Whenever I'm With You

by Lydia Sharp

  “Hunter helped. It’s going to cost me a full weekend of babysitting the next time he wants to get out of the house, but I would have done that anyway. I like this new version of him.”

  “It’s not really a new version,” Kai says. “He’s going back to his old self. Finally.”

  Hunter said the same thing about Kai when we were out snowboard shopping. Funny how we all went through the same experience and I feel like I’m even further from the person I was in SoCal now, but the Locklear twins are back to who they were before we met. Mostly.

  The front door opens and Hunter trots down the steps to the driveway, cell phone in hand. His thumb-tips tap the screen. “Hey, Kai,” he says without taking his eyes off the phone. “You’re up next. Mom needs help with the pies.”

  “I’ll be right back,” Kai tells me. “Pie emergency.”

  I tuck the snowboard back into the garage and then close the door. Hunter is still out on the steps, staring at his phone.

  “Something wrong?” I say.

  “I got a text. From Dakota.”

  “Oh.” It takes me a second for the name Dakota to ring a bell. “You mean your ex?”

  “Yeah. She wants to know how I am. It’s just weird, you know? I haven’t talked to her in almost a year. I don’t know what to say.”

  “I’m not a communications expert, but you could start with maybe telling her how you are?”

  “Actually, I was thinking of not replying. I don’t want to encourage her. I heard she’s single again. This isn’t just a ‘hey, how are you’ text. She’s baiting me.”

  So he still doesn’t want to get close to anyone. Okay. One step at a time. He’s not a total shut-in anymore. That’s a good start.

  “Do what you think you should,” I say. “Just remember, she’s not the only one out there wondering about you. I talked to Vicki this morning. She said to say hi.”

  He shoves his phone in a coat pocket. “How’s her new position at the lodge going?”

  “Why don’t you ask her yourself?” I leave him with that and head back into the house.

  The mantel has a new photograph added to it now, the selfie of me, Kai, Vicki, and Hunter that I printed off my phone. Also, there are two identical rock necklaces displayed in the center, each with Kai’s mom’s and dad’s initials.

  All the kids are at the table, wide-eyed, as Kai hands them each a slice of pie. Dad keeps them laughing between bites with stories about the post office. Who knew mail fails could be so entertaining? He volunteered to take a babysitting shift after work three times a week so Mrs. Locklear has regular breaks, and being around the kids has brought out a fun side of him I haven’t seen since I was little. He’s been in a better mood in general since I came home. He even helped me convince Mom to buy Jack an upgraded plane.

  Mom. I still haven’t called her. Emailing her for a favor doesn’t count. We need to talk.

  And it has to start with me. I’m not the same person I was four months ago—or even four weeks ago—the kind who expects other people to do the hard stuff for her. The kind of person who expects other people to change instead of changing herself. We’re all human, like Kai said, and that’s all we can be. Screwups are inevitable. It’s what we do in the aftermath that really matters, even if we don’t figure out what to do until months or years later. It has to start with me, or we’ll be in this standoff forever and I won’t ever have a mother again, of any kind.

  I kneel by the couch and give Diesel a good scrub between the ears, then cross the house into the kitchen and out the back door. The laughter and chatter from inside rings in my ears as they adjust to the outdoor silence. It’s peaceful out here, the only sounds coming from the rippling river and the light breeze rustling in the branches. The freshly fallen snow sparkles like a blanket of diamonds. I can’t remember why I used to hate it here so much. I still prefer to be warm, but the cold doesn’t bother me like it used to.

  Mom doesn’t answer her phone. She probably doesn’t have it on. I saw something on the news this morning, right before the Macy’s parade, that the Marietta Cruz is volunteering at a homeless shelter today by serving them Thanksgiving dinner. Newsworthy or not, it did make me think. I don’t know if she’s just doing it for publicity or if she’s genuinely trying to be less selfish now. Time will tell.

  Part of me is relieved that she’s too busy to answer her phone. The scared part, not the brave part. I had no idea what I would say to her; I just know I have to say something. Maybe I should start with a text, anyway. Get things started slowly, on the neutral ground of our wireless connection.

  The back door opens and shuts behind me. “Gabi,” Kai says.

  “I’ll be there in a sec.”

  “Look up.”

  “Hang on. I’m texting my mom.”

  “Really?” His footsteps shuffle through the snow, closer. “That’s great!”

  “Yeah,” I say, smiling. “I’m stuck, though. How do you strike up a conversation with someone after trying to disown them?”

  “Go with your gut, but keep it simple. It’s only the first step. You’ve got the rest of your life to build on it.”

  There’s a reason I met Kai, and in moments like this, I remember—it’s how well he understands things. How he knows just what to say at just the right time. Because he gets it—life, the world, secrets of the universe that escape most other people. He sighs and I wonder if he’s thinking of his dad, how he doesn’t have the same opportunity to fix things with him like I do with my mom.

  I start to turn to face him, but he threads his arms around me from behind and gently nudges my chin upward, forcing me to lean back on his chest and sink into his embrace. But that isn’t what takes my breath away. The sky is exploding with color. Purple, green, and yellow swirls against an inky black sky. The sun didn’t die. It just went backstage for a while so something else could have the spotlight.

  “The northern lights,” Kai says. “They aren’t always easy to see here, because of the city lights. I didn’t want you to miss them.”

  “Wow.” The word doesn’t do justice to the awe thrumming inside me. “It’s beautiful.”

  “You’ll be an Alaska girl yet.”

  Too late—I already am. And there’s still so much left for me to explore.

  “I was with my dad the first time I saw the lights, and he said they’re like a sunset, or a snowflake, never the same thing twice.” Kai breathes in deep and lets it out slowly, making me rise and fall with his chest. “I wish he could see these now. They’re perfect.”

  “Yeah. Perfect.” I snap a picture of Alaska’s newest gift to me and send it to my mom with a text. Wish you were here, Mami. It’s gonna be a bright winter.

  My eternal gratitude goes to the following people, some for making this particular book possible and others for supporting me as readers and friends:

  Laura Bradford, my agent, aka Superwoman; Emily Seife, my editor, and everyone else at Scholastic Press; Kelly Said, my critique partner, and everyone else who has ever helped me improve my stories; Stacy Cantor Abrams and everyone else in my second family at Entangled Publishing; everyone in my other second family at Kohl’s; everyone in my first family, either through blood relation or marriage; the YA author community; and the YA book reviewer community.

  You, the person reading this, whoever and wherever you are, thank you.

  And last but by no means least, my husband and son, to whom this book is dedicated. Only they know just how much of my “blood, sweat, and tears” went into working on this story, because only they are the ones with me every day, tirelessly supporting me, encouraging me, never giving up on me, and for that I am forever indebted to them.

  Lydia Sharp worked a number of different jobs, everything from retail management to veterinary medicine, before turning her passion for stories into a career. She is now an editor for Entangled Publishing and writes young adult novels with lots of kissing and adventures. Whenever I’m with You is her debut, and she lives in Ohio wit
h her husband and son. When not completely immersed in a book, Lydia binges on Netflix, pines for fall, and hosts mad tea parties in Wonderland. For details about her books and more, visit lydiasharpbooks.com.

  Copyright © 2017 by Lydia Sharp

  All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Press, an imprint of Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC, SCHOLASTIC PRESS, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data available

  First edition, January 2017

  Cover design by Yaffa Jaskoll

  Cover photographs by Michael Frost, © 2017 Scholastic Inc.

  e-ISBN 978-1-338-04750-9

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.