As I sat at the bus stop I had every intention of going to June's and waiting for Miles. That was his usual after school hang out, so I was sure he'd be there. The longer I sat on that bench and the longer I thought about what I would say to him the more I didn't want to tell him.
Every scenario I played in my head ended with him hating me. I couldn't handle that. I didn't want to have to tell him. I didn't want to have him look at me differently or to not be able to look at me at all.
If I hadn't snuck out of the house to see Jerrell that night then my dad would've still been sitting on the couch, beer in hand, watching whatever was on tv. Elizabeth would still be alive. They all would be.
I thought about Tasha. She lost her brother that night and, for whatever reason, she forgave me.
I reached for my phone, only to remember it was still sitting in my the drawer of Mom's night stand. I didn't know what time it was or if she'd even be at the dance studio today, but that didn't matter.
When I got on the bus I didn't get off at the usual stop in front of June's. After three transfers I had finally arrived at the Clover dance studio.
The familiar building, wedged between a dentist office and and thrift shop, brought back so many memories of Tasha, Shannon and I doing warm ups or making up our own steps to different songs. That felt like a million years ago.
I had arrived just in time, people were just starting to show up for the class. Girls and boys, dressed in their dance clothes, were filing into the building. Tasha was sitting out front, on the hood of her beat-up old car looking down at her phone as I walked over.
She looked up before I had the chance to announce myself. "Loren?"
I couldn't tell if that was meant to be negative or positive or just general curiosity. I didn't dwell on it. "I needed to talk to you."
"About what?"
The entire bus ride over I'd thought about what I'd say. Now that I was there in front of her I was drawing a blank. What did I even expect her to say or do to help me?
She slid off the car and readjusted her glasses. "Look, practice is about to start. So, if you don't have nothing to say..."
"Why'd you forgive me?" I asked. "When I told you everything that happened that night, that I knew my dad was drunk, you blamed me. Then you invited me to the sleepover like everything was fine."
She let out a sigh, shoving her hands into the front pocket of her red pullover. "I was pissed when I heard my brother was gone and I just wanted someone to take that frustration out on someone. You were the obvious option. But my dad reminded me that it wasn't anyone's fault. It was an accident."
"An accident that could've been avoided if I stayed home that night."
"Oh, so you left the house that night with the intention of having your dad crash his car into my brother's?"
"No, but—"
"Then you need to stop blaming yourself," she told me. "It was an accident. Just a string of crap that resulted in both of us losing people we loved."
I'd heard a variation of that many times over the years. Everyone from relatives to strangers who heard the news had told me accidents like that happened all the time. I didn't want to hear it, choosing to believe that my poor actions were the cause.
Hearing it at that moment was exactly I needed. Which was weird. I'd spent the last four years wanting everyone to see things how I saw them and agree that the accident was my fault. That wasn't what I wanted to hear anymore.
You can't tell people something they're not ready to hear. I was a prime example of that.
"I have to head in," she said. "You know how Miss Cara gets when we're late."
"Yeah, okay." She started into the building, but I stopped her. "Um, do you still have the same number?"
She seemed a little stunned by my question. I was a little stunned by my question. She was my best friend before everything, though. I had to admit, I missed her.
She nodded in response, a small smile on her face and then she disappeared into the dance studio.
+ + +
I wasn't entirely sure what I expected to gain from my talk with Tasha. It made me feel a little better about my next task, though. There was this sliver of hope that maybe, possibly, Miles wouldn't completely hate me when I tell him everything.
When I arrived at June's, I still hadn't come up with the right words. Everything I came up with sounded blunt and not as gentle as I would've liked.
As usual the farm-themed restaurant was busy. The line for the register was almost out the door, most of the tables and booths were taken and the idle chatter drowned out by the upbeat country song that played overhead.
I spotted Miles at a corner booth with some guys from school, squinting at the phone screen of the guy next to him before bursting into laughter.
