Don't Forget Me

Chapter 29

A few days of stolen moments later, Lisa and I make plans to go on a date on my day off. Like a real date, not just an afternoon of sitting on a blanket in the middle of the woods or walking the back road that cuts through the property where nobody can see us. She wants to take me somewhere that we've been before, someplace where we can get away from the prying eyes of Wyatt for an evening and just feel normal.

As I drive around the last bend of I-279, the city appears out of the rolling hills. Following the directions on my phone resting in the cup holder, I pull onto our exit and peer past Lisa, out the passenger window. The yellow bridges are all lit up and reflecting off the rivers below with the rest of the tall buildings downtown. I've been to Pittsburgh, but I've never driven there and I've never seen it at night like this. I've also never been here without my mom. Every once in a blue moon, we'd venture down to go to the mall or shop around the Strip District with all its crowded specialty grocery stores and street vendors lining the uneven sidewalks. It feels good, though, being here without her. Almost like I'm out by myself for the very first time, like I'm actually eighteen. A little scary, but mostly just... freeing. Everything feels so bright and beautiful, too. Perfect.

But maybe that has something to do with the girl sitting next to me.

My eyes fall onto her hand, resting on her thigh. It feels like the opposite of when I was in the car with Oliver. There's no having to convince myself that I like her. And there's no question in my mind about what I want to do. I want to reach across and take her hand, more than anything... but my nerves get the better of me. So instead, I focus on the road and try to ignore the way my stomach jumps up into my throat every time I look at her.

We drive through Oakland, into Schenley Park and out the other side, passing rows of houses that only seem to get bigger until finally we come up on a barricade blocking off the road at the intersection. A white banner hanging over it reads SQUIRREL HILL NIGHT MARKET in big black letters.

After trying to parallel park for about two minutes straight with cars lining up behind me, I finally give in to Lisa, who has been whispering, "Usually I park for you. Do you want me to do it?" since my third attempt. I hop out and hurry over to the sidewalk as she climbs over the center console into the driver's seat. Of course, she executes a perfect parallel on her first try.

She gets out and drops my keys back into my hand, a cocky grin spread across her face.

"Just come on," I reply, rolling my eyes and knocking my shoulder into hers.

We walk side by side into the river of people owing up and down Murray Avenue, where lines of tents are set up on either side of the street, each one displaying something different for sale. Handmade pottery, intricate pop-up greeting cards, jam, watercolor paintings, jewelry, and even mounted animal heads made of paper. It's like the Wyatt farmers' market on crack.

"My mom would love this," I say as we pass a fresh-cut-owers stand.

"Does she know you're here?" Lisa asks over the sound of laughter coming from a group of girls tucked into the nook of a closed storefront. One of them sounds so much like Grace that a layer of sweat covers the back of my neck as I turn to look, but of course... it's not her.

"I guess I could've just told her I was coming here with you... as friends, but it felt too risky. So I told her I went to Grace's house with Hannah," I say. In reality I haven't spoken to either of them since Truck Night, despite their best efforts, but not a single message they've sent has contained any type of apology. I can already feel my blood begin to boil at just the thought of it all. "They actually did text me this morning, asking me to go shopping with them, but I didn't even reply."

"Did you want to? I mean, if we didn't have this planned."

"No. I'm done with them. They freaking lied to me. They took advantage of me and my accident, and it didn't just hurt me, it hurt Oliver, too. And you. They're not my friends." I shake my head, curling my hand into a st. "And you know the worst part? I can't even call them out for it without having to tell them how I know, without telling them about us."