Send Me a Sign

by Tiffany Schmidt

  Ryan gave Gyver a stiff nod.

  I launched myself into his hug. “How are you? It’s good to see you.” Stepping out of his arms was hard, but I’d stayed there a beat too long already. I released him but stood close, breathing in his familiar safety.

  Gyver picked up the conversation. “How was Connecticut? You cut your hair—it looks good.”

  “Are you blind? They destroyed her hair,” Hillary growled. Her flirty smile was gone.

  “I like it.” He smiled at me without acknowledging Hil. Lauren leaned forward in a way that showed too much of her lace bra and cleavage.

  “Thanks.” I meant it to sound casual, but my desperation and appreciation snuck into the word. Out of habit and fear, I nearly laced my fingers through his, then overreacted and jerked my hand away.

  “I like it too.” Ryan’s words and arms wrapped around me at the same time. He pulled me back into the booth, onto his lap. “Now that I’m used to it, I like it a lot.”

  Gyver’s eyebrows went up. I shrugged off Ryan’s arms so I could slide onto the bench beside him. Hil looked puzzled and annoyed. She’d always been dangerously observant. And opinionated.

  I moved down to create more room between Ryan and me. “It was good to see you, Gyver. I guess I’ll see you around.”

  The others gave halfhearted good-byes, but Gyver focused only on me. “Welcome back.”

  He was barely out of hearing when Hillary said, “I get that you guys were sandbox pals, but I don’t see why you still hang out with him.” Her eyes traced a blatant path between me, Gyver, and Ryan.

  “Why wouldn’t I? Am I supposed to reject him because he rejected you?” I challenged. Ally’s mouth was a perfect lip-glossed O and Lauren’s eyebrows were halfway up her forehead. “I mean, clearly he has bad taste, but he’s still my friend.”

  Hil smiled icily. “I only asked him out because you were always going on and on about him, but he’s such a loner.”

  “He’s not a loner, he’s here with …” I looked up to see who he was here with and the rest of the sentence died in my throat.

  The girl was wearing a light-green sundress. It was the type of thing I’d had to retire to the back of my closet because the straps would showcase my port and bony shoulders and the color would make my pale skin look gray. She, of course, looked adorable. She was smiling and saying something that made him laugh. She was leaning toward him. She was touching his arm.

  “Who is that?” asked Lauren.

  “Meagan something.” I barely knew her. I didn’t know Gyver did. Well enough to have lunch, just the two of them. Then again, I didn’t know how he’d spent his nights. Except for gigs and his work at the record store, we hadn’t talked about how he’d spent the nonhospital part of his summer or with whom he’d spent it.

  “She’s a no one,” Hil said, looking at me with concern. “No one, Mia.”

  I went into autopilot protective mode. Defending Gyver was what I did. “She’s in our AP classes. And he’s got his band and plenty of other friends—ask anyone who knows him and they’ll tell you he’s great.”

  Hil grinned and waved a dismissive hand. “But those classes are full of nerd types. I wasn’t counting them.”

  “Nerd types? Thanks, Hil.” I was probably being too defensive, and aggressively so, but after all he’d put up with this summer, I wasn’t going to shrug this off or let Hil use him to create drama with Ryan. And why was that girl eating one of Gyver’s fries? If she wanted some, she should’ve ordered her own.

  “Mia? Seriously? You know I’m kidding.” Hil reached across the table and poked my arm. I reluctantly looked away from Gyver and Meagan and at Hil’s confused expression. “Geez, one month away and you lose your sense of humor. As long as Mac ’n’ Cheese leaves me alone, I won’t bother him.”

  Lauren glanced across the diner. “What a waste. He’s OMG hot, don’t you think?”

  Ryan scoffed, “Did his shirt say pixies? Like, little fairy things?” He shifted his arm to the back of the booth and placed his hand on my shoulder.

  “We’re friends. I don’t think of him that way.” My voice was too loud. I was being too sensitive. I forced myself to shrug and added, “By the way, The Pixies is a band.”

  Ryan frowned. “What kind of band would name themselves after fairies?”

  “As fascinating as this conversation is, here comes our food,” Chris said.

