Chapter Twenty-Two #2
Before Saratoga, before the play, before the kiss, before learning how Parker’s hand fit in his own, before sneaking away on New Year’s at midnight, before Bea and Isaac and Paige, before Halloween and all of the weekends they’ve spent together being teenagers, normal and stupid and alive.
“Paige, you have to believe me. We—we were, we were idiots, but…”
“You promised me,” Paige says sharply. “You promised there were no more secrets.”
“I know,” Zach replies, because he does, he does, he does. He tries not to cry but the tears come hot and fast. “I know, and I’m—I’m so fucking sorry, Paige. It’s just that… telling someone meant telling on myself. It meant—it meant admitting that I… that I tried to—”
Paige’s face falls open in slow realization, then crumbles before she looks away. She hiccups and scrubs her wrist across her face. “Fuck,” she breathes. “Zach.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” Zach whispers. “No one was supposed to find out.”
“But you—” Paige pauses, unable to say the words.
He can’t blame her. Telling her the truth opens something up in Zach’s perpetually tight chest. He can’t tell if it feels good or not.
Maybe somewhere in the middle. Carrying these secrets had been impossible.
There’s almost a relief in no longer having to lie even if telling the truth hurts in its own way.
The senior parking lot is almost entirely empty now. The sun dips down behind an overcast sky, and a wet snowfall starts to cover the windshield. They sit together in the warmth of the car, sniffling and crying and staring ahead.
“I should go,” Zach whispers.
Paige exhales slowly, rubbing her nose. “Let me drive you home at least,” she says, voice a little dull. “You’ll freeze like that.”
Paige pulls out of the parking lot. The drive to Zach’s house is both too long and not long enough, and Zach struggles to come up with something to say. Anything that might fix this. When Paige pulls into his driveway, the house is empty and dark.
Before he gets out, Zach looks across the car at Paige. “Don’t let your parents send Parker to Vermont,” he says.
Paige exhales a mirthless laugh. “I’ll do my best,” she says.
“And don’t let Parker, like, get himself sent to Vermont,” Zach adds. Paige snorts. They both know it’s a tall order.
“I’m still mad at you,” she says.
“Yeah,” Zach whispers. “Um, you should be, probably.”
“But…” Paige sighs, slumping back in her seat.
“I don’t know. My brother has always been a nightmare.
But he’s, like, better now.” She pauses for a moment, then adds, “Things are still… I mean, every week at therapy sucks in its own way, but… I don’t know.
I can’t remember the last time I’d seen Parker happy before you.
You brought him out of this really dark place he’s been in for a long time. ”
This pain is nothing compared to what Zach had felt when she was screaming at him in the parking lot. It’s different—sweeter—but it still hurts.
“We all did,” Zach says earnestly. “You, Isaac, and Bea…”
Paige laughs, rubbing the last of her tears off her cheeks. “Yeah, but I think he likes you best.”
Zach exhales a slightly hysterical laugh too. He nods, reaching across the center console. He grabs her hand, and Paige laces their fingers together. He squeezes hard until she squeezes back.
“And you all brought me out of a dark place too,” Zach says. Paige looks down at their hands, nodding.
“I’m really glad you’re still alive,” Paige says in a whisper. Zach’s heart thumps hard.
“Me too. And I’m going to fix this,” he says softly. “I promise.”
- - - - -
Parker doesn’t return to school the next day either.
Zach catches Paige in the hall between periods, and all she can tell him is that Parker is not in Vermont.
Isaac and Bea descend on Zach during lunch, armed to the teeth with questions.
Where’s Parker? Why is Paige mad at you? What’s going on? Is everything okay?
Zach doesn’t know what to say. He sits, stomach empty, heart in his throat, and stares at the fake wood of the lunch table, curling his fingers into knots.
“Parker and I—” Zach says. He starts and stops again and again. He can’t say it. Not here, not in the middle of the cafeteria, like it’s any other gossip.
