“Don't compare us to that useless urinal cake,” Micah snorts, shaking his head, and then exchanging a look with his brother. “You've never dated guys with private jets. We can be in Santa Cruz during every break. Besides, we're only two months out from summer vacation.”
“Are you guys going to come visit me?” I tease, because I can't imagine what the hell I'll be doing all summer by myself. Surfing? I guess at least I'll be ripped the next time they see me.
“Of course we are,” Spencer scoffs, pushing his silver hair back. He looks devastated, which in a weird way makes me happy. He really does care that I'm leaving. “This isn't permanent. Next year, you'll be back at Adamson, I swear it.”
“Are you all really going to try this dating thing?” Ranger asks, sinking back into his chair and studying the three of us.
“Definitely,” the twins say in unison.
“Pretty much,” Spencer replies with a sigh, reaching down to take my hand. He squeezes it hard, and I feel my heart drop. Being separated from my new friends is going to hurt.
I just hope it doesn't kill me.I've never been so miserable on a plane in my life. Spencer gave me the money to upgrade to first-class (don't tell Archie; we did it on the app) so the service is good, and the seats are comfy, but holy hell … I feel like crying.
The flight has Wi-Fi, but I don't bother to connect my phone. If I do, I'll end up chatting with the guys, and I'll feel even more sick to my stomach than I already do.
Once we've landed, and I've collected my bags, I find my Aunt Elisa idling at the curb, and flirting with the on-duty security officer whose job it is to make sure people don't spend too much time idling at the curb.
I sigh.
Some things never change.
“Auntie,” I say, trying to make myself smile. There's no point in starting off on a bad foot with my aunt, the only person standing between me and LA. Speaking of …
“Charlie!” my mom shouts, surprising me from the backseat of my aunt's tiny '97 Honda Accord. Elisa had the windows tinted for her as a birthday present from her ex-boyfriend, years ago, because she says better things happen in the backseat than the front. Gross.
“Mom,” I blurt, standing there with my bags in either hand and gaping at the woman I haven't seen in what feels like forever. She looks … better than when I last saw her, but nothing like the way my memory shaped her, as a beautiful, young woman with an inner vibrancy that was unmatched. How she ended up with Archie is beyond me, but maybe it was an opposites attract sort of a thing? Their age difference has always sort of bothered me, although I know my dad isn't the pervy type. He loves my mother, probably more than he loves me. I've always thought that. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to see you, silly,” she says, her blond hair tied back in a loose ponytail, the new lines on her face a sign of how hard these last few years have been. Clearly, she has demons that I know nothing about. For four years, I’ve tried to understand what those are, but I’ve come to the realization recently that I don’t know my mother as well as I thought. Maybe I never did? “I took the bus up here, and your aunt is going to drive us back.” My eyes narrow in suspicion. I made my choice. I'm not going to Los Angeles. I'd rather stay in Santa Cruz, where at least I know I can hang out with the twins during school breaks. That, and I do know people here. Starting fresh all over again sounds like hell.
“Okay. But why? I've decided to go back to SCHS.”
“You can at least come see my new apartment, and tour the schools your father and I picked out for you.”
“I'm not going to LA,” I repeat, and Mom frowns. What makes her think she can order me around after disappearing without a word? “The last thing I want to do is sit in a hot car for five hours. Can I please just go back to Elisa's place and get settled?”
My aunt stays frozen in the front seat, hands on the wheel, as she looks between the two of us with curious brown eyes. She's pretty, but her makeup isn't my favorite, very harsh and dark. It makes her look older than she should. I’m pretty sure I got my obsessive need to fit in from this side of the family; Archie clearly has no problem being hated by everyone around him.
“Charlotte, are you trying to hurt my feelings?” she asks, frowning, a few loose strands of hair hanging in big ringlets around her face. It's a bit thinner and duller than I remember it being, but I suppose it's part of the price she paid for hitting the drugs so hard? There are wrinkles around her mouth that were never there before either, lines that a thirty-six year old woman shouldn't have.
