CHAPTER

13

By the time we get back to Juniper Island, the afternoon sun is a blurry lemon drop in the blue sky and Sam’s entire face is purple and green.

I guess it’s safe to say that the first Kissing Quest attempt didn’t go well. At all. On the ride back to the island, I can’t even look at Quinn. I can’t look at anyone, I’m so mortified. She keeps telling me it’s okay, that, hey, everyone probably gives the first guy they try to kiss two black eyes and a broken nose and then a lacy bra to mop up the mess. I nod and smile, but really, I’m dying inside. Theoretically speaking, of course.

Marisol is pretty ticked, though. Not at me, she said. Sam’s nose was an accident, but I guess she got some good shots and was hoping to go down again after a break. But when Nathan came out of the wheelhouse and saw his son gushing blood, he called it quits.

Now Sam’s on his way to the hospital, Quinn’s on her way back to Sandy Dunes with her fuming, blue-haired mom, and I’m walking home with a bloody bra in my bag.

New Life, as it turns out, is a little more complicated than I thought it would be. I mean, obviously, I know that I need to want to kiss someone for this whole thing to work, but how do I know I want to? One thing’s for sure: I knew when I didn’t want to, and I didn’t want to kiss Sam Blanchard.

I’m thinking up all sort of ways to convince Kate to let me go over to Sandy Dunes and see Quinn and make sure she doesn’t want to bail on the Quest—and on me—when I hear voices coming from my front porch.

“…just needs some time,” Kate is saying.

“She won’t even let me look at her right now.”

I freeze. Hearing Lena’s voice is like sprinting into a brick wall. I squint through the bright sun and, sure enough, I see Kate and Lena sitting on the porch stairs. The same truck from last night is parked in the driveway. It’s mint green and looks super-old, like it’s from the middle of the last century or something. I duck behind the big oak in our front yard, its shadow tucking me away.

“Like I said, it might take some time,” Kate says. “How long are you staying in Port Hope?”

Lena picks at a loose thread on her jeans. “Indefinitely. I’ve lined up some voice lessons while I’m here.”

“Wow. Okay,” Kate says.

“Is that all right?” Lena asks.

Kate sighs. “You can do what you want.”

“But are you okay with it? I need to know.”

Kate doesn’t answer at first. My heart is going wild in my chest, a hummingbird buzzing around a feeder. I can’t figure out what I want Kate to say.

“I don’t know,” Kate finally says, so quiet I almost don’t hear her. It’s the perfect answer, because I don’t know either.

“That’s fair,” Lena says.

“You… you still go to meetings, right?” Kate asks.

“We talked about this last night.”

“Talk about it again.”

“Yes,” Lena says. “Every week. Sometimes more.”

“And you’ve found one in Port Hope?”

“I have,” Lena says. “They meet in the Methodist church basement, right near the house I’m renting. Don’t worry about me, Katie.”

“It’s hard not to. I’ve worried for eight years. Actually, even longer than that.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Are you?”

Lena sighs and rubs her forehead with both hands. “Yes. I told you, I’m good now. That’s why I’m here. I would never try to put myself back into her life if I wasn’t positive I was ready.”

“And you haven’t been ready for the past eight years?”

A beat. I hold my breath. “I know it sounds terrible, but no. I wasn’t. I’d be okay for a while, only to start drinking again. But I’m ready now, I promise.”

“Well, maybe Sunny’s not,” Kate says.

“I get that. I just want a chance.”

“I’m trying, Lena, but Sunny has a mind of her own.”

Lena smiles and I kind of want to run over there and slap it off. And I kind of want to watch her smile again. It’s confusing.

“Of course she does,” she says. Then the smile fades. “I never dreamed she’d get sick.”

“What parent does?” Kate asks.

I tense up at that word—parent. It’s not like it applies to Lena. At all.

Lena sighs and shakes her head. “I’m so sorry you went through everything alone. I’m sorry I didn’t call for so long. It felt easier, at the time. Not only for me, but for you and Sunny. I didn’t want to mess up your life and I was such a mess for so long. If I’d known—”

“I wasn’t alone. I had Dave. And I had Sunny. She’s really strong.”

“I can tell. She’s just like you.”

Kate doesn’t say anything to that, but a little knot gets all tangled up in my throat. I swallow it down. Inside the house, our kettle screeches from the kitchen and Kate stands up.

“Orange blossom tea still your favorite?” she asks, wiping under her eyes.

Lena looks up at her and smiles. “You remembered.”

“I remember a lot of things.” Then Kate disappears inside the house.

“Thank you,” Lena whispers long after the screen door clicks shut. Her voice sounds super-sad, talking to no one.

I stand there and watch her for a couple of seconds. I wonder how long I’m going to have to wait out here until she leaves. I want to get inside and lock myself in my room and hide under the covers and stare at my picture of Lena until my eyes blur.

But I don’t need to look at a picture. The real Lena is right here. Still, a picture is safe. A picture doesn’t talk or give reasons or ask questions.

