“No way. We’d get in ankle deep and change our minds like we did at the ocean. And that cannot happen.”
After Cloudy and I left my old house earlier, we wandered Uptown Sedona and bought a necklace for Hannah’s birthday, as well as cactus-print beach towels and clearance swimsuits from a sidewalk sale. Now we’re at Slide Rock State Park because Cloudy insists she can’t miss the natural waterslides Matty talked up.
The red-rock formations at Slide Rock follow the length of the creek on both sides. During spring through fall, they’re covered with picnickers and people wanting to cool off, but it’s only us here now. I spotted tourists heading through trees to the hiking trails when we arrived, but absolutely no one is in the water like we’re about to be.
“Matty’s only come here when it was, like, ninety degrees outside,” I say. “Not sixty-five. Even then, he said this water was—”
She lifts her shirt over her head and drops it onto one of our towels, which she’s spread over a level section of rock. Then, turning her back to me, she slides off her jeans. She’s wearing her new two-piece swimsuit underneath the clothes, but still. Watching her undress herself has stunned me to silence.
As she faces me again, I look away quickly and focus on the water rippling below.
“Matty said this water was what?” she prompts.
If she has any idea I was checking her out, she isn’t letting on. “Um. He said it’s ‘so fricken icy, you won’t find your nuts for a week.’”
“That sounds like a potential problem for you, not me. Admit it, Kyle. You’re chickening out. I’ll be swimming to the waterslides while you’re still up here.”
“Please. I’ve been jumping in this creek since before you were born.”
It isn’t true, since she’s about three months older than me, but it makes us both laugh anyway.
She lowers herself to sit on a towel. Her knees, thighs, and upper arms have bruises of every color like Ashlyn always had from doing cheer. “Immersing yourself in cold water is good for your body. It produces endorphins.”
“And frostbite,” I say.
“You’re so paranoid. I swear, I’m going to push you in, if it comes to it.”
“You can try.”
While she unfastens her earrings, I strip down to my swim trunks and then sit on my own towel about two feet from hers, keeping my eyes on my clothes as I fold them.
Cloudy’s phone goes off. “Oh, Zoë,” she murmurs, glancing at it. “Do we honestly need a real-time play by play of each other’s days?”
“Your sister does text you a ton. Is she lonely with you and your parents gone?”
“She’d be like this even if she weren’t home alone. Ever since she started high school, she’s been so needy. She snapped up the team manager position when Misty moved to Alabama, and she’s my constant shadow.”
“Did she at least pass along some Slide Rock fun facts to ponder?”
“If I’d told her we were coming here, she would have.” She tips the screen toward me and cups her hand around it, blocking the sun’s glare so I can read Zoë’s message. Matty seems to think I’m your dog. He stopped by with Danielle and asked if I wanted to take a walk. I convinced them to take me to lunch instead.
Cloudy tucks her phone into her bag without sending a response. “You knew about those two, right?”
“Matty and Danielle? I kind of walked in on them last week. Inside an empty church.”
“You went to church?”
“Let’s just say I was having an off day and leave it at that.”
Cloudy grins. “Interest fully piqued now.”
So I tell her about last Thursday (leaving out most of the details that make me sound super-depressed). As I describe Danielle’s head appearing from the front row followed by Matty’s, Cloudy’s grin gets bigger. “He has no shame. I mean, in a church?”
“Actually, he told me it was Danielle’s idea. He didn’t have a clue she liked him until, surprise! She’s kissing him in front of a wooden cross.”
“Ha. Now he knows what it’s like!”
I side-eye her. “Do I want to hear this?”
She bursts out laughing.
“What?” I can’t help laughing with her. “Why is that funny?”
“Your face! And the way you said it.” She forces composure as she puts on a frown and speaks in an extra-deep voice. “‘Do I want to hear this?’” She switches back to her regular voice. “What I was referring to is the important lesson I learned last year: when Matty Ocie catches your eye in the middle of an assembly, points at himself and then at you, returning his nod might set you up for something unexpected. Like, surprise! You’ve just agreed to be his date for Winter Formal.”
