My eyes shut as I took a deep breath to calm myself. I had forgotten that everyone would know what happened in a matter of seconds. I knew that about Camden, but Boston habits were still inside me. This wouldn’t happen in Boston. No one cared enough to gossip; people were too busy, but no, not here in Camden.
There were three things people cared about in this damn town.
Football.
Their business.
And everyone else’s business.
It was a town that was just rich with the hope of the future. I snorted internally at my own joke. Yeah, right. Camden was in the past just as much as my heart was.
“Right. That,” I said and then left it alone. I was tired of talking about it, tired of thinking about it, just done.
“That? That’s all you have to say? What happened? Tell us everything, Luna. You never leave us out. You know we don’t believe what anyone else says. We are worried about you.”
“Well, don’t be!” I snapped, and Oliver gasped as if I slapped him. I guess in a way I did. I never yelled at them. I dropped the paint roller, and it hit the tray at an odd angle, causing splatters of white paint to fly in the air and hit me in the face. “I deserved that,” I said, spitting out a glob of paint. “Yuck,” I said, wiping my tongue on my t-shirt. “Ah, gross.”
“You deserved that,” Oliver said.
“Yep,” London agreed.
“Karma. I know.” I blinked up at them through white lashes since they were also covered in paint. I sighed and pointed to the kitchen. “Come on, I’ll fill you in, but I don’t really want to talk about it anymore after this, okay? I’m just done with Easton. I told myself that I might live here in Camden now, but I’m ready to move on, and that means from Easton too.”
“Well, good. We have been telling you that for years now,” London said, then jumped up and planted herself on the chopping block that sat in the middle of the small kitchenette.
“Yeah I know.” I opened the tiny fridge and grabbed us a few White Claws. I didn’t care what anyone said, they were delicious, and it was five o’clock somewhere.
“Was that a White Claw?” my dad shouted from upstairs.
We all chuckled. Dad had supersonic hearing when it came to his White Claws.
“Maybe!” I yelled to him.
“Open me one! Don’t have fun without me,” he begged. “I’m almost done making the sandwiches.”
“Your dad is my favorite person,” Oliver sighed, and then a heavy, sad tension grew. No one wanted to talk about his cancer. No one wanted to believe that dad wouldn’t survive. He might not be here next year to yell at us about having fun without him. He always wanted to be included. He always wanted to be a part of the gang, and we never stopped him. James Nightingale was the best man known in existence, and it wasn’t fair that he had Leukemia.
Life was like that though, wasn’t it?
Not wanting to talk about my dad because I’d probably just start crying, I snatched another White Claw from the fridge and got it ready for him. “So, I was just at Lowe’s, picking out a color for my room and Easton popped out of nowhere and said, “That’s a nice color, Moon—”
“He did not call you by the nickname he gave you?” Oliver h
itched a sassed breath. “No, he didn’t.”
“He did.” I sipped my yummy grapefruit drink. “I asked my dad and Ethan—”
“Ethan was there? Oh my gosh, was he upset?” London interrupted.
“Can you guys let me finish?” I grinned. I always loved their enthusiasm for my life updates, but they never let me get a word out otherwise.
They stayed silent, and with their eyes and hands, gestured for me to continue.
“Anyway, he said he wanted to meet for coffee, that he was sorry, that he loved me and wanted to make things right, but I basically said that it was time to let go of everything and move on. And he said he wouldn’t let go. That he would still try. I told him not to, but he kept yelling at me in Lowe’s, and I called him a fool, and I’m pretty sure he agreed. It was a mess. Anyway, that’s the gist. The end. That’s all folks.” Now was the time for them to jump in and say something, to say anything, but they sat there, open-mouthed, and silent.
“Really? Now you have nothing to say?” I asked, bringing the beverage to my lips.
“Just processing that he confessed his love for you, and you turned your back. Girl, good for you!” Oliver exclaimed. “I’m so proud of you. Make him work for it.”