by Julie Cross
“All right.” Leo claps his hands together. “Let’s get the princess and take off.”
“Let me do the honor.” Jamie moves beside Haley. “She’s so cute when you wake her up.”
He shakes her shoulder and leans down to whisper something to Haley. With her eyes still closed, she lifts a hand and shoves his face back. “Fuck off.”
I crack a smile, but then my protective side kicks in. I step around Jamie and scoop up Haley, turning both of us toward the door. She’s surprisingly heavier in this ragdoll, sound-asleep state.
Paco and Henrietta are at the door; both move to hold it open for me. “We goin’ out, Scott?” Paco asks.
I roll my eyes in Braden’s direction. “Apparently there’s a campout in my backyard.”
“A campout?” Paco wrinkles his nose. “Like Boy Scouts?”
Jamie elbows me in the side. “Dude, she’s invited, right?”
He’s eyefucking Henrietta. I look right at her and grin, but lean in to whisper to Jamie. “Just be careful. She bites.”
…
“What about beer?” Leo says, tossing another log onto Grandpa Scott’s expertly built bonfire. “Doesn’t that have wheat?”
“Only if it’s wheat beer,” Braden answers before I can.
Thanks to Grandpa confiscating all the offensive snacks the guys brought over as a hospitable gesture, my allergies have become the hot topic of discussion.
But maybe it’s not as bad as I think. Leo is taking off for Michigan U in a couple weeks, and Jamie’s leaving for college soon, too. Assuming he passes Civics. And when we’re not talking about my personal shit, I kind of like hanging with Jamie and Leo.
“Well that’s fucking good.” Jamie knocks back the tail-end of his can of beer. “’Cause if you couldn’t drink beer…”
“I don’t drink beer,” I say with a long sigh. Not wanting to explain how beer has gluten, and gluten won’t kill me, but it does bother me.
“He’s a hard-liquor guy,” Braden says.
“Didn’t know you still had all that shit going on,” Jamie says. “Thought it was just the breathing thing…asthma. Keep forgetting that word.”
I glance at the house, wondering if Haley is enjoying her spot in my bed. I’d like to be in there right now. Not with her. Okay, maybe with her?
God, I don’t know anymore.
I stand up and brush the grass off my shorts. “After someone from school tried to kill me, I decided being the allergy kid wasn’t in my best interest.”
This is what happens when you tell people in Juniper Falls your secrets. Not only do they tell everyone, but they use it against you, too.
It was my half birthday in third grade—summer birthday kids always got to bring treats on their half birthdays. My mom baked Fletcher Allergy-Approved cupcakes for the occasion, and we passed them out in such a rush at the end of the school day that I didn’t get a chance to eat mine. Mrs. Lewis, my teacher, gave me special permission to eat on the bus—usually food wasn’t allowed.
I sat in my seat and opened the container, pulling out a sprinkled cupcake. The tiny crushed nuts someone—we still don’t know who did this—had added blended in well enough with the nondairy sprinkles my mom had special ordered for the occasion to fool me. But a couple seconds after my first bite, I was in full-blown panic mode. Much of the minutes that followed are either a blur or completely blank. I remember hearing laughter from the back of the bus briefly, but then screaming and crying followed. I think the bus driver nearly crashed getting the vehicle to a stop, and that probably freaked everyone out. Then she broke the only EpiPen we had before being able to use it. My throat was so closed up, the paramedics had to cut a hole in my neck to get air in. I still have a scar from the incision.
“Someone tried to kill you in elementary school?” Leo says, pulling himself upright again.
“Oh yeah, I remember that.” Jamie holds up his empty beer can. “I was on the bus that day.”
I spin slowly to face him. “You rode my bus?”
Jamie nods and lifts his empty can higher. I don’t move to get him another, though I was planning on doing just that seconds ago. “Do you know who did it?”
Jamie studies me like he can’t decide if it’s a serious question. “What if I do?”
“Who was it?” I demand.
“Okay, raise your hand if you’re confused,” Paco says, his arm shooting up. He’s laughing, probably to lighten the tone—which has abruptly shifted to ice-cold.
