Mmm.
The marshmallows melt in my mouth as I take a sip of the hot cocoa. Mrs. Deans always has it ready for me in a mug before I even reach her cottage. I am forever grateful of her for taking such good care of me, as my mother would have... if she were here.
I hear Patrick say something to me.
"What?" I say.
"Do you agree?" He asks.
"Agree with what?"
He sighs. "Were you even listening?"
I bow my head. "No."
Patrick sits down in the chair right next to me. He puts his hand on top of mine and speaks gently. "Stevie. This is really important, and you know that. We can't get distracted now. C'mon. If we don't do this, you know how bad that will be."
I nod my head in agreement. "I know. But I can't concentrate. All I'm able to think about is my mom. If she were here..."
"Stevie." Patrick interrupts me.
I can feel the tears struggling to hold back in my eyes. This happens every time we come here. I am always the one falling behind on our plans because I'm too distracted by the thoughts of my mom. How can I forget what happened? Especially when that's the reason we're here? But he's right: I can't let anything get in our way now.
I rub my eyes with the heels of my hands and finish the last of the hot cocoa. Then, we gather around the crackling fire in the fireplace by Mrs. Deans and wait.
"So," she starts. "I heard your friends caught you on your way here. Is that true?"
"Yes," I say.
She looks at me for a while before saying, "You know, just because one failed doesn't mean that the rest mean harm. They are your friends; why don't you trust them?"
I take a deep breath. I don't know how to answer this. It seems too complicated to even think about. One moment, the four of us were hanging out at lunch, laughing. Next thing, one of them frames my brother and gets him arrested. I still remember her crocodile tears, pleading me to trust her and forgive her. But I couldn't trust anyone anymore. I've lost enough people as it is. I can't afford to lose any more.
My eyes shift to Patrick. Every time I look into his dark brown eyes, I am reminded of how gently he had spoken to me without saying any words the first day we met. I had been lying on a gurney in the hospital, looking up at him, and he was looking down at me. 'Are you okay?' his expression read. He was a stranger, but he was friendly and caring, whereas my real friends were off somewhere at Ocean City, enjoying their lives. They probably didn't even know that my house had been bombed, depriving me of every last memory I had of my family.
"I know this is hard for you," Mrs. Deans says now. "It's always hard. But you have to get a hold of yourself, dear. If you break down, you know what will happen, right? All we can do now is trust each other and we'll find a way to get through our problems. Okay?"
I nod silently. For a moment we all sit there.
Then, it's time to discuss.
