Free Her and Me and You by Lauren Strasnick Page B

perfect unit. Now three felt lopsided and odd. Me, Evie, Ben. Me, Adina, Fred. Someone was always, always getting pushed to the side. “Why?” I asked Caroline. “Why do you want me to stay?”
    She glanced up. Her eyes, pretty and blank and blue. “You make your dad happy.”
    I thought about Mom, home alone in pieces. Dad had Caroline. Mom had me, and I was here .
    “Stay for lunch at least?”
    I needed to leave. “Can’t. Besides, I can afford to skip a meal,” I muttered, shuffling past and back upstairs. “I’m fat enough as is,” I said, slamming my bedroom door shut.

33.
    I spent the remainder of my weekend home with Mom, watching her smile wanly while wondering whether it was worth it to confess what I knew about Dad and Caroline. Fred hadn’t called once. Not even to ask why I’d missed school Friday. Clearly I’d wrecked everything. I’d taken a perfectly good friendship and made it all creepy and weird. If I’d been Evie, that kiss would have led to something sexy and momentous. But I was babyish and unappealing. Fine , I thought, alone in bed Sunday night. You don’t want me? Lesson learned .
    Monday, I ate lunch alone on the field hockey field. Baby carrots and warm Diet Coke. Then, feeling hollow and nauseated, I walked to class. I passed the twins on my way. Fred’s eyes flicked in my direction, and my legs shook. Adina moved past without the teensiest glance.
    *   *   *
At home, I sat with Mom on the couch downstairs. She lay on her side, her feet in my lap, laughing at some shitty rerun on channel four. Do I tell her? Keep quiet? The last thing I wanted was her feeling hopeless and miserable again—already she’d been knocked sideways and down.
    “You want soda?” I patted her ankles then stood.
    “Hmm?”
    “I’m getting a Coke. You want something?”
    She sat up, curling her knees to her chest. “Thanks for the foot rub, babe.”
    “Yeah.”
    “Grab me a water?”
    I moved to the kitchen, the TV lighting my way. I pulled a Coke and a water bottle off the fridge door, then mustered the nerve to say, “Mommy?” I would come clean about Caroline’s move. She’d hear it from me, not Dad—perhaps that would soften the blow?
    “Babe?” A muffled ding ding ding . “Babe, your phone.” I ran back to the den, dropped the drinks on the sofa, and grabbed my cell off the coffee table. One new text. From Fred. My heart sped up.
    “Who is it?”
    “Charlotte Kincaid.” An easy lie. Why burden her with shitty drama?
    I’m sorry , it said. Can I see you?
    I hit reply, then tapped nervously at my keypad. Sorry . With Mom , I wrote.
    Seconds later: I’ll come to you. Please?
    I glanced at my mother. Sipping her water, clutching a pillow, she looked so small, like a girl. “I want candy,” I said, circling the couch. “You want anything from the liquor store?”
    “You’re going out?”
    “I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”
    She looked down at my hands, still clutching the phone.
    “Be back soon, okay?” The Dad news could wait. I bent down and kissed her forehead. “You want chocolate?”
    “Always.”
    I grabbed my coat, keys, and lunged for the door.
We met at the 7-Eleven. We sat in the parking lot, in the front seat of my car, not talking. Until: “You’re furious.”
    “No.” I spoke quickly. “I’m really not.”
    He smelled sweet and smoky, like cigarettes and suckers.
    “You hate me.”
    “I don’t, no, why would you say that? I’m embarrassed,” I said, wiping my nose, looking down. “You embarrassed me.”
    “How?”
    “How?” I let out a small laugh. “You really have to ask?”
    We were touching. Two palms. Fingers entwined. “The other day—I didn’t mean to freak out.”
    I shrugged.
    “Audrey Glick?” he said. “She made that girl miserable.”
    “Adina?”
    He nodded.
    “What happened with her?”
    “Nothing happened. She’s at Sacred Heart in Brooksville, alive and wearing a kilt.” He faced me. He let go of my hand and