“Nervous,” I admit.
“You’ll maybe remember some people from our elementary class,” she says in an effort to put me at ease. Considering I barely remembered Savannah, my best friend, I highly doubt I’ll remember any of the others in our class. “There’ll be some people from the grade below, and some from above, like Myles and Blake.”
“How many people will be there?”
Savannah smirks, then rolls her eyes. “We’re in Fairview. Like, twenty of us.”
“Oh,” I say, staring down at my Nikes.
A small crowd is even worse. A small crowd means it’s harder to blend into the background. A small crowd means everyone will most likely sit together and be part of one big easy conversation. Until right now, I was imagining plenty of parked trucks, dance music blaring through the darkened countryside, and lots of different people milling around and doing their own thing. Instead, I realize this “party” is actually more of a casual get-together. Maybe huge parties don’t exist in a town as small as Fairview.
I glance back over at Savannah. “Wait. Are we going to a sports game or something? Isn’t that what tailgate parties are for?” It’s summer, so there’s no football. Maybe we’re going to a baseball game?
“That’s the tradition,” Savannah says, “but they’re fun to host on your own, anyway. You’ll love it.”
I hope so. I admit, I like the idea of trying new things on my own without my parents as my entourage, because I’ve never had freedom like this before. Of course, I’ve had some amazing experiences, like walking the red carpet of the Oscars, but maybe it’s time to branch out and do things for myself. Maybe this little break away from home will be good for me. A chance to be my own person without Ruben ordering me around, a chance to figure out who exactly Mila Harding is. And she isn’t just Everett Harding’s daughter. She has to be more than that.
Doesn’t she?
I stare out of the window, watching Fairview unravel around me. There’s a whole lot of nothing. Just the open road and the trees that circle around us with the occasional flicker of light from an oncoming car. With the quiet musings of Myles and Blake and the lull of music, it almost feels as though we’re off on a road trip. It’s also kind of eerie, all this emptiness. There’s barely any other cars, only the occasional house, and definitely no other people.
I’m not sure I like how alone Fairview makes me feel, so disconnected from the rest of the world. But maybe, I tell myself, that disconnect will turn out to be a good thing.
After five minutes or so, I begin to spot streetlights which can only signify that we’ve left the deserted countryside behind and are entering the Fairview metropolitan area – or at least whatever sort of downtown area a town like Fairview might have.
“Do you remember anything about living here?” Myles enquires.
Blake catches my eye in that rearview mirror again, awaiting my answer. It makes me wonder just how much Savannah has filled him in on . . . But given that Blake has just picked me up from the famous Harding Estate, I’m sure he can figure out for himself who I am.
I sit up a little and squint outside. We’re heading down a long stretch of road that’s home to enough familiar establishments to reassure me that Fairview, Tennessee is more than just some town out in the sticks. There’s the usual McDonald’s, a Dunkin’ Donuts – oh, thank God, because I’m addicted to their hazelnut iced coffees – and a Walmart, from what I see in the dark. A street sign lets me know that this is Fairview Boulevard. It’s a bit livelier, with more traffic and a few pedestrians on the sidewalks, but still – I remember none of it. I’m so used to LA now that small-town life tends to feel too restricted, though I’m sure it has its perks.
“Not really,” I finally answer, shaking my head. “I left when I was super young.”
“You probably think we’re just a bunch of country bumpkins,” Savannah says with a chuckle. “But I swear it’s not that bad here. We have high-speed internet these days and everything.”
Myles and Blake stifle a laugh. I get that Savannah is just kidding, but it makes me kind of paranoid that they all believe I’m some west coast city girl who’s going to shrivel up and die out here. I was born here; I can survive in Tennessee. Hell, I’ll maybe even like it.
“Blake, drive by Fairview Elementary first,” Savannah instructs, leaning forward to tap him excitedly on the shoulder. “Let Mila see.”
On the left, we pass a sign for Fairview High School, and on the right is the elementary school. We pull into the small parking lot and Blake slows the truck to a crawl, circling around and shining his headlights upon the red stone building. There’s an air of expectancy in the car, like they’re all waiting for the nostalgia to hit me.
“Do you recognize any of it?” Savannah asks, eyes wide and encouraging. She’s like a puppy that’s finally got its favorite chew toy back – she seems so happy to have me around. “We used to play tetherball in the yard allllll the time!”
I take a good look at the building. It’s familiar in a déjà vu kind of way – I know I’ve seen this before, but I can’t really associate many memories with it, and I certainly don’t recall playing tetherball with Savannah Bennett. I can barely remember the house we lived in, let alone the school I attended.
“Sorry,” I say with a hopeless shrug. Maybe Savannah wants me to remember so that I feel like less of a stranger to her.
“Well, that was pointless,” Blake mutters, then pulls back out onto the road.
I wonder where this tailgate party is being held, but the answer becomes obvious when Blake cuts across the road to the high school. It’s summer, school is closed, there’s no one around, but still . . . A tailgate party on school property?
We draw closer to a parking lot out by the sports fields where a handful of other trucks is already parked, and a small bunch of people is milling around. There’s a girl standing in one of the truck beds, setting up a huge pair of speakers on the truck’s roof, and another guy is kneeling by the ground, rifling through a cooler.
My palms feel clammy as it becomes real to me that I’m going to have to talk to all of these people at some point. I’m usually a sociable person, but it helps that everyone I interact with back home already knows what my deal is. Here, though? Here, I wonder who knows and who doesn’t. A stranger wouldn’t be able to figure out who I am just by looking at me. It’s only Dad’s super fans and the press who pay me any attention, so to the rest of the world I look like any other teenager . . . Except this is Fairview, Dad’s quaint little hometown, which I’m sure must mean the locals here know all about us Hardings. But so far, the only people who know I’m Everett Harding’s daughter are Savannah, Myles and Blake. No one else knows I’ve arrived here from the Harding Estate tonight.