I’d watched the whole thing and I interpreted Cloudy’s nod the same way Matty had. “Why didn’t you say something if you didn’t want to go with him?”
“I didn’t not want to go with him. Like I said, it was a surprise.” She peeks down at her chest and tugs the triangles more toward the center. “But you think he really likes Danielle?”
I search her face. She seems more curious than anything, but I get a stab of jealousy at the idea that she might be jealous. “We didn’t have a conversation about that part. She’s the first girlfriend he’s had in a while, though.”
The first since he was with Cloudy in the fall, actually.
“Remember the Redmond High girl he was with last summer?” Cloudy asks. “She came to his first football game wearing cutoffs and that blue bikini top? Big support for Ocie number twenty-one! Except she painted the numbers on her cleavage in the mirror so they turned out as a one and a backward two instead of twenty-one.”
“Breanna. Ashlyn couldn’t stand her, for some reason.”
“I thought Breanna was sweet in a puppyish way. But Ashlyn thought she was standing in the way of Matty and me. She refused to accept that we were never going to happen.”
“Didn’t stop you guys from trying, though. Twice.”
I was in such a fog after Ashlyn’s death that I don’t know when, how, or why Matty and Cloudy got back together. I only found out it had happened at all because he showed up at my house in mid-October at two in the morning to tell me he’d just broken things off with Cloudy; he said he’d figured out they were better as friends.
“What can I say?” Cloudy snickers. “Matty’s a magnet. Or, better yet, a rip current. He makes it easy to get pulled in and I was constantly losing my balance. I could never be still or get my feet on the ground.”
“Ah, but isn’t that how love’s supposed to be?”
“I think that’s vertigo,” she says, tapping her chin. “The worst part was that I was such a disappointment to my best friend. I wasn’t doing my part to make her big dream come true that our children would be second cousins.”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “O-kay. That’s quite a dream to have.”
“Very specific.” Cloudy rolls her eyes, grinning. “She came up with this whole plan. To start with, the four people who could make it happen needed to go to college together. Then we’d get these unbelievably great careers and settle down in the same amazing city. And obviously, you and Ashlyn would have kids, and Matty and I would have kids. They’d be second cousins and best friends and our lives would be perfect forever and ever. If only Matty and I could have stepped up for the sake of Ashlyn’s dream. And for the hypothetical second cousins, of course.”
Our lives would be perfect forever and ever.
“Yeah.” My voice comes out in a croak. I clear my throat. “Anything for those rascals.”
My attempt at keeping the joke going fails and both of our smiles disappear.
Every single day that Ashlyn was my girlfriend, I was in love with her. I never once thought about what would happen beyond high school. I never considered that we might get married, or break up, or (especially) that I could lose her in a sudden accident.
Cloudy traces her fingertips over her towel’s cactus design. “I shouldn’t
have told you she said that. She’d be mortified.”
I hate that talking about Ashlyn caused this heaviness to press down on us. Because she was funny. She loved being dramatic and saying off-the-wall things to get a laugh out of people. She also loved traditions and being surrounded by her friends. So whether she was teasing with this “dream” about the second cousins, or if it was her genuine wish that her favorite people would always be part of one another’s lives, it’s still a compliment.
“I don’t think she’d be upset about you telling me. And it’s cool that this perfect future she said she was imagining had me in it.” I give Cloudy’s leg a little jolt with my bare foot, causing her to glance at me. “That it had both of us in it.”
“Don’t forget your cousin,” she says.
“As if I ever could.”
Cloudy hops to her feet. “Come on. Let’s do this now. Jump, swim, slide. Like you promised.”
She reaches for my hand and I let her pull me up. Even after I’m standing, she doesn’t let go. We walk to the cliff’s edge. We look past our toes at the rolling creek beneath us. We count to three.
And together, we jump.
“HERE WE ARE at the cafeteria,” I say, with a dramatic swoop of my arm.
