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In life, her grandfather had forbidden his wife and daughter from crying or showing sympathy to anyone. Even little Allison had been scolded for being “overly emotional.” Amanda had grown up in this system of coordinates and considered it the norm, but Allison understood: feelings mattered. Nevertheless, she continued to hide them from her mother, who lost all control during her breakdowns.
Trying not to think about the domestic drama, Allison pulled on black pants and a worn-out hoodie with her favorite band’s logo. Looking in the mirror again, she sighed: “I look terrible. I hope Miles oversleeps today.”
To her surprise, the school bus, usually punctual, was a couple of minutes late today, which saved Allison from being tardy. By 8:30, she was already at school. Looking around in hopes of avoiding Miles, she trudged toward her locker. But he was waiting for her, standing next to Sam.
“Hey, Allison!” Miles smiled. Sam, pursing his lips, waved at her and, clapping his friend on the shoulder, quickly walked away.
Miles seemed to want to hug her, but as soon as she got closer, he froze. His expression changed. Panic seized Allison. She thought he was just going to turn around and leave. A phrase she’d heard once — “looks are everything” — was firmly lodged in her head.
“You look like you’re doing pretty rough,” he said, flustered. “Did something happen, or did you just not get enough sleep?”
“Hey. Yeah… not so much ‘happened,’ just… it was a long night,” Allison forced a smile, but her voice trembled.
“Studying the new Physics topic?” Miles nodded at the textbook in her hands.
“Oh, um…” She hesitated. More than anything in the world, she didn’t want to drag him into her family problems. Dropping her eyes, she stayed silent.
“I hope it’s not because of me?” Miles asked, growing concerned. “I don’t want to pressure you, it’s just… I have serious plans for you, and I’d hate to get my hopes up for nothing. If you know what I mean.”
Allison instantly forgot her fears. That “butterflies” feeling appeared in her stomach, and a light shiver ran through her body. “God, am I falling in love?” flashed through her mind.
“No, not at all!” she exclaimed. “I’m really glad we’re talking. It’s just… it was a tough evening. Personal stuff… sorry.”
“Oh, sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”
“It’s fine. Just typical family drama. It definitely has nothing to do with you.”
Usually shy with strangers, Allison suddenly felt comfortable around Miles. Her stiffness began to vanish. After five minutes of chatting, her mood had completely improved.
“Actually, I was afraid the way I look would scare you off,” she confessed, closing her locker. “So, we’re still on for today?”
“No way, is that what you think of me?” Miles feigned offense and made a face, making her laugh. “Of course we’re still on.”
At that moment, Judy burst in like a whirlwind, as usual, accompanied by Rachel.
“Hey guys!” Judy hugged Allison from behind.
“Whoa, you look stunning!” Allison was amazed. Usually, Judy preferred sweatshirts and didn’t spend time on her hair, but today her blonde hair was in soft waves, and she was wearing an elegant classic suit.
“Hey Jude, Rachel,” Miles raised his eyebrows in surprise. “What’s the occasion? Did Tom invite you to a business lunch to discuss school politics?”
“No! I have an audition today for the youth talent theater. I don’t want to fall flat on my face, so today I’m a business lady.”
She spun around playfully, showing off the outfit. The bell rang.
“Well, we gotta get to Biology; there’s a test,” Rachel urged her friend.
“Don’t be bored! See you in the cafeteria!” Judy shouted, running off.
Allison looked at Miles questioningly.
“Anyway, I’ll wait for you after school in the same spot,” he said, adjusting his backpack. “And yeah, you look really cute. I like it. But make sure you catch up on sleep this weekend.”
Miles hugged her, and they headed to their separate classrooms.
“Actually, there’s one more amazing fact about him,” Miles said, looking at Allison while lighting his third cigarette.
“What?”
They were walking slowly toward her house. For the last twenty minutes, Miles had been enthusiastically retelling true crime stories, which, as it turned out, they both loved.
“How he escaped from prison! It’s brilliant. He carved a gun model out of a piece of wood and painted it with shoe polish. The fake was so realistic that John intimidated the guards, locked them up, took their real weapons, and escaped through the garage. Isn’t that masterful?” Miles laughed, clearly proud of his fellow countryman — gangster John Dillinger.
