Since We Were Friends

By Zoe Haslie

Sixteen-year-old Regan Clark only longs for the summer camp trip her dad takes her and her three brothers in each year. But everything changes when the unimaginable happens—her best friend, and acquired fourth brother, Harper, turns into a big cheat and she gets cast aside.
So when school starts again, Regan finds herself friendless, struggling with soccer practice and on the verge of failing math. On top of that, Harper’s own issues lead him to move in with the Clarks, which makes it next to impossible to hide all the bad blood between them.
But meeting Sophie turns into a mindblower, for Regan’s introduced to the strange world of girls she’s been missing out until now. And, much to her dismay, she soon finds out what hurts the most about losing her best friend—to be secretly in love with him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Melange Books, LLC
• Release date: Sep 28, 2021
• ISBN: 9781953735577

Zoe Haslie

Zøe sees herself as a citizen of the world. She’s spent the last two years of her life travelling the world and now she just can’t stop! While she enjoys her wanderlust, she writes sweet and delightful stories.When she is not travelling or writing, Zøe enjoys sunsets, watching movies and TV-series, especially if they are old. She is also a quote collector! So, if you follow her online, you’ll discover the quotes that inspire her and help her get through life.You can find Zøe on Tumblr, Facebook, Twitter and Wordpress. Zøe likes to share books by indie authors on her social media.

Book preview

Prologue

Summer camp is a huge event in our family. My brothers and I spend the whole year anticipating, looking forward to it, and making plans. We inevitably forget those plans as soon as we get there, but they are indispensable all the same, for they keep the summer spirit alive during the rest of the year. Similarly anticipating a break from his credit analyst bank job, Dad begins looking at campers to rent before the school year ends. A car isn’t big enough—not when you take five kids and an adult, plus all their belongings, camping for a week. During the last days of class, while we’re having dinner, he shows us pictures of the vehicles he has in mind and we all vote for them until we find ‘the one.’ If Mom is home and not away working, she cheerfully joins in the conversations. However, she rarely ever makes it to camp.

Finally, the school year is over, and the fun actually begins. On the first Saturday of June, Dad wakes us all up at 6:00 a.m. to have breakfast and throw all our camping equipment into the camper. At long last, we are on our way.

We arrive at the camping site after a three-hour drive and start unpacking the vehicle. My older twin brothers, Landon and Eric, both becoming seniors, share a tent with our friend, Harper, who is sixteen just like me, and joins us every summer. I sleep with my seven-year-old brother, Jamie, in another tent, and Dad has his own space. In the end, the sleeping arrangements are insignificant, since most nights we drag our sleeping bags next to the bonfire and fall asleep out in the open, while talking in whispers and staring at the starry night.

During the days that we spend away from the city, we enjoy nature in every way we can—playing beach-volleyball and soccer, hiking, making temporary friendships, swimming in the lake, climbing trees, biking, barbecuing, and making bonfires.

Three hundred and fifty-eight days waiting. Longing. Planning...for this summer to turn into the biggest fiasco.

It all starts the Friday before departing, when Harper comes to spend the night at our house so that we can leave early in the morning. While my brothers and I joke throughout dinner, Harper mostly keeps to himself, only offering the polite smile every now and then—a mirthless smile that fails to reach his eluding eyes and keeps giving way to a persistent frown.

This aloof attitude continues during the whole ride and the first two days. Nothing seems to get through to him—not even the prank of adding a skirt to the sign for the men’s toilets, after which we spent an entire hour hiding on top of a tree, suppressing our giggles while listening to women gasp and yell. He laughed, but his chuckle was a humorless sound.

The third day at the campsite, we meet three boys around our age while fooling around in the lake with the beach ball. We spend the whole afternoon playing in the water, talking and laughing.

Hey, why don’t you come over after dark? the tallest asks, rubbing a towel through his hair.

Yeah, we can roast some marshmallows, the blonde one, who has a bronze tan says, staring at me through shiny gray eyes.

It could be my imagination, but I think I hear Harper gag behind me.

And I could tell you stories that would make your blood freeze on your veins, the other one goes, wiggling his eyebrows challengingly.

His friends burst out laughing.

Oh, please, your stories wouldn’t scare a nun, Mike.

Mike frowns. Sure they would.

Well, they’d doubtlessly affect the sensibilities of our delicate Regan here, my brother Eric goes, throwing an arm around my shoulder.

With a quick reflex motion, I shake him off. Your concern is moving, Eric, I say, glaring at him. Unfounded and misplaced, too. Are you sure you’re not projecting?

