All the Forever Things Read online

  I start to scrunch my nose to survey the damage but wince.

  “Gabe!” Bree gasps as she points, her face paling. I must be bleeding.

  “You were putting mascara on a cadaver yesterday,” I point out. “This is just a few drops of…” But I can feel the heat sliding through my palm, so maybe I have more than just a few drops of blood. Of course this would happen just before being forced to work with Bryce.

  “You know blood just startles me at first.” Bree blows out through an O-shaped mouth. “I’ll be okay.”

  Judy shoves a box of tissues into my hands, and I grab two off the top and scrunch them under my nose. People pass out if they lose too much blood.

  “Given the pain on my face, I’m not really worried about you,” I tell Bree, and she lets a gaspy little laugh escape.

  “You go sit.” Judy shoos us in the direction of the study tables. “I’ll bring you ice. The boys and Trinity are already there.”

  “Thanks,” I mumble through the tissue. Wait. Boys? As in more than one? It’s me, Trinity, Bree, and Bryce. That’s our group.

  More blood leaks through the wad of tissues and down my wrist. “I need the bathroom.”

  Bree steps ahead and holds open the bathroom door.

  The bathroom fan clacks, and the fluorescent lights zap the color from my skin, making the blood on my cheek, chin, and hands look even more startling.

  Bree jerks stiff paper towels from the dispenser and runs them under the water as I stare at myself in the mirror.

  “What a mess.” I groan.

  Bree takes the box of tissues and hands me wet towels. “Clean up, Gabe. I promise you’ll survive this.”

  I point to my eye, which has begun to swell.

  “Well, hell. Do you want to skip?” Her words come out so slowly that I know Bree does not want to skip out. She wants this over with. I want this over with.

  “Just gimme a sec.” I rinse off my hands and gently swipe the wet towels over my face. My nose, cheek, and eye all hurt and are all beginning to swell.

  Bree holds out a few of the soft tissues. I dab my nose a few times and get just a small drop of blood. Better. Crouching down, she digs through my purse and holds up two Advil, which I take using water from the sink.

  Dabbing my nose again and again, I come up with just the tiniest spots of blood.

  What a stupid day. I let out a sigh and start for the door, holding the tissue under my nose.

  “You okay?” Bree whispers. “Like, for real? Or should we leave?”

  “We’re already here.”

  Today sucks.

  Bree tucks an arm over my shoulders. “No stress.”

  She said this the first time we met—I was bleeding then too—the victim of a volleyball hurling through the air in seventh-grade PE. She ran with me to the bathroom and handed me toilet paper and wet towels until the bleeding stopped. Hopefully I’ll never have to admit how many more times she’s had to make an emergency trip for me than I’ve had to help her.

  A guy leaps to standing from the small table where Bryce and Trinity sit. “What…happened?” he sputters.

  I don’t know this guy. He’s spindly skinny and crazy tall. His pants are plaid, and his jacket with rolled sleeves looks straight out of 1985. Dark curly hair hangs over a pale forehead. Glasses cover a face that I sort of expect to see acne on, but there’s none. He’s thin, and his face is smooth. He’d be a great Addams Family butler if they ever do another movie.

  “I’m fine.” I wave him away. But I’m completely not fine.

  “Are you bleeding?” Trinity asks as she peers over her phone. I’m amazed her eyes reach my face over the screen she loves so much.

  Bree waves her away with a forced laugh. “She said she was fine. Tiny bloody nose. No big.”

  “So.” Bryce adjusts his letterman jacket, as if we all don’t see it every day. “This is Hartman, from Connecticut. He and his mom are crashing with me right now, so Mr. Sandstrom put him in our group.”

  The lanky guy folds himself back into the chair next to Bryce.

  Bree elbows me until I’ve scooted over enough to sit across from the new guy, leaving Bree in front of Bryce, and Trinity at the head of the table.

  “Why don’t you introduce Hartman as a regular person instead of a jock? You know, give me his first name instead of his last?” My nose is really starting to throb, but playing down an injury helps other people notice less, so I’m determined to pretend I’m fine.

  “Uh…” Bryce says.

