Marisa Reichardt - Aftershocks

PUBLISHERS NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the authors imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for and may be obtained from the Library of Congress.

ISBN 978-1-4197-3917-0
eISBN 978-1-68335-980-7

Text copyright 2020 Marisa Reichardt

Book design by Hana Anouk Nakamura

Published in 2020 by Amulet Books, an imprint of ABRAMS. All rights reserved.

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To my mom

For believing in me. Always.

Im skipping practice.

Skipping practice isnt something people who want to play water polo in college should do, but sometimes you find out your mom is dating your coach and there is absolutely, positively no way you can show your face on the pool deck.

My mom broke the news to me last night at dinner. It was casual. Like, Pass the peas and, oh yeah, Coach Sanchez is my new boyfriend.

I gagged. Literally. On a combination of food and disgust.

She ignored my disdain. Its a good thing, Ruby. I promise. Her gaze floated to some faraway, blissful place. Were actually going on a little romantic getaway for Valentines Day next weekend.

Did she have to use the word romantic?

And did she have to swoon over Valentines Day?

Since when does my mom believe in hearts and flowers? I want her to be happy. I do. But does she have to find happiness in my world? With my coach?

Thats it, I said. I have to switch schools.

Dont be so dramatic.

This isnt dramatic, Mom. This is serious. Youve ruined my life. So thanks a lot.

I pushed my chair away from the table and stormed off to my room, where I mainlined Netflix for the rest of the night, too horrified to tell anyone what Id learned. I wasnt ready to tell my friends. Or my boyfriend. Maybe nobody would ever have to know.

But then the thoughts crept in.

What if they last forever?

What if my mom becomes Mrs. Coach Sanchez?

I wouldnt be able to keep it secret.

Theyd have a sunset wedding on the beach, with me as the reluctant maid of honor. So different from the way my mom married my dad at city hall. And then Coach Sanchez would be in my living room on Sundays and on the couch on Christmas. In sweatpants with his whistle around his neck. A horrid visual. He belongs on the pool deck, not at my dinner table.

I dont dislike Coach Sanchez. I love him as my coach with his dorky jokes and his six-on-five plays and his surprise buuelos after morning workouts. But in my house? With my mom? As my possible stepdad? No. My worlds were separate. Water polo was my happy place, home was my safe space. The two worlds colliding meant both were ruined.

Later in the night, after she spilled her news, my mom knocked on my door. Three gentle taps. Short and sweet.

Ruby, can I come in?

Nope.

Ruby.

I heard the thump of her pressing her forehead to the wood door as she sighed. I could feel her there even though I couldnt see her. And when I sensed shed finally walked away, I cracked my door open. There she was, shuffling down the hall toward her bedroom, head bent. Defeated.

Good.

I wanted her to feel guilty. I wanted her to wallow in her selfishness and the way she had crossed the line. I hoped thats what she was thinking about as she fell asleep.

She was already gone for work when I left today, and I was glad I didnt have to see her. We had a late-start so we didnt have morning practice. But I saw Coach in the hallway as soon as I got to school because he also teaches chemistry. I couldnt look him in the face. Did he know my mom had told me? How long had they been a thing? I tried to figure out what clues I had about them as I unloaded my books into my locker. I remembered the way theyd been talking, heads tilted toward each other, shoulders touching, when I came out of the locker room after my game last week. I was worried my mom had been doing something inappropriate, like asking Coach why hed benched me for practically the whole fourth quarter. Because I need you to try smarter, not harder, hed told me. I hadnt imagined they were making plans for Valentines Day.

Shudder.

Because it was a late-start day, Thea, Iris, and Juliette had insisted we meet up with Mila for breakfast even though Mila and I were barely on speaking terms since our New Years Eve meltdown five weeks ago. When Id gotten up the guts to tell the four of them about my mom and Coach, I was hoping for support, but Mila rolled her eyes because thats what she does best. Guess we all know wholl be the star player now. Red-carpet rollout for you from the locker room to the water. Should I ready my camera? Go full-blown paparazzi on your ass?

Milas great at water polo. And sarcasm.

Try the opposite, I said. Coach will probably be extra tough on me now. Like he has to prove a point hes not playing favorites.

Mila slowly stirred her yogurt. I wouldnt count on it. Youre basically his favorite already. Now maybe we know why.

Damn. She knew how to aim.

Thea, Iris, and Juliette nodded their heads in agreement because thats what people who arent me do with Mila. Smile. Nod. Repeat.

There was no way I could go to afternoon practice after that. Not when I knew Mila would spend the whole day texting the rest of the team to tell them Coach was making out with my mom and treating me like royalty.

So I skipped.

And now Im here.

At the laundromat.

For one reason and one reason only: its next door to the liquor store, and Mila taught me this is where you go when you need someone to buy you beer. Theres always a surfer or a burnout or a sailor from the navy base practically waiting to be asked. Theres a party tonight, and it seems like the perfect place to drown my sorrows or whatever it is youre supposed to do when you find out your coach likes to stick his tongue in your moms mouth.

Ew. No!

I pound at my skull, trying to erase the visual. Beer will help. Even if I swore Id never get beer this way after what happened the last time. But that was before I knew there would be a day like this. Im taking a cue from Mila, and I dont even care if it makes me a hypocrite.