by Laura Miller
“And that’s it,” I say, releasing the pole to her keeping.
“I just hold onto it?” she asks.
I nod my head and point to the little red and white bobber in the water. “Until that bobber out there starts movin’ or you feel a tug.”
“Then what do I do?”
“You wait a second. Then you give it a good tug, to make sure the fish has got the hook.”
She looks so serious all of a sudden—as if she’s really memorizing every step. And for the first time, I realize serious looks pretty darn cute on her. I smile under my breath and stretch out my legs in front of me. Amy’s quiet again, and my eyes are stuck on my bobber restin’ on the water.
“You ever think about what you’d miss?” I don’t even know why I ask it. Maybe I’m just curious. Maybe fishin’ makes me think back every now and then.
I feel her hot gaze on me. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, when you die. What do you think you’d miss about life?”
She doesn’t say anything, so I take my eyes off the bobber to look her way. She’s wearin’ a funny face now—as if she’s suspicious of my question or me or somethin’.
“River, I don’t think you’re supposed to think about things like that.”
I keep my eyes on her for another second before droppin’ my gaze completely. “Yeah,” I agree, noddin’ slowly. “Probably not.”
We’re both quiet again, and my attention gradually returns to that bobber floatin’ out there on the water. “But all the same, I think I’d miss fishin’.” Grandpa was right when he said it calms the nerves.
I don’t look at her, but I can tell she’s lookin’ at me.
“River, let’s talk about something happy.”
At last, I allow my eyes to shift from the bobber back to her. “Okay,” I simply say. She looks confused and almost sad. I don’t tell her that thinkin’ about what I’d miss actually does make me happy or that it makes me want to live. And I sure as hell don’t tell her I learned that lesson from a girl—I used to know.
Chapter Twenty-One
Keep ‘Em In Your Head
“So, you and Amy are a thing now, huh?”
“Where’d you here that?”
“Grant,” Tim says.
I twist the cap off the bottle in my hand. “Uh...yeah, I guess,” I say, even though playin’ it back, it kind of sounds as if it’s a question.
“Well, are you or aren’t you?” he asks.
I nod my head. “Yeah, we are.”
“She’s hot,” he says, fiddlin’ with the bill of his cap.
I give him a serious look. “Watch it.”
“What? I’m just sayin’ what we’re all thinkin’.”
“Yeah, watch what you’re thinkin’ then.”
I watch him pick up a rock and skip it across the pond. Tim has always been good at skippin’ rocks. He could skip a rock across a football field if he wanted to.
“Is it weird?” he asks.
I take a swig, set my bottle down and cast my line out onto the pond. “Is what weird?”
“I don’t know—likin’ two people at the same time?”
“What?” I ask. I think my face matches the shape of a question mark.
“Well, you like Brooke and you like Amy.”
I just chew on his words for a second before shakin’ my head. “It’s not like that.”
“What do mean?” he asks.
“I mean it’s never gonna happen with Brooke, so I don’t think of her that way anymore.”
He shoots me a disbelieving look. Hell, I know it’s a lie, but maybe if I tell myself it enough, I’ll believe it someday.
He picks up another rock and goes to skip it but then stops. “You stop lookin’ for her?”
I force out a sigh. I came here to relax. Now, I’ve got Dr. Phil grillin’ me all of a sudden.
“I don’t know... I think I just figured she stopped lookin’ for me.”
He studies me for a second longer, then winds his arm back and sends the rock jumpin’ onto the pond. It skips four times and then sinks.
“I liked her,” he says.
My eyes dart to his.
“I mean, she was cool,” he goes on. “Kind of scary—with those eyes and all, but she was cool. And hotter than hell...”
“Thoughts—Keep ‘em in your head,” I warn him sternly.
He starts to crack a smile, and I just shake my head and try to hold back my own smile. “Yeah, well, Amy’s pretty cool too,” I say.
I catch him noddin’ his head. “Yeah,” he agrees, halfheartedly. I don’t really have the patience to ask him why he doesn’t like Amy as much as he liked Brooke, but I have a feelin’ I’m gonna find out anyway as I watch his face turn into a mess of wrinkles and thoughts.
“There was just somethin’ about her...and you.”
“What do you mean me?” I ask.
“I don’t know. It was only a couple months, but I could hardly stand you those months. You were just so damn happy.”
“Okay, Dr. Phil, I’m cuttin’ you off.”
“What? I’m just sayin’,” he whines.
“What? I’m not happy now?” I ask. I already know the answer to that. I am happy—just not that kind of happy.
Tim shrugs his shoulders. “It was just different, I guess.” He looks over at me. “Amy’s pretty cool too, though.”
“Yeah,” I say, noddin’. “She is.”
And then we both return our eyes to the water and neither of us says another word about Amy or Brooke or anything, for that matter. We just sit there and fish and keep our thoughts to ourselves—just like Grandpa taught us to do.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Three Years Later
Senior Year of High School
“River, my dress is purple, so you need to get a purple bow tie to go with your tux.”
