RILEY

It’s Thursday, the day before the screening, and I don’t want to see anyone. This is the first time our school will get to see the films we plan to submit for next weekend’s festival. There’ll be Dez’s film and a few other independents that random students will throw into the ring.

The stress of everything has started to take its toll—not only with the film, but with what I’ve learned the past few weeks about Ms. Dunn, Dez, Tori, and Libby. All the secrets, lies, omissions. They pile up and weigh me down. I spend the school day hiding out, and soon I find myself heading outside to Ms. Dunn’s garden.

I’m not alone.

Will is out there too. He’s on his phone, no doubt making some kind of deal. I move to the side of the building and watch him. My mind goes to the video again, of Libby and Will in Ms. Dunn’s room that last day.

Once again, Will is doing his dirty work in Ms. Dunn’s space. He finishes his call and spits on the ground. Then he takes out his car keys. Before I can stop him, he takes a key and runs it across the memorial plaque.

“Hey!” I run toward the garden. “Stop.”

Will kicks the plants and tromps over the mums. He meets my eyes and dares me to do something.

I stop, backing up while he slowly walks out toward his car.

I gather the smashed flowers and leaves and try to salvage them. When it doesn’t work, I sit down in the middle of the garden and cry.

Dez knows better than to mess with me, so we’re quiet on the drive home from school. I tell him about the garden, and he says, “Sounds like Will.”

“Maybe he did it.” I’m crying as we pull up the driveway.

Dez knows exactly what I’m talking about. “Not this again. I thought you were done playing detective?”

“Who said that?”

“Well, I’d say all of your clues have dried up. Unless you’re putting Libby back on the list?”

“I don’t think we’ve totally eliminated anyone yet.”

“Rye.”

“What?” I snap.

“Just because a lowlife dealer stomped on a few flowers doesn’t mean he killed Ms. Dunn. It’s reaching, don’t you think?”

My head starts to pound. “I’m not sure what to think anymore.”

“We have a lot to deal with right now. Can you just put this on the back burner and get some rest?” He leans over me to help push open the jammed passenger door. “I’m saying this as your director now. You need to take it easy.”

“Okay,” I mutter.

I think he might be right.

It’s quickly turning dusk when I get an idea. I run up the stairs, taking them two at a time, to get the skateboard from my bedroom.

I walk into the kitchen, toward the back door, and Dad looks up from his coupon clipping. He sees the board tucked under my arm and raises an eyebrow. “It’s been a long time since you’ve been on that death trap,” he says. “Think that’s wise?”

“No, but I must.”

Dad laughs. “Well, if you must. Don’t be gone too long. Mom’s picking up tacos for dinner.”

“I won’t be long,” I assure him.

I giggle as I step onto my board. It makes me feel like a kid again. I feel the spinning wheels under me and I want to close my eyes as I coast down the hill. Of course, I can’t. I need to maneuver around the uneven pavement, and cars, and kids.

I shift my weight around the corner, the wind burning my eyes.

The angst and anxiety I’ve been feeling for the last few weeks flow to the back of my mind. Dez is right—I need a break. Everything’s going to be okay.

I soar over the road on my board till the darkness falls. Once it does, I stroll back to the house, stopping to look at the last of the autumn leaves along the way.

Though I’m still mad at Dez for not telling me about Tori, I know deep down that it’s more than anger at his omission. I’m jealous—painfully so. Then, I think of all the secrets I’ve kept from him. Everything I’ve left unsaid. I’m no better than he is.

Suddenly I want it all to end. I want to close the distance between us.

I want Dez.

As I get closer to home, I can see him. He’s sitting on the stoop, writing.

I skip up the steps to his house and join him. He smiles when I sit down and tuck my legs under his.

We sit.

“We good?” he asks.

I nod and lean into him a little more until Mom’s car turns up the drive. I grab his hand and pull him toward my house. “Come on, have dinner with me.”