IT WASN’T ME. IT COULDN’T HAVE BEEN ME.
Whatever happened back at school, whatever that was—I don’t even want to think about it. I just want out of here. Off this island, away from Reeve and everything that reminds me of him and who I used to be.
When I get home, Aunt Bette’s Volvo is in the driveway. I quietly set my bike down on the front lawn and walk backward, toward the street. Forget my dresses, my clothes. Aunt Bette can send me everything later. All I know is that I need to be on the next ferry out of here.
At the curb I turn and give the house one last look. I try to memorize the exact shade of gray the cedar shingles are, like the sky right before a summer storm. I count the white shutters bolted to each of the windows. Twelve. I trace the curve of the cobblestone walk through the air with my finger. I take it in, because this is the last time I’ll ever see this house again. I’m not ever coming back here. Never.
Then I take a deep breath and start the downhill walk toward the ferry, fighting back tears the whole way. I was crazy to think that Reeve would ever apologize for the terrible things he did to me. I always hoped, somewhere deep down inside, that I mattered to him. That, despite everything, there was something real between us. That he cared about me. That he was sorry for what he did.
I know now, I know for sure, that I was wrong. He’s never going to apologize to me, or acknowledge what he did. And so there’s no reason for me to stay.
My heart is pounding in my chest as I reach the ferry dock. I’m panting too hard to talk, so when I get to the ticket window, I stand a bit off to the side to give myself a chance to catch my breath. I watch from the shore as one boat docks and lets its passengers on. A woman behind me takes my place in line. She tries to buy a ticket, but the four p.m. ride is sold out. The earliest she can get on is the six p.m.
It gets darker. More people line up to buy tickets, but I don’t make a move. I stand and watch and wait. I want to go back in line and buy my ticket. I want to so badly. Everything inside me is screaming Go, go, go, go. But I can’t. Something’s holding me back. Something’s keeping me here.
What is happening to me?