“What, did his dad find out you two were banging?” Isaac presses. Then, a little more seriously, sounding genuinely alarmed, he asks, “Did you break up?”
“Isaac,” Bea says quietly. “You’re not being helpful.”
“You should have seen Paige bodycheck him yesterday,” Isaac says, throwing his hands down against the table. “She was pissed.”
Bea reaches across the table, squeezing Zach’s hands. “You can tell us when you’re ready, Zach,” she says. Zach squeezes back.
At the end of the day, Paige pulls him aside. Isaac and Bea hover nearby. She holds up a single finger—wait—then tugs Zach down the hall a little ways, so they’re out of earshot. She offers him the smallest and weakest of smiles. He can’t make himself smile back.
“Hey,” Zach whispers, leaning one shoulder against the wall of the hallway. He glances around her, where Isaac and Bea are pretending like they’re not staring directly at them both.
“We should tell Isaac and Bea,” Paige says, glancing over her shoulder before looking back at him.
Zach had sort of expected this, but that doesn’t make him want to vomit any less.
All he wants to do is pick up all of his secrets and tuck them back inside.
He nods, unable to actually verbalize a yes.
She turns and heads back down the hall. Zach drags his feet as he and Paige approach their waiting friends.
“We’ve got a really big problem,” Paige says to them.
Bea immediately jumps into Stage Manager Mode. “Tell us how we can help,” she says earnestly, and Zach could cry. He’s never had friends before. He never knew how deeply he would need them when the world came crashing down around him.
Paige tells them everything as they sit in her car, the heat blasting to keep out the winter chill.
Zach is struck by how unbelievably lucky he is to still have Paige on his side.
She could hate him. She has every right to hate him.
If Zach had been in Paige’s shoes, he would have probably never bothered with himself ever again.
In ten years, Zach Williams would have just been a name that he knew from high school, a nobody that had managed to ruin his family’s life.
Instead, Paige is here, laying out what happened: the emails, their parents’ phone call, the fallout.
Bea and Isaac listen, leaning together through the space between the front seats, rapt and a little horror-stricken. Afterwards, Bea tears up and Isaac says, “Zach, holy shit.”
It’s terrible, laying out his involvement in all of this—what he’d said; what he’d felt; what he still feels, sometimes.
Keeping those feelings close to his chest had been safe.
It had been as much of a habit for Zach as brushing his teeth before bed.
And now everyone knows. His mom, the Reids, Paige, Isaac, Bea.
They all know. He waits for the inevitable repercussions.
He waits for Isaac and Bea to decide that he’s too much, that those feelings are too much, that he’s too broken or weird or messed-up.
He waits to hear the car doors slam, the echo of silence after they both leave.
But none of that happens. After Paige finishes, Bea reaches up between the center console and squeezes Zach’s arm. Isaac grips his shoulder. Zach stares down in his lap, his heart tight and pounding hard.
“Have you talked to anyone?” Bea asks, finally. She doesn’t let go of Zach’s arm. The weight of his hand is grounding. “Your mom? A teacher? You know, there are hotlines available for this kind of thing. Someone you can talk to.”
Zach shakes his head. Logically, he knows that. That there are adults out there who will help if you can just pick up the phone and call. “Just Parker. And now you guys.”
“Maybe we can talk with your mom,” Bea says, switching into problem-solving mode. “And the Reids. We can be your character witnesses. We’ll tell them how much you and Parker have improved since being friends.”
“Yeah,” Isaac says. “We’ll tell them how cool and popular you are now.”
Zach laughs, his face wet with tears. He looks up at his friends and they all look back at him—really look at him, like they see him.
He looks between their three faces—Isaac’s freckled cheeks and Bea’s big, brown eyes and Paige’s small, tired smile.
He nods, covering Bea’s hand on his arm.
Paige reaches across the center console, gripping the back of his neck.
“We’ll fix this,” she promises. And Zach believes her.