Aftershocks

Chapter 1

I sighed audibly for probably the fiftieth time that day as I thought about the fact that school was starting on Monday. It was a thought that had plagued me for the past few weeks as the calendar had flipped over to August, but my feelings of dread had multiplied exponentially in the last week as I’d finally faced up to reality – my senior year was going to suck.

I thought about complaining to my best friend, Wyatt, but I didn’t want to bum him out. He was loving life as a freshman at the University of Michigan, and sharing my petty fears that last year was going to repeat itself would just make him feel bad. I definitely didn’t want to do that. The last thing I wanted to do was remind him of how bad things had been.

We’d both been through what we’d started to refer to as a veritable shit-storm the year before and had found solace in each other. Things had been beyond bad for months, but then they’d started to turn around . . . right around the time that Wyatt’s impending move a thousand miles away began to loom over our heads. We’d known for months that he was leaving, ever since his acceptance letter arrived in the mail in early January, but I hadn’t ever let it sink in that he wouldn’t be there to hold my hand when school started in the fall.

I knew he was excited to go to Michigan, to finally get away from everything and everyone, and in truth I was happy for him, but if I was being honest with myself, and just a little selfish, I didn’t want him to go. He had been my best friend since middle school, and the thought of not seeing him every day made my stomach churn. Fortunately, cell phones worked in Ann Arbor, so I could still get my daily Wyatt fix, but it wasn’t anywhere close to the same.

As if he was telepathic and knew I was thinking about him, my phone started playing the Michigan fight song, letting me know he was calling. We’d been talking multiple times a day since he’d left six weeks earlier.

How was the library? I asked by way of greeting. I’d talked to him a few hours earlier as he’d trekked across campus, unloading on me the amount of reading he had to do for the two classes he was taking during the summer semester.

Distracting. The eye candy on this campus is ridiculous. I need to seriously pull it in or I’m going to fail my finals.

Any prospects? I asked, smiling to myself while simultaneously thinking he was being just a tad dramatic. I had it on good authority that he had an A in both his classes going into his finals, and for as much as he’d been studying, there was no way he was going to fail.

Wyatt laughed. I don’t know. My gaydar kind of sucks.

I couldn’t help but laugh along with him. I thought it was supposed to come naturally to you. Are you failing at being gay already?

He laughed again, and it squeezed my heart just a little. I so wanted to be walking with him across campus, seeing his face animate as we talked about something that had been a taboo subject for so long. Only since he’d left for school had we really been able to joke about his sexuality, and it made me so happy that we finally could.

The Wyatt who’d lived with me for close to nine months after his parents had kicked him out and refused to acknowledge his presence after finding out he was gay always seemed uncomfortable in his own skin. He hated that he was gay and wanted nothing more than to be just like everyone else. It had pained me to hear him say that, and I’d wished he would just be okay with who he was. I loved him for him, and he knew it, but I also knew it wasn’t enough back then.

It wasn’t until I’d hugged him goodbye at the airport, and he’d smiled so widely at me, that I knew he was relieved to be leaving. It was like I could see the weight lift from his shoulders as he realized he was no longer under the watchful eye of everyone he’d lied to for so long and everyone who’d judged him for being different. He was no longer subject to the scrutiny he’d faced regularly as he tried to bring his life back to some semblance of normal. And he no longer had to see the guys he’d been friends with who hadn’t stuck by him when he’d needed friends the most because they were afraid he’d hit on them.

When Wyatt got on that plane to Michigan, he left everything behind and for the first time in his life, he could be himself. And the best part was, he was finally okay with it.

I wouldn’t say failing, he said, and I could hear the sounds of students talking and laughing as he made his way back to his dorm. I’m just figuring out how it works.

Well, you’re new at this, so give it time. Maybe put off the gay vibe when you’re out next time and see what happens. See if they’ll come to you.

I could tell Wyatt was shaking his head. I knew him that well.

And what exactly is the gay vibe, Abby? he asked in the way he always did when I made what he considered to be a ridiculous, but he assured me endearing, statement.

Wear a pink shirt? I suggested, knowing my advice sucked. I was stereotyping and not even in an accurate way.

