"I didn't know you joined the team."
"It was a one-time thing. I think."
Mrs. Reynolds finishes her soup and waves the spoon at me. "You might have a broken rib."
"I'm sure it's just bruised," I say, trying to reassure her as much as myself. Right before I pinned Vic in the second round, he knocked me to the ground and took a five-pointer.
I won the match, but the coach still gave me hell for playing dirty the first round.
"I can't wait until the daffodils bloom," Maggie says, her eyes sparkling with the candles shining on them. My hands are clammy from nervousness, I have no clue why. "You're going to have to take a picture for me and send it to Spain."
I still can't believe she's leaving. Just when I fell for her.
"Speaking of Spain ..." Mrs. Reynolds hands her an envelope. "Enjoy your journey, but always remember where you came from."
Maggie raises a glass with water filled in it. "Who can forget Paradise?"
We clink our glasses together.
After we eat, I open the boxes from Irina, the chef from Auntie Mae's. As I set samples of pies in front of Maggie and Mrs. Armstrong, you'd swear they were related by the elated expressions on their faces. We all take a fork and dig in.
"This has been the most magnificent day of my life since Albert died, may he rest in peace. Thank you both. But these weary bones need a rest."
"Are you okay?" Maggie asks, concern lacing her voice. We both get up to help her.
"No, you two sit down and enjoy. I just need to rest a bit."
Regardless to what the old lady is claiming, Maggie helps her upstairs while I clear the dishes. "She okay?" I ask when Maggie comes back outside.
"I think so. She went to the doctor yesterday. He wants to run some tests on her, but she's too stubborn to go."
I watch Maggie. God, anyone who's with her is infected by her humility and honesty. "Care to dance?"
"I can't," she says. "Not with my leg ..."
I take her hand in mine and lead her back into the gazebo. "Dance with me, Maggie," I urge as I put one arm around her back and pull her close.
We sway to the music. Slowly she relaxes into my arms. "I never imagined it would be like this," she says into my chest.
When her leg starts to hurt, I clear a place on the floor and we lie side by side next to each other.
"What did you ever see in Kendra?" she asks.
Hell, I don't know. "She was popular and pretty. Someone who all the guys wished they could date. She used to look at me as if I was the only guy who could ever make her happy." She sits up. "Okay, now you sound like a jerk." I was one.
She lies next to me, my arm as her pillow.
We watch the candles burn down one by one. When there's only one candle left, I kiss her soft lips and trace her curves with my hands until she's breathless and weak.
"Let me see your scars," I say when we're both panting and coming up for air from making out. I take the hem of her dress in my fist and slowly slide the material up.
She stills my hand with her own and smoothes the material back down. "No."
"Trust me."
"I ... I can't," she murmurs. "Not with my scars."
Her words hit me like a cell door slamming closed. Because even if she thinks she forgave me, even if she made promises of forgiveness, even if she kisses me like I'm her hero, I finally realize she can't get over her anger inside. And never will fully trust me.
I lie back, totally frustrated, and lay my arm over my eyes. "This isn't going to work, is it?"
Maggie sits up. "I'm trying," she says, her voice full of regret.
I want to tell Maggie I wasn't responsible for hurting her leg, but I can't. What if Leah was right? I can't let my sister go to jail when I've already paid for her mistake. I'm committed to living with that blame forever.
The night of the accident, I was supposed to drive Leah home. But I was too drunk and enraged from Maggie's accusations. Staying with Kendra and making sure she didn't go home with any other guy was more important than anything else. My fucking ego. I had no idea Leah took my keys until she came back to the party ranting like a lunatic about an accident.
The rest, as they say, is history.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Maggie
I had everything I wanted and I screwed it up. Caleb loved me, all I had to do was show him my scars to prove to him how much I trust and love him back.
But I couldn't. Something was pulling me back into my protective shell.
I told my mom I was too sick to go to school today, so I'm lying in bed. The dress Mrs. Reynolds bought me is hanging in my closet, a cruel reminder of the most romantic evening of my life. I won Caleb and lost him just as quick.
When he took me home and we parted, he gave me a small smile and said we've always been friends, and we'd remain friends.
That's the most important thing. Right?
So why have I been crying the entire morning? I call Mrs. Reynolds' house to see how she's doing after last night.
Mr. Reynolds answers the phone. "Hello?" he says, his voice shaken.
"Hi, it's Maggie ... Margaret. Is Mrs. Reynolds there?"
Mr. Reynolds doesn't say anything for a long time, and my throat gets a huge lump in it.
"My mom died this morning, Maggie."
"No," I whisper as my life comes crashing down on me. "It can't be true. We were together. Last night she was dancing and laughing and--"
"She was grateful to have you in her life," he says. "She loved you as a granddaughter. More than that, she loved you as a friend."
"Where is she? Was she alone when she died?"
