Chapter 13
Alice
If Alice had thought that speaking in front of Briar and Noah at a funeral had been bad, it was nothing compared to sitting in Briar’s car as they crawled through Fourth of July weekend traffic into DC.
The holiday marked the break between sessions.
Initially, Alice’s plan had been to ruminate on what had happened between her and Briar for the entirety of the long weekend, maybe checking in on how Sierra and Freddie were handling the British campers staying over until the second session as a convenient excuse for staying at camp.
But Noah had insisted that she get a lift back to DC with him and Briar for a real break, and Alice had never been able to say no to him.
Some things, it turned out, hadn’t changed since high school.
The road trip was different, though, like a twisted version of how it had been.
Before, Alice would have been in the front seat playing sad indie music that Briar begrudgingly tolerated and Noah would’ve been stretching from the backseat to hold her hand on the console, a comfortable third wheel to her and Briar’s friendship.
Now Alice was in the backseat, feeling like the most awkward third wheel of all time. As hard as watching their friendship from afar had been, seeing it up close was torture – being met so starkly with the realization that the life she once lived had gone on without her.
Briar had always insisted she didn’t understand what Alice saw in Noah, so Alice hadn’t expected their tentative alliance to survive without her as the connecting thread.
But she’d supposed, and Briar had confirmed, that Alice’s leaving had brought them together.
She wondered how Noah had reacted when Briar had told him everything, about how unfaithful Alice had been to him.
About how she’d been disloyal to them both, abandoning her friendship with Briar over a kiss that had meant nothing to Briar anyway.
The car ride could have been worse. Harper could’ve been there too, dealing out her trademark backhanded remarks along with everything else.
And, to his credit, Noah was making a valiant attempt to pretend that everything was perfectly normal, asking Briar and Alice questions in turn and accepting their stilted answers as if they were having a normal conversation.
Alice assumed he was doing it for Briar’s benefit, sensing the tension in the car.
‘Are you looking forward to the party?’ Noah asked Briar, the third in a series of questions which had only earned him grunts or sighs in response so far.
This time, Briar just shot him a warning look that Alice assumed was meant to communicate Not in front of Alice, she’s not invited.
Alice became more confused about where they stood with each other every minute.
The fight on the lake had been bad, but it was the conversation after that had left Alice reeling.
She’d been cataloguing Briar’s every move in the subsequent night and morning, and she’d been unable to draw any conclusive determinations.
If the brush of their lips had had any effect on Briar, Alice certainly couldn’t tell.
For Alice, almost kissing Briar had reminded her of exactly why she hadn’t come back. She couldn’t stop thinking about it, playing it over and over in her head.
‘I’m looking forward to the break between sessions,’ Briar said, when it became clear that Noah was still waiting for an answer. ‘Surrounded by non-sticky adults, AC that works and no raccoons.’
‘That’s good,’ Noah said, turning to Alice. ‘Are you excited to see your mom?’
‘Um, yeah,’ Alice said, cringing slightly as Briar’s eyes met hers in the rearview mirror.
Alice had always preferred for Noah to not understand her relationship with her parents, wanting him to see a version of her that both deserved and received unconditional love.
‘I got an email a couple days ago from my advisor. He’s read through my latest chapter and he thinks I’m nearly there.
He’s always saying I’m nearly there, though.
I still feel like it needs tons of work. ’
She omitted the part of the email where Jeremy had suggested that she should stop focusing on making what he referred to as ‘minute edits’ to the dissertation and instead start thinking about what she wanted to do after graduation.
‘As long as you have professional success to share with her, it’ll be a great visit,’ Briar said lightly, as though it were a joke. Alice didn’t know how to take it, so she decided to ignore it.
‘How are your parents doing?’ Alice asked Noah. She was genuinely curious, too. Noah’s parents had always been kind to her, and she missed the warmth they had brought to her life.
‘Good!’ Noah said. ‘They’re excited for the wedding. My mom has been super helpful with planning, which Harper is grateful for. Juggling her nursing schedule and wedding planning is hard, and I’m useless with that kind of stuff.’