  I glance at the skinny guy across from me. “What’s your name?”

  “Hartman Smith.”

  I blink. And then blink again. “Hartman is your first name?”

  Bree smiles too widely. Her brows wiggle just before she gives me a subtle he’s-boyfriend-material wink, and I cringe. If this guy knows Bryce and is staying with Bryce, then he’s the last kind of person I need. Also, I’m holding tissues against my nose, which is probably swelling.

  Trinity hasn’t looked up from her phone since her first comment.

  “I’m Gabriella, but Gabe is fine,” I tell Hartman. I blot my nose a few times and drop the tissue in my bag.

  “Gabe, like the boy’s name?” he asks.

  I feel my eyes narrow. “Are you making fun of my name?”

  “Were you making fun of mine?” His face is flat and unreadable.

  Instead of trying to decipher him, I point. “And that’s Bree.”

  “Bryce said”—Hartman glances at Bryce—“wasn’t hard to figure out who was who.”

  Right. Because Bree is the pretty one with her dark eyes, perfect hair, and bikini-model body. The twinge in my chest is pushed away with a single, deep breath. I’m not the pretty girl, and that’s fine. My lips are too thin and my eyes too squinty and my skin too pale, and my blond hair too boring. And I’m sure there’s another whole list that could go along with that one. Maybe two.

  “Yeah,” Bryce cackles. “Because Gabriella is dressed up like Wednesday Addams again.”

  Just like always happens when she’s mad, Bree’s brows pinch together. “Grow up, Bryce.”

  He sits back, holding his hands in a surrender gesture and chomping on his gum like he needs to kill it before we start our meeting. And seriously, he’d make a comment if I wasn’t dressed this way about where my regular wardrobe had gone. There’s no winning with guys like him.

  At least Bree is back on the same page with me where Bryce is concerned.

  I glance around the table. Trinity is still tapping on her phone. Bryce’s eyes are on Bree in a way that says he’s noticing her. (He’s so gross.) Hartman is still staring at my face and whatever misfortune was handed to me by the stupid detectors. Our eyes lock for a moment before his gaze drops back to the table.

  “Here you go, dear.” Judy hands me a bag of ice wrapped in a scratchy, brown paper towel.

  I try to smile, but it makes my nose feel like it’s breaking, so I take the ice and slowly slide it across my right cheek toward my nose. It better not be broken. Not when it was my idea to meet here instead of Starbucks. I can’t believe I’m stuck sitting across from the new guy where he’ll have full view of my bag of ice and swelling face.

  Maybe I should have stayed home and helped with the family viewing or hung with my little sister. “I’m swelling up like Mr. Gibson.”

  Bree’s gaze snaps to me. She widens her eyes, holds in a smile like Of course you’d say this, and shakes her head. This is what we do. I make sure she doesn’t use grammy-speak now that she’s living with her grammy, and she tries to keep me from talking about dead people too much. We both fail at least half the time.

  “Do we know a Mr. Gibson?” Bryce asks.

  I glance at Bree, and she quietly laughs at me. I swear I can hear her thoughts: You started it. You can’t back down now…

  “My parents run a funeral home,” I say slowly. “We had a Gibson in who was…swollen,” I finish lamely.

  Bryce snorts. “Classic Gravey
ard Gabe.”

  I narrow my eyes, which earns me another cackle from him.

  “Uh…” Hartman blinks a few times. “Okay.”

  I’m such an idiot.

  “What brought you here?” Bree asks Hartman with her superpolite voice. She gives me a quick smile. Bree is so good at redirecting a conversation after my wreckage.

  “My, um…” Hartman swallows. “My dad died. My mom doesn’t have much family, but she and Bryce’s mom are close. Dad is from here, so we moved here.”

  Instinct kicks in, and I reach across the table, not quite touching his hand. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” It’s my smoothest, best, most instinctual work voice.

  Bree taps my foot under the table, another suppressed smile tugging at her mouth. Clearly, it’s too late for me to not sound like a funeral home director.

  Nobody says anything, but even Trinity is peering over her phone again, so my words just hang out there.

  I need a redo on this day.

