“Sorry about what happened at the bonfire,” she says quietly, pulling on my arm.

  James steps in front of us. “No. No, wait. Let me get this straight. You and Gail—Gail’s a girl’s name, did you know that? You guys—you’re a thing now? Is that it? Cause you should’ve told me, baby. You should have.” He says it so exquisitely, his words underscored with such vulnerability that I’m unable to move.

  Nobody can move.

  Even now, even after all he did to hurt me, I still feel horrible to have hurt him too. He looks so small, so innocent and fragile, just like when he found out his dad left him. I want to take it all back, to apologize, to pull him into my arms and tell him I’m sorry for being a terrible girlfriend.

  He blinks at me twice, as if breaking a spell, and then catches the room’s attention where he thrives in the spotlight, his eyes finally coming to rest on Brecke. “Isn’t that right, Brecke?”

  She shakes her head in silence.

  I can tell James is embarrassed, which is funny because I’m the one who keeps getting humiliated, not him. Yet, right now the same look I saw in his mother’s eyes are bleeding through his eyes too. Which means that even if the rumors about Cale and me weren’t close to being true, it wouldn’t matter, not to James; he’d rather look good buried in lies than risk looking like a fool with the truth. As long as he comes out on top.

  Still, I keep trying, convinced if he’d only listen to me for a second, I can fix everything between us. If he would give me a chance to explain.

  “James, listen. It’s not—”

  “Hold up, K. Just HOLD UP,” he interrupts, throwing his hand in front of my face like a stop sign. I so do not like where this is heading. It’s the opening act for when somebody pisses James off.

  The room freezes, everybody sensing the change in his tone and recognizing the look on his face too.

  I want to leave. I don’t want to do this anymore. “Come on, James. Don’t do this.” I pull on his arm, relieved when he briefly gives in and starts to follow me outside. “Just come outside for a minute, so we can talk.”

  We make it only two steps when he stops abruptly, jerking his arm free.

  “Woo hoo hooo!” He whistles his signature sound, making eye contact with anybody who will play along. “Looks like K is getting desperate.”

  Somebody snickers.

  I want to die. Right now. Please stop, James. Please. I plead with my eyes, begging him to see me as a friend. Not this.

  “Where’s your boyfriend? He too chicken to stand up to me?”

  The air in my lungs shrivels into small, shallow breaths as the whole room draws inward, waiting for something to unravel. “He’s not my boyfriend. You are. Or were.”

  But he won’t shut up. “Mackenzie Love—you think you can just show up at my house and disrespect me? You’re going to tell me what’s up?”

  “James,” Brecke starts to say, “why don’t you—” but James keeps going. “Stay out of it, Brecke,” he says. I stand there mute, waiting for him to stop as he tells me through a string of expletives just what he thinks of me. But he won’t stop, and nobody will stop him for me either, except for Brecke. At least she’s trying. Everyone else seems to enjoy the show as much as he does.

  I almost give up, almost turn around and walk out of there, but the burn of humiliation piling up on me from the last few days and hours stops me cold, stunning me with the clarity. I’m tired of not standing up for myself, of letting James and everybody else in this room have an opinion but me.

  Something breaks inside of me like a taut violin string snapping loose. “Stop!” I yell at him, cutting him off.

  The seconds seem like hours as James stares at me through lucid eyes. And then he comes at me, and misses, throwing his fist into the door behind me. In a drunken sway, he slips and falls into a table, catching his chin on the corner of the wall. His eyes go livid, and he spins around, lunging at me again.

  Losing control.

  I scream, jumping out of his way as Brecke pulls me closer to her while Tanner grabs him by the collar, shaking him. “Dude, stop,” Tanner says.

  James staggers forward, wiping a spot of blood at the corner of his mouth, glaring at me, Tanner holding him back.

  “Leave, K,” James says, his eyes trying to hide something wild and untamed behind that pretty face. But I see through his mask now.

