Chapter 10. Reed #2
She seems happy to land on a safer topic after whatever strange moment passed between us.
“It helps that I’ve been sewing since I was seven years old, when my mom got me my first Singer machine for my birthday.
I don’t know if you’d remember this from middle school, but she came to speak once for one of those career days. ”
“That’s right. Something about wedding dresses. I tuned out most of it. Sorry. Twelve-year-old boy.”
She chuckles softly, surprising me with how easy this feels. “I remember being so embarrassed that my parents were thinking of coming at all. Neither of them went to college and everyone else’s parents were doctors or bankers or—Wait, didn’t your mom come, too?”
“Yeah. Architect.”
“Right. And here’s my mom who works as a tailor, sewing for a living.”
“I remember she was kind of a hit. Didn’t she bring fabric and her sewing machine?”
“She did. And don’t get me wrong, she’s majorly skilled.
I feel bad now that it bothered me, but at the time …
” She trails off, gazing at the giant chandelier now glittering in the moonlight.
“Being in this room kind of reminds me of her. She’d occasionally get hired for these massive weddings, in Albany or even in New York City.
Usually everything was prepared long in advance, but sometimes there’d be an emergency.
The gown would tear, or the bride gained or lost weight and the dress didn’t fit.
On those days, she’d arrive early, before the ceremony, to work her magic.
Sometimes she’d bring my sister Jillian and me with her, and we’d take off our shoes and glide all over the dance floors of these giant ballrooms while she sewed.
” She wiggles her toes, covered in black socks, and takes a deep breath.
“I didn’t lose my mom in the same way you lost your dad, but she did abandon us.
Or at least, that’s how it felt.” She peeks over at me, like she’s surprised I’m still listening intently.
“In eighth grade, when my parents got divorced, she took off with her new husband and family to Phoenix. Jillian and I hardly see her now. And I don’t understand how she could do that, how she could pick up and leave like we meant nothing to her. ”
I knew Tessa lived with her dad, but I didn’t know any of this. She holds her cards close.
Tessa finds an interesting pattern to trace along the wooden floor.
“I have kind of an embarrassing confession.” She doesn’t look at me, and my stomach tightens.
“All last week I was sure you were going to brave the fog and ditch me. If my own mom didn’t think I was worth sticking around for, why would Reed Walker be any different?
” I’m shocked she’d confess so much to me.
I lean down until our eyes connect. “Honestly, I was worried you’d leave me. I know we haven’t always gotten along, but I’d rather not be here by myself. I was bored out of my mind, too.”
“For real, the boredom was overwhelming.” Her fingers begin tracing the woodgrain pattern again.
“Maybe I’m not being fair to my mom, because the thing is, in recent years, she’s wanted us to visit more, but …
I’ve resisted. My dad gets lonely. I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him behind.
Still can’t.” Her voice cracks at the memory.
“That’s why you decided not to travel far for college.” I smack my hand to my head.
“One of the reasons. Probably the main reason, but the other was financial.”
“Sorry for being an asshole about all that,” I say with a grimace. She’d have every reason to hold that against me. But I hope she won’t.
“It’s okay. I know my dad didn’t want me to make sacrifices.
But I worry. Especially now. Who’s going to look after him?
Who’s going to remind him to take his blood pressure medicine, or make sure he eats something besides ramen?
He needs me.” Now it’s her turn to wipe her tears away.
“Sorry. I didn’t realize this was going to hit me so hard. ”
“Hey,” I say quietly. “We’ve both been through a lot, but who’s to say this has to be a miserable experience?
” I’m suddenly reminded of sitting beside her in Principal Evans’s office.
Was that just last week? My dare feels like a lifetime ago.
We’re pretty fun. Why don’t you come find out?
I did promise her a good time, after all.
“What am I known for?” I slide down until I’m sprawled out in a fake model pose, like I’m basking in the sun, head propped on my hand.
“Is this a trick question?”
“Nope.”
“Uh … you’re a cocky, obnoxious know-it-all who takes up too much space.” She waves at me spread across the floor.
“True.” I nod. “But I’m also fun.” I kick off my Converse, standing in my socks. “Do you know what we need?”
“To get a life …?”
“Ha-ha.” I offer Tessa my hand. “Come on. Get up.”
“What are you doing?” As she places her palm in mine, my fingers twitch at the current crackling up my arm.
“Isn’t it obvious? We’re skating.”
After she stands, I take off at a run across the floor, gliding the final distance in my socks to the other side, arms windmilling for balance. “Uh, this is amazing. What are you waiting for?”
After a moment, Tessa sprints toward me, attempting some kind of ambitious pirouette in her socks, but loses her balance and smacks straight into my chest. She lands with a thump on her butt while I hit the mirrored wall, the wind knocked out of me.
Which is probably a sensation my body only thinks I should be having.
“Pretend that was graceful,” she chokes. “I didn’t mention it before, but sock skating is actually a full-contact sport.”
