Chapter Sixty

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LIAM AND I DRIVE TO THE same spot we went to that morning we skipped first period together.

Lately it’s been too cold to leave the car, but tonight isn’t so bad. Liam pulls a thick blanket out of his trunk, and again we sit on the hood of his car that is still warm from the engine. When we lean back and look up, the treetops form a circle around a patch of star-spotted night sky. The trees look like giant sentinels, steadfastly guarding this little patch of earth.

Or maybe it is us they are guarding.

I’m glad we came out here tonight. It was like we both just wanted to be alone.

Turns out we can be alone together.

It’s now been several days of strange silence in my house. Days since Auburn lost their semi-final game, and the town retreated from its football fervor.

I lean toward Liam and press my lips against his cheek. I snuggle a little deeper into the crook of his arm. With my ear pressed against his ribs, all I can hear is his heart. When he asks me something, I miss it, and have to pull away from him and ask him to say it again.

“Why journalism?”

“I just think I would like to use writing to tell people things they ought to know about. To tell the truth.”

“That sounds perfect for you,” he says.

I think so.

“Liam, I have to tell you something.”

He turns on his side. “Yeah?”

“I submitted an essay to the township council.”

“The scholarship contest?”

“Yeah. I wrote about home.”

“Oh.”

“There’s something else. If I win—which I won’t, because I basically called out the whole town—they’re going to print it in the Gazette. I had to agree to that when I submitted it.”

I watch him carefully, trying to catch the expression on his face, but it’s too dark outside.

“So the essay is about him?”

“It’s about Auburn mostly, but yeah, it’s about him.”

He falls silent, and I wonder what he’s thinking. He curls his finger and hooks his knuckle under my chin, tilting my face up to his and kissing me softly.

“I just want you safe,” he says.

“I know,” I say. “Me too. Part of me hopes I don’t win. But I’m also tired of hiding in the shadows here, ya know?”

“Yeah, I get that,” he says.

“Do you like growing up here?” I ask. I’ve wondered for a while, and writing about Auburn made those questions resurface in my mind.

“Ah, yeah, sure,” he says with a soft laugh.

“What does that mean?” I ask.

“It’s complicated. I do well here. But I do well because I work really hard.”

“Too hard,” I correct.

“And I know people like me,” he says.

“Everyone adores you, Liam.”

“But sometimes I feel like they love me like I’m an exception. Like if I let down my guard, if I’m ever not perfect, they’ll all turn on me in an instant. It’s mostly little things, certain comments, assumptions—but I’m aware of it all the time. I have to be. Like they love when I score a touchdown for the team, right? But they’d act a lot differently if I was kneeling before the game. This town only takes the parts of my identity it likes, ignores the rest. It’s exhausting.”

“I’m sorry, Liam. I can’t imagine how that feels,” I say.

“I just hope all the work pays off. Gets me where I want to go.”

“It will.” I don’t know what it’s like to feel that way every time I step outside my home. To have to wonder if the people around me are hiding some ugly prejudice that could surface when I least expect it. My worry is the inverse of Liam’s—my guard is up when I step into my home, not out of it.

“I am tired of it,” I say. “Not physically tired. It’s hard to explain. Some days I feel like I’m a hundred years old. Like being afraid has always been my life and it’s always going to be my life.”

“Hypervigilance takes a toll,” he says. “But Auburn isn’t the center of the world. We can leave. We will leave.” Liam slides off the car, pulling me with him. He faces me, wraps the blanket around both of us. “Besides, you are tough. You’ve got this.”

“Liam, I literally cry, like, all the time,” I say.

“You don’t give in to any of it. And I don’t have to be there to know you don’t ever cry in front of Campbell and Juniper. You are the bravest person I know.”

“You really don’t have to—”

“Still not flattery, Barnes. Seriously, it was what drew me to you in the first place,” Liam says.

“No, it isn’t, you didn’t even know me.”

“Okay, fine,” he admits, raising his hands to confess. “I first noticed you because you’re cute as hell.”

“You are ridiculous.”

“I couldn’t ignore you. I tried. You’ve always been quiet, but it’s like you think loud. And even though I could kind of tell you were just trying to blend in and be unseen, I couldn’t not see you, Leighton. And then at our lockers . . .”

“What happened at our lockers?”

“You smiled. I don’t think I had ever seen you smile before. And then all I could think was that I wanted to make you smile again.”

“Liam McNamara, you are . . . a damn romantic,” I say. I’m smiling now. “But I was right, it wasn’t about my personality after all.”

“Not until English class. I mean, you barely even talk in school, ever, and then all of a sudden you were flipping out on Brody over a book.”

“Wait a second. You wanted to date me because I went on an angry feminist rant in front of the entire class?”

“God, yes. It was so kick-ass. It confirmed what I was already starting to guess about you.”

“Which was what?”

“That you are brave, Barnes. I like being surprised by people, and you definitely surprised me.”

“Yeah, I’ve got lots of fun surprises,” I say. “Am I more than you bargained for yet?”

I ask like it’s a joke. But I’ve wondered about this for real. There’s no way he would have consciously chosen to be with me if he’d known everything. It’s too much for anyone. Even me.

“Leighton, if you think that asshole is gonna scare me away from loving you, you are bat-shit crazy.”

I laugh in spite of myself. It isn’t supposed to be funny.

But I’m learning to steal my joy wherever I can find it.