Ice Cream Scoop to a Gun Fight
I eye Macy warily as she opens up the fridge and rummages around. “Exactly how much am I not going to like it?”
She holds up a pint of Cherry Garcia with a triumphant sound.
My stomach drops. “It’s so bad that we need Ben and Jerry’s?”
“To be honest, I always need Ben and Jerry’s.” She pulls the top off the brightly colored container, then grabs two spoons out of the bright-purple utensil cup on top of the fridge. “This just seems like a good time to indulge.”
I take the spoon she holds out to me. “I didn’t even know they sold Ben and Jerry’s up here.”
“It’s ten bucks a pint at the closest store, but they sell it.” She smiles at my look of horror.
“Wow. That’s…”
She grins. “Welcome to Alaska.”
“Guess what you have to talk about really is serious if it needs ten-dollar ice cream.”
She doesn’t say anything to my blatant fishing attempt, just holds out the open container so I can take a spoon of it. Which I do. She does, as well, and we do an ice-cream toast
—mostly because toasting with the first bite of ice cream is
a ritual we created the summer we spent together when we were five—before taking a bite.
I wait for Macy to tell me whatever’s on her mind, but she just scoops up another spoonful of ice cream. Then a third and a fourth, until I give up and do the same.
We’re about halfway done with the container before she finally says, “I need to warn you about something.”
Okaaaaaay? “Haven’t you already warned me about Jaxon? I thought that’s what we just did.”
“This isn’t about him. Or, I mean, I guess it is, but not like you’re thinking.” I must look as confused as I feel, because she takes a deep breath and blurts out, “If you like Jaxon— and I’m cool with it if you do, honest. But if you like him, Grace, you can’t keep hanging out with Flint, too. It won’t work.”
That’s so far from where I expected her to go that it takes me a second to actually assimilate her words. And even after I decide I understand them, they still don’t make any sense. “What do you mean, it won’t work? I’m not actually dating either one of them right now, and even if I was… surely I can be friends with the other one?”
“No.” She shakes her head emphatically. “You can’t. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”
I’m half convinced she’s messing with me—because how could she not be?—but she looks so serious, I have to ask, “What do you mean I can’t? What is this? The Breakfast Club?”
“Worse. Way worse.”
“Obviously, because even in The Breakfast Club, they figured out it didn’t matter what group you belong to.”
“Isn’t The Breakfast Club also the movie where Judd Nelson sexually harasses Molly Ringwald by reaching up her skirt when he’s hiding under her desk?”
When she puts it that way… “Okay, so maybe it’s not the best example.”
She rolls her eyes. “You think?”
“Even so, this whole Jaxon and Flint can’t be civil to each other because they head up different groups argument you’re making is ridiculous. Do you know how many people have been nice to me since I got here?” I hold up four fingers and tick off the names as I say them. “You, Jaxon, Flint, and Lia. That’s it. Four people. Which is why telling me that I can’t talk to one of the four people in this entire place who doesn’t treat me like I have the plague is total bullshit.” “Oh, Grace.” She looks heartbroken. “Has it really been
that bad?”
“Well, it hasn’t exactly been a picnic—even without the near-death experiences.” Still, she looks so distraught at my words that I can’t help but walk them back a little. “Don’t worry about it, Mace. I haven’t even started classes yet. I’m sure people will loosen up and stop staring once they have a chance to get to know me.”
She jumps on the walk-back. “They will, Grace. I swear. They just need to spend some time with you. We don’t get a lot of new people here, and most of us have been together a long time, even before Katmere.”
“I didn’t realize that.”
“Yeah. There’s another school that most of us went to before this one, starting in fifth grade. So if we seem aloof, that’s part of it, you know?”
“Yeah, but shouldn’t knowing one another that long make it easier for all of you to get along and not harder?”
“It should. And for a while, even, it did. I don’t know how to explain why things went bad, except to say that some awful stuff happened about a year ago and things got completely out of hand. I mean, on the surface it looks like everything’s fine, but once you dig a little, the damage is all right there. And part of what happened makes it nearly impossible for Jaxon and Flint to be on the same side of… anything.”
It’s pretty much the vaguest explanation anyone has ever given me about anything. And still it has me thinking, trying to piece together the very few things I’ve learned since I’ve been here. “Is this about what happened to Hudson Vega?”
The question is out before I can think twice about it, and judging from the look on Macy’s face, I definitely should have thought twice. “What do you know about Hudson?” she whispers so quietly that it feels like she’s scared to say his name out loud.
“Lia told me that her boyfriend died, remember? But then Jaxon mentioned his brother, and I put two and two together after I saw them arguing.”
“Did Jaxon tell you Hudson was dead?” I don’t think she would look this shocked if I told her I was flying back to San Diego under my own power, and suddenly all kinds of doubts assail me.
“Isn’t he?” If Jaxon was lying to me about something like that, I don’t know what I’ll do. I mean, what kind of person
—?
“He is. Yes. It’s just that he doesn’t talk about it much. The
whole thing almost destroyed him, and I just couldn’t imagine him discussing it with…” She trails off.
“A total stranger?”
“Yeah.” She looks slightly uneasy admitting it. “Not that you guys are strangers or anything—”
“Sometimes it’s easier,” I cut in. “Talking to your best friend about the worst thing that ever happened to you can be agonizing. But talking to someone who’s a stranger, who doesn’t have any personal stakes in your life… sometimes it feels less painful.” It sounds odd, but it’s been one of the things I’ve learned recently.
“That makes a strange sort of sense.” She sets the ice cream aside and leans in for a hug.
I hug her back for a moment—until I feel the tears that are always close to the surface start to threaten. Then I pull away, giving her a smile that says I’m fine, even if I’m not. “Maybe that’s why Jaxon seems different with me. Because he knows I’ve lost someone, too.”
“Maybe.” She looks uncertain. “But if the connection between you and Jaxon is because of your shared loss… just be cautious, okay, Grace? The last thing you want is to end up being the pawn in a tug-of-war between him and Flint. Because in the end, you’re the one who’ll get hurt the most.”
I try to push her words aside—and manage to keep them at bay for the rest of the evening. But once I’m in bed, in the dark, her warning echoes in my mind… feeling more like a forewarning than a simple piece of advice.
A heavy weight settles into my bones, anchoring me to the bed and making even the act of rolling over and curling up seem insurmountable. I wrap my arms around myself and tell myself she’s wrong, even as a small, persistent voice inside suggests that she might not be.