“I always suspected you lived on the edge, Sinclair.” I offer her a hand up again. “So, how does this work? Should we just skate around?”
“Well, we could. But I have a better idea.” She scans the room. “That crap phone can’t do much, but it looks indestructible. It can be our hockey puck.”
I glance at it skeptically, lying against the baseboard on the other side of the room. “Are you sure? We might break it.”
“Nah. Kick it gently if it makes you feel better and get behind this totally responsible choice.” She races over to grab the phone and her shoes. “My boots can mark my goal against this wall; your shoes can mark yours. Whoever scores ten points first wins.”
“What’s the prize?”
“I’d say eternal respect, but since we’re dealing in eternity, how about gloating rights for the night?”
I look at her appraisingly. “Gloating rights for the week and winner gets to ask any question they want, and the loser has to tell the truth.”
“Sure. Since I’m going to win, I’ll take those odds.” She winks at me, and my heart stutters.
“So cocky.” I tsk.
“Me?”
“Yes, you. It looks good on you, though.” I turn to grab my Converse, feeling strangely elated by her shocked expression.
After my goal’s set up against the opposite wall, I join Tessa in the middle of the room. She places the phone between us.
“Rules?” I ask.
“There are no rules in high-contact sockey. Just win. Win at all costs.”
“So basically … school?”
Tessa’s mouth falls open. “That’s how you think about school?”
“Isn’t that the game we’ve been playing for the past four years?”
“You mean a game everyone’s playing, or just us?” she asks, but I take this moment to make my move and kick the phone between her legs. It careens across the floor.
I race to the other end of the ballroom, thrilled to have the goal in my sight. Tessa chases after me, but I’ve got too much of a lead. Then out of nowhere she slides on her dress the final distance and blocks my shot.
“Damn, girl. I see how this is going to go.”
“Catching up to the fact that you’re going to lose, are you?” Still on the ground, she swings her leg forward, sending the phone flying to the other end of the ballroom. God, I hope we don’t break that thing.
When I pivot after it, she grabs my foot, crashing me to the floor.
“You are ruthless.” I should have known Tessa wouldn’t go down without a fight. I wriggle out of her grasp.
“I like to win,” she says. And it’s true. While I’m down, she launches herself in her socks as fast as she can toward the other wall. She thinks she has this in the bag, but I race behind her and wrap my arms around her waist, lifting her off the ground.
“I like to win, too,” I taunt.
“Put me down!” Her legs flail, but I hold on tighter.
“You said no rules!” I laugh, carrying her back to the other side. Her breath is hot against my cheek as I score my first goal. “I think I’ll play the whole game like this.”
“Or … how about like this?” She wraps her hands over my eyes so I can’t see.
I stumble forward but catch myself, keeping us both upright. “Careful. You’re going to kill us.”
There’s a moment when my words sink in, then we both burst out laughing.
I set her down on the floor, my shoulders shaking.
Maybe there’s some truth to the idea that the worse things are the more you need a good laugh.
Every time I’m about to regain my composure, I glance over at Tessa, and something sets us off again.
“I cannot look at you right now.” Her body’s wracked by gasping breaths.
“Oh my God, make it stop.” I double over, my eyes watering.
“It’s not even that funny,” she says.
“I know.” I clutch my side. “It’s awful. We fucking died.”
We lose it again. I haven’t laughed this hard in a very long time. Tears are streaming down my cheeks. I can hardly stand up.
Little by little, breath by breath, we slowly recover. Moonlight pools across the dance floor from the wall of windows facing the grounds. We steady and settle, staring at each other as we’re washed in the soft champagne glow.
That’s when it starts. The scratching noise.
It begins slowly. Skritch, scratch. Like a branch rubbing against the siding of the house. But when the front door handle begins to rattle, I know we’re not alone. My eyes dart back to Tessa’s. She’s frozen in place, body tense, listening.
“It’s the smoke people trying to get in, isn’t it? They want another go at me.” Tessa starts scanning the ballroom for somewhere to hide, but there’s no cover. “I assumed we were safe inside.” Her voice comes out as a squeak, shaky breath mixed with adrenaline.
The scratching sound increases, accompanied by giggles. “I don’t think that’s the smoke creatures.” My eyes narrow. “I think—”
The front door bursts open and what sounds like a group of people tumbles inside. We tiptoe out of the ballroom, edging down the long hallway, then come to a shocked standstill.
“It’s our friends,” I whisper, surprised.
Brandon and Kira are there holding hands.
Tilly’s using her cell flashlight to chart a route farther into the house.
Santiago’s behind her, carrying two six-packs of beer, along with some junior, Kevin something or other, looking unsure how he ended up with a bunch of recent graduates.
But it’s when Jenny Chu and Yannick Krause cross the threshold, arms loaded with candles, that I know we’re in trouble.
Tessa and I exchange worried glances.
“Who’s ready for the séance?” Jenny croons.