I wouldn’t say Rosewood was exactly a ghost town, but since the mass exodus on Wednesday after classes wrapped up at noon, the halls of the school were definitely quieter as those with too far to travel (like me) or whose family was on a world cruise (Emmie) or who technically didn’t have a home (Kaylee) were left behind to celebrate Thanksgiving with our classmates. It felt eerie and kind of sad, but at least we had each other and what promised to be a decent meal, thanks to the dean taking pity on those of us left behind. And, she’d taken pity on the Westwood stragglers, too, having invited them to join us. That surely meant Brady, too, which I wasn’t really looking forward to—I’d managed to avoid him in the days since the incident at the cottage. Though I knew he wouldn’t sit with us, so at least I probably wouldn’t have to talk to him.
But the dean’s generosity also meant Jared and Declan would be joining us, which would be great. Jared was fun to have around and I had to think with Dave having gone home already, there wouldn’t be much awkwardness between us. And to say that Kaylee was excited about having Declan on campus for an extended period of time was the understatement of the year.
The only string attached was that everyone left at Rosewood had to pitch in and help with dinner, which none of us really minded, even though we weren’t exactly accomplished cooks. Celia would have been a big help, but she was gone for the weekend, so Kaylee, Emmie and I headed down to the kitchen at nine a.m. as instructed and pushed up our figurative sleeves, ready to help. There were a few other students—some that I knew, most that I didn’t from different grades—assembled around the dean who was handing out aprons. We took ours and put them on as we waited for further instruction.
“Good morning, girls,” she said with a smile. “We have much to do today to prepare our Thanksgiving dinner, but in Rosewood tradition, we will be donating a portion to the local shelter. I need five volunteers to go with me to set up and serve.”
We’d known the call to volunteer would be coming—thanks to Emmie—and volunteering to serve food at a shelter was way better than cleaning giant pots and pans, so we’d thrown up our hands immediately. Of course, we were all about charity, too.
Dean Haywood looked around the crowd and settled on the three of us first. “Ms. Somerville, as always, of course. Ms. Prescott, Ms. Bennett.” Then she scanned to the left. “Ms. Vincent and Ms. Thorburn. Thank you all.” She nodded around the crowd and the rest of the hands went down accompanied by some disappointed groans. It seemed a lot of girls would rather serve food than scrub roasting pans.
“Good,” the dean continued. “Now, we need to start with dressing the turkeys and then the pumpkins for the pies and the...”
The next several hours were a blur of peel, chop, slice, dice, stir, scoop, greet, smile, serve, moan, groan, exhale, rub feet, pray for death.
By the time I sat down at the long table among my friends, I was so exhausted, I didn’t even feel like eating. The only good part was that since we’d prepared the meal, the Westwood boys were on the hook to serve, so at least I got a chance to get off my swollen, screaming feet. I took a sip of the water in front of me, spilling it as I got jostled on the right by the person sitting down next to me. Of course it was Robert, who had clearly done it on purpose.
“Piss off, big brother,” I said.
“Good to see you, too, little sister,” he replied, leaning into me, making me smile and lean back into him in my exhausted version of a hug. Despite his being a pain in my butt, it was good to have at least part of my family with me. The other girls weren’t so lucky and I was grateful that the dean let all the staffers who were still on campus sit among us.
“Good evening, everyone,” the dean suddenly said into the mic, cutting through the dull roar in the room as everyone settled into their seats. She paused until the crowd quieted and we all gave her our attention at the front of the room. She was standing at the podium and seated to her left was Brady, wearing a jacket and looking very dapper as he ran his fingers around his water glass, his eyes very focused on it, maybe avoiding looking at me. Terrified of getting caught if he felt my eyes on him and happened to glance up, I turned my gaze to the dean as she continued.
“Thanksgiving is normally a time for family and I realize many of us would rather be with our own families today and this weekend, however I like to think of us as extended family here at Rosewood, and by extension, Westwood. We spend much time together and learn to care about and respect each other as we study and contribute to our respective communities. So I hope that you will join me in being thankful today for the many blessings you have, from the company of each other and this dinner we made together, to the relationships and memories you will take with you beyond your time in school. Please let us all take a moment of silence to be thankful.”