Henrietta lifts a hand in the air. I glance at her for a split second then stare at Jamie again. “Was it you?”
Jamie tosses his can into the fire and sits up straighter, all amusement gone from his face. “What are you gonna do, Scott? Go kick someone’s ass for stupid shit they did when they were nine or ten or whatever?”
I squeeze my fists at my sides. “Maybe.”
“Then I’m not fucking telling you anything.” Jamie stands up and walks away from me, toward the cooler of beer Paco brought with him. “You cool your shit down, and we can talk about it like fucking adults.” He looks over his shoulder and grins. “Well, not fucking adults—like the verb.”
Leo shakes his head. “Dude, that joke is getting old.”
I’m about to take off, go for a ten-mile run to cool down, but I’m distracted by Grandpa butting into the conversation. He’s got an ax, and he’s been busy several feet away from the fire pit chopping wood.
“I bet it was a hockey player,” Grandpa says. “I’ve always thought that. The way we treat you boys around here…we’re grooming devils.”
“So, what you’re saying is,” Leo presses, “your grandson is the devil?”
“Oh no,” Grandpa says. “My boy is an angel compared to you lot. But he barely made varsity, so he’s not been ruined yet.”
“Thanks, Gramps.” I shake my head and turn to Leo, who looks confused as hell. “He played football for JFH. So did my dad and—”
“Me,” Braden adds. “But I’m not a complete hockey cynic. I’d have played if I could skate like Fletch.”
Grandpa points an ax at Leo. “You boys are always into trouble. I don’t hear nothin’ about the football players stirring up trouble.”
“Wait, there’s a football team at JFH?” Jamie jokes, returning to his seat around the fire.
I’m still watching Jamie carefully, trying to decide if he really knows who nearly killed me on that bus years ago. In my head, I’ve always imagined that person grew up to be a giant prick who could probably use some ass kicking. I mean, what else would someone who could do something like that grow up to become?
“What was that big ordeal last winter, over at O’Connor’s?” Grandpa asks. “As I recall, one of the hockey boys—that Tanley kid—beat the shit out of someone out back and got off without even taking a trip down to the station. Is that what you consider an evening out on the town? Fightin’ and gettin’ the sheriff involved?”
That drama happened last February during the sections tournament leading to state finals. I hadn’t been moved up to varsity at the time of that incident, so I’m not exactly sure what happened. Now I’m rooted to my spot, waiting for Leo’s or Jamie’s comeback. They don’t really have to defend the Otters anymore, so I’m expecting them to laugh it off or joke about it.
“It wasn’t a fucking hockey-team brawl at the bar, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Leo snaps at Grandpa.
“If it walks like a chicken and bawks like one…” Grandpa says.
“You’re not even close to the truth.” Leo glares at Grandpa and then stands up. He walks toward the lake, his phone emerging from his pocket.
Grandpa opens his mouth to call Leo back—Gramps can be a pain in the ass to argue with, but he means well—but Leo is busy on the phone.
“It’s a sore subject for him.” Jamie sighs. “For me, too.”
“So, what happened?” Paco and Henrietta both ask. They’ve been so quiet watching us like a reality-TV show, I almost forgot t
hey were here.
“Claire O’Connor went out back to the dumpsters,” Jamie says, his eyes on the fire. “I guess she was gone for too long, so Tanley and Leo went looking for her. Some crazy fisherman had her up against the dumpster, his hand over her mouth. Leo and Tate came after him, Claire took off, and then Tanley beat the shit out of him.”
I move toward the fire and take my seat on the log. “And Claire…was she hurt? Did anything…”
Jamie shakes his head. “She was fine. But Tate…I mean, you should have seen him after. I didn’t think he’d ever snap out of it. Scared the shit out of me. Leo, too.” Jamie throws some blades of grass into the fire, causing it to rise up and glow brighter.
“You know who was the real savior that night?” Jamie says when Leo returns from his phone call. “Fucking Haley.”
“Yep,” Leo agrees. “It takes a lot of pride-swallowing to be the one to comfort your ex’s new girlfriend.”
