Emmy & Oliver (35 page)

“Mom . . .” I started to say.

“No, let me finish,” she said, squeezing my hand. “You know how we reacted after Oliver was kidnapped. I don't need to tell you that, you were there. You lived it. Love makes you do the most insane things for your children, crazy stuff than you never thought you'd be capable of, and your dad was right last night. We panicked. But the idea of losing you was just too much.”

“It's okay,” I said. “Mom, it's okay.”

“No, it's not,” she said. “And I'm really sorry that I've never seen you surf.”

Now she was crying, blinking the tears away as she stared up at the ceiling. “You're so much stronger than me,” she said. “You lost Oliver, too, and when he came back, you just went with the flow. You became friends again. You've always rolled with the punches and I love that about you, and you deserve more than just being our safety net. I'm sorry I didn't see that.”

It hurt too much to talk, so I just nodded.

“Okay?” my mom said, rolling over to face me. “I just wanted to say that to you. I know we don't usually talk like this, but I wanted you to hear it.”

“Okay,” I managed to squeak out, and then I hugged her hard.

“Good,” she said. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

After she let go of me, she grabbed the box of tissues on my desk and handed one to me before taking one for herself. “I don't think I've cried this much in my life,” I admitted as I blew my nose.

“Same here,” she said, dabbing at her eyes. Even in the dark, I could see her smeared eyeliner and mascara.

“Hey, Mom?”

“Hmm?”

I fidgeted with the edge of my comforter. “It's supposed to be a really good swell on Sunday, if you want to come watch me surf.”

“A good swell,” she repeated softly. “I'd like that. Can I just bring a first aid kit, though?”

“Mom!” I laughed. “No! Oh my God!”

“What about eighty SPF?” she continued, and that's how I knew she was teasing. “Nosecoat? One of those sun hats that also hold beer cans?”

“You can bring a hat that doesn't involve alcohol,” I said. “And you can bring Dad. But that's
it
.”

“Fine,” she said, but she was smiling, and I smiled back.

And across the lawn, one lamplight flickered on, then back off.

Oliver and I were home.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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“E
mmy!”

“I'm coming!” I yelled back, but my voice was muffled over a pile of sheets and towels. “I need a box!”

“Here!” Oliver called, and came into the room with a box that was way too big. “It's the last one,” he said. “I paid twenty dollars for it on the black market.”

I eyed him. “There's a black market for cardboard boxes?”

“That's what your dad said. I didn't think it was a good idea to argue.”

“Wise choice.” I shoved the last of my extra-long twin sheets and blankets into the box, then taped it up with a tape gun. “Okay, I think that's it.”

Oliver looked around my half-empty bedroom. The bed was stripped, the dresser cleared of lotion and perfume bottles, the desk empty. “It looks like someone looted in here.”

“It was me,” I said as he took the box from me. “Oh, thanks. How chivalrous.”

“Just tell me if I'm about to trip over a label maker or anything.”

“Ha,” I said as I started to follow him down the stairs. “Like my mom would ever set that thing down. Even the label maker is labeled ‘LABEL MAKER.' She loves it.”

“Emmy!” my mom yelled again. “Caroline and Drew are here!”

“Double-time,” I said to Oliver, then skipped the last two steps and went into the foyer, where Caro and Drew were standing. Drew's hair was wet, and I envied his morning of surfing while I packed up every last possession I had, ready to move it into my dorm room at UCSD.

“This is so weird,” Drew said as he hugged me. “I can't believe you're leaving.”

“
You're
leaving in, like, three days,” I pointed out. “Berkeley is calling you.”

“They just want me for my hot soccer body,” he replied.

“Drew,” my mom groaned.

“We're going to finish packing up the car,” my dad said, ushering my mom and Oliver outside. “You kids take your time, San Diego isn't going anywhere.”

“For now,” Caro said ominously.

“Thanks, Caro, I feel much better,” I said as I hugged her.

“So are you nervous?” she asked.

“Kind of,” I admitted. “I'm more excited. I'm only going two hours away, though. It's not like I'm moving to London or something.”

“My turn again,” Drew said, and this time he hugged both Caro and me.

“Our little triangle is breaking up,” Caro sighed, and I held on to both of their waists.

“Nothing breaks us,” I murmured. “We're just traveling for a bit, that's all. We'll always come back together.”

“Emmy's right,” Drew said. “Oh! Speaking of traveling!” He pulled our hug apart but still hung on to Caro's and my arm. “Did you tell her?”

“Oh! Oh!” Caro was jumping up and down. “Guess what, guess what!”

“What, what?” Now I was jumping up and down, too.

“Heather got a job!”

“No!”

“Yes! In Fresno!”

“Aahhh!” We were all screaming and jumping now.

“I'm going to have a room all to myself!” Caro cried. “For the first time in my life!”

“That is such amazing news,” I told her. “You deserve it after all that you put up with from Heather.”

“The first thing I'm doing is steam cleaning the carpets,” Caro sighed dreamily. “And then I'm going to shut the door and take a nap.”

“Wow, sorry we're going to miss that party,” Drew said.

“I need you and Kevin to help me load the steam cleaner into my car, though,” Caro teased him.

“Kevin and I are very busy that day.”

“Doing what?”

“None of your business.” Drew tapped her on the nose as she laughed. “He says bye, by the way,” he said to me. “He had to fill in for someone at the Bucky.”

“The Bucky?” Caro and I both said.