The line went quiet for a few seconds. Consider yourself lucky that I’m not standing next to you right now because I’d probably be punching you in the arm.

Love you, I said sweetly, trying to redeem myself. If I was there I’d be your wing girl.

Fag hag, he corrected me in a teasing sort of way that made my nose scrunch up.

Makes me sound ugly. I’m not a big fan of that title.

Smoking hot wing girl it is then, he acquiesced, as I laughed, enjoying the addition he’d put on my self-appointed title.

I like that. I think I’ll put it on a t-shirt. Maybe I’ll even wear it on the first day of school.

It might catch you that boyfriend you know you want, Wyatt said, and I knew he was only half-joking. My love life, or lack thereof, had been a topic of conversation as of late.

You know I’m not interested in starting a relationship when I’m moving in a year, I said, just like I always did when he tried to tell me I needed to start dating again. I’d been using that excuse for at least six months.

Liar, Wyatt said, calling me on the carpet just like he did every time I made the same ridiculous statement.

We both knew I was deluding myself. I hadn’t dated anyone in a year, and I wanted to meet someone in the worst way. I wanted my stomach to flip over and my heart to race and to get all flushed just because the guy I liked had smiled at me in the cafeteria. I wanted someone to kiss and someone to go on dates with and someone to fall in love with. The problem was there were slim pickings at our school. I’d known most of the guys in my class since elementary school and wasn’t interested in one of them.

Whatever. It’s not like I’m going to meet someone here, so unless I happen upon a cute transfer student, I’m shit outta luck.

Yeah, you’re right about that. I could hear him letting himself into his dorm, his voice echoing in the stairwell as he hiked up to his room on the third floor. So any big Saturday night plans?

Nada, I said, stretching out in the late afternoon sun as it streamed through the open window of my tree house where I lay stretched across two bean bags, basking in the warmth. You know I have no life, Wy.

Call Jack. Hang out with him.

Have you talked to Jack lately? I asked, not able to hide the snotty tone in my voice.

Jack West was the only friend of Wyatt’s who hadn’t cared that he was gay. He’d shrugged off the news like I had, and because of that Wyatt would always be loyal to him. The three of us had hung out together throughout most of last year, but right around the beginning of April, Jack had gotten together with Kerry McCarty, who wasn’t a big fan of me, so I didn’t see him much after that.

I’d heard they’d recently broken up, and Jack had taken it pretty hard. Knowing this, Wyatt had encouraged me to call him. I think he felt bad that he wasn’t around to support his friend, so he wanted me to do it for him. He couldn’t understand why I was so hesitant to reach out to Jack when the three of us had been so close.

And if my past hadn’t collided with Jack’s in the way it had, I probably would have called him, but the truth was I’d felt sort of awkward around him ever since we’d hooked up over Spring Break. Jack and I had sort of a history of being friends with benefits. We’d hooked up a time or two over the years when we’d both been drinking and single, so normally it wouldn’t have been a big deal, but that night we were really drunk, things had sort of progressed further than either Jack or I had intended, and we’d ended up sleeping together.

The bad thing was that he’d started talking to Kerry right before Spring Break, so he regretted what we’d done immediately. Since we agreed it was just a one time, drunken mistake, we decided to pretend it never happened. He made me swear not to tell anyone, and I never did – except Wyatt because we don’t keep secrets from each other.

The problem was forgetting it happened was harder than I’d expected. Not that I was hung up on Jack, but every time I saw him after that night, all I could think about was the fact that he’d seen me naked. Cue the cheeks flushed from embarrassment, as I wondered if he was indeed picturing me sans clothes.

He never seemed fazed by our past, and in true Jack West fashion, seemed to relish in the idea that he’d been my first. This knowledge, in his apparent opinion, gave him carte blanche to flirt mercilessly with me whenever we were alone. I knew he was madly in love with his girlfriend, and his flirting had no meaning behind it, but it still made me blush. I honestly think that’s why he continued to do it.