Both of them stare at me, so of course Henrietta and Paco do the same. I lift my hands up. “What?”
Jamie narrows his eyes at me. “Are you fucking with Haley’s head?”
“We are definitely not down with that,” Leo adds.
This whole situation has taken a turn for the worse. I didn’t ask to be in this spot. “Haley’s pretty good at fucking with her own head.”
The words fall out of my mouth without much thought, but after, I brace myself for a potential Jamie/Leo beating. They both stare me down, but finally Jamie says, “Yeah. True.”
I silently release a breath and glance at Paco. His eyes are wide, and he gives a little shake of his head like he’s telling me I’m nuts. I probably am.
“She’s also not so bad to be around,” I admit, earning a bit of a glare from Henrietta, though I’m not sure why; she and I are not a thing. Both Jamie and Leo have quirked an eyebrow, waiting for something, so I add, “And you guys aren’t too bad to hang around, either.”
“’Course we’re not,” Jamie says. “And Haley’s not too hard to look at, right?”
There’s no point in lying. I look him straight in the eyes. “Definitely not.”
“All right, I’m here. Now where the hell is here?” a voice says from behind me.
I turn around to see who else I’m gonna have to deal with tonight. I’m greeted with the snide and arrogant face of Kennedy Locust, future senior class president.
Kennedy points a finger at Braden. “You? This is your house?”
Braden rolls his eyes. “I’m really beginning to regret the crime I committed years ago that forced me into coaching peewee football.”
“Another peewee player?” I guess. Might be nice to focus on Braden a little and less on me and Haley.
Kennedy folds his arms over his chest. “Player is a bit of a stretch, considering I was benched 90 percent of the time.”
Jamie falls off his log from laughing so hard. “Oh man, talk about harsh. Benching the gay, nerdy, unathletic kid in peewee football. Did the moms all riot against you?”
Even I’m surprised by this revelation, but if I know my brother—
“That’s right.” Braden stands and throws his own can into the fire, signaling that he’s done. I’m shocked he stayed up this late. “I’m the ass that ruined your football career. Sorry about that.”
Grandpa waves a finger at Kennedy. “I know you. That little punk who made those other kids quit. What’d you say to them, anyway?”
Kennedy shrugs. “It’s not my problem that they were all emotionally weak and couldn’t handle a little teasing. Considering Fletcher’s years of hiding out, I guess your whole family was a little sensitive to the issue, though. I should have realized—”
I’m not even a bit bothered by Kennedy Locust pressing buttons—it’s what he does best—but apparently Jamie is. One second he’s rolling on the ground laughing, the next, he’s got his hands around Kennedy’s shirt and is lifting him off the ground.
“God, this is so fascinating,” Paco says. “Homeschooling can never compare.”
Paco is one of the few coworkers who I know from when I was a kid. My mom joined a homeschool group that combined our entire county, which includes Longmeadow. Like me, Paco suffered teasing a bit in school—apparently, he was extremely flamboyant in his youth—but he’s completely different now. Also a product of Grandma Scott’s dance lessons.
“Enough.” Leo cuts in between Jamie and Kennedy, prying them apart.
Jamie is fuming. “Dude, I’m at my limit.”
“Okay, okay,” Leo says.
“I’m just sayin’…” Jamie looks over at Braden and Grandpa. “Where’d you say those tents are hiding?”
Grandpa tells him where to look, and before Jamie takes off, he adds, “Hey, thanks for clearing up that story about the hockey team and the bar fight.”
Jamie gives him a beer salute. “It’s what I’m here for.” He looks over at Paco and spreads his arms out wide. “Paco, my man! Sleeping buddies, what do ya say?”
I turn around quickly to avoid Jamie seeing me laugh. While everyone is setting up tents on our property—Leo and Kennedy kept at a safe distance from Jamie—Grandpa hands me his ax.
“Got any of that rage left in you, take it out on the wood. My stock is depleted.”
I stare at the ax, and I’m already picturing myself taking a swing—this is how we deal with misplaced anger in my family. And town gossip, if I’m being honest, because that almost always seems to be the source of anger in my family. Grandpa taught me wood chopping. Dad and Braden taught me boxing. And Grandma taught me Latin dances. So far, Grandma’s skill is the only one with capital gains.
