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I’ve built my entire world around Jake and now that it’s shattered I realize, way too late, that I should have cultivated some other people who’d care that a police officer with mom hair and a sensible suit just accused me of murder. And when I say “care,” I don’t mean in an oh-my-God-did-you-hear-what-happened-to-Addy kind of way.
I’m not sure which mistake he’s referring to: my alleged juicing, my alleged murdering, or something we haven’t talked about yet.
Mom turns in her seat and stares at me with betrayal in her eyes. Dad can’t do the same, but he keeps glancing into the rearview mirror like he’s hoping to see something different. I can read the hurt in both their expressions: You’re not who we thought you were.
He’s pretending I don’t exist and I’m starting to think he’s right. If I’m not Jake’s girlfriend, who am I?
He doesn’t get to erase you from the world. God, you made a stupid mistake. It’s not like you murdered someone.
If I was going to the party tonight I’d have to wear something he picked out, stay as late as he wanted, and not talk to anyone who might make him mad. I miss him still. I do. But I don’t miss that.
He’d never look at me the same. The way he’s looking at me now, even though I’m a murder suspect who’s been accused of using steroids. That he can handle.
I hadn’t let myself think about that since Simon died; how the last time I’d talked to him, I acted like a jerk because I couldn’t deal with who I was. And the worst part is, even after all this—I still can’t.
“Your father loves you,” she says quietly. I almost laugh. Pop loves Cooperstown. He loves when I strike out the side and get attention from flashy scouts, and when my name scrolls across the bottom of ESPN. But me? He doesn’t even know me.
I don’t want to be that afraid to be alone.
I’ve never said anything that matters so much in such a straightforward way, and at first I’m glad I didn’t wimp out. But Nate looks like he couldn’t care less. And while I’m not fazed by external obstacles thrown my way—Disapproving parents? No problem! Jail time? I’ll get you out!—his indifference makes me wilt.