  Hil poked me again. “Want my cucumber?”

  They were my favorite veggie, and she knew it. This was Hil’s version of a peace offering. I nodded and she dropped the slices on my plate, snagging a fry as she did so. I laughed and she did too.

  Ryan passed the ketchup across the booth to Chris, and I looked over their arms to Gyver’s table. He faced me and caught my gaze. Cocking an eyebrow in a look that was half-quizzical and half-comical, he watched for my reaction. I smiled and gave him a discreet nod; he smiled back and waited for me to look away.

  When I did, Hillary was watching me, her expression part puzzled and part intrigued.

  Chapter 10

  I tore into my sandwich, wanting this reunion lunch over.

  “Didn’t they feed you in Connecticut?” Lauren joked.

  I swallowed a sip of milkshake. “I haven’t eaten anything with a taste all month.”

  “Old-people food—yuck!” Hil dipped the tines of her fork in fat-free dressing and speared a piece of lettuce.

  “Help yourself to my fries too.” Lauren pushed her plate toward me. “The last thing my butt needs is an excuse to get bigger.”

  Chris looked up from his cheeseburger. “Your summer really blew. You had to live with old people, your hair got fried, you’re practically albino, and they didn’t feed you. Sucks to be you, huh?”

  “And she missed cheer camp!” Ally added.

  “But I’m back now,” I chimed in, twirling a finger in my necklace chain and maintaining my smile with an effort.

  “We’re not letting you out of our sight for the rest of the summer,” said Hil.

  “Tomorrow we’ll do a pool day. Magazines, drinks, and lots of gossip,” Ally soothed.

  “Sounds perfect,” I said. She described a typical day from any other summer.

  “We’ll catch you up on the choreography you missed at camp, so you’re not clueless during tryouts,” added Hil.

  “You can have her tomorrow, but she’s mine tonight.” Ryan stood and offered his hand. “Ready, Mia?”

  Ally gave a high-pitched squeak and smiled at Lauren. Chris groaned and rolled his eyes.

  Hillary stood up too. “Wait! What? I thought we’d sleep over my house tonight.”

  “Sorry. I made plans with Ryan.”

  “But you haven’t seen us in a month!” Hil glared at Ryan’s hand on mine. “I can’t think of a single reason you’d choose him over us.”

  I’d noticed her watching Ryan watch me and knew exactly what her emphasis referred to. “I promise I’ll see you first thing tomorrow.” My eyes pled with her to let it go.

  She did, with a reluctant, “If it wasn’t August and you weren’t Summer Girl …”

  “Relax, Hil. I go back to the shore tomorrow. It’s one night,” Ryan said.

  Chris grinned and leaned toward Hil. “I’ll sleep over.”

  Hil sneered, “You wish,” and hid her smile behind a sip of Diet Coke.

  I hugged them all. “It’s so good to see you guys. I can’t wait till tomorrow.”

  I followed Ryan across the restaurant, catching Gyver’s eye as I passed. He nodded once and I nodded back, fighting an urge to interrupt his lunch so I could hug him too. I’d gotten used to seeing him every day; it’d be hard to readjust to the small doses we saw of each other in normal life. I needed to remember I wasn’t usually the central person in his life, and he shouldn’t be in mine.

  Ryan was holding the door open for me. “Want one?” he asked, holding up one of the chocolate mint candies from the dish by the register.

  “Sure.”


  Lauren always had a handful of these in her purse. “Kissing mints,” she called them.

  Kissing was exactly what I needed right now. Kissing Ryan—whose fingers were warm and strong around mine when he passed me the green-and-brown mint. Whose smile was an invitation.

  I smiled back.

  Ryan led me directly to his bedroom door.

  “Am I allowed in here?” I asked.

  “My mom’s not home.” He stepped into the room. I’d avoided situations like this before—limiting Ryan to party and parking-lot kisses—but it seemed too late to turn back, so I followed.

  It was a shrine to sports: a collection of his trophies on shelves beside his bed, newspaper clippings tacked above his desk, his soccer jersey draped on a chair.

  I stumbled over a duffel bag. Ryan caught me and kicked it to the side. “Dirty laundry. Mom offered to do it before I head back.”