Mr. Reynolds sniffles. "They just took her away in an ambulance. She died in her sleep, no pain. Her heart has been bad for years, Maggie. It was only a matter of time."
Tears roll down my cheeks as I remember the times we spent in the past few months. She taught me so much about life. "The daffodils ... she'll never see the daffodils come up," I say, stifling my emotions.
"Mama loved those daffodils, didn't she?"
I don't know what else to say to him. Mrs. Reynolds may have been up in years, but there was so much she still had planned. Having my mom and me over for dinner, watching the daffodils bloom in the spring. Eating Irina's pies.
"I'll miss her."
"I know you will. She never wanted a funeral. She said they're just an excuse for depressed people to make senseless chatter."
I smile wistfully. "That sounds like her." She just accused me of it yesterday, which reminds me ... "A dress. She bought a dress."
"The blue one slung over the chair in her bedroom?"
"Yeah. If she's going to be buried ..." I can't even get out the words.
"I'll make sure of it. Listen, if you want to come over and take something from the house before we sell it, you can."
"You can't sell the house." The daffodils, the gazebo ... everything she cared about in the last two months are for nothing.
In the evening, my mom drives me over to Mrs. Reynolds house for the last time. She's holding my hand as Lou greets us. "Take anything you want, Maggie."
In the laundry room, all clean and folded, is the muumuu.
I pick it up and clutch it to my chest. It was Mrs. Reynolds' way of protecting me, covering my clothes so I wouldn't get dirty. "Can I have this?" I ask.
Mr. Reynolds seems surprised I'd want it, but says, "I was serious when I said anything."
There's two more things I want. I head to the kitchen and open cabinets until I find it. My mom is shrugging to Mr. Reynolds, who is as baffled as her. "It's got to be around here somewhere. Aha." I open one of the top drawers and on a piece of old, stained and ripped linen paper is her favorite Snickerdoodle cookie recipe.
"Anything else?"
"One more thing."
Mom and Mr. Reynolds follow me up to the attic. I head for the trunk and open it up. Holding up a picture frame, I say "This is the last thing."
Mr. Reynolds says, "It's yours."
I stare at the picture of two people madly in love on their wedding day.
May they both rest in peace.
THIRTY-NINE
Caleb
Maggie wasn't at school yesterday, and I haven't seen her all morning. Twice today I've passed by her locker, but she's been as elusive as a ghost.
During third period I can't focus. So I take the bathroom pass and head out the door. But I don't head straight to the bathroom. I turn the corner and go down the hall where I know her locker is. I've turned into a stalker.
"Looking for someone, Caleb?" It's Kendra, with a hall pass of her own dangling from her fingers. "Maggie Armstrong, perhaps?"
"Stop playing games with me, Kend." She flashes a wicked smile. "No, seriously. I just don't get what you see in her."
"Nothing," I say just to get my ex off my back. "I see nothing in Maggie Armstrong. If anything she's been a distraction because I can't have you." The bullshit is flying because I need to protect Maggie and Leah at all costs.
The sound of someone behind me makes me turn around. It's Maggie. She's heard every lying word out of my mouth.
Kendra slinks toward her. "Caleb, did you tell Maggie the truth about the accident?"
"Kendra. Don't," I say in a warning tone. "Or I'll clue Brian in about what's been going on between you and me. Isn't your dad's election next week?"
If Kendra had claws, they'd be out and she'd be murderous.
Maggie hobbles toward me. "What's been going on between you and Kendra, Caleb?"
Kendra puts her hands on her hips, ready for this battle to begin. "Yeah, Caleb. Tell her how many times we've been together since you came back."
What can I say? I want to tell Maggie the truth, I'm going to tell her the truth. About everything. But not here, not in front of Kendra. She's got nothing to do with me and Maggie.
"Say something," Maggie orders, her eyes on fire. When I don't, she slaps me and limps away.
I hate pep rallies. So I find it insane that I'm stuck in the middle of one today, of all days. But here I am, in the center of the crowd of athletes while the cheerleaders lead the rest of the school in pepping the entire student body.
As if a bunch of wrestlers want to be "peppy." But the guys'll take any excuse to ditch class for an hour.
Meyer stands at the podium as if he's the president of the United States instead of principal of a small-town school. "Settle down, everyone. Settle down." The place is still noisy, but it's the best he's going to get and he knows it. "This is a time to celebrate the students who represent the Paradise Panthers in athletics."
The crowd starts getting restless, the gymnasium floor vibrating from the noise.
"Settle down. Settle down. We're going to honor our athletes this afternoon. Each coach is going to come up and announce the members of their teams. Let's start with our largest team ... football!"
This sets the cheerleaders into a frenzy, kicking and cartwheeling all over the gym.
"Put your hand up when I call your name," the football coach says. "Adam Albers, Nate Atkins, Max Ballinski, Ty Edmonds ..." The list goes on and on for what seems like forever.
I'm standing next to Brian. "This is torture, man."
