Hello, Goodbye, page 13
Caroline is propped against DeMarcus, while Blake helps her drink a cup of water.
“I can’t go home. I need to sober up,” she gargles out.
DeMarcus and Blake look back and forth from one another. We need a plan. “Y’all go find some food, and I’ll stay here and make sure she doesn’t pass out.”
“Are you sure?” Blake says.
“Yes. We need to get some food in her body. She probably didn’t eat anything.”
She for sure didn’t eat anything. Her anorexia is well-known gossip.
DeMarcus passes her over to me. I help sit her down, holding her by the waist. Her face scrunches together. “Hailey?”
“Yep.”
She tries to sit upright, and I catch her before she tumbles over on her side. “You might want to let me help you.”
I take out another tissue and wipe the remaining vomit off the ends of her tangled, sweaty hair. Removing the hair tie from my wrist, I quickly braid her long locks.
“Why are you being nice to me?” she slurs out.
Her dewy eyes are glazed over, and suddenly I feel sorry for her. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
She falls into me, her head hitting my shoulder. “What’s going on? Are we still at the party? Where are my friends?”
All this time I’ve spent wondering what it would be like to peek behind the door, to live the popular “It” girl life, and now I feel like Dorothy when she meets the wizard. This is it? “DeMarcus and Blake are gonna find your friends, and they will help you.”
She blinks, batting away the tears welling in her eyes. “No, they won’t. They don’t care about me. But I’m taking nasty shots to impress them.”
Good to know hard booze isn’t the way to go. I’m learning so much tonight.
“What’s going on with you and Blake?” she asks, her words slurring again.
I almost choke on laughter. “Nothing. We’re just friends.”
She slaps her hand on my arm. “Leah saw you running with him and sent a pic around. Bree went pyscho. And now they’re back together. She’s telling everyone his mom told him to be nice to you.”
This can’t be true. They’re back together? Why didn’t he tell me? And he’s hanging around me because his mom asked him? No, no, no. This sounds all wrong.
But it could be true; it probably is true.
I squint to hold the tears in and fight off the emotion ready to pour out of me. I get it now. God, I’m such a fool. “Thanks for the heads up on Bree, but Blake and I are just friends.”
Her eyelids droop. “I think I’m gonna take a little nap.”
I roll my eyes. I’m so over and done with my first high school party. I gently tap her cheeks. “Caroline, do not fall asleep. You need to stay awake until you get some food and water in your body.”
“But I’m sooo sleepy.”
As I fight to keep her awake, Blake and DeMarcus reappear. I stand and Caroline slumps over. I grab her arms and help her up, and then pass her over to Blake.
“Hey, what are you doing?” he asks.
“Can I have the car keys? I’m not feeling well, so I’m going to head home,” I say in a flat voice.
Blake holds Caroline by the waist, but his eyes are on me. “You’re going to leave? Now? Are you sure? We haven’t even watched the fireworks.”
I stare at my shoelaces. “Yep.”
He hands me the keys, and I avoid eye contact. I leave him standing there with drunken Caroline.
I’m approaching Betty when a voice calls my name. “Hailey, wait.”
I stop and stand in place before slowly turning around.
DeMarcus.
“Did something happen?” he asks.
I fold my arms across my chest. “No, I’m just tired.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
I don’t even know any of these people. Why did I ever think hanging out with them would be a good idea? He must already know the whole sad, unpopular Hailey thing, so why not just add to my humiliation, and ask him the question eating me up. “Did you know Blake is only hanging out with me as a favor to his mom? Like I’m some freaking charity case.”
DeMarcus laughs, loud and bright. Let’s just pile on the embarrassment. Tears build in my eyes, but I take deep breaths to make them disappear. I will not let DeMarcus see me cry.
“Who told you that?”
“Caroline. Bree told her.”
“Girl, you have that all wrong. Bree is just salty because Blake is hanging out with you.”