He gives my shoulder a squeeze. “You dig all the money out of your pants already?”
“Yeah.” I laugh. “Making Grandma proud, huh?”
“Hey, you damn sure are,” he snaps. “You’re doing exactly what she told you—making women feel special and powerful. That’s something. Look at all those girls your brother coached at football back in the day—like Haley. And all the little girls on the hockey teams, how many of them are playin’ in high school? None,” he says. “We’re doing that. We’re doing something around here that makes them think they can’t keep up with the boys. You’re giving them the power back.”
I scratch my head. I don’t really feel like I’ve done any of that, unless letting Haley kiss me while I kept my hands on the table counts as relinquishing power. God, that was fucking awesome.
“Look at you, Grandpa.” Henrietta comes sidling up behind me. “Leading a feminist rally.”
“Well someone ought to,” he says, and then before Henrietta can get her arms around me, he tugs her away. “He’s just a boy. He can’t handle you.”
I laugh, because even though I’ve been there, done that, Grandpa is sort of right. He takes Henrietta into the garage and gives her all the best sleeping gear—inflatable air pad, sleeping bag, and camp pillows.
I head inside, sneaking through my room quietly. I still have my contacts in, and my eyes are starting to burn. After I’ve got my glasses on again, I take a minute to stare at Haley asleep in my bed. I have the tiniest urge to crawl in there with her. I mean, what would it feel like to fall asleep with all of her wrapped around all of me? Maybe I wouldn’t even be able to sleep. Maybe she kicks and I’d get nailed in the nuts. The only person I’ve ever shared a bed with before is Braden, when we’ve been out of town somewhere and stayed in a hotel. I search my memories and can’t even come up with one time I saw my own parents in bed together sleeping.
I glance at the clock beside the bed—it’s nearly five in the morning. An idea forms in my head, and seconds later, I’m shaking Haley, waking her up.
Chapter Twenty-Four
–Haley–
“Haley? Wake up,” I hear Fletch say. I’m half convinced it’s a dream, but then I notice the unfamiliar scent around me, that the covers aren’t mine, either.
I bolt upright, my eyes bouncing around the mostly dark and spotless bedroo
m. “Oh God, my parents—” I pause, allowing my brain to catch up, “…are bird watching.”
Fletch tosses back the covers, exposing my legs. “Come on, I want you to see something.”
He’s back to regular Fletch, with his glasses and gym shorts. I hop out of his bed and start opening dresser drawers. “What are you doing?” he asks.
“I need something else to wear besides this dress.” I spot his grammar-correcting T-shirt folded neatly in a drawer and snatch it up. I find a pair of sweatpants in a drawer below the T-shirts—luckily with cinched bottoms—and Fletch watches with amazement as I manage to put both the shirt and pants on before wiggling out of my dress. I’m talented like that. Thanks to long bus rides with the hockey or basketball team, combined with a strong desire to get out of my cheer uniform. I toss my dress on the floor and dig through my purse until my fingers land on the travel toothbrush. Fletch goes behind me, remaking his bed, snatching my dress off the floor and folding it, picking up bits of paper and tissue that fell out of my messy purse. No wonder his room is so clean.
I wiggle the toothbrush in front of his face and grin. “Just in case I decide to kiss you again. You never know.”
He rolls his eyes and points to the bathroom door. After I’ve finished—and Fletch has wiped the sink down—we walk out into the backyard, me with a thick blanket I stole from the couch wrapped around my shoulders. Several tents are scattered across the yard, the glow of flashlights and laughter emerging from each one. There’s a fire going in the fire pit. Seems like I missed a lot tonight.
“How many people are here?” I ask, following Fletch over to the barn.
“I don’t know. Too many.” He takes the blanket from me and wraps it around his neck before nudging me toward the grooves I used last week to climb onto the roof. “Go on, I’ll be right behind you.”
I make the climb quickly despite my half-asleep state, and when Fletch sits beside me, he wraps the blanket around my shoulders again. “You want to share?”