“And I was.” I swallow, realizing for the first time what I have to do. I’ve insisted I’m fine with this casual thing so much that he actually believes me. But I’m not.
“It’s been fun, but I don’t want to do this anymore,” I tell him firmly. I’ve only got a few days left, but they’re not worth feeling this insecure.
There’s a long pause. Reeve looks at me. “What do you mean?”
I take a breath. “I mean, I don’t want to keep going like this. Sneaking around. I don’t like it when you’re so, I don’t know, casual, around everyone else.” I hate laying my feelings out like this, but I force myself to keep going. Meeting his eyes, I add in a quiet voice, “It hurts me.”
“But you said —”
“I know I did,” I admit. “And it’s been great. Really great.” I think of our nights on the back porch, of the first thrill of sneaking away. But all Reeve’s kisses can’t take away the sting I feel when he barely looks my way with the others. “I didn’t think it through, OK? I didn’t know it would bother me, but it does.”
There. It’s said.
I wait, hoping for some kind of agreement. For Reeve to tell me that he doesn’t like it either, and all the hassle and sneaking is stupid when we could just be. Normal.
Instead, his lips press together in a thin line. “What is this, some kind of ultimatum? I’ve told you: I don’t want everyone knowing my business, not again. I mean, you’re leaving next week!”
“Right,” I say, disappointed, but still calm. “And I get that you have all this stuff from what happened with Kate.” At this, he flinches slightly. “But I don’t want to spend my last days in town feeling crappy and ignored.” I exhale, feeling a lightness in me. Relief. “So you do whatever you want.”
I leave him there, by the pile of Fiona’s dirty laundry. I feel a pang as I walk away, but somehow, I think it’s more for what we won’t be — the fact that I’m leaving and that this will only ever be a brief summer thing.
Walking through the house, I see some kind of commotion in the front yard, lit up by the bright porch lights. There’s a truck in the driveway, printed with some kind of official insignia, and Adam is frowning while Olivia gestures wildly to a middle-aged woman in a uniform.
Olivia? I quickly hurry toward them.
“I’m sure we went through the plans when we talked to the permit office,” Adam is saying when I arrive. He looks confused. “I just have to find the papers. . . .”
“What’s going on?” I ask, directing my question at Olivia. She turns away, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her cargo pants. “Is everything OK? Should I get Susie?”
“No, it’s just a misunderstanding,” Adam says quickly. “No need to worry her.”
The woman shifts, impatient. “I was told this was an environmental emergency.”
“Well, what can I say? You know how dramatic kids get.” Adam gives Olivia a look, and begins to guide the woman toward the house. “How about you go on back and join the party, while I find those permits?” She seems reluctant, but Adam urges her. “We’ve got some killer barbecue left, and I know Mrs. Johnson brought some of those famous brownies of hers . . .”
“Oh, well, maybe just a minute.” The woman smiles for the first time and follows him toward those famous brownies.
I turn to Olivia.
“What?” she mumbles, sullen. “They were going to cut that tree down. What was I supposed to do?”
“I don’t know. How about nothing?” I stare at her in amazement. She actually called the cops on them — or, according to the truck, the Graystone Valley Environmental Protection Agency. I blink, lost for words for a moment.
“I can’t believe you!” I exclaim finally. “They fixed things with your parents, and let you stay, and have been so freaking nice to you! This is really how you repay them? By trying to screw up their big opening day, after so much work?”
But Olivia doesn’t seem to care. She shrugs, as if nothing I’ve said even matters. “They shouldn’t be cutting it down. And if you were a good Green Teen, you would have called it in weeks ago.”
I sag back against the truck and look at her, numb. It’s dark out now, shadows looming, and the distance between us I’ve been trying so hard to ignore can’t be denied. It’s different now. No matter how much I want to convince myself that she’ll come around, or go back to the way she used to be, Olivia isn’t the person I’ve known all these years.
And maybe I’m not, either.
“These people are like family to me.” I try to make her see, one last time. “I don’t understand how you can do something like this.”
“You can’t be on their side!” she protests. “You know that what they’re doing is wrong.”
“Wrong?” I blink. “Livvy, it’s not like they’re paving over a couple of acres or — or killing baby seals. It’s one tree! And don’t you think they’ve thought it through — checked how much damage it’ll do, or if there’s anything nesting there? Come on, Livvy, not everyone in the world is part of your freaking capitalist conspiracy!”
“I should have known you’d be like this.” Olivia’s face becomes tight. “Cash said you weren’t committed to —”
“Will you just shut up about Cash?” I finally lose all patience. “Do you have a single original thought left, or has he brainwashed you completely?”
“Brainwashed!” Olivia yells back. “You think this is all because of him? That I don’t believe in fighting for what’s right?”
“But it’s not right, is it?” I shake my head at her, amazed at how completely she’s missing the point. I’ve kept quiet for days — out of confusion, and fear that I’ve lost her completely. But it’s done. Her summer has taken her to the extreme of our environmentalism, just as I’ve realized the other side to my beliefs: compromise and priorities.
“You think waving a placard around and getting arrested will achieve anything at all, besides screwing up your life? God, Olivia, it would be one thing if any of that stuff works, but it doesn’t. It’s not the way to get things done!”
“And what is the right way?” She glares at me, her features screwed up in a mean expression that I never thought I’d see. “You’ve abandoned everything we believe in to fit in here. You should see how pathetic you look, falling over yourself for Reeve. Or maybe you don’t care!” She gives a snort. “As long as these hicks like you. God, Jenna and her perfect Stillwater gang, what a f**king joke.”