He told his ex-girlfriend about his wedding with an ease that would have astounded most people.
One of the things Alice had loved most about Noah was his ability to defuse any awkward situation with genuine good humor.
Alice had needed him for that in high school, when she’d never once been able to say the right thing in a conversation with her peers.
‘He tries, though,’ Briar said, her eyes not moving from the bumper of the car in front of them.
Noah nodded. ‘I’ve become an Excel pro to keep us organized.’
‘A useful skill set for a music teacher,’ Briar teased, almost smiling now. The easy intimacy between the two of them, the way he quickly cheered Briar up, made Alice ache with regret.
‘Every woman in STEM needs a failing artist boyfriend,’ Noah said, grinning.
‘Fiancé,’ Briar corrected. ‘You’ve been engaged for nearly a year, you’d think you’d have gotten used to it by now.’
‘How is Harper?’ Alice asked, because hearing about Noah and Harper’s relationship seemed somehow less painful than witnessing the clear love between him and Briar.
They exchanged a look that Alice couldn’t read, reminding her again that she no longer spoke their language. She felt like a sidelined actor, watching the scenes of her previous life play out before her and knowing that it wasn’t the original script, but a warped imitation.
‘She’s good,’ Noah said, a touch too cheerful this time.
‘She’s different now than she was in high school,’ Briar said quickly.
It struck Alice right in the chest. She’d seen the birthday posts on Instagram, the declarations of best friends forever, and the pictures of the apartment they’d decorated together. It still made her feel hollow.
‘What does that mean?’ Noah asked, frowning. ‘Harper was cool in high school. We were friends with her.’
‘Oh, dude…’ Briar said. ‘You know she and Alice hated each other, right?’
Alice opened her mouth to protest, then closed it, not sure how to pull off a convincing lie.
‘No,’ Noah said, looking between the two of them, scandalized, ‘that’s not true.’
‘It’s true,’ Briar confirmed. ‘Tell him, Alice.’
‘Harper and I were just… very different people back then,’ Alice said diplomatically, not sure why Briar was doing this, ‘but it was a long time ago. We’re all different now.’ She couldn’t resist adding, ‘I mean, I hardly recognized Briar when I saw her again.’
She was surprised to see Briar’s expression flicker with hurt. ‘You’re one to talk. You’ve changed way more than I have. I mean, you’ve dropped the Barbie aesthetic—’
‘That’s a dramatic way to frame me not dyeing my hair anymore—’ Alice started.
‘And you weren’t such a pushover,’ Briar barreled on. ‘I mean, you’ve spent the last session letting campers and parents walk all over you.’
‘They’re intimidating,’ Alice retorted.
‘And you once argued with the school principal – and won.’ Briar caught her eye in the rearview mirror. ‘Over a grading error.’
‘Well…’ Alice flushed; she’d forgotten about that. It had been eighth grade, and Briar had missed getting an A in Geometry over a rounding technicality. When their math teacher hadn’t seen reason, Alice had been forced to go over his head.
‘You didn’t scare so easily back then,’ Briar said quietly.
Alice had no idea what to say to that, the idea that she’d ever, at any point in her life, been fearless, or that she now lacked that apparently quintessential part of herself.
She’d grant Briar that she used to be better with the kids than the past few weeks had shown, but anyone would have atrophied social skills with children after years of talking to mostly academics.
She’d found herself treating them like particularly immature botany students as a compromise, which clearly hadn’t been working.
Briar watched her in the rearview mirror, the same intensity in her gaze as the day before. And for the first time since getting in the car, Alice didn’t look away. If Briar wanted brave Alice back, well, she could have her.
Still, Briar’s face didn’t betray any emotion.
At least when she had been antagonizing her, Alice had known exactly where they stood.
Now, she had no idea what was going on in Briar’s head, and there was nothing Alice hated more than the feeling of not knowing something she should be able to work out.
‘Hey, kids and parents can be tough!’ Noah said, glancing between them in his first display of awkwardness. ‘Believe me, us teachers know all about that.’
For the first time since they’d gotten in the car, it felt like Noah was the third wheel again. And Alice didn’t know what to make of that.