Jack had always been a flirt, and being the hottie he was, he never had a shortage of women to pick from, but he mostly had girlfriends. He wasn’t as big of a slut as he could have been. Then Kerry broke his heart, and apparently he did a one-eighty, and spent his summer whoring around a bit from what I’d heard. My friend Nicky, who went to every party anyone ever threw, always knew the good gossip. It had been from her that I’d heard about Kerry dumping Jack, their subsequent fights and his recent endeavors with many members of the female student body.

Yeah, I talked to him this morning, Wyatt said, as he opened the door to his room. I could hear the TV in the background.

His roommate Chris seemed to be a little agoraphobic. He was always home, the TV was always on, and he hadn’t really made any friends at school. Wyatt was trying to be nice to him since he knew first-hand what it felt like to be scrutinized for being different, but he hadn’t made much headway. Chris didn’t really seem interested in human interaction.

Chris, would you mind turning the volume down just a little?

I heard the volume on the TV drop considerably but never heard Chris respond. I couldn’t imagine sharing my space with such a weirdo, and from what I’d gathered, Wyatt’s dorm room wasn’t very big. I was glad I wouldn’t have to suffer through the on-campus living experience. Wyatt and I already had plans to get an apartment off-campus the following year when I joined him at Michigan.

Just call Jack, Abby, Wyatt said then, and I knew what their conversation had entailed. Jack had no doubt regaled Wyatt with his tales from the bedroom. He needs a friend.

He has friends, I said snarkily. They’re named Sara and Amanda and Taryn – at least they were his friends last weekend. Maybe he’s moved on since then. You tell me.

He’s upset over Kerry. This is his way of dealing with it. Don’t hold it against him.

Grrr. As much as I loved Wyatt, he really had a way of pounding things into the ground, especially when he knew he was right.

Fine, I said, through gritted teeth. I’ll think about it.

I knew Wyatt was smiling. Thank you.

Chapter 2

Dinner’s ready, Squirt, my brother Aaron called up to me a few hours later, pulling me out of the book I’d started reading after I’d hung up with Wyatt, so he could finish the studying he hadn’t gotten done at the library.

It wasn’t until I looked out the window of my tree house that I realized the sun was setting. It seemed my family had left me alone all afternoon, but now it was time to rejoin the world of the living. My parents understood how hard it was for me to be separated from Wyatt, so they’d given me a wide berth to do my own thing since he’d been gone, but they still expected me to be at dinner. Dinnertime was family time when we were all together.

Wyatt loved our family dinners. He came from a family who ate in front of the TV and didn’t speak to each other, so to be asked about his day by someone who really wanted to know thrilled him. I honestly think he had been so grateful that my parents took him in that he would have done anything to please them, but even before he lived with us he used to love coming over to our house for dinner.

I’ll be down in a minute, I called back. And don’t call me Squirt.

Okay, Squirt, Aaron said, and I could tell he was grinning.

I rolled my eyes but smiled to myself. I hated that nickname. Aaron had called me that since I was little. I’d been really short for my age for years until I had a growth spurt in the ninth grade and shot up to 5’8". Unfortunately, by that point, the name had stuck.

But even though I hated when he called me that, I also knew I’d miss it in a few days when he went back to school. He was a sophomore at the University of South Carolina, so I didn’t see him very much during the year. My parents hated that he’d gone so far away to school, but he’d gotten a full scholarship and an offer to play Division 1 basketball, so at the end of the day, they hadn’t fought his decision to go out of state.

I honestly think my dad was more concerned about his son going to college in the south than he was him being a plane ride away. He had deep-rooted fears that Aaron would fall in love with a southern girl, become a Braves fan and register Republican, which would continue to haunt him until Aaron was back in Massachusetts full-time.

These concerns were exacerbated when Aaron came home for Thanksgiving his first year of school and dropped a ‘ya’ll’ into the conversation at dinner. I thought my dad was literally going to fall out of his chair. Aaron hadn’t even realized what he’d done at the time. He’d looked perplexed as my dad started choking in the middle of Aaron’s story about how we had to come down to see him start against Kentucky in a few weeks. Wyatt and I had burst out laughing, unable to control our laughter, as my mother hit my father on the back repeatedly while telling Aaron we’d definitely be down to see him play.