Eric raises his hands in the air in defeat. Just looking out for my little sis, that’s all.

Seems to me she can take care of herself just fine, the blonde one goes, winking at me.

Is he flirting with me? Being completely unexperienced in that department, I couldn’t really tell. Not sure what to do, I offer him a thank you smile and turn my attention to my flipflops.

It’s settled then, the tallest says.

We’ll see you after dinner.

Oh, we’ll be there, Harper says grimly.

The boys nod and turn to leave. We start the way back to our tents.

I think we should skip the whole marshmallows drivel, Harper states.

I think Regan has an admirer, Landon says.

No, I don’t, I grit out, pushing a long branch out of the way.

Sure you do, a modern, sun-tanned, brawny knight in shining armor, not that you need one.

What’s his name? Eric asks.

Landon shrugs. Beats me.

Regan and what’s-his-name sitting on a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G, Eric chants annoyingly out of rhythm and tune.

Shut up, Eric! Harper and I say in unison. Our looks cross for half a second, but before I can glimpse into him and see through the wall that now shields his every emotion, he looks away.

Whoa, somebody’s a bit irked, Landon points out.

Yeah, I wonder why that is, Eric says, rubbing his chin.

Maybe it’s because you two should be minding your own businesses, I say.

With a hand motion, Eric dismisses my comment. So, Harper, do tell us why we should sit this one out.

Landon rubs his hands together with anticipation. Oh, yes, I’m dying to know.

I roll my eyes, unable to understand what’s gotten into my brothers. That is, other than the need of being perpetually irritating.

Well, uh... Harper clears his throat. I mean, marshmallows and ghost stories? What are we, like 12?

As opposed to being hushed to sleep at nightfall by Dad... Eric says with a noticeable hint of irony.

You’re making a great case here, Jackson. Please, go on, Landon encourages him. There’s a definite glint in his eyes, though I haven’t got the slightest idea why he’s amused.

They were conceited, full of themselves, wouldn’t stop talking about themselves and bragging about their lives... Plus, their jokes weren’t even that funny. Harper’s words make no sense whatsoever. The boys were funny and friendly, and even Harper laughed at their jokes. The first real, hearty laugh he’s had in days. I just don’t see the point wasting a single more... Harper pauses abruptly to fix my brothers with an icy glare. Will you stop laughing so that I can finish?

Did you—? Eric gasps for air. Did you get that? He asks Landon.

Resting against a tree trunk for support, Landon holds his stomach with both hands. It takes him several moments to keep his laughter under control before he can utter a full sentence. I know. That was rich.

The tension emanating from Harper is palpable now. As we resume the walk, we reach a part where the path narrows, so we have to walk in line through the woods. Eric is leading the way, followed by Landon, then Harper, and finally me. While they continue to debate whether or not to go tonight, I zone out. For the millionth time, I wonder what has gotten into Harper. I consider asking, but a gaze at him tells me he’s also withdrawn. He’s somewhere I can’t reach him. I frown at this atypical behavior but decide to let it be and shrug as we finally approach my dad.

The sky is cloudy tonight, and Dad tells us during dinner that there is a high chance of rain before dawn, so we decide to make use of our tents. After dinner, everyone goes to bed. Jamie can’t sleep, so he asks me to tell him a story. My mind keeps coming back to Harper, so I grab my brother’s favorite book, switch on the lantern and start reading. He falls asleep to the sound of my voice twenty minutes later. The wind outside is starting to blow louder, causing the walls of our tent to convulse. The toads jump at the opportunity of coming out of their holes and are already chanting in preparation. The air with its low pressure and tangy aroma also warns me of the coming storm. I know it won’t be long before the rain starts, and I decide to go to the ladies’ room before that.

I slide the tent’s zipper carefully so that it would not wake Jamie and step into the dark night. The only sounds filling the air are those of the toads, the night birds in the trees, and the pine tree branches creaking in the wind. The fire is long out. I reach out for the lantern lying beside the tent and make my way. When I’m almost half-way back, I hear laughter coming from the trees and spot a small fire through the leaves the wind continues to rock. It’s a few feet away from the path I’m following, so I switch the lantern off and let my feet lead the way through the woods. I hear dry branches crack behind my feet and feel others scratch my forearms and left cheek, but the voices grow louder with each step.