  “No,” I say, pushing him in the chest, sick of him telling me what to do and when. I am no longer in the mood to apologize. This is not about patching things up anymore. “I’m still talking to you.”

  “Kenzie, stop,” Brecke says, pulling me back.

  James tries to dodge around Tanner. “I said, leave. Now.”

  But I step closer until I’m right in his face and our eyes mirror each other, inches apart. I lower my voice so only he can hear. I’m surprised he even listens. But he does. “You act like you’re better than everyone else because your street is at a higher altitude and you drive an import. But we all have our secrets, James.”

  He tries to lean away from me, but the wall stops him. Instead, he closes his eyes, as if willing me to disappear by squeezing my image shut. Then he looks up again, his gaze stubbornly glued on mine. I draw in closer, wanting to shout to the world all his secrets, to humiliate him like he did me.

  I want to.

  Need to.

  The way his dark eyes follow me, the way he stands there without any response or any kind of retaliation makes me think he wants me to tell his secrets too. Like he’s begging me to relieve him of years of responsibility.

  But I can’t do it.

  Not like this. Not knowing how deeply his pain runs. Not when I already know how excruciating rejection feels. Not wanting anybody else to ever feel that way again because of me.

  I step backward a little. “I know what it feels like to be humiliated,” I say to him, a little louder. “Aly Campbell does, too, thanks to you, thanks to me, thanks to everyone in this room.” I stick a finger in James’s face. He flinches. “But you of all people should know what humiliation feels like, James. You should know better.”

  He lurches at me, like he’s had enough. I jump backward.

  “Just leave now,” Liv says, standing between us.

  Tanner’s hand returns to James’s shoulder as I inch away from him. Soon, the space between us is too big to reclaim.

  “I’m sorry about not being honest with you, I promise, I am,” I say. “I should have handled it differently. I should have told you.”

  “Just go,” Brecke whispers.

  Nobody else says a word. The lucky ones hold remarkably still as I stumble out of the room and into the hall.

  The darkness snatches me up as I run away from all of them into the night as fast as I can, until my eyes sting with tears and my legs are burning.

  sixteen

  When I finally stop to catch my breath, the foggy air funnels through me, numbing my emotions. I peel off a long strip of bark from the trunk of a tree and inhale its minty, earthen scent, realizing I’m not very far from my old house.

  I look up at the big redwood tree above me, recognizing this spot, sensing even now how tied up my emotions are to this place.

  To home.

  This is what home smells like. What it feels like, if home is something you can feel. My heart burns at the thought, grieving inside for my family and for Aly. That’s when I decide I’m done.

  With all of this.

  I just need to figure out how to get back.

  Like a bird after prey, I claw at my neck for the clock charm buried somewhere under my shirt, wanting it off. Needing this stupid, family-splitting, friendship-ruining, game-changing thing as far away from me as possible. But every time I make contact with the clock, my fingers burn like they’re on fire, forcing me to let go.

  “What’s wrong with this stupid thing?” I yell into the wind, my voice echoing. The wind shouts back at me by rushing through the trees and throwing my hair into my face. And then, a crack of thunder sounds somewhere in the distant, marbled sky.

  I try again, finally able to grasp hold of the charm without my fingers burning up, but my vision splinters and I hear the ticking of a clock funneling through my ears.

  I drop the charm and cover my ears with my hands at the pressure throbbing inside me as Bird Lady’s voice rushes through my head like the wind. “Knowing what you know now, would you have still tried to save Spencer?”

  “NO!” I yell into the night, believing it now more than ever.

  The wind stops at once, like a door has been slammed shut.

  The world is quiet.

  I look up, releasing my hands from my ears to the sound of honking, like a duck, behind me. I twist around to find Bird Lady straddling a bicycle, trying to get around me. I am stunned, momentarily paralyzed at the sight of her.