After dinner when Aaron, Wyatt and I were in his room playing Call of Duty on his Xbox, he asked me what had happened, and I had to explain why we’d almost had to pick Dad up off the floor, to which Aaron laughed uproariously, fell over sideways and dropped his controller on the carpet. When he recovered, he told me his roommate was from a small town in Tennessee and had a really thick southern accent. It seemed Aaron had picked up some of his vernacular. From that point forward, though, he would strategically drop in southern terminology whenever he was around my father just to freak him out, which was hilarious since I knew he was doing it.

As I heard Aaron walk back to the house, I put my book down, spine up and sat up from where I was laying. Although the tree house had been Aaron’s when he was little, it had really become more of a hangout for Wyatt and me over the past year. I continued to retreat there daily after Wyatt had left.

Come on, Jordan. You gotta catch that. It was an easy pass. Get your hands ready while you run, and glance back for the ball so you can gauge the distance.

My ears perked up at the voice coming from the yard behind me. I turned around and peeked surreptitiously out the back window of the tree house, which was open to let the fresh air in. From my vantage point I could see Connor Richmond and his brother, Jordan, tossing a football around their backyard.

The Richmonds had moved in a few days after Wyatt had left for school. I’d never officially met Connor, but I’d been paying attention to him ever since I’d noticed him that first night. I had been sulking in my tree house, missing Wyatt and wishing he’d waited until August to start school like most people, when I heard someone shouting. Pulling myself out of my personal angst, I’d looked out the window and saw a guy around my age with dark curly hair yelling into his cell phone as he paced around his backyard. After a few minutes of listening, and shaking his head at the person on the other end of the line, he hung up without saying goodbye and sank down to the bottom step of his back porch and dropped his head into his hands.

I’m not sure what it was about him, but I was instantly intrigued. I watched him for a few minutes wondering who he was and why he looked so distraught. Maybe he seemed like a kindred spirit in that moment since I was feeling so low, or maybe I just thought he was cute. Either way, I couldn’t take my eyes off of him.

A younger boy, who I could only assume was his brother since they looked so similar, came out a few minutes later. Sitting next to him, I’d watched Connor’s mood suddenly change. He shook off his frustration, smiled widely, put his brother in a headlock and laughed with him. I was amazed at how quickly he’d gone from sullen and frustrated to light-hearted and cheerful, and wondered if it was for the younger boy’s benefit.

Over the next few weeks, when I was up in my tree house after dinner, I would see the two boys in their backyard playing football. I enjoyed the dynamic between them and would find myself watching them, taking in Connor’s patience, even when Jordan got visibly frustrated when he couldn’t master one of the drills they were working on.

I felt bad for them both because they were new in town and had moved after the school year had ended, so it wasn’t like they had much of a chance to make friends. I knew the polite thing to do would be to introduce myself to them – it’s what my parents would have expected – but I didn’t want Connor to know that I knew who he was. What would he say if he knew I’d been covertly watching him for weeks from my backyard? He would think I was a creep or a stalker. There was no way I was going to just walk over and say hello to him, so I continued to watch him from afar, imagining what I would say if I ever got the opportunity to talk to him.

Then the first time I actually came face-to-face with Connor I wasn’t expecting to see him, so of course my wit eluded me. He came into The South Shore Surf Company where I worked one afternoon in early August. He was with Rich Crowley and Cameron Baker, two guys I couldn’t stand. They were football players who dated cheerleaders and were basically jerks. They were also the last two guys I expected Connor to be friends with when I’d been imagining his personality and picturing his life. He seemed like such a nice guy.

My friend Nicky, who I’d become close with when we started working together at the beginning of the summer, helped them pick out a surfboard as I sat behind the counter pondering how he’d fallen in with those guys. When Connor broke away from Rich and Cameron to look at some boardshorts at the front of the shop, I found myself staring at him. He ran a hand through his longish curly black hair, and as he walked around the rack I realized I was ogling his tan, toned calves. He ran his hand absentmindedly over the rack but didn’t pick anything up.