Lena stares at her lap and runs her fingers over one of the tattoos on her wrist. My heart gets all fast and jumpy, because she looks lonely.

Something tugs at me, like a knuckle knocking against my ribs. It nudges and nags until I’m walking toward the porch. Lena lifts her head, and her eyes widen when she sees me. My eyes probably widen too, because it’s just plain weird that she’s real. That she’s sitting on my porch. That she sees me too.

I sit down next to her but scoot as far away as I can without falling off the step. I set my bag down and fiddle with the strap. I’m not sure what to do now. I kind of want to throw up. Or scream. Or ask a ton of questions. Or cry.

“Hi, Sunny,” she says, her voice all whispery and soft.

I nod and don’t look at her.

“I came by to talk to Kate,” she says. “I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

Shrug. I guess I’m going for the silent treatment. The nice thing is, she lets me. She doesn’t pile a whole bunch of questions in my lap. She gives me a second to get my breath back and figure out if I actually want to sit next to the lady who grew me in her body for nine months and then gave me away.

After five long minutes, I still don’t have an answer. Maybe there isn’t one. I wrap my arms around my legs and pull my knees to my chest. I sneak a glance at her. Both of her arms are completely covered in tattoos, swirling up from her wrists to her shoulders. There are a lot of suns on there. All sizes and shapes, some with elegant, curling rays and some with knifelike points and some with just a formless glow surrounding the ball of light.

“You didn’t have all those tattoos in your picture,” I say.

She tilts her head at me. “My picture?”

My face feels hot as I realize what I just admitted. I stay quiet. I don’t want to tell her that I have a photo of her tucked in my nightstand that I stare at every night.

When I don’t answer, she holds out her arms, inspecting them herself. “I got all these in the past few years.”

“All of them?”

“Every single one.”

“You like suns a lot.”

She smiles, this time looking at me instead of her arms. “Why do you think your name is Sunshine?”

“I don’t know. Because you’re weird?”

She laughs. “Well, that’s probably true. But I also like suns. I mean, I hope I do. These aren’t coming off.” She rubs at a sun on her upper arm that’s half hidden behind a coil of thorns.

“Why?” I ask.

“Why the sun?”

I nod. “And why…” I tap my chest, hoping my question comes across. My middle name is Kate’s name, but I’ve never asked where my first name came from. I’ve wondered about it, though. I know there are other people in the world with my name, but it’s usually just Sunny. Period. Not Sunshine, which is my legal first name. It’s on my birth certificate and everything.

Sunshine Kathryn St. James.

“Well,” Lena says, clearing her throat. “The sun is powerful. Life-giving.”

“But it can hurt too,” I say. “Like, if you have too much of it. And it gets covered up by clouds and hides at night.”

Lena nods and touches a little sun on her wrist that’s surrounded by a bunch of dark clouds, like a storm approaching. “All true. But I think that’s why I love these images of the sun even more, you know? Anything good in life isn’t all good, right? There are levels, layers. Everything that’s beautiful can turn ugly and everything that’s dark can be given some light. Nothing is only one thing. And the sun, it’s the same every day, shining on and on, but every day is different too.”

“And it’s big,” I say. “It always makes me feel super-small when I see those diagrams of the solar system and how the sun is like this big old basketball next to a bunch of little golf balls and marbles.”

Lena smiles and nods. “Yeah. Exactly.”

We go silent again and I’m glad. My mind is going a mile a minute. Behind me, I hear one of the floorboards in our entryway squeak. When I turn, I see Kate holding a cup of tea. She smiles at me and kisses her finger before pressing it to the screen door. Then she drifts away and I can’t decide if I want her to come back or not.

“Sunny, can I ask you something?” Lena says.

I turn back around. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Well, I was wondering if you might let me… see you a little.”

I glance at Lena. She’s not looking at me. She’s knotting her fingers together and breathing sort of hard, but trying to act like she’s not. She’s super-nervous and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little glad.

I let the question sit there for a few seconds, because I’m not sure what my answer is yet. Still, I don’t think I’ll say no. I’ve got too many questions. At the same time, I’m scared to ask a whole bunch of them. My hands shake just thinking of all the answers she could give for leaving me, for showing up now and acting all sorry.

Then, the spark of an idea. There might be a way to get some inspiration for Step Three of my New Life plan and figure out some things about Lena all at the same time.

I could never ask Kate for help with this. Never in a million years. She’d totally freak out and say I was too young, but I’m twelve and a half. If that’s not too young to have your heart ripped out and replaced, it’s not too young for anything, in my opinion.

But Lena. Lena has tattoos. Lena wears stomping boots and torn jeans. She seems like she’d be cool with my quest. I don’t know. Either way, I open my mouth and more words fall out.

“I have a question first,” I finally say.

“Okay,” Lena says, turning to face me. “Shoot.”

I take a deep breath and take the plunge. I still have a New Life plan, after all, and I’m sticking to it, come long-lost mothers or Margot or bloody noses or whatever. “What do you know about kissing boys?”