I smirk at him.
“I’m not lying.”
“Why did Caroline tell me they’re back together?”
DeMarcus shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “That’s another Bree lie.”
“What he said is true.”
Blake.
He steps toward me. DeMarcus lightly squeezes my hand, then pats Blake on the back. “Y’all work this out. I’m going to go check on Caroline and make sure her friends are taking care of her like I told them to.”
DeMarcus disappears into the night. It’s just me and Blake.
Blake stands with his hands in his pockets and rocks on his heels, a half-smile showing a half-dimple. “I’m sorry if those girls were mean to you. It’s my fault. It’s not about you at all, it’s Bree being Bree.”
I climb into Betty’s driver’s seat.
“What are you doing?” he says. “You can’t drive home. You don’t have your license yet.”
I keep my eyes forward. “It’s five minutes to Gigi’s house. I’ll be fine.”
He squats down, resting his elbows on the driver’s side door. “I promised your grandmother I would take care of you and this car, so you have to let me drive you home. It’s the right thing to do, so you need to let me make sure you and Betty arrive back to your grandmother safely.”
“But you’ll miss the fireworks.”
“I think we’ve already had plenty of fireworks tonight.”
He’s right about Gigi. She would kill me if I drove the car home alone.
He touches my arm. “Please let me drive you home. I don’t want the night to end like this.”
I rub the heels of my palms over my eyes, gathering my thoughts and emotions. I can’t break Gigi’s trust.
“Fine.” I swing my legs over to the middle of the seat, scooching my body over to the passenger side while Blake climbs into Betty.
“Let me text DeMarcus we’re leaving and make sure he can catch a ride home,” he says.
We sit silently for a few seconds and then his phone pings. “Okay, he’s good.”
He puts her in drive, and I turn the radio on.
“I thought it was required to listen to The Beatles while in Betty?”
“Only if Gigi is in the car with me.”
“I like her rule. Will you put the Help! album on?”
The radio is all static, so I grant his request. He skips over to the song that I’ve been listening to on repeat lately, “You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away.” We listen to John Lennon’s beautiful voice sing the first verse over a strumming guitar, the simplicity of the acoustic song making his poetic words more powerful. The evening air blows through my hair, and I feel the stress and anxiety of high school drama fade into the night’s darkness.
“I love when the tambourine comes in,” he says
I love the tambourine as well, but I don’t tell him that. I turn the volume up and raise my eyes toward the stars, singing the chorus.
He stops in front of Gigi’s house and cuts the engine off. “I’m sorry tonight was such a cluster.”
I don’t respond. My armor is up.
He pivots his shoulders toward me. “I’m glad we’ve gotten to know each other.” He reaches over, his thumb runs over my palm. “I like hanging around you.”
I’m not playing the fool any longer. I move my hands to my lap. “I’m glad I’ve been able to help your running.”
He squints his eyes, a laugh falling out. “So, we’re running buddies?”
“Yep.”
Silence hangs between us. We’re locked in a staring battle, but my nerves get the best of me. I blink first. “And you’ve been a nice friend, you know, helping me with the research.”
“A nice friend? Who helps you with research?” he says, a smile creeping to his eyes.
He’s way too close. But I don’t move.
“So how can I upgrade my status with you?”
Is this another game? Or does he really want to spend time with me? “Well, we don’t really know each other. Tell me something no one else knows.”
He shakes his head, a playful smile on his lips. “Sorry, but nice friends don’t get access to the vault.”
“You’re more than a nice friend to me.”
His brows rise. I can tell he smells victory.
“You’re my research assistant.”
He jabs me in the ribs. “Ouch. But since you did share your family history with me, I guess it’s my turn. But I’m trusting this secret stays between us.”
My heart shifts into overdrive. “Of course.”
His beautiful eyes pierce into me. “Ms. Hughes came on to me last year.”
“What?”