Those are on sale right now, I called out, not realizing what I was doing until I heard my voice out loud. I felt my face turn bright red as soon as the words were out of my mouth. That definitely wasn’t the brilliant prose I’d dreamed I’d say the first time I got the opportunity to speak to Connor Richmond.

He looked up at me in confusion, and it was then that I noticed how clear his hazel his eyes were. What’s that?

I smiled in an attempt to mask my humiliation. The boardshorts. They’re on sale this week – thirty percent off.

Oh, okay. Thanks, Connor said, and I wanted to sink into the floor.

Yo, Connor, Rich called then, pulling Connor’s attention across the shop to where Nicky stood with her arms crossed impatiently in front of her.

I watched Connor cross the room and engage in a dialogue with Rich about which surfboard he should purchase while Nicky tapped her foot. She had very little patience for indecisive people, and the fact that the indecisive person keeping her from gossiping with me behind the front counter was a guy she’d dated for a minute two years earlier who never called her after the night they hooked up at a party, was making her mood turn from sour to downright bitchy.

I’m sure she felt like being rude was a great way to exact revenge on Rich for ignoring her after she’d let him see her topless, but it didn’t seem to be having any effect on him. In fact, I was pretty sure he couldn’t have told me who she was had she not been wearing the small plastic surfboard around her neck with her name on it in block letters. Even then, I was quite certain he wouldn’t remember their long ago tryst at Lucy Bishop’s sweet sixteen party.

I watched the guys debate the merits of one board versus another, as Nicky sighed loudly and blew her blond bangs skyward. Finally, Rich chose the board he wanted. Nicky snatched it from his hands and marched up to me at the front counter. Cameron snickered and mumbled something to Rich that made him laugh, and I was sure it was at my friend’s expense. Like I said, they were jerks.

Abby, can you ring these guys up please? Nicky asked sweetly, intentionally not using their names. I knew it was her way of telling me she was done with them.

She knew I wasn’t a big fan of them either, but she also knew I would be polite. I’d actually been part of the same crowd as Rich and Cameron for my first two years of high school, but we didn’t talk anymore. The year before I’d had a falling out with Alexis Blaine, their favorite cheerleader and my former best friend, after she started a bunch of rumors about me and outed Wyatt to the whole school.

Rich and Cameron had sided with her, which didn’t bother me all that much since they were never my favorite guys to begin with, but then they had jumped on the ‘let’s make fun of Wyatt for being gay’ bandwagon, and I sort of started hating them after that. Now we all just pretended we didn’t know each other.

Sure, I said, putting aside the Roxy catalogue I was perusing and hopped off my stool. Nicky was already halfway to the backroom, shaking her head as she went. I knew I’d be getting an earful from her as soon as the guys were gone.

Very few words were exchanged as I rung up Rich’s surfboard and he paid with his father’s credit card. Connor hung back, looking at a display of hemp necklaces. He picked one up and turned it over in his hands a few times before walking up to the counter. I’d just given Rich his receipt when Connor laid the necklace on the counter.

I’ll take this, he said. Rich and Cameron signaled that they’d meet him outside, and he just nodded in acknowledgement. It’s for my brother. Do you think he’ll like it? He’s thirteen.

My heart started pounding in my chest. Connor was actually engaging me in conversation, and he wanted my opinion.

Sure, I think it’s great, I said, giving him a small smile, thankful I could get the words out.

Connor smiled widely at me, which completely caught me off-guard. It lit up his whole face. After that I prayed he wouldn’t ask me anything else, since I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to form words if he did. I just rung up his necklace, bagged it and told him his total. He handed me a twenty, I gave him his change, and he was out the door. As soon as it closed behind him, I let out a huge breath I hadn’t known I was holding.

Abby! Dinner! my dad called, pulling me back to the present.

I didn’t know how many minutes had passed since my brother had told me dinner was ready. I’d been mesmerized as I watched Connor and Jordan throw the football around, Connor coaching Jordan, and Jordan getting frustrated along the way. I stole one last glance at the brothers before scrambling down the ladder and running across the yard.