Cloudy and I are wandering around my old school after having already stopped at the baseball field so I could say hi to the coaches and players I knew when I went here. (Sedona’s season starts a month earlier than Bend’s.) Now we’re waiting for practice to end, so we can drive with Will for eighty miles to go to Hannah’s birthday party.
Most people over the age of nine don’t get too excited about a place like Bedrock City, but Cloudy was right about the endorphins; I’ve been on a high ever since we jumped into the creek two hours ago. I can hardly wait to show her the rides-less Flintstones park. I’m also excited about taking her to the Oatman donkeys tomorrow, and about us attending the wedding of Ashlyn’s heart recipient, Sonia, the day after that. The only thing I’m not looking forward to is going home. I like getting to spend my days with Cloudy.
We slow our walking so she can look through the window. “I love it. This is the cutest school ever.”
“Probably not what the architect was going for,” I say.
“You don’t know that. All these little buildings remind me of a college campus. Except scaled down to adorable proportions. And with these great views, who wouldn’t want to go to school here?”
“You’re right,” I say as we continue the tour. “Every day of freshman year I was like, ‘Three-sixty views? Heck yeah, I want to sit in these classrooms for seven hours.’ I even tried coming in on weekends, but, you know. Locked doors.”
Cloudy grins. “Your lack of breaking-and-entering skills is starting to become a problem. But speaking of skills, I thought for sure shit was going to go down when your friends saw you wearing a Lava Bears shirt in the ‘Home of the Scorpions.’”
“Why would you think that?”
“You were one of their best players, right?” Cloudy asks. “And now you’re wearing other colors. That has to sting. Scorpion pun not intended.”
“Not intended?” I give her elbow a nudge. “Yeah, right. You’ve been waiting to say that since you saw it on the sign. Admit it.”
“I admit to nothing,” she says, elbowing me back. “You must have been Mr. Popular when you were here, being such a good ball player.”
“Oh, yeah. Everyone knew me.” I chuckle. “By the way, there are only five hundred kids in the whole school, so everyone knows everyone. And it was just like Bend with baseball. It isn’t the big-deal sport. There aren’t cheerleaders at the games. Some of the guys’ parents or girlfriends come, but nobody else. If people bother to think about ball players at all, it’s that we’re these dorky milk-drinkin’, pledge-of-allegiance-sayin’ good ol’ boys.”
Cloudy giggles. “And they put on South’un accents when talkin’ ’bout ball playin’?”
“Ye-eah, they do.”
We approach the outdoor commons, which is made up of budding trees, red sand, and a dozen or so backless benches arranged in a circle. She drops onto a bench and I sit beside her.
“Why did you even bother with it?” she asks. “I mean, everyone knows football and basketball are more exciting.”
“That’s a bold statement.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “Am I wrong? Why do people care about baseball? Give me reasons.”
Cloudy knows exactly what it’s like when people dismiss her sport, so I never would have thought she’d do the same to mine. “Because . . . it is exciting. Take the scheduling for the pro season. It’s intense. Football fans can tune in to their favorite team once a week, right? And each basketball team plays two or three times a week. But a pro baseball team has games virtually every day. For over half the year, baseball is happening, and the more you follow it, the more you get addicted. And with the complexity of the rules and scoring, it turns into a puzzle. Plus, there’s so much history. People grow up with it and teach their kids and grandkids to play. It’s been trickling down like that for over a hundred and fifty years.”
“Did you start playing because of family tradition?”
“Actually, no. My dad doesn’t do sports. I got into it because Will’s dad coached Little League. From when I was a kid, he said I was a natural. A true utility player.”
“So you liked it because it was easy?”
I’m not sure where she’s going with this, but the fact that she’s smiling makes a tiny bit of my defensiveness fade. “At first. And there was the fun stuff. Getting a new glove and breaking it in, going to pizza parties, having my dad come to my games. There’s also satisfaction in getting to hit this little round ball with a heavy bat. With solid contact and a sweet, long swing, you feel it through your whole body.”