I suck in a lazy breath and then audibly force it out. I’m scared to ask her if she’s really sure this time. She’s gone back and forth between dress colors at least a half dozen times now. I keep an eye on her, just in case—just in case she changes her mind again. But she just stares back at me, not even battin’ an eye. I guess purple it is.
There’s a lot that goes into this whole prom thing. I thought just havin’ a date was all you needed. Now, I’ve got to make sure I’m dressed like freakin’ Barney. And I suppose if I had wanted to avoid the bullshit altogether, I could have went stag to prom. I could have followed Grant and told Amy I’m wearin’ jeans and a tuxedo tee shirt. That would have done it. That would have made me dateless real fast. Grant says his jeans and tee shirt are his way of “defying tradition.” But the hell with tradition, I just don’t want to end up lookin’ like some damn purple dinosaur. But I guess there’s no turnin’ the clock back now. Somehow, I’ve got to make Barney look good, among other things.
Amy’s already told me I’ve got to make dinner reservations and meet her and her friends somewhere beforehand to take pictures for God only knows what. It’s not like we’re gettin’ married. What in the hell do we need pictures for? Hell, Amy’s had this thing so planned out since sophomore year that I never even got the chance to ask her to the damn thing. All of a sudden, she just came to me with a picture of her dress—well, one of the half dozen choices, anyway—and said how “cute” we’re gonna look together. After that, I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do, so I just ended up never askin’ her. But I guess that’s how it’s been with Amy and me. We’ve been together ever since that day she asked me to the movies with her brother and his girlfriend. Or maybe it was the day I told her I’d walk with her to class our very first day of high school. I don’t even know for sure. We were voted cutest couple in last year’s yearbook. Amy was excited. I was too, I guess. It’s not like I’m gonna get Most Likely to Succeed or Class Clown or anything like that. I’m pretty sure those will go to Jana Winstead, the valedictorian and the one who’s bound to cure cancer someday, and Cory Hall, who’s just about the opposite
of Jana Winstead and who just recently put the high school up for sale on Craigslist as a senior prank. He even threw the freshmen in for free. Principal Teddy—yes, like a teddy bear—was alerted of the sale, and Cory was immediately forced to take the listing down and then sent straight to Teddy’s office. But when Ol’ Teddy asked Cory why he had only asked $32.54 for the whole school, Cory sat up straight and calmly said that it would cover the cost plus tax.
“Of what?” Teddy asked.
“Of the chair in the detention room I wore out these last four years. I mean, there’s springs comin’ out of it and whatnot.”
The story goes that Principal Teddy laughed so hard he was snortin’. Needless to say, Cory got off scot-free, and most would say, rightfully so. But anyway, back to my point: Amy was excited about the recognition in the yearbook, so I was too.
Me and Amy are kind of like peanut butter and jelly, I guess you could say. We’re different. But we work pretty well together, I guess. She likes things a certain way, while I don’t mind jumpin’ in with all my clothes on every now and then. Amy’s pretty much got a set way of thinkin’. And I guess I did too, originally. Maybe that’s why I get her. I grew up thinkin’ that A leads to B, and there’s only one way to get there. I thought that because I just assumed that’s what everyone around me thought. That’s how I was taught anyway. There’s one road to town. The creek runs one way. The birds fly south in the winter and north in the summer—every summer. There’s a certain rhythm to life. You take what’s set out in front of ya. You eat the food—burnt or not. And I used to think that’s just how it was. But my grandpa changed that about me. All those years of keepin’ his thoughts to himself, and it was in his last days that I saw him in a different light. I guess I figured that if my straight-laced grandpa could be a dreamer, I could too. And of course there was somebody else during that time who helped me to see the world a little differently too. But I guess that was years ago and yesterday, and either way, it’s old news now.
“River!”
I look over at Amy. She’s starin’ at me like she’s just about to lose her patience.
“I’ve been calling your name.”
“Sorry,” I say, tryin’ to shake off my thoughts.
She sucks in a big breath of air and then forces it out slowly. “It’s okay.” She smiles and sets a magazine full of tuxes on the front cover down in front of her. “I found your tux. You’re going to look so hot in it. Every girl who isn’t already jealous of me will be come prom.”
I smile and nod away her comment. She says it to make me feel good. And it works. But it’s also gonna make me blush if I’m not too careful.
“It’s going to be so perfect,” she adds.
I nod again. I just want her to be happy. And if wearin’ a tux makes everything perfect and her happy, I’ll wear the darn tux—and the purple bow tie.
“You’re so freakin’ sexy, you know?” She smiles that devilish grin I love and squeezes my bicep at the same time.
“I’m just tryin’ to keep up with you, babe,” I say, eyin’ her sweet red lips. There’s somethin’ about seein’ that color on her that drives me wild. I force back the thought that it reminds me of Brooke’s envelopes. I’m well aware that thought doesn’t belong anywhere near the thought of Amy’s lips.
“I love you,” she says, givin’ me a peck on the lips before she takes off down the hallway.
I grab at her, but I only end up gettin’ air. “Hey, where are you goin’?” I ask.
“Carrie’s. We’re planning the after-party.”
