Chapter 21
Maple
The doorbell sounds. Oh God. It will be him.
Jeez, why is my heart pumping so fast? It’s hardly a life-or-death situation.
But now my armpits are clammy. If I get sweat patches on my top, I will literally die of embarrassment.
I eye my vanity, grab the body mist, spray it liberally. Watermelon explodes in the air.
Should I go downstairs now? Or wait for Mom to call me?
I hear her welcoming him inside. Dylan Dope is in my house. His mom was dropping him off, but she couldn’t stay; that’s what Mom said. It’s a long drive back to St George and she needed to get going.
He’ll be in the kitchen now. Mom will be asking if he wants a glass of homemade lemonade. She cursed and bitched about it earlier, the acidic citrus juice stripping her nails, but now she’ll be pretending we drink it all the time. What else will she be saying to him?
I can’t avoid this any longer.
I take a deep breath and head downstairs.
‘Hey,’ I say, but it’s a squeak, so I quickly ram my lips closed. I select the best angle to assess him from, one where I can check him out without accidentally making eye contact. He’s slim, long-limbed, with a puff of dark blond hair that hides half his face.
‘Maple honey,’ Mom says, her makeup perfect, her white smock dress giving me tradwife vibes. ‘I was just telling Dylan how much you want to learn to skateboard, and he offered to give you a lesson. Isn’t that kind of him? We can go to the skate park this afternoon.’
This doesn’t slow my heart at all. I follow some skateboarders online – like that cool British-Japanese girl Sky Brown – and I’ve seen the injuries. ‘Sounds good,’ I hear myself say.
Dylan nods but doesn’t make eye contact. Then he turns his attention back to Mom. It’s too quick. It’s obvious that he doesn’t want to be here, which makes me feel even more sick. ‘You have a nice home,’ he says. ‘And a pool – that’s amazing.’
Mom puffs out her chest like a peacock. ‘Thank you, Dylan, that’s sweet of you. It’s nothing special really, but we love it, don’t we, Maple?’
‘Um, yeah,’ I say, feeling my cheeks heat up. Mom’s making an effort to include me in this conversation, while Dylan clearly doesn’t want me involved.
‘Do you mind if I take your photo, Dylan?’ she goes on. ‘Show Maple’s followers you’ve arrived? They’re so excited about you coming to stay, they’ll want all the gossip.’
She’s raising her eyebrows. Oh God. Please make this stop.
‘Sure,’ Dylan says, like people ask him this all the time. Which of course they do.
‘Hey, Maple, get in shot too,’ Mom casually demands.
I knew this was coming. Mom’s been posting about Dylan’s upcoming visit for days, and now he’s here, I doubt she’ll let him breathe without her declaring it a photo opportunity. But the thought of getting physically close to him makes my pulse race.
I shuffle toward him, place my trembling hand on the back of his barstool, lean in, smile at Mom’s phone lens. And crazily, it helps. My heart thump reduces to a regular beat. As though smiling for the camera, making content, is so familiar that it actually relaxes me.
‘Beautiful,’ Mom says as she finally lowers her phone. ‘The twins will be so sad to have missed this.’
‘It’s Aspen and Ash, right?’ Dylan says, earning himself more brownie points. ‘They’re not around?’
Mom’s jaw sets. I slept through Dad and the twins leaving this morning, so the first I heard about their adventure was from Mom when I came downstairs. She pretended it was her idea – getting the twins out of the way so she could concentrate on me – but I could see she was mad about it really.
‘Their dad’s taken them camping,’ Mom says, with the same fake smile she used on me. ‘Those three love the great outdoors. Garrett will have them hunting with him next.’
‘You didn’t want to go?’
I jolt as I realize Dylan’s question is aimed at me.
‘Oh. No.’ I shake my head. ‘Camping isn’t really my thing.’ The words come easily, but his question sticks. Because it’s true that I’m not into camping like they all are, but if this is a dad and kids’ trip, why wasn’t I at least invited?
Maybe I was though. And Mom vetoed it because Dylan was coming to stay. Of course that makes sense. I manage half a smile in Dylan’s vague direction.
‘How about we go to the skate park now?’ Mom suggests. ‘It’s a big one, Dylan, I think you’ll like it.’
‘Provo skate park gets a lot of love in the community,’ he says, his voice lower than the boys’ at school. ‘I’m excited to see it.’
‘But I don’t have a skateboard,’ I say. My final attempt at not completely embarrassing myself.
‘Oh, you do now,’ Mom says with a bright smile. ‘ delivered it an hour ago.’
Great.