Cloudy nods: Go on.
“When I got older and playing became more competitive, that’s when I really got hooked. I worked my way around the infield: first base, then third, then second. But shortstop was it for me. Because when you’re in that position, the ball is constantly coming at you. You watch it leave the pitcher’s hand, it hits the bat, you make the grab, you throw. It happens so fast. All these pops, like a string of firecrackers. When you’re quick enough, when your body’s positioned right, your weight’s distributed, you have a good grip on the ball, your team gets the out, and there’s nothing like it. You want to do it again and again. It feels so fluid and so right to be able to create perfection in this series of split-second catches and throws.”
“I see.”
“You’re still thinking ‘Why baseball?’ Because every sport is about making those moments happen, right?”
“No, K.O. I’m thinking, I totally get why you don’t want to be on the team this year. Clearly, trying to make more of those perfect six-four-three double plays than last year would mean nothing to a non-perfection-seeker like you.”
She’s watching me closely, like she wanted to catch the exact millisecond when I processed that she dropped position numbers into our conversation. “Six-four-three, huh?”
“Did I not mention my grandparents are big-time into baseball? And my mom went to college on a softball scholarship? And our family sometimes caravans for two and a half hours for the Eugene Emeralds on weekends?” She shrugs like she’s trying to be casual, but a huge grin spreads across her face. “It trickles down like that sometimes, you know?”
“You were messing with me.” I try to sound stern, but I’m grinning now, too.
She holds her finger and thumb a couple of inches apart. “Little bit.”
“It wasn’t nice.”
“I’m a mean, mean girl. You took it well, though. Only three veins popped out of your neck. And one more. Right. Here.”
She leans close and playfully pokes at my temple. I try to catch her hand, but she’s too quick. She hops up and takes off running, and I go after her.
I’m within five feet of catching Cloudy when someone calls my nam
e. At the edge of the nearly empty student parking lot ahead, Hannah is easy to spot—she’s the one dressed like she belongs in the same era as the ancient Volkswagen bus she’s standing near. Cloudy and I end our game of chase and Hannah’s patchwork skirt brushes the concrete with every step she takes toward us. “Look at you, Kyle! You’ve gotten so tall. And buff. And cute.”
“Um.”
Hannah smiles. “But still shy, I see.”
“Uh. Happy birthday.” I bend to give her a hug, and she holds on tightly for maybe four seconds too many. As I’m pulling away, she plants a kiss on my cheek.
Hannah and I were never kissing-on-the-cheek friends (I’ve never had a friend like that, ever), but this must be part of her “earthy phase” Will mentioned. Friendly cheek-kissing goes along with the braided band circling her head and the incense that’s saturated her clothes and curly brown hair, I suppose.
“I can’t begin to describe how excited I am that you’re here for my actual birthday.” Hannah rests her forehead against my upper arm. “Of all the days in the year when you could have come, you showed up today. It feels so, like, fate.”
We showed up yesterday, but I don’t point that out.
Cloudy and I follow Hannah to join the others who are gathered between the van and the nearest parked car. They seem like an odd mix, but maybe being inclusive is another facet of Hannah’s new personality.
Devynne and Natalie each give me a hug, and then I kind of nod at the rest of the group. “Hey, everyone. This is Cloudy.”
I’m about to introduce them to her one by one, but Hannah interrupts with “Cloudy! Is that your real name?”
“It’s actually Claudia,” she says.
“Then why would you go by Cloudy?”
“My grandma was born in Italy. So she has an accent and—”
“William!” Hannah yells, cutting Cloudy off. “It’s about time you finally got your bottom out here!”
Will meanders over. He never lets Hannah’s impatience get to him. “I left practice as soon as I could. I told you to go on without me. I’m riding with Kyle and Cloudy.”
“Well, we didn’t go without you. Yamka took three people with her and so did Mason.” Hannah does a quick head count. “There’s still ten here now, so we can fit perfectly in two cars. Natalie, you have room for one more?”
The Way Back to You Page 18