I crawled over to my backpack and pulled out my binder, then flipped to the calculus section. Yes, we had a test. Could I get by on just the classroom notes I’d taken? I flipped back through the pages.

“Okay?” Mom said.

“What?” I asked.

“The Eubanks’? For dinner.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because we need to get out of the house.”

I wondered if she meant me or my dad, because Mom had been out of the house. She went to work every day.

I looked at her. She was ready—clothes, hair, makeup. She looked good. I was still in my pajamas. I hadn’t taken a shower yet. Had I taken one yesterday? “We didn’t make anything to contribute,” I said. “Did we even let them know we were coming?”

“We were invited,” she said. “It will be good for us.” With those words she left my room.

I sighed and went to the bathroom to get ready.

My mom held a bottle of red wine and transferred it from one hand to the other nervously as we stood on the porch.

I could tell Dad liked this idea as much as I did—in that he didn’t like it at all, felt like we were intruding.

There were lots of cars in front of the house, and I wasn’t sure if more people made things better or worse.

I remembered here on the porch that one of those cars would be Beau’s grandpa’s, and I knew we should just turn around and leave.

We should’ve dressed up even more than we had, brought something nicer to contribute, stayed home.

The door swung open and Mrs. Eubanks smiled in greeting.

She wore a deep burgundy dress and heels.

Her lips were the same color as the dress, and her hair was styled into stiff waves.

“Hello,” she said. “Come in.” I could not tell from her expression if she was surprised to see us or not. She was very good at appearances.

“Thank you,” Mom said, handing her the bottle as we stepped inside.

My mom was also in a dress, but she seemed ready for Sunday service, while Mrs. Eubanks seemed ready for a gala.

“Sorry we’re late.” She put her hand on my shoulder with those words, and I wasn’t sure if that was a conscious or subconscious gesture indicating who made us late.

It wasn’t my fault she gave me fifteen minutes’ notice.

I’d managed to put on a long skirt and fitted tee, but I wore my Converse.

I wondered if I should take them off, like I normally did, and leave them by the door.

There were no other shoes there today, though.

“It’s okay,” she said. “We’re just barely getting started.”

I’d been in the Eubanks’ house plenty, but my parents weren’t frequent visitors, so they waited for Mrs. Eubanks to lead the way.

“The Blairs are here,” Mrs. Eubanks announced, gesturing toward us when we arrived in the great room.

The normal dining table was full. A large folding table had been set up in the adjoining living room and covered with a burlap tablecloth.

That was full as well. Vases of fall-colored flowers filled the room.

I located Beau right away at the extra table, the kid table.

He wore a long-sleeved shirt and a tie. He was surprised to see me, I could tell, but it was a good surprise.

He smiled big. For the first time in a week, I felt a sense of relief.

I could talk to Beau. Swear him to secrecy.

I needed to talk to someone, and I trusted him more than anyone.

He would let me vent. Tell me everything was going to be okay.

Let me cry or scream or do something to release all the pent-up tension that made my body feel like it was about to combust.

There was movement to his left and I locked eyes with Harper. She was waving. I waved back. So much for being able to talk today.

“Hi, Indy!” Brady said from the other end of the table.

“Hi,” I said.

There was some shuffling at both tables, chairs being moved, some folding chairs brought from a back room. After a couple of minutes there was an extra chair for me at the kid table, next to Beau, and two chairs added to the main table for my parents. We took our places.

“A tie, huh?” I said to him under my breath as I sat down.

He reached up and adjusted it. “And I pull it off so well, don’t I?”

I let out a breathy laugh while taking in his styled hair and the blue tie that matched his eyes perfectly. He actually did pull it off. Very well. I cleared my throat and looked away.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” he said.

“Yeah, sorry, my mom decided last minute.”

“No, I’m happy you did. But you missed my grandpa’s big speech,” he said.

I glanced over at the adult table again, where his grandpa sat at the head.

He even looked important. A full head of white hair, a crisp white shirt under a dark suit.

Like he’d spent his whole life speaking in front of crowds.

Probably because he had, as mayor and then governor and then congressman.

It didn’t surprise me that Beau’s dad had given the head of the table to him.

Or that he had made the Thanksgiving Day speech.

I wondered what he’d said he was thankful for.

I wondered if he went around the room and had everyone say what they were thankful for.

I was glad I’d missed it. I wasn’t sure what I would have said. Beau? I was grateful for him.

“Yes, we’re glad you’re here,” Harper said, leaning forward to talk to me around Beau.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Here’s a plate for you.” Mrs. Eubanks set an empty gold charger in front of me, then topped it with a white plate. “Help yourself.” She tapped Beau on the shoulder. “Elbows off the table.”

Beau quickly complied, then reached to the center of the table and grabbed the bowl of mashed potatoes, placing them beside me. “Your favorite first.”

“Thanks.” I scooped a spoonful onto my plate, then pushed the bowl back toward the middle. Over the top of the bowl, I saw a little girl staring at me. I offered her a smile.