  Bree nudges me under the table again, and I jump. She subtly raises one brow and does a half glance toward Hartman. And then again with a little more exaggeration. I shake my head just enough for her to hear me silently screaming, No way. And especially not after this first impression. Her continued slightly raised brows say that she’s not going to let the idea of this cute guy go—at least not soon.

  “Can we actually do something?” Trinity asks.

  Group projects are the worst. I have to deal with people who aren’t Bree, horrible things like bloody noses happen, we’ve thrown a stranger into the mix, and now, always-on-her-phone Trinity is the one asking us to start.

  Hartman clears his throat as he stares at the table. “Yeah. We should…um…get started.”

  One hour at the library, and we all have assignments for our “how a bill becomes a law” presentation. The whole discussion made me wish I’d taken government on independent study over the summer, but it’s too late for that now. At least we can leave.

  “So…” Bryce starts and leans over the table toward Bree. “You’re in that after-school touchy-feely experiment that Ms. Bates is running, aren’t you?”

  Bree sucks in a breath. “Yeah…”

  I scoot closer so she knows I’m on her side with whatever comes next. The group is for students with recently divorced parents—something our counselor started for her PhD program.

  “I just noticed you, that’s all. Thought maybe we could get together sometime or something,” Bryce says. To my friend. Bryce Johnson…and my friend.

  What?

  “What?” Bree says, her posture suddenly stiff.

  “No big thing.” He smiles a little, and I hate that even though I don’t like him, I appreciate the perfection of the tanned dimples on his cheeks. “There just aren’t that many of us in the group, so I thought it might be cool to be able to say that we actually got together outside of group. Maybe get a chance to skip one of them or something.”

  “Yeah…” Bree trails off and glances toward me.

  I’m sure my face is blank, because my mind is blank. Guys in Bryce’s position in our school don’t ask out girls like Bree and me. We’re not involved in any school activities…anything, while Bryce is practically the school mascot. Well, he’s the mascot for the upperclassmen who play sports. He’s probably hated by everyone else, but by all accounts, that feeling is mutual.

  “I know Hartman really wants to get back to his mom.” Bryce flicks another piece of gum in his mouth as he leans back in his chair like he’s lounging. “But I’m starving if you’re up for a burger or something.”

  Is he seriously asking out my friend? In front of everyone?

  Bree’s wide eyes grow even wider, her gaze flitting from me to Bryce to me to Bryce…

  She pinches my sleeve and drags me to standing. She missed the perfect opportunity for ultimate humiliation! What is she doing?

  “Um, just a sec?” I say as she pulls me behind a bookshelf.

  “Did that just happen?” Bree asks, out of breath. Her hand rests over her chest, and her eyes are so huge I’m worried about permanent damage.

  “You dragging me away from the table?” I say. “Because my sleeve says that just happened.”

  “Bryce Johnson asking me out.”

  “I think…” I lean back and peer at him. He cocks a brow at me. Right. We both know that Bree and I are about to decide together and dissect the conversation. He’s so going down. “Yeah, I think he did.”

  Bree stares at the bookshelf for a moment. I’m about to tell her that I’ll break the news to him, or say we already have plans, when I see the faintest twinges of a smile.

  “Not Bryce. Are you serious?”

  “He is sort of perfect looking, and I just…” Her brown eyes lock onto mine. “I have a major confession.”

  Bree and I don’t have major confessions because we share things. Like everything.

  “Remember how I had that big crush on him before the whole graveyard incident?”

  Oh, I remember.

  “I was mad at him for you, but…” She peeks through the bookshelves, but I have no idea if she can see him or not because I’m not going to look again.

  “But?”

  “But he’s still…He is just so beautiful. And I wanted to tell you that I’ve always sort of watched him, but with your history, I was afraid to.”

  I scoff. No one with that kind of ego and reputation could be considered beautiful.

  “It’s just one quick meal. How many girls get to say that they dated one of the hottest guys in school?”

  “This particular guy?” I ask. “A dozen? Two?”

  Bree whisper-laughs and shakes her head. She is actually considering going out with Bryce Johnson. “He really is just gorgeous, Gabe. Can you let your grudge go for one night? For me? Please?”

