Parfait (n) 1. a rich cold dessert made with whipped cream, eggs, and fruit. 2. perfect (linguistics)
All Summer wanted was a peaceful summer with her friends and study her dream major in the upcoming fall. Instead, she got a job at the local ice cr...
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The following week was a whirlpool of confessions and hard conversations.
Talking to the police was easy. Although it wasn't the no-brainer I thought it would be, Olivia's parents were a huge help. They advised us to go against my initial plan, which was blurting out everything, starting from the night Kal and I almost witnessed Jack Andrews' death. Mr. and Mrs. Franklin explained to us that if we did anything but feign ignorance, we could be considered witnesses and get involved with the case way more than we can handle. So, the day we were called in to testify, we all said we had no idea why we were chased. No one seemed to question it, especially when it came to Kal. Seeing his grin on the front page of every newspaper the previous month had helped a lot.
Talking to my parents was even easier. The conversation didn't have an ideal start the moment we walked into the house, followed by a police officer. As it turns out, both Mum and Dad were awake and waiting for us, thinking we had snuck out. Seeing the police officer, they rushed to the door with frowned faces.
"I expected this from Summer, but Eliza? You too?" Mum said, her eyes trained on my sister.
"It's really not what it looks like," Olivia said as she got inside the house.
"Olivia, please stay out of this," Dad said. "I'm sure you're as guilty as Summer but I'm gonna leave your scolding to your parents."
The officer cleared her throat. "No one here is guilty," she said. "You see..."
I stood there, gazing at the floor and glancing at my parents to get a glimpse of their reactions every now and then, which changed from angry, to shocked, to worried. They wouldn't let us get away from their arms and they wouldn't stop asking us if we're okay. Even though Eliza mocked me for constantly hugging our parents, I felt safer with them. They didn't even ask if we were somehow involved in the situation other than being in the wrong place, the wrong time.
Talking to Alex wasn't the hardest task.
We were sitting at his porch, in those white plastic chairs his grandma hates because they get dirty easily. We had our feet up on the table and we were holding glasses full of lemonade, refilling them taking turns. It was our usual summer routine for whenever we were bored and no one else wanted to hang out. It all felt so normal that I kept forgetting why I was there in the first place.
After what happened that night, Alex and I went back to how we were. That bit of almost dying must have done the trick. I knew I could have let it be and enjoy having him back, but I kept thinking that all the things left unsaid might come back to haunt us in the future. I built my friendship with Olivia on a steady foundation. I wanted to have that with Alex, too. No matter how hard it would be.
