PAST
EIGHT YEARS OLD
“Now, y’all kiss and live happy ever after,” Hollis mutters, sounding grossed out.
“It’s happily ever after, Hollis,” I correct.
He gives me a good dose of side-eye—I’d be grounded for at least a week if I did even a smidge of that with my mother—and waves a hand. “And y’all drive off into the sunset with tin cans hangin’ from the back of your pink convertible with a Just Married sign.”
There’s no excitement in his voice, which is just disappointing. What good is a best friend if they can’t play pretend wedding with you, and do it well?
Hollis must notice my disappointment because he nudges my shoulder with his. “I’m kiddin’. You’ll make the prettiest bride anyone’s ever seen.”
I press my lips together, doubtful. “Not with this I won’t.” I point at the gap between my front teeth. My shoulders slump and the only reason I let them is because we’re inside the treehouse. If my mother caught me, I’d get another lecture on “bein’ a lady with perfect posture.”
“Magnolia.” Hollis’ serious voice has me lifting my eyes to his. “It’s the truth.”
I cock my head to the side. A half-smile threatens to break free. “You reckon so?”
He nods, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Sure do.”
I sit and stare at the pink convertible—the same one he’d given me as a present all those years ago and helped me build. The very one Mother had thought nothing of tossing away.
When Miranda had said she’d salvaged many of my belongings, this had still been missing. I hadn’t asked our housekeeper about it because Lord knew she’d done me a huge favor as it was in rescuing what she had. But my heart had cracked, knowing it was gone.
Now, though, I see that he repaired it. Tears prick at my eyes as I peer closer and notice the fine cracks and where it must have been glued back together and repainted. The tedious work it must have been so hard to do…
Seated in the convertible are small plastic dolls—upper halves only—that appear secured in place by glue. The female has blond hair, long like mine, and there’s a bit of a garish smile painted on her mouth. A dark line bisects her front teeth, much like my own former gap. The male doll in the driver’s seat has blond hair, like Dallas, and a wide toothy grin.
From the back bumper of the car, what are supposed to be tin cans dangle from thin fishing line. Just Married is written on the back bumper. My eyes pore over every inch of it, amazed that he’s gone to such trouble. When I notice the small note carefully taped to the glove box, I can’t possibly imagine what else he’s thought of.
When I open the note, only two words are written there: Look underneath.
As soon as I raise the car to look at what’s beneath it, my best friend’s name spills from my lips in a ragged whisper.
Because taped to the bottom of the car is a package of Pop Rocks.
Cherry, of course.
Hollis
SENIOR YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL
November
“You sure Dallas is okay with this?”
I’m not normally a jealous guy, but I’d sure as hell want to spend time with my girl after winning a rivalry game.
Our schedule had to be modified, and we’re playing later in the season than usual since a nasty tropical storm hit weeks earlier and postponed a few games.
Magnolia waves me off. “I told him this was our tradition.” She grins her perfect smile at me. No gap in sight these days. I still get a sharp twinge in my chest at the absence of it. “Plus, we’re runnin’ out of time to do this.”
Her eyes betray that smile, though. She’s scared about heading off to college. I can’t lie; it’s intimidating as hell. The only thing slightly comforting is that we put in early decision applications to Auburn University, so we’re due to hear something soon. Our school counselor and the rep from Auburn made it sound like it’s a done deal, but I’m not banking on anything until I have confirmation.
With the number of students on campus, there’s a good chance Magnolia and I may never cross paths, but just knowing she’ll be around is comforting somehow.
“Only one more game before the end of the season.” Her sigh has a hint of sadness.
I wink. “But we’re movin’ on to bigger and better things.”
She smooths down her shirt—it’s a newer one she made to include my number and Dallas’.
I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me a little to share shirt space with the guy. It’s dumb as hell, but I’ve gotten used to having her as my number-one fan and solo cheerleader. Then again, I really can’t complain. If I have to share any part of Magnolia with someone, I’m glad it’s with a guy like Dallas.
Magnolia’s still avoiding my gaze. “So…” She finally flicks her eyes up to mine. “What’s goin’ on with you and Sarah Jane?”
Sarah Jane and I dated for a few months and only recently decided to cool things off. She’s sweet, and her family doesn’t care about what kind of house I live in or how much money we have. Her parents are both teachers at schools just across the bay in Mobile.
I toy with the sugar packets in the small dish on our table. “We agreed it’s probably not smart to start college when we’re in a high school relationship, so we ended things.
“She’s fixin’ to go to art school up in New York.” I lift a shoulder in a half-shrug. “I mean, we’ll be overwhelmed by a lot of things changin’, so it doesn’t make sense to let things get more serious.” Another shrug. “We were never head over heels or anythin’. She’s awesome, but it’s never been more than that.” I hesitate before asking, “What about y’all?”
She wrinkles her nose and glances around before leaning in closer. With her voice lowered, she confesses, “Actually, he, uh, said he wants to stay together.”
She seems shocked by my lack of surprise. I can’t help but chuckle. “Shortcake, you must’ve seen that comin’.”
Her eyes widen. “Not at all.”
I shake my head. “He’s been head over heels for you from the start.”
She cocks her head to the side. “You really think so?”
Something in her tone has me frowning and leaning forward to rest my forearms on the table. “You don’t?”
She looks away, focusing on something through the window. “I don’t know.” When she turns back, her blue eyes lock with mine, and they’re troubled. “It’s probably dumb, but I want to be with a guy who looks at me like…”
“Like…?” I prompt.
Her gaze suddenly shifts to something over my shoulder, her lips parting slightly.
“What’s wrong?” I shift, about to crane my neck to see what’s caught her eye, but she grabs my arm. Clenching it tight, she hisses, “Don’t turn around!”
I stiffen. What the hell?
Blue eyes meet mine, and the sadness in the depths acts like a fist clenching the center of my chest. “What is it?” I demand.