Suddenly, I find myself stepping into a clearing with six pairs of eyes fixed on me. I see Eric and Landon first, and they wink at me with mischievous expressions. Then, I focus on the three boys from before, who wave at me awkwardly. Lastly, I find Harper’s amber gaze. My breath feels trapped in my chest as I look at him filled with uncertainty and confusion. Swallowing the hard rock lump in my chest starts to become impossible. The silence permeating the air soon becomes unbearable. At least, for me. Harper, far from looking contrite, arches a questioning eyebrow and holds my stare in challenge, tilting his chin stubbornly.

That’s when it hits me. It isn’t the boys who are the problem. It’s me.

My heart sinks, and I feel my world fall away. To my horror, I feel tears welling up in my eyes, but I manage to blink them away. Swallowing the humiliation, I offer them a wobbly smile and bid them goodnight with a noticeably shaky voice. Then I turn on my heel and walk away, narrowly avoiding the embarrassment of breaking into tears in front of them. Only when I’m well out of sight do I start running all the way back to the tent.

Chapter One

Four months later...

---

Why do I keep leaving my math homework for the last minute? I wonder for the millionth time this hour as I let out a frustrated sigh. And how can I be almost failing only three weeks into my junior year? Even for me, this is a new record.

My remorse is abruptly interrupted by my dad.

Regan! I hear Dad’s strong, adamant voice calling out from the living room. His tone lets me know it’s not the first call. Will you come down already?

Rolling my eyes, I put down my textbook and the pencil I’ve been anxiously chewing, and reluctantly cross my bedroom. I manage to avoid the piles of clothes and misplaced objects scattered all over the bright grey carpet. Then I reach the doorknob just in time to hear my mom’s calming and rational tone say, Don’t yell at her, John. That’s not gonna make her move any faster.

No wonder I keep having trouble with math, I think as I make my way down the hallway. It’s bad enough that I keep avoiding the issue like the plague, but being constantly interrupted by my brothers or parents when I finally decide to bite the bullet definitely doesn’t help. I shake my head and enter the living room. One quick look at those in attendance (my brothers and parents) and at the homemade cookies and the warm milk on the coffee table is enough to understand what is going on––a dreadful Family Meeting. Yuck!

My stomach growls when the smell of my dad’s addictive chocolate chip cookies fills my nostrils, but today they come at a high price. My parents came up with this horrible form of torture they call ‘family meetings’ when my twin brothers turned ten. Communication has always been a big thing in our family; my parents are all about talking, even when the subject is difficult to address. However, seven years later, going to this extreme still seems crazy.

During these meetings, we usually talk about important events in our lives—a job promotion, my brothers’ soccer team or their coming match, my mom’s next trip out of town, a distant family member being horribly sick or about to graduate or get married, you name it. But something feels different today. My dad, for one, is sitting at the old, one body couch, hunched forward and chewing his lower lip. This doesn’t match his solid character and determined nature. My mom keeps glancing at the kitchen, her lips firmly pressed together, wrinkles forming on her delicate face from the furrow between her brows.

Come sit, Reggie, my little brother Jamie calls me. I give him half a smile, unable to shake the uneasy feeling from my gut. Mom and Dad want to tell us something important. He whispers loud enough for everyone to hear. He’s still not familiar with the concept of subtlety, I think, suppressing a tender smile as I walk toward him. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see someone else coming out of the kitchen.

"What is he doing here?" I demand, glaring at my brothers’ best friend, Harper Jackson. Admittedly, he was once my best friend too, but that came to an abrupt end last summer. After the humiliating events of that night in the woods, I kept to myself for the rest of the trip. I hadn’t seen him again at all, until classes started a few weeks ago, and even then, we’ve mastered the art of avoiding each other as much as possible.

"Nice to see you too, Regan," Harper says with an amused wink. I find everything about him irritating, especially the way his voice casually drops when he softly pronounces my name. The worst thing is probably the smug smile on his face when it touches his amber eyes. It makes it close to impossible for me to look away.

Harper, sit down, my dad commands at once.

Yes, sir, he replies, the smile completely vanished from his face. For a split second, a look of turmoil comes over him, similar to the look he took to the camping trip, but it’s quickly replaced by an expressionless mask.

Have a cookie, sweetie, my mom tells Harper as she holds the plate in front of him. I give her a questioning look, demanding an answer to why she’s fraternizing with the enemy, but she doesn’t even acknowledge me. Instead, she pushes her shoulders back, rests a hand on my dad’s shoulder and speaks to us. As you may know by now, Harper’s dad is having some... she briefly pauses as she searches for the right words. Legal inconveniences, she finally manages.

