“Fuck you. You know what I’m talking about, Easter,” she seethed.

My mind raced for a response, but she hadn’t come for a fight. She was alone, and that wasn’t like the Erins.

She cocked her head a bit, impatient with my silence. “Answer me. And don’t you dare pretend to be innocent. We both know what’s been going on.”

Frankie stood beside me. “She’s working, Alder. You can talk about this later.”

“No, I can’t,” she said, her eyes glossing over. “Because I’m leaving in half an hour for South Padre. I was supposed to be riding with Weston, but he’s suddenly decided that he doesn’t want to go, so I’m riding with Sonny. Explain to me why that is, Easter.”

“I can’t speak for him.”

“Well someone’s going to have to. The only thing he said was that it wasn’t working out between us.”

“He broke up with you?”

Alder put both of her hands on the little counter in front of the window, palms down. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“I never expected him to,” I said. It was the truth.

“He didn’t have a lot of time to go into details, because he was taking some stupid drawing to Ponca City to have it framed.”

I choked. “He . . . what?”

“So you can tell me, Easter. Why are you doing this to me?”

“I’m sorry,” I said, that same anger I felt with Sara bubbling up again. “Why am I doing something to you?”

“Has he been cheating on me? I deserve to know!”

Frankie put her hand on her hip. “If he broke up with you, does it really matter?”

Alder’s eyes targeted Frankie. “Oh, go push out another kid, Frankie.”

Frankie slowly moved me to the side and leaned down. “You need to leave right now, or you’re going to have to try to enjoy your senior trip with no boyfriend and a new black eye. Because I will come through this window at you.”

Alder rolled her eyes. She walked away, but stopped and came back. “You watch yourself, Easter. When I get back, I’m going to make it my mission to make you so miserable you’ll have to finish high school at home. You think I’ve been mean to you? You haven’t seen anything yet.”

“That sounds like a threat.” Frankie narrowed her eyes at Alder.

Alder smiled, but she looked more frightening that I’ve ever seen her. “I don’t make threats. I’m just giving her an idea of what the next six weeks of her life are going to be like.”

“Same thing,” Frankie said.

“I’m going to go enjoy my Spring Break. You should really try to enjoy yours.”

“I will,” I said, lifting my chin.

She shot me a look that made my blood run cold and returned to her Honda.

“Whew! You lit a fire under her ass!” Frankie said, nearly euphoric from the confrontation.

I leaned my butt against the counter. “She’s serious. When she gets back, it’s going to be hell.”

“Who cares?” Frankie said with a wink. “You’ve got Weston.”

“I don’t have him.”

“He’s framing your drawing.” She sighed. “He’s got it bad.”

“This is all really weird. Everything has been the same every day since first grade. Things have steadily gotten worse, and now they’re . . . I don’t know.”

“Amazing?”

“Different.”

Frankie nodded. An SUV pulled into the parking lot, and four kids hopped out, followed by their toddler-toting mother. Frankie and I got back to work.

I was feeling even more excited for Spring Break. If I was going to be punished for it, I was going to make sure every second was worth it.

Chapter Eight

Weston’s truck was parked directly behind the Dairy Queen. As if he already didn’t look happy enough, I brought him an extra tall Cherry Dip Cone. His grin spread from ear to ear.

“Do I have time to go home and change?” I asked.

“Nope. I’m too excited to show you something.”

We drove to his house. The windows were dark, and when he pressed the garage door button, his parents’ vehicle wasn’t in its spot. Even though it was a weekend, the entire town seemed to be closed down. With all the upperclassman traffic gone during Spring Break and so many families away for vacation, Blackwell would be on a week-long sleep; it was that way every year.

“Your parents already left?” I asked.

He nodded. “This morning.”

“What did they say about you staying home?”

He held open the door for me, and I walked through to the hallway. “It was a little weird. They were confused, and Mom’s freaking out about Alder, but they also seemed relieved. I think they were letting me go because I’m eighteen, but they were going to be worried about me the whole time.”

“Makes sense.”

“They asked me if I wanted to go skiing, but it’s their first adults-only vacation since they had me, so they were kind of glad I said no.”

I chuckled. His life was so fascinating to me. The way he was so close with his parents, how they understood each other and cared for each other was foreign to me. But mostly I liked that they were sober and could solve their issues without yelling at him.

We went to the main stairs, and Weston flipped on the light. I followed him up the spiral, wooden staircase. There was a polished wooden banister with intricate iron instead of spindles. I loved his house. It was so clean, and decorated with such care that it could have been featured in a home design magazine. Hanging from the clay-colored wall were canvases of Weston and his older sister Whitney, posing together and individually, from grade school to senior year.

When we reached the top of the stairs, Weston walked down another hallway, and then opened the last door on the left, sweeping his arm across his body, signaling for me to come in. The room was still dark, but when I stepped inside, Weston flipped on the light, revealing his bed, a dresser, and a desk. Like the rest of the house, everything had its place. It was all dusted and smelled fresh. The midnight blue comforter was tucked under the pillows, and smoothed out just right. The desk was organized and dusted, and his brand new computer was off.

Above the desk was the charcoal he’d drawn of me. Its frame was black and looked like rope. It didn’t really go with the brown-stained wooden frame of his bed, or anything else in his room.