As one, we all bowed our heads and I felt the grasp of Emmie’s hand on my left, so I grabbed Robert’s left hand with my right one, smiling as he squeezed my fingers.
Suddenly and to my horror, my phone sounded in my pocket, echoing through the silent dining room and causing a chorus of snickers. Thankfully, it was just a text and not a ring that would continue. Dave, probably, checking in from his parents’ house. Nice timing, I thought, wondering if he could have possibly done it on purpose, because I was sure he would have, given the opportunity.
After a few more moments, the dean broke the silence. “Thank you, everyone. Please enjoy your meal and don’t forget, we will have movies and popcorn in the auditorium beginning at seven p.m. Westwood students are welcome to join—your bus leaves for campus ten minutes after the end of the second film. Dig in everyone!”
She put down the mic, which was everyone’s cue to eat, but I took out my phone to see Dave’s text.
It wasn’t from him, but from Brady: I would be thankful if you would forgive me for being a dick.
I glanced up at him and he was looking at me sheepishly. Sorry, he mouthed, which I figured was an additional apology for the timing of his text. I gave him a roll of my eyes and then looked down at my phone.
I forgive you, I sent.
My phone sounded again, this time mostly drowned out by the sounds around me: the clatter of dishes and cutlery, talking, laughing. I looked down. Friends?
I looked up at him again and nodded, but I was still worried we weren’t done with all the angsty push-pull stuff.
I heard you and understand. No more. I promise.
I stared at the words for a few seconds before I lifted my head and looked at him again. Thank you, I mouthed at him. And I was thankful, but at the same time, just the tiniest little bit heartbroken. Which made no sense at all.
~ ♥ ~
“Another one?” I laughed, incredulous as Jared sat back down at the table with another whole pumpkin pie he’d pilfered from the kitchen. My gut was about ready to burst, but he and Declan were eyeing that pie like they hadn’t eaten in weeks. Boys and their insatiable appetites...
Jared grinned at me. “It’s Thanksgiving, you’re supposed to overeat. There was no more whipped cream, though,” he said, with an exaggerated frown as he cut himself a generous slice and passed the plate to Declan.
“I’ll have another slice, too,” Robert said. “It’s really good, so I’m sure my sister had nothing to do with baking it.” He elbowed me in the ribs.
I pretended to be offended, but the sad truth is that he was right. I’d been in charge of carrot and potato peeling, which was about the extent of my culinary skills.
“I made the pies,” Emmie said, leaning forward so she could look at Robert past me.
“You did a great job,” Robert said, taking the plate from Declan once he’d sliced himself a quarter of the pie (all the girls had refused, so it was left to the three of them).
Emmie smiled and I swear, she batted her lashes at my brother. “I’m so glad you like it, Rob.” That was enough to get me out from between the two of them, despite my utter exhaustion. It also erased my final doubts and solidified my decision about Dave.
“I’ll start clearing,” I said to no one in particular as I stood, reaching for my plate.
Jared rose across from me, having apparently inhaled his dessert already. “I’ll help. That’s our job, anyway.” He glanced at Declan who was so wrapped up in talking with Kaylee that he probably hadn’t even heard.
I gave Jared a shrug and together we stacked the plates and took them to the kitchen.
“So,” he said as we unloaded the dishes in the big sink. “I don’t mean to rush you and I totally understand you’ve been busy, but I thought I’d ask if...”
I gave him an apologetic look. “I haven’t finished reading it yet, sorry.”
“Right. Not that I’m being needy or anything,” he said. “But, uh, is it horrible? You know, I’m only asking in a completely constructive criticism kind of way. I’m totally not needy. Really. Not even a little. Needy, that is.”