  I nodded and examined the photographs on his dresser. Some of the soccer team, more of the basketball team, and a couple of the two of us from prom and parties last spring. Comparing my face in the photos to the gaunt, pale one in his mirror was painful. I put them down—facedown.

  Ryan stepped behind me, kissed the back of my neck. I felt the afternoon’s tension melt, along with my resolve. “When are you coming home from the shore for good?”

  “Not until right before school.” Ryan resumed his kisses. My hair had never been this short, so he’d never had access to so much of my neck before. The feel of his lips almost convinced me to leave it bobbed.

  “Really? Not sooner?” My words were breathier than I expected.

  “I make extra pay if I work after the college kids go back. And double for working Labor Day weekend. I need the money—I’ve saved enough for my car, but there’s insurance and stuff. Wait till you see it. It’s worth it.”

  “Hmm.” I managed an almost word.

  “You’ll come visit, won’t you? I don’t want to wait another month to do this again.” Ryan tipped my face back toward him, leaned over my shoulder, and covered my lips with his. I relaxed into the kiss, luxuriated in it.

  I stopped relaxing when his hand began to drift down inside the collar of my shirt. Too close to my port, which hadn’t been there the last time his hand had.

  “Stop.” I pulled away.

  “What? Come on! We haven’t seen each other in a month. Haven’t you missed me?”

  “Of course.” I was tired and a little queasy. The greasy food wasn’t settling well.

  “Really?” He sat on the end of his bed.

  “Ryan, you’re the one with the commitment phobia. As for this”—I pointed to my shirt—“I’ve spent the past month living with old people. Give me a little while to catch up.”

  Ryan laughed. “You are a lesson in patience, Mia. I hope you know that.”

  I lay down next to him on the bed. “Just slow down a little. Tell me about your summer.”

  Ryan draped a hand across my stomach and started talking.

  We’d never had a conversation like this before. We’d talked, but not about things that mattered: how he didn’t like his mom’s new boyfriend or his older brother’s decision to stay at college all summer. It wasn’t why he’d brought me here, but it was nice.

  “Was it all bad at your grandparents’ house? I’m glad your grandfather’s doing better.” He picked up my hand and kissed the palm.

  I stroked his cheek, tracing the creases of his dimples as he smiled at me. “Thanks. I’m glad to be home. How’s your job? Is it Baywatch come to life?”

  “Hardly. For every hot girl there’s three old men and five moms with insane kids. When are you coming down to make my Baywatch dreams come true?”

  Each time he asked about me, I deflected. I relaxed under his stories and warmed under his fingers as they made slow circles on the skin below my belly button. Ever lower circles.

  Finally he ran out of stories and I’d run out of questions. He lowered his lips to mine and rolled toward me, keeping his hand where it was: dipped below the waistband of my shorts and just brushing the top of my underwear. “Is this okay?” He pulled his lips off mine enough to breathe the words.

  “Yes. So far.” As long as he kept his hands away from my port and out of my fragile hair, I could pass for a thinner, paler version of the girl from June. Except his words had flavored the kisses: I wasn’t hooking up with a hot guy from school; my lips were against Ryan’s, the boy who missed his older brother and dreamed of his own escape to college.

  His hand skimmed along the top of my shorts. It stopped at the button and unfastened it in a moment. He paused again—his pinky just edging down my fly—and looked in my eyes for confirmation. There was hesitation; he read it and moved his hand back up to my stomach.

  Was he as frustrated with me as I was with myself? I couldn’t figure out if I wanted him or wanted reassurance he still found me attractive. Was I hesitating because I wasn’t ready? Or because I didn’t want to reveal my illness? I needed a sign.

  My cell rang. I looked away from Ryan and saw it on his bedside table beside his alarm clock. It was 5:13, my lucky number combined with the unluckiest number. What did that mean?

  “It’s my mom,” I groaned and reached for the phone.

  “Let it go to voice mail. You’ll call her back.”