  She honks her bicycle horn again and nudges my leg with her tire. Moonlight outlines her face like a halo, only adding to her mystery, as bits of dust follow after her in a ribbon of gold.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  “Just on a ride. That’s all,” she says, still trying to get past me. Her Mohawk hair is even taller and fluffier than before, the humidity from the fog probably giving it a boost. She’s back to her original outfit the first day I saw her in Vinyl Underground—a black leather jacket over a flowing blue dress.

  I block her way, bringing her skidding to a stop. “Is something supposed to happen now? You said something about knowing when it’s the right time . . . or something like that.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, child. Do you want something to happen?” she asks, placing a foot on the ground for balance.

  “Nobody ever gets what they want. It’s obvious now. They only get all the problems that come with everything they think they want.”

  She smiles and laughs her deep, hearty laugh. “You mean, you didn’t want this?” She spreads her arms wide, glitter swirling up around her.

  I think for a minute, studying her eyes. “Yes,” I admit. “I did. But not with all the baggage.”

  Her lips part. “Then answer my question. What do you want to happen next?”

  I lift my chin, gazing upward at the moonlit sky. “I want everything back to how it was. I want my old life back,” I say.

  But then I think of Spencer and the whole reason I wished for all of this in the first place, of his gasping coughs and close calls in the ER. I also think of Cale, whom I barely knew before, and of Mom finally catching a break from the monotony of struggling to make ends meet. It’s been nice seeing her in fancy clothes with her hair all done up.

  “I have stuff to lose from this life too,” I say. “Not just things, either.”

  What I once thought was clear is becoming muddier and muddier. But I don’t see another way out. This is an either-or situation—not a smorgasbord of options I get to pick and choose as I please. “You said I’d know when it was time. Well, this is it—my midnight. I’m done.”

  Bird Lady swings a leg over her bike and kicks out the kickstand. “Your midnight. I like that.” I’m about to tell her it’s not exactly an original thought, but she starts talking cryptically again. “I hate to break it to you, dear, but you’re missing the biggest part.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “This isn’t a fairy tale with a set ending. You still get to choose your ending. Nothing is set in stone. Which leads us back to my original question. What do you want to happen?”

  “I thought I already told you. I want everything back to normal.”

  “No, you don’t,” she says, straddling her bike again. “Don’t try to hide things from me, girl. I know you’re not being honest with me or with yourself.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “There are things in this new life of yours that you don’t want to give up, either. Am I right?”

  “Well, good for you. You nailed it. But it doesn’t really take a genius to figure out both of my lives have parts that make me happy. I wish I could pick and choose the best of both, but I can’t. Nobody can. So I’m choosing my brothers and my best friend, and all the other crap that goes with them. Okay?”

  “I see. So you’re choosing to return to the life where your brother is deathly sick, your parents are poor, and the love of your life barely knows who you are?”

  “James Odera is not the love of my life.” At least that, I’m sure of.

  “I’m not talking about James.”

  “WHAT?”

  “You know who I’m talking about.”

  Cale. “Well, it doesn’t matter. Because he’s not even part of the equation, okay? He’s just a nice bonus in my otherwise crappy new life.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “Yep, I’m sure.”

  “What if he’s that one person who was meant to be part of your life either way?”

  I shake my head, trying not to get tangled up in her words.

  “It sure is something to think about, don’t you agree?” she says.

  “Are you trying to confuse me?”

  “No. Just trying to make sure I understand, that’s all. Trying to make sure you understand.”

  “Well, stop it, already! There’s nothing more to understand. I’m choosing to go back. You just need to tell me how to get there.”

  “You’re sure about this?”

  I nod my head.

  “Sounds like you have it all figured out, then. I’ll get out of your way.” She pushes off on her bike and glides past me, down the sidewalk.

  I chase after her. “Stop! That’s not an answer. You can’t leave until you tell me what to do.”

  Her brakes squeak as she slows, turning back to catch my eyes. “What will it be, dear? Love or luck?”