Every fiber of my being wanted to bolt out the door and never look back. I didn't let that stop me because deep down I knew he deserved to know. I couldn't just ignore him until it went away like I did with my issues in the past.
My path to Miles was blocked by The Twins. The two of them weren't wearing their usual cheery smiles. Instead they looked like they just heard Riverdale was cancelled.
"First, we're really glad you're no longer on lock down," Jem said, managing a small smile.
"But we have some really bad news," Kimber added.
More bad news? I glanced over at Miles just as he looked up, eyes lighting up at the sight of me. He seemed surprised as he stood up from the booth.
"The uniform is missing," Kimber blurted out.
The two of them started talking over each other as they scrambled to explain. From what I gathered someone stole the uniform from the fashion club room during lunch. As serious as that was, I didn't have the strength to care.
Miles had made it across the room to us. I needed talk to him before I lost the nerve.
"I'm sorry," I told The Twins. "I really have to talk to Miles." They nodded, assuring my they would get a handle on things.
I took Miles by the hand and lead him outside, where the outdoor seating was. It was mostly abandoned since it was too cold to eat out there.
"You skipped history," He said, as he sat opposite of me at the square table. "I couldn't find you at lunch, either. Even sent you a few texts before I remembered you didn't have your phone."
"Sorry."
He frowned, reaching across the table for my hand. I quickly dropped them to my lap. I wouldn't have been able to get through it with him touching me.
"What's going on with you?"
"I had a fight with my mom," I told him, tugging at my fingers under the table. "She thinks we should break up."
"What? Why would she—did I do something?" He stammered.
I shook my head. "No, it's me." It amazed me how calm I was being about this. Maybe I'd used up my quota on dramatics for the day. Still, I couldn't bring myself to look at him for more than a few seconds, my eyes kept darting over to the cars zooming by on the street.
"She thinks I don't mix well with boys."
The table started to shake a little and I realized it was due to Miles's rapidly bouncing his leg. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" There was a slight edge in his voice that broke my heart. "I thought your mom liked me?"
"I told you, you didn't do anything wrong," I assured him. "I don't always make the smartest choices when it comes to boys and when she found out snuck out on Saturday she was pissed."
"So, you snuck out," he shrugged. "It's not that big a deal."
"In her defense, the last time a snuck out to meet I boy at a party I almost died." Everything seemed to freeze in time—my breathing, Miles's shaking leg. Everything. I was officially out of things to stall with. "My dad did die. Along with four other people."
I brought myself to meet his eyes. They were clouded over with confusion. As I watched him, I could see the exact moment he realized where this was going.
He adjusted his weight in the chair, his brow pulling together. "What—when was that?"
"Four summers ago." His frown deepened, his eyes focusing on anything but me. "I found Rose's picture in your wallet. Her real name was Elizabeth?"
He nodded, looking out at the street. "She was obsessed with them, so I started calling her..."
He stopped talking, letting his word trail off. The color had drained from his face, he looked like he was going to be sick. The silence between us was deafening. It was impossible to figure out what was going through his head. I wanted to ask, but I also didn't want to rush him as he processed it.
After what felt like an eternity, he stood, still unable to spare a glance my way as he turned to leave. "I think I should go."
"That's it?" I called out, standing as well.
He stopped, turning to me as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know what to say to, Loren."
That was the first time I ever heard him say my name. I hated the sound of it.
Of all the scenarios I played out of that moment, him walking away was the most obvious of outcomes. But seeing him actually do it was like a hot knife piercing my chest.
"Miles..." My voice was low and shaky as I stepped towards him.
"This is a lot to process, okay," he said, bringing himself to look at me. "And I just—I need to think."
What he meant was that he needed to decide. It was written all over his face, flashing in his eyes. Did he like me enough to keep me around as a constant reminder of what happened to his sister?
"Your mom doesn't want us together and I think we should just leave it at that for now." He sounded cold and definitive, leaving little hope that we'd get through this.
My words were stuck in my throat, unable to call after him as he walked away.