“It really is bold,” Allison smiled. “And how did he die?”
“His lover turned him in,” Miles suddenly stopped and looked at her intently. “Wait, are you cold?”
“Well, a little. I overslept and didn’t check the forecast. At least it’s not raining.”
The weather really was gloomy: heavy clouds, a cold wind. Miles unhesitatingly took off his black bomber jacket with vintage patches and draped it over her shoulders. He was left in just a light sweater.
“Here. Now give me your hand, I’ll warm it up.”
He interlaced his fingers with hers.
“So, like I was saying… Anna Sage sold him out. She went to the police and told them Dillinger had come to her brothel…”
Allison almost stopped hearing the words. She drowned in the sensations. His hand was so warm it heated her entire body, and his husky voice resonated somewhere deep inside.
“Allison? You still with me?”
“Yeah… the three of them went to the movies,” she repeated randomly, surfacing from her thoughts.
“Speaking of movies,” Miles smirked. Thinking she was worrying about her own stuff again, he changed the subject: “Anyway, the guys and I are going to the new zombie horror flick tomorrow. And then a sleepover at Tom’s; his parents are out of town. There’ll be board games, music, and probably a couple of bottles of whiskey. I want you to come too.”
Allison looked away.
“If your parents won’t let you stay the night, no big deal,” he added softly. “But can you at least come to the movie?”
“Yeah, I’d love to go to the cinema,” she replied, suppressing a sudden surge of anxiety. “Who else is going?”
“The whole group.”
They stopped fifty feet from her house. It was getting dark on the street, and thunder rumbled in the distance.
“You okay? Not tired?”
“There’s my house,” she pointed to the building three lots down. “I’m fine. Time flies when I’m with you.”
“Oh, sorry, I haven’t exactly memorized which one is yours yet. They look alike.” Miles laughed. “I’m really glad about today, Allison. I mean it.”
Thunder rumbled again, closer this time. Miles hurried, but still held her hand tightly.
“Until tomorrow?”
“Yeah, until tomorrow, Miles,” she called him by his name out loud for the first time, and a shiver ran down her spine. “Do you have far to go? It’s about to pour.”
“I’d take that as an invitation for tea, but I’m not that gullible,” he winked. “Don’t worry, I live on Guilford Avenue; it’s about a twenty-five-minute walk. I’ll make it.”
He hugged her goodbye.
“I’ll call tomorrow if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind.”
“And one more thing, Allison. Looks don’t depend on clothes or hair. Not even on makeup. It depends on the song your soul is singing. Remember that.”
He walked away, hands in his pockets. Allison went into the house, filled with happiness. It was quiet inside, Amanda wasn’t there. Dropping her bag, the girl walked to the mirror and only then noticed she was still wearing Miles’s jacket.
She didn’t take it off. Taking a cigarette out of the bomber pocket (she had never smoked, but she wanted to feel his world), Allison put on her headphones and lost herself in a dance to her new favorite song.
“Dear Diary, today is Friday, October 3, 2014.
In three weeks I’ll be sixteen, but I feel like a child. Time is flying too fast. A year ago I was crushed by life, and now, at the beginning of October, I feel alive again.
I have friends. Sometimes it feels like a prank or a reality show — that’s how unbelievable this friendship feels. And Miles… He’s turned my head. Now I know what “butterflies in the stomach’ are and why your knees go weak. I’m giving him pieces of myself as if under hypnosis. He’s still a mystery to me, but I’m drowning in him.”
Around midnight, Amanda returned. The downpour had soaked her to the bone. She left her umbrella by the door, swapped her boots for Uggs, and tiredly trudged to the kitchen with a bag of groceries. Allison was already asleep and didn’t hear her mother opening another bottle, sitting in front of the TV to once again try to drown out her life.
CHAPTER 4
The next morning brought a surprise for Allison.
Despite the fact that Amanda had gone to bed long after midnight, she had been busy in the kitchen since dawn. The sweet aroma of freshly made pancakes wafting through the house pulled Allison out of her sleep. Usually, her mother didn’t get up before eleven, but the habits of a once-flawless housewife seemed to live on within her, independent of her new, broken personality.
