Free Saint Anything by Sarah Dessen

spell to cancel out what had happened that morning with my mom. I’d always remember the truth. Just to be sure, though, I made a point of bringing it front and center, right there before my eyes
    There had been no shortage of bad moments in those early weeks after Peyton’s accident. But one had really stuck with me. It was a passing remark I’d overheard as I came down the stairs one day. My parents were in the kitchen.
    “What was a fifteen-year-old doing out riding his bike at two in the morning, anyway?”
    Silence. Then my dad. “Julie.”
    “I know, I know. But I just wonder.”
    I just wonder
. That was the moment I realized my mom would never be able to really hold Peyton responsible for what he’d done. Their bond was too tight, too tangled, for her to see reason. Like anyone deserved to be hit by a car and paralyzed. Like he was asking for it. For days afterward, I had trouble even looking at her.
    In February 2014, David Ibarra was hit by a drunk driver while riding his bike home from his cousin’s house, leaving him partially paralyzed. This page is dedicated to his story. Please leave a comment! And thank you for your support.
    I just wonder
.
    “Hey.”
    As I looked up, startled, I had this fleeting thought that I would see David Ibarra in front of me. But it was Layla. When she saw my face, her eyes widened.
    “What’s wrong?”
    I swallowed, hard. And then, somehow, I was talking. “My brother’s in prison for drunk driving. He left a kid paralyzed. And I hate him for it.”
    As I spoke, I realized I’d held these words in for so long and so tightly that I
felt
the space they left empty once released. It was vast enough that I could think of nothing to follow them.
    Layla looked at me for a long moment. Then she sat down beside me and said, “So there’s this thing about me.”
    I don’t know what reply I’d been expecting from her, but it wasn’t this. I said, “I’m sorry?”
    “I never forget a face. Like, never. I wish I could sometimes.” She swallowed, then turned to look at me. “I saw you, in the courthouse. A few weeks back? You were coming out of the bathroom.”
    Until that moment, I had totally forgotten everything about that day except Peyton being sentenced. But as she said this, the rest of the details came rushing back. Ames taking me to the bathroom and waiting outside. Washing my hands, dreading rejoining him. And a girl who met my eyes and didn’t look away.
    “That was you?” She nodded. “I’d forgotten.”
    “I know. Anyone else would have. But I recognized you the minute I saw you at Seaside.”
    “You didn’t say anything.”
    “Because it tends to creep people out.” She sighed. “I mean, for everyone else, you see a stranger and then forget them. Faces only stick for a reason. But with me, it’s like a photograph, filed away in my mind.”
    “That’s nuts,” I said.
    “I know. Mac always says I should join the circus, or run a scheme or something, so I’m at least putting my power to use.”
    We were quiet another moment. Finally I said, “Why were you there?”
    “At the courthouse?” I nodded. “I was with Rosie. She’s had to check in with the judge about her progress every couple of months since she got busted.”
    I had a flash of the crack her sister had made about Logan Oxford and Layla’s equally snide reply. “Was it drugs?”
    “Yep.” She sat back, turning up her face to the sun. “After her knee injury, she got a bit too fond of the Vicodin they gave her. Tried to pass off some fake prescriptions. Totally moronic. Got arrested, like, instantly.”
    “Did she go to jail?”
    Layla shook her head. “Rehab. Then they put an anklet on her. She just got it off a couple of weeks ago.”
    “Really.”
    “Yeah. You think she’s grumpy now, imagine her stuck in the house for six months.” She sighed. “It’s her own stupid fault, though.
So
infuriating. She had everything going for her and just blew it.”
    “That’s like