"What kind of legal inconveniences?" my little brother asks, slightly dragging his speech as he repeats my mom’s complicated words. Being seven, it’s only normal he’s in the stage of asking questions.

Jamie, honey, don’t interrupt, my mom tells him in a sweet tone of voice.

But I want to know! You never tell me anything, he pushes.

Jamie—

He is going to jail, Harper’s voice comes out sharp and completely detached.

I look at him in awe, trying to decipher if this is another of his sad attempts at a joke, but the way he’s clenching his jaw and staring at the carpet speaks volumes. The tension emanating from his utterly still body is almost visible. When did this happen? And why is this the first time I’m hearing about this?

My mom clears her throat and brings me back to reality.

Now, you might be wondering what this meeting is actually about, and, well, your dad and I have some news. She stops talking and looks at my dad, letting him know it’s his time to do the honors.

Harper is moving in, the words explode out of my dad’s mouth like a deafening bomb.

What! Two seconds too late, I cover my mouth with my hand, and I’m mortified to find all sets of eyes fixed on me. This would be a perfect occasion for the earth to open up and swallow me whole.

Regan! my mom exclaims ashamed of my behavior. Don’t be rude. Plus, Harper is already practically part of the family anyways, she adds in a sweet tone, giving an aloof Harper a heartfelt smile.

Thank you, Mrs. Clark, the aforementioned says, raising his head with a sly smile. His expression, however, holds no humor.

Don’t mention it. Now, where were we?

Regan was being hostile, my so-called ‘brother’ Landon says.

"She’s probably in that time of the month," offers Eric, elbowing Landon as I feel a flood of shame wash over my face.

What time of the month? Jamie asks, bitten by curiosity.

I cover my flaming face with both hands as I press my eyes shut and silently wish to disappear. All the while, my older brothers continue to mock me, and Jamie demands answers.

Enough! my dad roars, bringing the room to utter silence with two deafening syllables. For a few moments, a suffocating silence hangs over us, only interrupted by Eric’s loud cookie-chewing. Then, my dad turns to my mom and clears his throat before softly saying, Continue.

Your father and I have been talking, and we agreed it would be good for me to take some time off of work and stay home for a few weeks, just to make sure everyone’s okay with the new living arrangements.

Something in her cautious tone and in the way she quickly averts her eyes when they meet mine makes me feel unsettled.

What living arrangements? I ask, fearing what’s to come. Since my twin brothers share a tiny room, it’s only logical to assume they made a decision that involves me and Jamie to some extent.

Well, we don’t have a spare room, so we figured you and Jamie could share for a while, and Harper could take Jamie’s room, my mom explains matter-of-factly.

No way, I refuse. I’ve never been possessive about much, but I’ve had my own room for my whole life. It’s the only place where I get to be alone and hide in this seemingly ever-growing male household. It’s the sanctuary where I hid most of the summer. I need that space. How can’t they see that?

Regan— my dad starts, but Harper cuts them off.

Mr. and Mrs. Clark, I appreciate everything you’re doing for me, but there’s no need for that, he says in a firm tone. He briefly looks in my direction, and what I find in his eyes confuses me. A look that makes my heart race in my chest; a mix of understanding and support that I never imagined I’d see in Harper again. I can sleep on the couch, honestly, he continues.

Finding myself at a loss of words, I turn to my parents instead. They exchange looks, and as they consider this, I hold my breath, knowing they’ll never go for that.

I can share with him, Jamie offers, and I sigh with relief when my parents nod in agreement. I have to refrain from pulling Jamie’s light body to my lap and kissing his forehead, cheeks and head out of gratitude.

Good luck keeping his mouth shut at night, Eric says under his breath, making Landon giggle, which grants them both an icy stare from Dad.

That’s very nice of you, Jamie, my mom says before glaring at me. I’m afraid tonight you’ll have to sleep on the couch though, Harper, she apologizes. Tomorrow we’ll go shopping for a proper bed, pillows, linen...

I can bring all of that from my house, Harper quickly says, clearly uncomfortable at the mention of money.

Yes, of course, I guess there’s still a lot to figure out, my dad says, brow narrowing as he thinks out loud.

So, how is this going to work? Are you adopting him? Eric asks.

He’s a bit old to be adopted, Landon tells him, hitting his arm.

"He’s Regan’s age. Sixteen is not that old," Eric counters.

Yes, it is. Are you getting emancipated? Because that would make you look bad-ass. Landon moves his eyebrows up and down incredibly fast.

While Eric and Landon continue their debate, I shoot a look at