“Good morning, Mom.”
“Good morning, honey,” Amanda responded in an unusually upbeat mood, deftly flipping a pancake in the pan.
“What’s going on?”
“What do you mean?” her mother asked without looking up from her task.
“You haven’t made breakfast in two years. And you usually sleep until noon. But today…”
“But today, everything is different.” Amanda set a plate on the table, generously drizzled with cranberry syrup. “Sit down and eat.”
Allison sank into her chair in confusion. “Mom, I don’t understand.”
“Well, I didn’t want to say anything prematurely, but the money from your father has stopped being enough. After all those real estate deals, we’ve ended up in a serious deficit. Anyway, I’ve made a decision: I’m going back to work.”
“Whoa… no kidding.”
“Yes, I have an interview in an hour. It’s not the most prestigious job, but you have to start somewhere.”
Amanda hurriedly served herself a portion and finally sat down across from her daughter.
“And what will you be doing?”
“In college, I worked part-time at a bar; it was fun. I’m sure everything has changed now, but I don’t really know how to do anything else — my degrees have lost all their weight after all these years. I’ll start behind the bar, and who knows, maybe I’ll be promoted to manager eventually.”
Allison froze, unsure how to react. On one hand, she was glad her mother would stop moping around the house. On the other, the image of a grown, educated woman behind a bar in some questionable establishment made her feel uneasy.
“In a bar? I thought only students worked there.”
“Not only students, Allison. You’ve never been in one, how would you know?” Amanda tossed out flippantly. “The tips are quite decent these days.”
Allison remained silent, picking at her pancake without appetite.
“Well, that’s it, I have to go!”
Her mother suddenly kissed her on the forehead — the gesture was so long-forgotten that Allison flinched. Amanda caught a quick glimpse of herself in the mirror, grabbed her keys, and hurried out the door.
“What a morning…” Allison whispered.
At that moment, the cell phone she had barely let out of her hands came to life.
“Hello? Good morning, Allison. I’m calling just like I promised. Is it too early?”
“No, just right! Hey, Miles.”
“So, did you get permission?”
“Still in the process, but I think everything will be great.”
“Are you sure? Just so you know: even if they don’t let you, I’m coming at seven and I’ll hang out under your window until you come out.”
“Oh, is that a threat?”
“Oh, and is this flirting?”
They both laughed awkwardly.
“How did you sleep?” Miles interrupted the pause.
“Very… soundly.”
“I see. Well, I dreamed about you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I don’t remember the details, I just remember you were there. I woke up with a pleasant feeling.”
“Yeah? So, I wasn’t chasing you in a cockroach costume with a toy chainsaw?”
Miles burst out laughing so loudly that Allison had to pull the phone away from her ear. “My God! Is that the only kind of thing you dream about?”
“Well, I’m joking,” Allison suddenly felt embarrassed.
“I get it, I get it… Anyway, I won’t bug you. Text me as soon as you find out about the movie and the sleepover. But remember: my threat stands.”
“Okay, Miles.”
“See ya, Allison. See you later. Lo — » Miles cut himself off and hastily hung up.
Allison froze. She had clearly heard that unfinished syllable, and her face instantly flushed a deep red. Her mood soared at cosmic speed. She ran into her room, jumped onto the bed with a flying start, and, getting tangled in her headphone cords, turned on Coldplay. The world around her ceased to exist.
A couple of hours later, Amanda returned. Allison was in the living room watching a movie, cozily wrapped in a blanket. Hearing the front door slam, she instinctively jumped up and turned off the TV — that sound in their house rarely heralded anything good.
“I’m home, sweetie,” Amanda entered the room.
“Well? How was it?”
Her mother sat on the sofa, took a sip of her daughter’s cold tea, and held a heavy silence.
“Terrible. They hired me. I’m no longer a housewife; I’m a bartender.”
Allison exhaled, but doubts remained. “That’s good… But are you sure you want this?”
“Want it?!” Amanda flared up. “Are you out of your mind? I’m an excellent analyst, but I have zero years of experience at forty! I don’t have a choice. Family was my first priority, unlike your father, and this is the result: at thirty-eight years old, I’m standing behind a damn bar!”