“If that’s Beau’s girlfriend”—she pointed to Harper—“who are you?”

“This is one of my friends,” Beau responded. “She lives pretty close.”

I was his neighbor. That was what he was saying.

“Indy,” he said. “This is my cousin Clara and her brother, James, from Roseville.” He continued pointing around the table, introducing people. I knew some of his family, like his sister’s kids on the end and obviously Brady.

“I’m Harper,” Harper said with a laugh when he was done.

“Nice to meet you,” I tried to tease back. It fell flat. I ran my fork through the potatoes on my plate.

“Did you already eat before you came?” Beau asked. “We’re your third stop or something?”

“No, I’m hungry,” I said, because I was, but my stomach felt tight at the same time. Full of the nerves that had been swirling around in there all week. I took a bite of potatoes.

Beau reached for the platter of turkey and forked a few pieces onto my plate. “You okay?” he asked under his breath, brows low in concern.

No! I wanted to scream, but instead I forced a smile and nodded. I didn’t look at him while I did, knowing he’d see right through me.

“Did you hear about the bonfire on the beach on Saturday?” Harper asked.

“I didn’t,” I said. But there were bonfires on the beach once a month, it seemed, so I wasn’t surprised.

Beau tilted his head. “Have you not been reading our group texts?”

Our group texts were a constant stream of notifications, most of them commentary on various aspects of the day.

For example, Caroline would text: got distracted and burnt my toast this morning.

To which Ava would reply: you probably deserved it.

To which Beau would reply: I kind of like burnt toast. And on and on.

Our group text had been going strong over the past week. I had been responding sparingly.

“Oh, right,” I said. “I forgot.” Maybe I had read it or maybe it had gotten lost in the fifty texts about Ava’s missing blue crop top.

Speaking of missing things. “Did I leave my calculus book over here?”

“I don’t think so,” Beau said.

“Can I borrow yours tonight?”

He laughed. “Nice try.” To Harper he said, “Indy is like two points behind me in class rankings and she’ll do anything to make me fail a test.”

“No, I really can’t find my book.”

He narrowed his eyes at me in suspicion. “You can write down what you need here, but I still need to study too. You can’t take it.”

I nodded. It definitely wouldn’t be as much as I normally studied, but that would have to be enough. My stomach churned again. I needed that feeling to go away soon. I wasn’t a fan.

A couple of hours later I was sitting at Beau’s desk in his room, frantically writing down as much as I could from his textbook.

Harper sat cross-legged on the floor next to his bookcase behind me.

Beau sat on his bed. I wondered if she would leave before me so I could talk to Beau.

I didn’t think she would, but I hoped. My stomach, which had only been churning earlier, was now in knots.

I tried to ignore it and focus on studying.

“Your taste in books is terrible,” Harper said, eyes traveling over the shelves.

“You don’t like fantasy?” Beau responded. He loved fantasy. Had probably read each of his favorite series several times over.

“You should read mystery,” Harper said.

“I don’t like mystery,” he responded.

“Have you tried it?” she asked. “I have a series I’m going to loan you.”

“Okay,” he said.

“Let’s swap,” she suggested.

I raised my eyes from the calculus book to see Beau’s reaction. He didn’t love sharing his books. Was very protective of them.

“What’s your favorite?” she asked, moving along his bookshelves.

I laughed but then sucked my lips in to stop it short.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing,” I said when I realized he wasn’t going to tell her that she couldn’t borrow his books.

He was letting her pull some out and flip through the pages, even.

“His favorite is top right, the blue ones,” I said. “They’re even signed by the author, I think.”

She walked to where I was pointing and he narrowed his eyes at me. I shrugged in faux innocence.

“Yay!” she said, taking them off the shelf one by one until she had all six. “I can’t wait to read them.”

“Maybe you should start them one at a time,” he said, his hands twitching a bit, as if he was trying to keep himself from snatching them from her and sliding them back onto the shelf.

“No,” Harper said. “I’m a fast reader and I hate waiting. But don’t be mad if I don’t like them. I’m not a fantasy nerd like you are. Too many weird names and places and lore.”

“That’s part of what makes them so good,” he said.

“Do you like these books, Indy?” Harper asked.

I turned from where I’d gone back to writing. “I haven’t read those ones, but I like most books,” I said. “I don’t really have a favorite genre.”

“What do you like better?” she asked. “Reading or watching movies?”

I was writing again and I stopped with her question. “Me?”

“Yes,” she said. “I love movies.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I like them both.” I scratched at my cheek and looked at the open page in front of me. All the letters were blurring together. I blinked. They were still blurry.

I slammed the book shut and stood. “I should probably go.”

“Why?” Beau asked.

My parents had already left about an hour ago. My plan was just to walk home. We were neighbors after all.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Because I need to go.”

“Okay. We’ll see you Saturday?” Harper asked. “At the bonfire?”

“Saturday,” I said.

“We’ll give you a ride,” Beau said, standing.

“No, I want to walk. I need to walk.”

Beau just stared at me, trying to read my thoughts. He couldn’t this time.