  “I can’t.” With the old me, that would’ve been fine. Now? She’d dispatch the police and an ambulance if I didn’t pick up. The thought of Gyver’s mother walking in motivated me to wiggle out from under Ryan and answer. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Are you okay? You sound out of breath.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “I want you home. Your dad read an article and he has me all freaked out about public places and germs. You’ve seen your friends. You can still see them tomorrow, but come home now so I can stop worrying.”

  “Okay.” I would’ve been more annoyed if I wasn’t so exhausted. I shut off the phone, slipped it in my pocket, and buttoned my shorts. “I’ve got to go.”

  He’d been watching me with heavy-lidded admiration, but his eyes blinked into sudden focus. “What?”

  “Sorry.”

  “You’ll come back over later though? After dinner?”

  He looked so confused. It hurt to disappoint him. “I can’t. I really can’t.”

  “When did your parents get strict?”

  “Long story.”

  “I liked it better when you had no curfew.” He sat up and reached for my hand, pulling me to stand in front of him.

  “Me too.” I gave him a quick kiss. “I’ll try and come see you at the beach. If you come home again, call me.”

  “Don’t get mad, but can I ask you something?”

  “Okay.” I tugged my hand, not quite wanting him to release it.

  Ryan stared at the floor. “If you don’t want to have sex with me, what are we doing?”

  “What?” The unexpected question had me flustered and blushing. “You think that’s the only the reason I’d be here with you? Is that the only reason you wanted me here?”

  “No.” He squeezed my hand but didn’t look up. “I like talking to you; you listen to me. And you’re smart and nice and hot. But I do want to sleep with you.”

  I tried not to melt from embarrassment. Why couldn’t I be confident about this stuff like Hil or tactless like Lauren? “Ryan, I like you. I’m just not ready for that.”

  “But you’ll be ready eventually, right?” His blue eyes met mine and I felt equal parts mortified and attracted.

  “I’ve got to go. We’ll talk soon.”

  He quirked an eyebrow at me—did he know how sexy that was? “Talk or … ?”

  He knew.

  “Talk,” I repeated. I leaned in and kissed him good-bye. The type of kiss he’d remember when he was in his lifeguard stand and a bikinied girl romped by. Then I pulled my hand free and ran for my car.

  Chapter 11

  Lauren was the first to arrive the next morning. Her red curls fought again
st her green headband as she struggled to carry the essentials: a bag of Twizzlers, sunblock, and stacks of magazines. “You’ve got Diet Coke, right?”

  “Yes.” Although I wasn’t allowed to drink it anymore—one of Mom’s new obsessions was making sure that everything that passed my lips was natural and organic.

  “Hil was getting out of the shower when I called and Ally was leaving to pick her up.” Lauren breezed through the kitchen, greeting my dad on her way to the pool. He was “working from home” today, which translated to “babysitting Mia.” Mom had left with Gyver’s dad for her first day back in the office. She’d called four times.

  I poured three sodas and a water and followed Lauren into the backyard. She turned the chaise longues to face the sun and stripped down to her bikini. “Aren’t you going to change? You’ve got to tell me what diet you’re on. I feel like an elephant next to you.”

  “You’re not! I’ll change in a bit.” Lauren would start to crisp in twenty minutes. I planned to point that out and we’d both move to the shade. She’d be thrilled to have company and I’d avoid bikini, port, and weight-loss exposure. She selected a magazine and handed me the stack. I’d read them all in the hospital. Thank you, Nurse Hollywood.

  It didn’t matter, because Lauren shut the magazine as soon as she opened it and turned to me with a confiding expression. “I really hated camp without you. Don’t tell Hil and Ally because they did their best to make me feel included, but they had all these captain meetings and I couldn’t go. I felt so lame and third wheelish.”

  “That sucks.”

  “They totally deserve to be captains—it’s not that—and I missed you the whole time you were gone, but especially then.”

  “Sorry.”

  “It wasn’t your fault. I’m sure you’d rather have been with us too.” She flipped her magazine open again.

  “Definitely.” I pulled my feet up on the chair and thought. Of the Calendar Girls, Lauren was the best listener. Ally was too easily distracted and Hil was too opinionated. Lauren wasn’t a Gyver give-advice type listener, but the kind you went to when you wanted someone to nod and agree.

  “Why are you staring at me?” she asked self-consciously.