“I’m sorry, Mom…”
“What do you have to apologize for…” Amanda rose abruptly. “Where’s my wine? I’m going to ‘celebrate’ this brilliant event.”
“Mom!”
“Don’t you dare lecture me!” Amanda’s voice broke into a scream. She turned around, and Allison saw a frightening, almost wolf-like glint in her eyes. “I’m tired! And I don’t care that it’s only lunchtime! My life is going to hell, don’t you dare make it harder for me!”
Allison trembled. The argument ended with an order to change out of her pajamas and a furious slam of the kitchen door.
Neither at lunch nor later did she manage to get permission. Any attempt to speak was met with a wall of irritation. Amanda drank, and with every glass, she sank deeper into her rage.
As the clock neared seven, Allison made a decision: she was going. She would risk everything.
She put on her favorite burgundy flannel shirt and black pants. She touched up her lashes and applied some lip gloss. Her gaze fell on Miles’s jacket. The most important thing is not to forget it.
At 6:50, the phone rang.
“Hello, Allison? I’m almost there. ‘No’ is not an acceptable answer.”
“Yes, I… I’m ready. But you’re early!”
“I was afraid of being late. I’m waiting for you.”
Allison grabbed her purse and Miles’s bomber jacket. A sinister silence had fallen over the living room: Amanda was sleeping on the sofa in a total blackout. Two empty wine bottles guaranteed she wouldn’t wake up even if a cannon went off.
Allison quickly scribbled a note: “Mom, don’t worry, I’m at a friend’s for a sleepover. Sorry, I couldn’t get permission. Love, Allison.”
She slipped out of the house, trying not to let the stairs creak. A gray Hyundai was idling at the curb. Miles was smiling from the window.
“I didn’t know you had a car,” Allison said, sitting in the passenger seat.
“My dad’s. He lent it for the evening when he found out I was taking out a very beautiful lady. Get in, it’s cold.”
She laid his jacket on her knees. “I’m sorry you had to freeze yesterday.”
“It’s nothing. Today I’m a respectable gentleman in a grandpa coat,” he nodded at a black vintage coat on the back seat. “I’m a fan of the old school: rap, the Lakers, guns, and a dream of moving to Chicago. That’s why Sam and I are friends — yin and yang.”
“I wouldn’t have guessed. I thought you liked Lana Del Rey and romance novels,” Allison teased him.
They both laughed, and the awkwardness of the past few days finally melted away.
“Where are we going?”
“To Glendale. There’s no traffic there; we’ll be there in fifteen minutes. By the way… what about the sleepover?”
“I was let off,” Allison lied, trying to keep her voice from wavering.
“Really?!” Miles beamed. “Awesome! Well, I had to work my tail off for grades just to get the car. I’m a hundred percent happy.”
He turned on the radio. The first chords of Radiohead’s “Creep” began to play.
“Leave it, please,” Allison asked.
“You like Radiohead? Well, now I like them too.”
“But what about Eminem? He won’t understand.”
“I love rap, but I’m not limited to just that.” Miles picked up speed.
A mercilessly bright sunset was burning out ahead of them. They argued about music, from Cobain to jazz, and it felt to Allison as if this road was the safest and most right place on earth.
CHAPTER 5
The noisy group spilled out of the movie theater well after ten o’clock in the evening. Bursts of conversation about the film filled the air as they ignored the night chill and the few passersby. They wandered toward the parking lot, teasing one another and even dancing a bit to their own off-key humming.
“I don’t know about you guys, but I am never setting foot in Paris now!” Judy proclaimed at the top of her lungs.
“Oh, like you’ve actually been there even once,” Tom teased.
“Oh, shut up!” Judy laughed, jumping onto his back and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Since you’re so smart, you can carry me to the car!”
“Fine, fine, we’re almost there anyway,” Tom grumbled, though he dutifully caught her behind the knees to steady her.
“So, are we heading to your place?” Sam interrupted. “Is the booze on-site?”
“I went through the trouble of digging up a couple of bottles of whiskey. Did you people bring anything… illicit?”
“How did you get your hands on that?” Rachel asked curiously.