I put my hand on his forearm and looked into his eyes. “It is not horrible, Jared. It’s very moving and thought-provoking. Many of the things that happened to you were horrible, but the book itself if amazing. I’m sorry; I should have let you know that before, so you didn’t have to ask.
He exhaled. “You’re not just saying that?”
“Oh no, the stuff in this book is horrible. Totally.”
He rolled his eyes and I wondered how he managed to be so normal now after what he’d been through.
We turned to leave the kitchen, but I wasn’t done with him yet, so I grabbed his hand and tugged him into an alcove surrounded with shelving stacked with dishes and platters. For a half a second, he looked hopeful and I realized my mistake, so I let go of his hand. “Are you okay? I mean, there’s a lot of stuff in this book that is really awful and makes your family look bad. What’s going to happen when it gets out?”
The smile dissolved from his face. “You notice I’m here, right? And not with my family?”
I nodded.
He shrugged as though that was explanation enough.
“Where’s your grandmother?” I asked, suddenly afraid of his answer.
“The holidays are hard on her and if I went to see her, she’d feel like she’s betraying the others. I’ll see her at Christmas, though I did call her this morning.”
“I’m sorry it’s like this for you,” I said. “I don’t know how you’re not nuts.”
“I was for a time,” he said, his face serious. “Luckily, the show syndicated and I could afford a lot of therapy. I’m pretty zen about all of it now.”
I cocked my head. “So why write the book? Is that part of the therapy?”
“No. I just want the truth out. Maybe there are other child actors out there that can get something out of it and realize they’re not alone. Maybe they can read between the lines and see that there are ways out, ways to turn the horrors into positives and grow from the experiences and not let them define you and your life. I know I’m not the only one who had a horrible childhood so maybe I can take my crap and help someone and make it a positive.”
I nodded because it made sense and I really admired him for putting his story out there.
“Life is like that, you know,” he said. “You read between the lines of someone’s experiences to see the person they are and how their life has shaped them. It’s not just about the show and the money. It’s so much more than that.”
“You’re a pretty smart guy, you know,” I said, resisting the urge to grab his hand, but I suddenly felt really close to him.
“So, how far have you gotten?”
I thought to just that morning when I’d been reading his manuscript in the lounge, giving Emmie a chance to sleep in since she was off laundry duty and I didn’t have equestrian practice while they were scrambling to find a replacement for Brady. I winced as I thought about the chapter I’d read, sure that it had amounted to child abuse. “The part where your mother gave six year old you Valium so you would be mellow for your audition.”
He nodded. “Right. It gets worse, just to let you know.”
Cringing, I said, “Seriously?”
“Unfortunately. But maybe you pity me enough to go out with me?” he said, a mischievous glint in his eye.
I sighed loudly.
“Fine, fine, okay I don’t really want your pity,” he said, holding his hands up. “So, you and Dave though?”
I dropped my eyes. “I think so.”
He was silent just long enough for me to want to fidget then said, “Would you believe me if I said I was happy for you both and I think you’ll make a great couple?”
Looking up at him, I said, “Should I believe you if you said it?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I mean, you know how I feel about you, but Dave’s a good guy and if I can’t have you, he’s almost as good.” He grinned at me when I laughed. “And he knows if he messes with you, I’ll kick his ass. I would do it, too.”
“I would expect you to,” I said, in all seriousness.
He nodded. “Is it okay if I ask for a hug?”
I looked at him sideways. “No groping.”
He snapped his fingers in mock disappointment then came towards me and wrapped his giant arms around me, practically smashing me into his pecs. “I need to breathe, Jared,” I said, my voice muffled into his shirt.
“Right, sorry,” he said, rumbling against my cheek, letting up, but not letting me go until I pulled back a few moments later. “Come on, we’d better get back or they’re all going to think I finally convinced you to hook up with me.”
“You’re a good friend,” I said as we walked out into the dining room toward our friends.
He smiled at me, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes before we reached the table and he started joking around with Declan, teasing him for slacking off on his duties.
He really would make the perfect boyfriend and I just hoped someday someone awesome would realize it.