“Don’t play dumb with me. You like Sam!”
“Shhh!”
She looked at the door guiltily. “Sorry.”
I tossed her a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, motioning to her cheer uniform. She looked at the clothes and grimaced. I rolled my eyes and rummaged around coming out with bright pink velvet lounge pants and a matching zip-up hoodie. She brightened and reached for the clothes. “You are such a snob.” I laughed.
“I just like to look nice.” She sniffed. “And you’d better start caring about your appearance if you want Sam.”
My appearance was not up for discussion. Still, a little part of me worried that she was right.
“Why didn’t you tell me that you liked him?”
I thought about my answer while I changed into the very clothes she’d snubbed. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Are you crazy!? Of course it matters! I never would have used him, dated him, if I’d known.”
“I thought you liked him.”
She sank down on the bed. “I do like him, he’s a nice guy. Just not like that.”
“Really?”
“I’m in love with Cole. I always have been.”
“How are things with that anyway?” I hoped to turn the topic to her and get some distance from my own feelings.
She smiled. “Good. It seemed his fight with Sam, my confession of loving him and me only using Sam fixed things.”
“You’re back together?”
“We haven’t said the words yet, but yeah.” She smiled brightly.
“Thank God. You two belong together.”
“Now, back to you.” Kimber said, going to my dresser and pulling down her thick red hair. “Uh, look at all this frizz!”
I rummaged through a forgotten drawer of products and came up with some anti-frizz spray. “Here.”
“Don’t you think it’s time you start putting your wardrobe and products back to use?”
“Kimber…” I sighed.
“I get it, Hev. I do. But it’s been ten months. Enough moping.”
“I am not moping.”
“Then admit you like Sam.”
I stared at her, mutinous.
“Did you kiss him?” she asked, eyes twinkling.
I grinned. Then I thought of something, and my grin disappeared. “Did you?”
Her eyes turned serious. “Never. I swear.”
Something inside me relaxed. “Fine, I like him.”
She squealed. “So?”
“No, I didn’t kiss him.”
“Why not?”
“I hardly know him.” Yet, I felt like I did. I sensed him. Just like he’d said.
“Who cares? He’s hot!”
I laughed. It felt good.
Kimber turned sober and came to stand in front of me. “This year has been really hard on you. I know. But please, don’t hide from him, he likes you. I saw the way he was looking at you today. I can’t believe I never noticed it before. He’s totally into you.”
That’s what bothered me most. He did like me, and I couldn’t understand why. He was hot, mysterious and was actually nice, too. He could have any girl he wanted, so why would he aim low?
“Hev?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m so sorry if I hurt your feelings by ‘dating’ him. I would never hurt you intentionally.”
“I know.”
Mom knocked on the door then stuck her head in the room. “Chicken’s ready!”
“Smells great!” Kimber said enthusiastically.
“Coming,” I told Mom.
When she was gone we both burst out laughing. “Thanks for staying,” I said, wiping my eyes.
“After everything I’ve done, I think eating your mom’s chicken is a fitting punishment.”
“I think it’s a bit harsh, but I am glad you’re staying.”
“Maybe it will be edible,” she whispered as we left my room.
“Don’t count on it, but it won’t stop her from making it again!”
After Kimber left, Mom and I were in the kitchen cleaning up, and I was lost in thought, thinking about the time I spent with Sam earlier.
“I forgot to mention that I signed you up to help serve at the pancake brunch after the early morning service tomorrow at church.”
I stifled a groan as I dried a glass and put it away in the cupboard. “Can I work in the kitchen instead?”
“I think interacting with the church members will be good for you.”
I dried another glass and put it away. I hated being in a large crowd, and she knew it. All I could think of was what everyone was saying about me behind my back.
“So how are things lately?” she asked, assuming that everything was settled for tomorrow. I guess it was.
“Great.”
“Still having those nightmares?”
“Not as often.” Actually I had them just as much as always, but I felt it was somehow important to make light of them.
“Any more memories from that night?”
“No.” Why would she bring this up? She knew it upset me not being able to remember how I got this way.
“I was talking to Father Mike and he was saying that he thought maybe you might be repressing the memories because…”
I cut her off, angry. “Because I am too traumatized to remember. I know, Mom.”
“Actually, I was going to say because deep down you fear that you did something to cause what happened to you.”
A plate slipped out of my hand and hit the floor breaking in half. “Crap!” I bent to pick up the pieces. “Sorry.”
She ignored the plate, watching me.
“I don’t think I caused the accident.”
“No?”
“How could I?”
“You were on your way home from the library that night?”
“Yes!” Why did she seem to doubt this?
“It was late.”
“Ms. Agnes stayed open late for me, Mom. I had that paper due.”
“That was very kind of her.”
“Don’t you believe me?”
“Of course I do,” she smiled. “I just want to make sure you don’t blame yourself.”
“I don’t.”
“Well, good. So about the cheering…”
“I don’t think I want to do it.” I rushed to say.
“Well, that’s probably a good idea. They need some volunteers down at church with the preschool class, and I thought you could help out. Too much on your plate and your grades could suffer.”