The Lies About Truth by Courtney C. Stevens Page B

runways.
    Max squeezed my hand again. “We’re almost done.”
    “I hate being on display.”
    “Should I pitch a fit?” he asked.
    I shook my head. “I need to do this.”
    Mom put four pairs of jeans over my shoulder and escorted me to the back of the store. Just as I released Max’s hand, Gina opened a stall door and walked out.
    “Sadie.” She followed our hands up Max’s long body to a face she thought she recognized.
    I watched her gasp, watched her knees nearly buckle. “Oh my God.” She clutched her chest as if she was having a heart attack and vaulted backward into the attendant, who bumpedinto a rack of clothes. Both the attendant and the rack nosedived into the floor. An explosion of clothes and headbands and socks and scarfs followed. Eight stall mirrors showed Gina’s surprise and tackle from every angle.
    “Oh shit. Oh shit,” said the young store attendant. She dropped several more hangers full of clothes trying to find her balance.
    “I’m sorry,” Gina said.
    Sonia and I flanked Gina while Max and Mom helped the attendant right the rack and retrieve the clothes from across the fitting room floor.
    “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Gina repeated.
    Whether it was to the attendant or to Max, I couldn’t tell. The attendant waved her off as if she’d had quite enough Gina Adler in her day.
    I watched the methodical way Sonia stroked Gina’s arm. “We’ll get it fixed, honey,” she told Gina.
    This girl had grown up on the couch in Sonia’s living room, stretched out next to her lanky, beautiful, rambunctious boy. There must have been moments when she’d wondered if Trent and Gina would stay together. She’d even had Gina sit with the family during the funeral.
    “It’s okay,” I told Gina as I helped her sit down on a bench.
    Gina ducked her head. “I’m so embarrassed.”
    “Don’t be. I had the same reaction.”
    I hadn’t, but I thought it might make her feel better. No one contradicted me.
    So far, today was a no-blame, extra-sympathy-for-Gina day.
    After Max finished helping the attendant, I waved him over.
    He hesitated, but approached. “Hi, Gina.” I barely heard him.
    “Your voice is better.”
    “It exists,” he agreed.
    “I’m so glad you’re back,” she said, and stood to hug him properly.
    I found myself staring at a distorted version of an image I’d seen many times. Rewind the clock, and this was Trent and Gina. She must have known it, because she’d turned to catch my eye.
    I didn’t hold this embrace against her, and I let her know with a slight nod.
    When she let go, she said, “We should all get together tonight. I could call Gray. We could go to the jetty or something.”
    “Um . . .” Max checked with me before he answered.
    I opted out quickly, not wanting to press my luck. “I usually run.”
    “You can skip one night, right?” Gina asked. “Come on, I’d love to spend some time with you. Both of you. Hear about El Salvador.”
    There she was, with her constant invitations that led to constant apologies. I shrugged my shoulders, held up the jeans as if I needed to get to the stall, and said, “Maybe some other time.”
    She nodded in defeat. I’d refused enough invitations that she didn’t seem surprised. Gina hugged Max again and gave me a sad little stare. “Sometime this summer? Please,” she said to me.
    My head moved up and down; the scar at my mouth twisted as I bit my lip. “Sometime.” Thinking about the list, I threw her a bone. “Maybe for Pirates and Paintball.”
    “I’m sorry about the . . . you know.” Max finger-puppeted her tackling the attendant.
    “No, I’m sorry.” Color rose in her cheeks. “Pirates and Paintball,” she repeated. “Let’s make it a plan.”
    Max massaged his neck. “If Sadie wants to,” he rasped.
    “I’ve been doing everything I can to get her out of that shell she lives in. Max, please remind her that she used to do stuff with us. Stuff like riding motorcycles—”
    Sonia,