Drew just shook his head. “Don't ask. That's what they all call Starbucks, apparently. I know, it sounds ridiculous. The things you do for love.”

I glanced past them, where I saw Oliver shutting the trunk of the car. “Indeed,” I said, then instinctively gathered my friends back up in one last hug. “I love you guys.”

“We love you, too,” Caro sighed.

“Right back atcha,” Drew murmured.

After they left (and after Drew promised my dad that Kevin would definitely hook him up with some free Frappuccinos), my mom and I loaded my suitcase into the backseat, next to another box filled with more clothes. “I never knew you had so much stuff,” she said, huffing and puffing a little.

“I know,” I said. “I guess this is what happens when you finally clean out your closet.”

“Imagine if you had done it every year like I had asked you . . .” She widened her eyes innocently when I looked at her. “I'm just saying.”

“You can help me organize the one at school, how's that?” I said. “Matching hangers and everything.”

She just nodded toward where Oliver and my dad were standing and talking, Oliver's hands shoved deep into his pockets. “You might want to go say goodbye,” she said softly. “We have to get going.”

“Okay,” I said, and she graciously went to gather my dad and give us some privacy.

“So,” Oliver said as soon as we were alone. He had gotten tanner since spending most of the summer surfing with me at the beach, and the freckles that had bloomed across his nose and cheeks made me want to kiss each one.

“Soooo,” I replied. “I guess we have to get going.”

“Yeah, I figured,” he said, motioning to where my parents were buckling themselves into the car. “You nervous?”

“No, not really. Just, you know, a little sad.”

“Hey, no sad allowed,” he said, chucking my chin with his thumb. “No sad. Just happy.”

“Weren't you telling me last week how important it is to acknowledge your emotions?” I teased him.

“Well, that's for me.” He grinned, his smile warmer and wider than ever. “You're different. Get your own therapist.”

He had been seeing someone three times a week, a man named Dr. Hilbert, who listened and seemed to say things that Oliver needed to hear. Oliver didn't tell me very much about those sessions, but he didn't have to. I knew they were working. He was
happier, calmer, and his relationship with Maureen was a lot better. They even had a standing coffee date every week where they talked about Oliver and his time spent with his dad.

As for his dad, there wasn't a trial. He pled guilty to all the charges and was sentenced to fifteen years in California state prison. Oliver hadn't seen him yet, but they wrote letters back and forth. “It's so fucked up,” Oliver had laughed one night as he was looking for a stamp. “All this technology and I have to use a pen and paper to talk to my dad.”

And now that things were better, it was my turn to go.

“I'll Skype you tonight,” I told him. “After I get unpacked and everything.”

“Great,” he said. “The twins will probably want to say hi.”

“I miss them already.”

“Do you want to take them?” Oliver took a step back toward his house. “Because there's probably room on the roof next to the surfboard if—”

“Stop!” I laughed. “No, the twins like you better now, anyway.” And it was true. They were crazy about their older brother. (I still hadn't heard the Angelina Ballerina voice, though. Oliver absolutely refused to do it for me.)

“Yeah, they're not so terrible,” he said. “Not if you bribe them.”

“I'm really going to miss you,” I said to him. “Who's going to turn their light on and off?”

“I will,” he murmured, brushing my hair off my face. “You just won't see it.”

“But what if—?” I started to say, but he leaned down and silenced me with a kiss.

“Emmy,” he whispered. “It's your turn to go and it's my turn to stay. So go already.”

“I love you,” I whispered. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” He kissed me again, deeper and longer than the one before, and I didn't care that my parents were probably watching in the rearview mirror. “And it's just two hours away, like you keep saying.”

“We found each other once,” I said. “Shouldn't be too hard to do again.”

He smiled against my mouth, then kissed me again. “Not goodbye. Just see you later.”

I nodded, trying not to cry. “Okay?” he said again.

“Okay,” I said, clearing my throat, then looking up at him. “See you later.”

We shared one last kiss before I climbed into the car. He stood at the end of our driveway and waved goodbye, and I waved back, trying not to cry.

“You okay?” my mom asked gently from the front seat.

“Yes,” I said, because I was. I was okay and so was Oliver. We were going to be fine.

I looked out the back window as we drove away. Oliver stood in the driveway, waving goodbye, and I waved back.

I watched as we drove farther away, as Oliver got smaller and smaller on the horizon.

I watched until he was gone.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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The first time Emmy and Oliver see each other is when they are one day old. People will tell you that babies cannot see very far at that age, maybe just a few inches in front of their faces, but no one ever tells the babies that. And in any case, no one ever told Emmy and Oliver.

Oliver is a whole pound heavier than Emmy, but she's a few hours older, which makes them pretty much even. Emmy's also bald and has to wear a little hat, the sort of hat that would look ridiculous on anyone more than two days old. She wonders if anyone else has to wear a hat in the hospital nursery, so she turns her head to the left just as Oliver turns his head to the right.

They look at each other for a minute. Their dads are standing in the window, taking pictures and wearing goofy smiles and congratulating each other. Oliver sort of waves his hand, and Emmy tries to wave back but she's all swaddled up and can't move, so she blinks instead. She notes that Oliver isn't wearing a hat. How nice for him.

She really wants to wave, but before she can figure out how exactly to do that, a nurse comes over and starts to wheel Oliver's bassinet away. Emmy's seen a few other babies leave the hospital, so she understands what's happening. It still makes her sad, though. She'll miss her new friend.