Ms. Hughes is the young art teacher known for her style. She wears funky dresses and tortoise-rimmed glasses, her long black hair frequently streaked with bright colors. She’s a favorite among students, allowing her classes to listen to music and use their phones.
He runs his hand through his hair. “Yeah. She asked me to stop by after school a few times and then the flirting intensified, and she started, um, sexting me.”
My mouth hangs open. “Are you serious? She can get fired for that. I mean, she could go to jail if something happened between you two! Wait, did something happen?”
He takes his lower lip between his teeth. “It could have. It crossed my mind for like two seconds, but I was with Bree, and I’m not totally stupid. Teachers are off-limits. I just deleted the messages and ignored her.”
“You never spoke to her about it?”
“Nope,” he says. “But I’m not signed up for art this fall.”
Good call on that one. “How did Bree react to this news?”
“I didn’t tell her. D doesn’t even know. It’s too risky. It could ruin her career and ruin my reputation, even though nothing happened. Rumors like these never die once started.”
He’s so right. A story this juicy spreads like wildfire and lingers for years.
He then adds, “You’re the first person I’ve told.”
Electricity rockets through me. He trusts me as much as I’ve trusted him.
He cocks his head to the side. “What about you? What’s something no one else knows?”
Do I share with him what’s on my mind? I peer at Gigi’s house and think of her encouragement. I decide possible humiliation is worth the risk. “We have opposite secrets. Mine is totally embarrassing, I …” Doubt creeps in, and heat flushes my face. Step off the ledge. “I’ve never had a real kiss. I mean, I’ve kissed a guy, but only did it to rid myself of virgin lips. Uninspiring kisses don’t count.”
He doesn’t say anything. Does he think I’m a loser? He touches my hand, a lopsided grin appearing. “I can help you out with that, you know, if needed.”
The amber of his brown eyes reflects off the streetlight’s dim light, his face inches from mine. We study each other like two people meeting for the first time.
“Yeah?”
He rubs my palm. “Yeah.” He pulls back, removing his hand. “But, wait, I’m only a running buddy.”
“Actually, it was nice friend.” I raise my finger and tap my cheek. “Or was it research assistant?”
He places his hand behind my neck, softly pulling me closer, his fingers running through my hair. Our foreheads touch and I’m tingling everywhere.
“We need to find you a new title,” I say.
His lips graze my cheek. “I’m open to suggestions,” and then his lips are on mine. “This okay?”
I mumble out, “Mmmm.”
Tongues are swirling and I’m not sure if I’m doing this right, but his mouth feels amazing. We share soft and slow kisses. I finally pull away, breathless, a minty Blake aftertaste lingering. I know I have a rosy tint and I don’t care.
I wipe the corners of my mouth and run my finger over my lips. I smile sheepishly at him.
His eyes are bright, his dimple on full display.
“On that note, I think I should go now,” I say.
“Then I should go as well because this isn’t my car.”
I laugh. “Right.”
We both step out of Betty. “It’s okay to leave her on the street?”
“Yes, Gigi said to make sure the top is up.”
He cranks the convertible top, and we secure it, checking and rechecking the roof before locking the doors.
He outstretches his hand, giving me the keys. “Thanks for letting me drive your car.”
“You mean Gigi’s car.”
“She’s lucky to have you.”
My cheeks sting from the ginormous smile I’m wearing. “I’m the lucky one.”
We walk up the path to Gigi’s house, his hand holding mine, and he kisses me one more time. “Happy Fourth of July.”
“Happy Fourth of July.”
I close the door and lean against it, my body exploding in its own fireworks show. I just had my first real kiss, in Betty, listening to The Beatles.
And it was perfect.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I’m still buzzing from last night when I get a text from Dad that he’s on the way to pick me up at Gigi’s house. Now that the Fourth is over, I need to get my act together and focus on discovering more about Jack and trying to locate his hideout.