“What do I have an older brother for?” Tom gave a proud smirk. “Did you think I made up with him after that incident just for the sake of it? I might as well get some benefit out of it.”
Allison gave Miles’s sleeve a light tug and whispered, “What incident?”
“I’ll tell you later,” he whispered back with a chuckle. “It’s a sore subject for him.”
Soon they split into the cars — Miles’s and Tom’s- and set a course for Haven Ford Avenue.
The Calhoun family home was impressive: a light-colored, two-story house with a cozy attic. The terrace featured stylish hanging chairs, the lawn was trimmed with surgical precision, and the fallen leaves were neatly packed into bags. Inside, everything breathed a sense of luxurious comfort in soft pastel tones.
“It’s beautiful here,” Allison remarked, looking around.
“Yeah, Mrs. Calhoun is obsessed with cleaning,” Judy chimed in, flopping onto a massive leather sofa. “It’s a miracle she hasn’t made us wear surgical booties at the door yet.”
“We’ve already discussed this, Jude,” Tom grumbled, emerging from the kitchen with a handful of glasses and a bottle of eighteen-year-old Glenfiddich.
The evening picked up speed. Tom poured the whiskey, Judy brought out a mountain of snacks, and Miles and Sam got into a heated debate about basketball. Rachel settled on an ottoman next to Allison and decided to talk to her directly for the first time.
“Hey, I’m glad you got let out, Al.”
“Allison,” she corrected softly but firmly. “My name is Al-li-son.”
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you hated nicknames.”
“It’s fine. Just… a habit. I’m glad to be here, too.”
An involuntary wave of panic washed over Allison. Caught up in the euphoria, she had completely forgotten how recklessly she had run away from home. She stealthily pulled out her phone — the screen was blank. No calls, no messages. The tension eased slightly.
“Psychologists say that if someone in a group stays glued to their phone, it means they’re uncomfortable,” Rachel suddenly noted, squinting.
“No, I was just checking the time…”
“Sure,” Rachel lowered her voice to a whisper, leaning in. “Tell me the truth: what’s the deal with you and Miles? Is something happening, or did you just ‘suddenly’ become best friends?”
The question caught Allison off guard. She didn’t know the answer herself. Fortunately, at that moment, Tom cranked up the music.
“Oh no, Tom! Not Twenty One Pilots again!” Sam wailed.
“My house, my rules!” Tom laughed, handing out glasses. “To a great night, guys!”
By three in the morning, the house was submerged in a thick, amber-lit gloom. The air in the living room grew heavy with smoke and the scent of spilled whiskey. Judy and Tom had long since disappeared upstairs — their muffled laughter and the creak of the stairs had briefly animated the silence, but soon everything went quiet. Rachel, curled in a ball in a deep armchair, was sleeping so soundly she didn’t wake even when Allison covered her with a wool blanket. Only Miles and Sam remained before the TV; the glow from the console painted their faces in neon blues and greens, and their quiet bickering over a lost round sounded like a lazy whisper.
Allison felt the walls starting to close in on her. The diffused lamplight and the smell of tobacco clouded her mind, and a faint throb of anxiety — a remnant of the alcohol she’d consumed — began to pulse in her temples. She needed to get outside.
Grabbing her jacket and trying not to let the parquet creak, she slipped through the kitchen door onto the back deck.
Outside, the deep twilight reigned that only exists just before dawn. The cold air instantly pierced her lungs, flushing out the stale smell of the party. Allison froze on the top step of the terrace. The perfect silence of the neighborhood was almost tangible: only a few late autumn crickets chirped lazily in the thick grass, and the wind barely brushed the tree branches, making their shadows dance on the white railings.
She sat on a wooden bench, hugging herself. Here, under the vast dome of an indifferent night sky, everything felt simpler. There was no alcoholic mother, no heavy letters from her father, no fear of tomorrow. There was only her and this cold, clean serenity.
The quiet creak of the door made her turn. Miles appeared in the doorway. He had tossed his coat on carelessly and was carrying another blanket, fluffy and warm.
“You look like you’re trying to make a break for it,” he said softly as he walked closer. His voice sounded deeper and richer than usual in the nighttime silence. “Sam finally ‘drifted off’ in there. He fell asleep with the controller in his hands.”