  She smiles, but it wobbles a little. She actually cares what I think. I guess this shouldn’t surprise me, but her überconfidence always shifts how I think she feels. I generally assume Bree is great because she generally acts like she’s great.

  “Don’t you remember how he ruined my first kiss? I mean…” I lean in closer. “Come on. And he hasn’t grown past the stupid nicknames. Not to mention how many girls hate him after dating him.”

  Bree sucks her lower lip into her mouth. Her eyes plead with me. Asking me to go along with whatever she wants. Which means I will. “Maybe I could talk to him about the name thing.”

  This is such a disaster.

  Bree lets out a slow breath through O-shaped lips. “One quick burger and a drop-off. That’s it. I’m just…” Her shoulders fall a little. “I’m a little curious, you know? What it would be like to go out with someone like him.”

  Like him. That should be her first clue. Not like us. Like him. Like the big asshole he is.

  I lean back to see around the bookshelf and glance at the table. Barely holding in a groan, I know I’m not going to stop Bree. I never would. But still…everything that comes out of his mouth is so horrible.

  “Gabe?” she asks.

  I lean back between the bookshelves.

  “Look. I know,” she continues. “Sisters before misters, and we’re here together, but…When will I get another chance at dating one of the coolest guys in school? It’s something I should not care about, but maybe I do?”

  I blink a few times. She really is serious.

  “Help a sistah out?” She laughs quietly, her eyes pleading and her glossed lip tucked into her mouth.

  “Yeah.” I relent. “Fine. Helpin’ a sistah out.”

  She grabs me arm. “Best. You. Are. The. Best.”

  “Once in a while.”

  Bree pulls back her shoulders, sucks in another breath, and heads for our table. Her hips swing a little extra as she walks.

  “Okay, Bryce. Grabbing a bite sounds fine.” She leans against her chair as if saying yes to him isn’t a big deal, but I can see the stiffness in her shoulders and how she’s trying to keep her face just
a little too calm.

  Bryce glances at me and chuckles. “I’m glad I passed the group test.”

  He didn’t, but I’m nice and keep my mouth shut.

  “Hey, Gabe.” Bryce taps his friend on the arm, and Hartman’s attention turns back to the table. “Hartman can give you a ride home if that’s cool.”

  Oh. That wasn’t part of the plan.

  Hartman taps the table with long fingers. “Yeah. That’s fine.”

  How has my fate this afternoon suddenly been decided? What if Hartman is a bad driver?

  Trinity is gone with a brief wave. The two guys are talking about schedules and family and I don’t know what. How am I suddenly stuck with the stranger?

  Bree leans toward me and whispers, “Are you actually sure you’re okay with this, or are you just doing that thing where you’re annoyed but still the best friend ever?”

  “As long as you’re not trying to set me up with Hartman, I’m not annoyed.” I’m a little annoyed. She should feel my annoyance. It’s so strong that I’ve almost forgotten about my nearly broken nose.

  Bree’s smile turns mischievous. “He’s super cute, Gabe. I expect a full report of your ride home.”

  “Yeah, I’ll need a report too.”

  Bryce tosses Bree his award-winning smile—or at least his girl-getting smile—and Bree waves over her shoulder as Bryce leads her to the door. “I’ll call ya, Gabe!”

  Bryce looks her up and down like he’s going to eat a snack off her body.

  Gross.

  He even has this swagger thing when he walks. He’s not fooling anyone. He holds open the library door and gestures outside with a long swing of his arm, and Bree blushes.

  Oh, this is not good.

  Chapter 3

  Hartman holds open the car door for me, and I glance down at his weird old-man dress shoes. Maybe I can’t call his shoes weird since they’re almost identical to mine.

  “Nice car,” I say as I slide into the passenger’s side of a little Golf GTI.

  He scuffs his old-man shoes a little before glancing at his feet. “It was my dad’s.”

  My hand involuntarily reaches out to give him the generic squeeze and to once again say, “I’m so sorry,” but I stop myself by clutching my purse to my chest. Bree will be so proud. “Oh.”