The silence in the van is deafening. I open my mouth to fill it, but Autumn shoves her palm in front of my face before I can. “You shut up, Mateo. I’m talking to them.”
Cal licks his lips. “Okay,” he says. “I promise.”
Ivy just nods, looking shell-shocked, until Autumn reaches over and shakes her shoulder. Not as hard as she’s been manhandling me, but enough to show she means business. “Say it,” she commands. “I need to hear you say it.”
“Yes.” Ivy gulps. She almost looks afraid, and I’d tell Autumn to dial it back if I weren’t so desperate to keep things moving.
“The words, Ivy,” Autumn presses. “Say the words.”
“I promise,” Ivy whispers. Then she swallows hard. “And I’m…I’m so sorry about everything that happened to your aunt.” Her eyes flick toward me. “Your mom.”
“It’s awful. But it doesn’t excuse what I did.” Autumn moves past me to unlock the van’s back door. “You guys better get going. Be careful.”
I feel like I should say something now—something deep and meaningful and true. Like, I don’t blame you for any of this. Or, If I didn’t agree with you on some level, I would’ve figured out a way to stop you. Or maybe, I’d die for you, too. But all I can manage, as I climb out of the van, is “Keep Ma away from here.”
“I will,” Autumn says.
The sun’s disorienting after the darkness of the van, and I squint as spots dance across my line of vision. “Cal, where’d you park the car again?” I ask.
“This way.” I turn toward his voice and feel a hand on my arm, but it’s smaller and lighter than his would be. I blink and Ivy’s face, drawn and tight, comes into focus.
“I need to tell you something,” she says.
MATEO
Ivy looks serious, but she’s serious about everything. Besides, I’m pretty sure I’m immune to bad news at this point.
“What’s up?” I ask, letting her guide me to Cal’s car. We climb in and he fires up his GPS again, though I don’t know why he’s bothering when he’ll probably just work his back-route magic to Carlton High.
“I…” Ivy glances at Cal as she settles herself into the passenger seat and turns to face me. “I feel like I should maybe tell you this privately, Mateo, but I don’t see us being alone anytime soon, and I don’t…I can’t not tell you, any longer.”
“Um, if this is a declaration of love, I’m happy for you,” Cal says as he starts the car. “But it’s going to get super awkward for me.”
I snort. “Eyes on the road, Cal. Nobody needs your commentary.” I expect Ivy to agree, maybe even laugh, but she just looks wretched. For the first time since she grabbed my arm, unease stirs in my gut.
“Fine,” Cal says. “Let me activate invisible mode so the two of you can discuss nothing of importance in private.” He mimes putting a shield over his head, like the giant nerd he is. I love the kid, but he should lay off the comics occasionally.
“You know you can still hear us if you’re invisible, right?” I ask.
“Can’t hear you! Invisible!” Cal says, and I can’t help but laugh.
Ivy doesn’t, though. She’s gone silent, so I prod, “I think that’s your cue.”
“Yeah. Okay. So…” Ivy’s facing me, but she’s not really looking at me. Her eyes are on the window beside me as Cal merges onto the highway and cars start flashing past us. “It’s hard to know where to start, but…I think it would be the junior talent show, last year,” she says.
That’s so unexpected that at first I have no reaction. Then I swallow a grin. “You mean your hot-firefighter monologue?” I knew what that was about as soon as I heard it. Every time one of her aunt’s books arrived, Ivy used to read the back copy to Cal and me.
Ivy cringes. It’s obvious that still bothers her, and I wish—just like I wished when I watched from the audience last year—that she’d listen to me if I told her to let it go. Yeah, she got owned by Daniel, and it was embarrassing. But the thing she doesn’t get is that most people wanted to laugh with her, not at her. Ivy has a sense of humor, but she couldn’t pull it out when she needed it. If she’d been able to brush it off, or maybe even run with it, she could’ve won yesterday’s election by a landslide.
And none of us would be here right now.