We only know two facts about the hideout: a barn sits on the property, and it’s located somewhere around Malone in Central Texas. We’re basically talking about every piece of property over at least a hundred square miles. I’ve got to dig deeper and find a few more clues.
Dad is unusually quiet in the car. He doesn’t ask about my night or the fireworks finale. A Fourth of July fireworks show is just the kind of topic that gets my dad excited. He loves to analyze the show’s elements, giving an Olympic figure-skating judge critique on timing, colors, loudness, and height. But not today. We drive along silently listening to NPR. I’m starting to get an uneasy feeling.
We arrive home, and Mom is waiting in the doorway. “Dad and I need to speak with you.”
I was right. Something is wrong and it must be about last night. Technically, I didn’t do anything other than go to a high school gathering where alcohol was present. My mind races, trying to figure out what to say. I think I can spin last night into a Good Samaritan tale because I was helpful to Caroline.
The three of us retreat to the living room. I drop down onto the sofa, but they both remain standing. Mom crosses her arms in front of her chest, and she nibbles on her lower lip.
“We need you to tell us what’s been going on,” she says in a stern voice, her forehead covered in lines.
I look to Dad for help, but he wears the same troubled face as Mom. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Mom throws her hands up. “Hailey, enough. Just tell us the truth.”
My stomach twists in knots. “Okay. I went to the golf course last night with Blake and DeMarcus. Some kids were drinking, but I was strictly tipping back Dr Pepper. Caroline Chase was there and super drunk, so I helped take care of her, and made sure she sobered up. But I didn’t drink. I swear I’m telling the truth.”
Mom’s eyes widen. “That’s not what I’m talking about. We will revisit last night another time. I’m talking about you driving Gigi’s car on a road trip!”
Crap. I struggle to process what she just said. How did she find out? “May I ask who told you that?”
“No. What matters is that you lied to us, and you didn’t have our permission to go. You don’t even have your driver’s license yet!”
“Did you talk to Gigi?”
I know that can’t be it because she hasn’t spoken to her in all the weeks I’ve been going to Gigi’s house. And then it hits me. She’s been checking my phone. Anger streaks through me. “Did you take my phone and read my Instagram messages? Did you really invade my privacy?”
Mom’s face reddens, like steam is about to explode out of the top of her head. “Excuse me? That phone is our phone, not yours. We pay the bill, and we own the phone. Your father and I allow you to have Instagram and other social media but have always reserved the right to take it away if you abuse the privilege. Our job is to protect you, and I will read your messages anytime I’m concerned about your welfare.
“Gigi should not have let you drive that car on the interstate. Your father convinced me that since you never got to know his mother, you needed to get to know mine.” She turns to Dad. “I knew this was a bad idea. My mother has no judgment.”
Is Mom going to blame Gigi? “Whoa, this isn’t Gigi’s fault. I lied because I wanted to go with her to visit Malone. She’s been researching some family history and needed my help. Gigi is amazing, and I’ve learned so much from her.”
“Well, the history lessons are over. You’re grounded for the next two weeks. No Gigi. No leaving this house.”
This is total garbage. I stand and step toward her. “But nothing bad happened!” I shout. “Gigi was with me the entire time. I’m only spending time with her because you two asked me to help her!”
“It was a mistake. She’s manipulating you like she does everyone in her life.”
“She doesn’t manipulate me.”
“Really? Has she not made you fall in love with her, the car, and The Beatles? You aren’t the first young girl to fall under her spell. But it’s all fake.”
Mom’s words sting. “Stop saying such mean, horrible stuff. Why are you so jealous of her? Betty and The Beatles bring joy to the world. Gigi has brought so much happiness into my life. A lot more than you ever have!”
She whips her head back. I see the hurt in her eyes. “You know what I see when I look at that car? My five-year-old self chasing it down the street as she drove away in it. That car and Gigi broke my heart. She would load it up and leave me with Nana. Gigi coming and going in that damn car was my entire childhood.”