Sorry Dad, I said, sliding into my seat at the kitchen table across from Aaron. To my left my mom was spooning mashed potatoes onto her plate.

So, Squirt, Aaron asked, as I took the potatoes from my mom and narrowed my eyes at him. You gonna come visit me at school this year?

Uh, I don’t think so, my dad piped up before I could answer. She’s too young to be staying in a dorm and hanging out with horny college guys.

My jaw dropped. Dad! I said, at the same time my mom said, Adam!

I instantly wondered if my Dad’s opinion that I shouldn’t be staying in dorm rooms with horny college guys included the dorm room of my gay best friend. I certainly hoped not, since I was dead-set on visiting Wyatt as soon as I could.

Aaron just laughed at my dad’s moratorium. He’s got a point, he said, stabbing a piece of chicken with his fork. Tommy couldn’t stop asking when he could meet my hot little sister last year. He about lost it when he got to meet you at Parent’s Weekend.

Aaron! my mother admonished.

Aaron laughed again. Don’t worry, Mom. I told him she was off-limits.

Thank you, I said, not appreciating being ogled by my brother’s roommate. Tommy was blond, freckled, pale and 6’5". He wasn’t really my type.

But, Aaron said, you gotta check out colleges, and I have it on good authority that South Carolina would love to have you as a student. I can show you around the campus and introduce you to some real student life.

Aaron had been lobbying me to go to college at South Carolina since he’d started there. I knew he missed having family around, and part of me was tempted to go to school where it was warm, but I had my heart set on going to Michigan with Wyatt.

He means parties. Don’t listen to him, my mother said, winking at me.

No, I don’t, Aaron said. I was talking about the sororities. Leah said she’d be happy to show Abby around campus and the Zeta house. I think she’d like it.

Leah was Aaron’s girlfriend. They’d been dating since March, and since he’d been home for the summer he’d spent most of his time texting her, Skyping with her, or sharing with me funny comments she’d posted on Facebook. He was smitten. From what I could tell, Leah was the southern girl my father feared Aaron would fall for. She was from Charleston, had long honey-blond hair and spoke in a drawling southern accent. I’d talked to her once over Aaron’s shoulder on Skype, and she was what I could only describe as sugary sweet, but I liked her instantly, especially when she’d chastised Aaron for picking on me.

I speared a green bean with my fork. Aaron, what makes you think I’d want to be in a sorority? Have I ever once mentioned the urge to have pillow fights in my underwear? That is totally not my thing, and you know it.

Pillow fights? my dad asked Aaron excitedly, sliding back into his eighteen year-old self for a few moments.

Aaron shook his head despondently. Total myth, he said, as he shoveled a scoop of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

I’ll pillow fight with you later, my mom said to my dad, which was followed by a round of groans from Aaron and me. Our parents could be so inappropriate at times.

***

Later that night, Nicky knocked on my bedroom door while I was lying on my bed reading Lucky and pondering the new fall looks. She flopped down beside me and rolled over onto her back.

Ugh. Sir Hotness had his door open. He was baby-talking that girlfriend of his, and I tell you what, that is really not sexy.

Eww, I said, closing my magazine and rolling onto my side to face her. That’s my brother. You really need to stop saying these things to me.

Nicky kicked her flip flops off and lifted her long legs into the air, pointing her toes. It’s not like you’re actually related, she said. It’s totally okay if you think he’s hot.

I reeled back a little at her comment. Um, I think my parents and the State of Massachusetts would disagree with you. Besides I’ve known Aaron since I was born. He’s my brother.

He’s still hot, Nic said, flexing and pointing her toes.

I rolled my eyes. Ever since Aaron had gotten home for the summer, Nicky had been ogling him and talking about how hot he was. It was disturbing on so many levels, and although we weren’t blood-related, he was still my family, so I didn’t want to hear how cute he was or what she’d like to do to him if given the chance.

My parents had adopted Aaron when they’d first gotten married. They’d tried for a few years to have kids before realizing they wouldn’t be able to do it the old-fashioned way, so they’d gone down the adoption route. When Aaron was almost two, my mother found out she was pregnant with me. I have never