  Her question immobilizes me from the inside out. It has never been so simple as that, at least I don’t think so. I reach for the necklace and pull at the clasp while Bird Lady waits for my answer, still haunting me with her scent of hazelnuts and cinnamon. But now that it comes down to it, I’m afraid to make a choice, for fear of making the wrong choice, even after all this. What has she done to me?

  “I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know . . . ,” I say in the smallest voice possible. “Tell me how to choose,” I beg her. “Please.”

  “The instructions are simple. Remove the necklace to go back. Leave it to stay. At midnight your choice is final. But remember what I told you, Mackenzie Love—this isn’t a fairy tale. We all get to choose how our story ends.”

  Fog circles me like a woolly scarf, thickening the air in my throat, and I choke. Gasp. Suffocate. Until a gust of wind rattles the trees again, whooshing past me and taking with it Bird Lady’s hazelnut scent, leaving in its place the cool, damp aroma of pine needles and redwood trees.

  The spot on my chest beneath the clock charm burns, as if my heart is being cleaved in two. The game of tug-of-war inside me is almost over and I feel both sides raising a white flag . . . neither side claiming victory.

  Bird Lady streams away from me in bits of glitter as she soars down the creek path, away from me.

  I hold as still as possible, afraid to blink.

  Until the clock tower chimes eleven.

  And then I run to the one person I hope was always meant to be part of my life.

  seventeen

  Cale stands in his doorway, his welcome face obscured by the shadows. I’m freezing, having run all the way to his house from the creek path.

  I’m afraid to come in, afraid for what his parents will think when they see me here like a lost dog on their doorstep, bothering them so late. But as his warm hand falls on mine, he tells me that it’s another late night with clients in the city, and then he pulls me inside. He leads me into his house, down the hallway where it’s warm. Inside the study, he stops in front of a blazing fire, somehow reading the turmoil in my eyes.

  “Hey, what happened?” he asks.

  I release my hands from his and wrap my arms across my body, trying to keep from shivering. He squeezes my arm. “Whoa! You’re freezing, Kenzie.”

  All at once he’s pulling his sweatshirt over his head, accidentally carrying the bottom of his T-shirt with it. A patch of skin peeks out right above his waistline, the ripples in his abdomen out for all to see. I find myself looking there, even though I hadn’t planned on it, and then my vision goes black as the sweatshirt falls over my head and I’m instantly flooded with Cale-infused warmth and the familiar scent of his body.

  “Thank you.” I shiver, hiding my hands inside his floppy sleeves.

  “There’s a story to this, right?” he asks.

  I nod.

  “I have an idea,” he says when I remain mute. “How about you and I skip town for the weekend? You can explain what happened on the way to Mexico.”

  I push him in the chest, laughing. “After today, I’d say it’s not such a bad idea.”

  He catches hold of my elephant trunk sleeves hanging past my hands and pulls me to him, throwing his arm around me. Before I know it, his face is near mine, his breath on my cheek. I tense up, afraid to be so close to Cale.

  To Cale.

  My friend, who has a thing for album artwork, who wears nonsensical T-shirts and beanie caps, who favors his bike over his Mercedes and mows his lawn for the exercise.

  Right now the only thing I want in the world is to have him near me.

  “I have a better idea,” he says. His words seem to float outward, lightly dancing on my skin. “Mexico’s so far away. Why don’t we hide out here, and not tell anybody where we are? That’s sort of like skipping town but without the commitment.”

  I laugh—the first time in hours—happy to be here with him.

  He orders me under a blanket on the couch, and while I tell him what happened at the bonfire and at James’s house, he makes me a snack. He’s silent the whole time, never accusing or condescending—not even interrupting with an “uh-huh,” or anything like that. When I finish the whole awful chain of events, he places his hands on my shoulders and cranes his head downward until his ski-capped forehead is close to mine. “I’m sorry, Mackenzie. That sucks.”