Vivian Lantz's Second Chances by Kathryn Ormsbee

Author:Kathryn Ormsbee
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2023-03-29T00:00:00+00:00

13

I FIND GEMMA one block down from Tate’s house.

She’s sitting on the sidewalk, hunched over. Tear tracks stain her cheeks, and she doesn’t look my way, even when I’m right beside her, saying, “You okay?”

Gemma jolts, staring up at me.

She doesn’t answer, but I don’t blame her. It was a bad question.

“Can I sit with you?” I try instead.

Very slowly, Gemma nods. I plop down on the damp concrete. It’s still misting, and teensy droplets have collected in Gemma’s curls.

“Ta-da.” Gemma’s eyes are dull, but she lifts her hands, making spirit fingers. “It’s me, the instant party pooper. Guaranteed to ruin your finest soirees in five minutes flat.”

It takes me a second to realize that Gemma is making a joke. I decide to play along.

“It’s a miracle product!” I say, in a TV announcer voice. “Just add water!”

I poke Gemma’s rain-slickened shoulder, and she huffs out a laugh. Then her expression changes. She slumps her shoulders, dropping her face in her hands.

I don’t know what to say anymore, but I have to try something.

“I’m sorry that happened,” I tell Gemma. “Amberleigh shouldn’t have pushed you.”

Gemma peers up at me. “Yeah, well, that’s not the worst thing Amberleigh’s done.”

The unanswered question screams inside me: What was your fight about? It would be rude to ask that again, though, and I don’t want to pry.

Gemma rests her chin in the palm of her hand. “You don’t have to sit with me. I called my sister. She’s coming to pick me up.”

“Well, you didn’t have to sit with me in—”

I catch myself. I was about to say in Ms. Wendy’s office. But of course, that hasn’t happened in Gemma’s version of Monday.

“Uh,” I say. “I mean, in Ms. Lally’s class.”

Gemma scrunches her nose, and a dozen brown freckles collide. She looks confused, but instead of elaborating, I say, “For what it’s worth, I’d rather be having a party with you than with them.”

I could tell Gemma that she was the main person I thought of as I got ready tonight. I could tell her I think it’s cool that she wants to become a doctor. I could say that I’m curious if Princess Ruth has a backstory.

I could say all that, but I don’t. It doesn’t feel like the right time.

Quiet settles on the street—Mariposa Drive, according to the sign across the road—and Gemma and I sit silently in the dusk. There’s a purply glow around us as streetlights buzz to life, and I look up, tracing the swoop of power lines.

“It wasn’t always this way,” Gemma mutters. “I mean, yes, Amberleigh was prickly. When we were little, I was scared to touch her Play-Doh, because she got so pissed if you mixed the tiniest bit of two colors together. I knew she was mean to other people, but she wasn’t too bad to me. Not till this summer.”

Gemma’s eyes flit to me. “You have two dads. So . . . you’re cool with that, right?”

“What, being queer?” I say, surprised. “Of course.”

My heart is pounding in my ears.

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