“You have absolutely no way of knowing whether that’s true, and even if it is? Still gross,” I say.
“Well, it’s better than paying retail and being the Weasel.”
“Not by much,” I say as I score a bull’s-eye and send the game back to Daniel.
He grins, and I rest my phone on my knees while I wait for him to take his turn. It’s a small thing, playing games together, but it’s also kind of huge. We haven’t done anything like this in years. When my parents and I got ready to leave the police station on Tuesday night, I didn’t expect that Daniel would be in the reception area. But he was—and when I saw him, I started bawling, because for a few terrifying minutes while Coach Kendall was dragging me around Lara’s property, I really did think he’d done something to my brother.
Even though the police confirmed that he was okay, I didn’t fully believe them until I saw him waiting for me. When he hugged me, he lifted me off the ground like I was no heavier than a lacrosse stick, and it reminded me of getting hugged by a much smaller, younger version of my brother. I think because of the fierceness behind it, which made me cry even harder.
We talked without arguing for the first time in a long time that night. I told him about Spare Me, and apologized for trying to hurt him and stream it to the entire school. He took it pretty well, considering. He told me how much pressure he’s under all the time, and we agreed to try being less horrible to one another. It’s only been a few days, but I think we’re doing okay.
Daniel is lining up a shot, brow furrowed in concentration, when my father appears in the living room doorway. “It’s nice to see the two of you hanging out,” Dad says with a slight catch in his voice.
“Don’t do it,” Daniel warns without looking up.
“Don’t do what?” Dad asks, sitting between us. “Appreciate the fact that my children, whom I love more than life itself, are safe and healthy and happy?” He sniffs, eyes glistening.
Daniel puts his phone down with a sigh. “Is it crying time?” he asks as Dad slings an arm around each of us and crushes us to his chest.
It is. Dad’s been doing this at least once a day since he got back from San Francisco, and to be honest, I don’t mind. There are much, much worse things that could happen.
“I’m so proud of you both,” Dad chokes out. “You’ve been so brave.”
“I literally did nothing except eat breadsticks at Olive Garden,” Daniel reminds him, his voice muffled by Dad’s shirt. But that’s not true. Daniel had to deal with everything coming out about Coach Kendall, and it hasn’t been easy. Our entire family trusted him, but my brother most of all. Still, he’s been deflecting any attempts to give him credit. “That was all Ivy.”
Dad clutches me tighter, and while it’s getting a little hard to breathe, I’m not about to complain. I caused a huge amount of trouble for him and his company by what I did at Spare Me, and we’re still not sure how it will be resolved. At the same time, I’ve been reprimanded more than once by the police, who took pains to remind my parents that my and Cal’s need to be rescued could have been avoided entirely if we’d reported what we saw from the beginning. My parents have every right to be furious with me—and they have been, on a daily basis since they got home. But it’s always balanced out by moments like this.
“I wish you’d been more careful, Ivy,” Dad says now. Mila is awake again, trotting back and forth in front of the couch like she’s searching for an opening into the group hug. “But the way you pieced things together, and kept your cool?” His voice wavers, tinged with wonder. “That was absolutely extraordinary.”
Extraordinary, he said. It feels as good as I thought it would.
MATEO
I didn’t fully appreciate how small our house is until it had to contain my mother’s fury.
She’d never been yell-till-her-face-turns-red mad before—not at Autumn and me, anyway—until she got back from the Bronx late Tuesday night. But even that wasn’t the worst part. It’s the disappointment that really hurts, and the way she looks at us now. Like she doesn’t know who we are anymore.
I understand the feeling. Sometimes I don’t know, either.
Two and a half weeks after the Shittiest Day Ever, we’re still trying to figure out what normal looks like. It’s too early to tell what’s going to happen to Autumn, but she’s been cooperating with police and Christy’s doing a great job as her lawyer, so we’re cautiously optimistic that she’ll end up with probation and community service. Which she’s already started, at a shelter specializing in treating substance abuse.