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Mom’s ridiculous party, the last thing I needed was to come face to face with Maggie. She looked at me as if I’d run over her again, given half a chance. I only talked to her because . . . because maybe I wanted to prove to her that I’m not the evil monster she obviously thinks I am.
    I’m still standing in the park like an idiot. Wind makes the leaves of the trees rustle as if they’re talking to each other. I look up at the old oak. In a few months those talking leaves will fall to the ground and die, only to be replaced by new leaves and new gossip.
    Right now I feel like an old leaf. I went away, and deep inside a part of me has died. I vowed I’d come back to Paradise and get that life back, that old life where everything was easy.
    I lean against the oak, its trunk so thick nothing but a bulldozer could destroy it. If I could be like the tree instead of an insignificant leaf. I would talk to my mom, to Maggie, to Leah . . . I’d be strong enough to convince them to stop acting like the accident had to change everything.
    It was an accident, for heaven’s sake.
    The kid in jail who stabbed the girl . . . that was no accident. Julio dealing drugs for money . . . that was no accident. I’m not saying driving drunk isn’t a crime—it is. And when I pled guilty to the charges, I was ready to take whatever punishment the judge ordered—without regrets.
    I was accused of the crime, I did the time. It’s over.
    There’s one glitch: Maggie Armstrong doesn’t want to forgive me.
    She said I haven’t paid my debt to her.
    Is there any end to this punishment I’ve put upon myself?
    I won’t let Maggie, or my family, make me unfocused. If being stuck in the DOC didn’t screw me up, the people in Paradise can’t. My sister is going to have to figure out why she thinks being a fuckin’ weirdo outcast is better than going back to the way things were before I left. And my mom is going to, somehow, get real and stop acting like she’s in a movie. My dad . . . my dad’s gonna have to grow some balls one of these days. And Maggie . . .
    Maggie’s going to have to realize that the accident was just that . . . an accident.
    No matter what happens, I’m not leaving Paradise. She might as well get used to me.
    They all better get used to me.

eight
    Maggie
    “How was the party?” Mom asks as she irons her uniform for work the next morning.
    “Great.”
    “Is your leg okay?”
    “It’s fine.” I haven’t even thought about my leg this morning; it’s the least of my worries. I’m obsessing about Spain. Last night, seeing Caleb reinforced my determination to leave this town. “Did we get the packet from the International Student Exchange Program yet?” The website said the packets would arrive a week ago.
    Mom continues ironing. “I haven’t seen it. I hope it includes information about wheelchair accessibility. If your leg starts giving you problems, you’ll have to get one.”
    “Mom, please. Do we always have to discuss the what ifs?” I head to the refrigerator walking as straight as I can.
    “It doesn’t hurt to be prepared, Maggie. I won’t be there to push you along or help you once you’re there.”
    “I’ll be fine, Mom. Stop worrying.”
    It’s sad. One minute Mom is pushing me to go out and do things with my friends like before. In the next breath she’s being overprotective, overconcerned and smothering. She contradicts herself all the time. I think it’s because she’s trying to act as a take-charge father and protective mother all at once. She’s getting all confused in the process. She’s confusing me, too.
    She puts the iron down and gives me a big hug. “I want you to go to Spain. You’ve been looking forward to it for so long. But I also need to know you’re taken care of. It’s only because I love you so much, you know that.”
    “I know,” I squeak out. I don’t add that her love, like her hugs, can smother a person to death.

nine
    Caleb
    I’m playing a one-man