She turns, and I’m left noddin’ my head again, actin’ as if I understand that there’s somethin’ more important than some extra time with her right now. I guess if I’m lucky, she’ll schedule some time for me to actually hang out with her come prom day.
I let out a sigh and notice a freshman girl starin’ at me from across the cafeteria. She smiles when she notices me notice her, and then she quickly disappears into the hallway. Girls are somethin’ else. I don’t remember the first time around bein’ so complicated. Maybe the older you get, the more complicated they get. Who knows?
I pick up my books from the table and march off to my locker. There’s only five minutes left of school. It’s funny how you get a month out from graduation and no one gives a shit where you are in the building anymore.
I get to my locker and shove the books inside. I’ve got baseball practice as soon as the bell rings, so I grab my duffle bag and head for the fields just as a faint smile is crossin’ my face. Two hours of practice means two hours where I don’t have to hear a darn thing about bow ties, tuxes or proms.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Where Do You Always Go?
“River.”
I look up from re-lacin’ my baseball glove.
“I think when we go to college, we should see other people.”
I just stare at her, while her words sink in, one by one. “What?” Maybe I heard her wrong.
“I just think it’s for the best. We’ll be hours apart, and we’ll be meeting new people and...” She stops and seems to gnaw on her next words for a few too many seconds before she tosses them out. “And we’ve only dated each other. Don’t you think we need to see what else is out there?”
What the hell? I know I’ve got a look on my face like someone has just punched me in the stomach, and I guess someone has—Amy.
“What? What do you mean for the best? Amy, what in the hell are you talkin’ about?”
“Well, I’ve been thinking about college a lot and being on my own and really starting life, you know? It just seems kind of overwhelming right now to have to try to keep a long-distance relationship, you know?”
What? No. No, I don’t know. I don’t know what it’s like to have the opportunity to have a long-distance relationship with the advantage of cell phones and the Internet and every other damn thing that can keep you together these days.
“River?”
I look up at her. She’s starin’ at me, and for a second, I wonder how long she’s been starin’.
“River, where did you just go? Where do you always go?”
I don’t say anything. I’m still tryin’ to wrap my head around everything she’s said.
“I don’t understand you sometimes,” she goes on before I can say anything. “It’s like your mind is always somewhere else.”
I pull in my bottom lip and hold it there with my front teeth. My wandering mind has never bothered her before—not when I’d use it to escape while she shopped for hours or when we had dinner with her friends, who didn’t seem to notice I was there after a while.
“How long have you been thinkin’ about this?” I ask.
“Just for the last couple weeks.”
“Weeks?”
All of a sudden, she’s face to face with me, and she’s got her hands wrapped around the hand not holdin’ the baseball glove. “River, I love you. You’re sexy and sweet, and you’ve got these huge baseball-player muscles.” She squeezes my bicep and smiles. “And we’re probably going to spend the rest of our lives together. True love has a habit of coming back, you know?”
I look into her sea blue eyes. I could have sworn she just broke up with me. Now, she’s talkin’ about true love. And no, I don’t know about that either. I don’t know anything about true love or its habit of comin’ back.
“But I just need some me time,” she finishes.
“Me time?” I repeat.
She bobs her blond head once and gives me that puppy-dog, pouty look she likes to give me when she wants somethin’. It usually works on me, but this time, I haven’t got a damn clue as to what she’s actually askin’ for. Is this a breakup or a marriage proposal?
I drop the glove and rub my eyes before I catch her pouty face again. “So, you’re tellin’ me you want to date other people when we go off to college...and then you want to get back together...and spend the rest of our lives...together?”
She squishes her face up a little bit mo
re. “Well, we don’t have to date other people.”
“So no dating other people?”
She shakes her head once. “No, not necessarily. I mean, I’m not asking you to wait for me either.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “But you are?” I say.
I watch her shoulders lift a little before I suck in some air and then force it right back out again. Then I take my hand from hers, prop my elbows on my knees and cradle my face in my hands. My heart is stabbin’ me in my chest, but the funny thing is that I think my heart forgot to tell my brain that there’s a problem. I’m surprisingly calm. I sit up and collect my glove again.
“Amy, what’s goin’ on?” I know her too well. New things make her nervous—make her want to drop everything, until she can get a good grasp on what’s goin’ on. That and the darn girl never knows what she wants. Whether it’s the purple dress or the blue dress, chocolate or toffee, long hair or short hair, she’s always second-guessin’ herself.
She sighs, and then her eyes catch on mine. “I’ve never been anywhere but here. I’ve never experienced anything but corn fields and small-town gossip and homecoming carnivals. I want to experience something new—like really experience it.”
“And you can’t do that with me?” I ask.
Her lips turn downward. I already know the answer to that. And is it crazy that I understand? This all might sound ridiculous to someone else, but I understand what it’s like to want an adventure. And I got my adventure once. I shouldn’t hold her back on hers. I want to be big about this, but I’d be lyin’ if I said this doesn’t hurt. I’d be lyin’ if I said this wasn’t a huge punch to the gut.
I look down at the floor and then back up at her. “Me time?” I ask her.
She just nods, but now her face has turned a little sad.
“Okay,” I say, raking my fingers through my hair. “Whatever you want.”