by Linda Gerber
Travel tip: If you have to go to a
government office because of some paperwork, be patient. Nothing is done in a hurry by the bureaucracy in Spain.
I signed all the papers, swearing that the video I had turned in to the police was the real deal. You’d think once they had all that they would give my phone back. All they needed was the memory card. But the phone itself was evidence, so they were keeping it.
“We’ll get you a new one,” Mom assured me.
And then the evidence desk officer asked me if I needed to transfer my contacts. I thought about it for a moment, but really, I didn’t have any contacts to transfer. I mean, yeah, I had my mom and dad and Logan and the crew in there. And Mateo, who was sitting right next to me. That was it.
The guy gave me a pitying look as if he just discovered I had some kind of disability. For half a second, the fire flared behind my cheeks. I mean, I’m twelve (almost thirteen). I should have hundreds of contacts, right? But then I looked at Mateo once again. I thought about Logan. And I realized it wasn’t the contacts that were important. It was the friends.
Mateo sat with me on the ride back home. “You really have to leave, then?”
I nodded miserably. “We’re taking off tomorrow.”
He glanced over at his dad and lowered his voice even more. “What time do you go?”
“Around two, I think.” I tried to remember everyone’s schedule, but I must have created some kind of mental block in my head since I didn’t want it to happen. “Our flight’s at five or something.”
“I’ll come in the morning then,” he said. “Around ten. I want to…. Um. Just wait for me. I’ll be there.”
The next morning I was up early again. It was my last morning in Spain, and I didn’t want to miss a minute of it. I sat on the balcony and watched as the sun came up. Purples, pinks, and corals washed over the miguelete tower so beautifully, I wanted to cry. My fingers itched to turn on my cell-phone camera, but the police had it. I didn’t want to cheapen the moment, anyway. I’d seen what videos could do.
When the first paparazzo showed up on the street below, I went inside.
Mom and Dad were busy making last-minute arrangements. There were still documents to be signed for the investigators, schedules to reconcile for the show. I didn’t want any part of that, either.
My bags were packed and sitting on my bed by eight. Not that I was anxious to leave, but I had to have something to do. Finally, Dad suggested I go help Bayani pack up the equipment.
Logan was just coming up the stairs as I was on my way down. “Mornin’. How’s the form?”
“Good.” I leaned against the handrail. “What’re you doing? You want to help load equipment with me?”
He shrugged. “Sounds as good as anything I’ve got going.”
We found Bayani in the second-floor hallway with the boxes of equipment lined up in front of him. “Good! You’re here. You want to help me inventory these so we can get them sent off?” He handed me his clipboard. “We need to make extra sure we have everything checked and double-checked so I will know if the airline loses anything.”
He left us up in the hall with the clipboard while he went downstairs to find a rolling luggage cart. Logan and I went through the boxes and checked off everything on the list. When we were done, Logan clipped the pencil to the board along with the paper. “That’s it. Think we should wait for Bayani, or go see what’s taking him so long?”
“Go see.” I didn’t want to be stuck in the hall where I had no view of the front entrance. Because it was fast approaching ten o’clock, and that’s when Mateo said he’d try to come by. I didn’t want to miss him.
Travel tip: Spaniards speak a lot with their hands. Never mimic them.
Bayani was down in the lobby, arguing with the security guard about loading the luggage cart onto the elevator. “This guy says the cart has to stay here,” Bayani told us. “I’m trying to explain that if I leave it here, it doesn’t do me much good.” He was starting to use big gestures to emphasize his words, so I stepped back to avoid getting hit. “I need to get many boxes from up there to down here. How hard is that to understand?”
Logan laughed and pulled Bayani away from the indifferent guard. “Look, Cass and I can load the boxes into the elevator upstairs and send them down. Then we can put them on the cart down here and you can wheel them out to the van when it comes, okay?”
Bayani gave in.
By the time we’d gotten all the boxes down to the lobby, it was 10:15. I watched the clock, biting my lip. What if Mateo changed his mind? What if he couldn’t come? What if he didn’t want to come?
I was vaguely aware that Logan was talking to me, but I was only half listening so it didn’t register what he was saying. I was too busy worrying that Mateo wasn’t going to show.
“And then I thought I’d paint meself green and go as a leprechaun,” Logan said.
I glanced up at him. “Hmm? Oh. Good idea.”
He slid another box onto the cart. “See? I knew you weren’t listening.”
“What? Of course I am.”
He shook his head. “I’m going to go up and see if Yans needs anything else.”
“Okay.” I waved him off. I was just about to give up hope when Mateo pushed in through the front door. He waved and I waved back, trying not to be too obvious with the relief in my smile.
“Good,” he said. “I’m glad you didn’t leave yet.”
“Still here,” I answered.
He stood there without saying anything, acting shy all of a sudden, shuffling his feet and stuffing his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “Is there someplace we could go talk?” He looked beyond me toward the back of the building. The courtyard.
I tried not to get too excited. He could have lots of reasons he wanted us to go talk…. alone. “Sure,” I said, trying to keep the quiver from my voice. “Come on.”
I led him through the lobby and down the narrow hallway and out the back door. As I hoped, no one else was in the courtyard. We walked slowly around the perimeter, keeping to the shaded areas as much as we could. Even so, the heat made sweat prickle along my spine. I hoped it wasn’t also making big, dark circles under my armpits.
“I have a confession to make,” Mateo said. “When my dad first told me about hosting your family, I wasn’t sure what to think. I mean, I had seen your mom and dad on TV before, but I didn’t know what to expect with you.”
“Really.” I folded my arms. “You weren’t sure what I would look like?”
“No. No! That’s not what I meant. I didn’t know what you would be like. You. Not just your looks.”
“And?”
He looked up at me from under those dark lashes. “I like you.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “I like you, too.”
He’d been holding his shoulders all tense, and they relaxed a little when I said that. He smiled back. “I had fun, you know, being with you.”
“It was an interesting week,” I agreed.
“It wasn’t boring.” He stopped walking and pulled on my hand to make me stop, too. “You could still text me sometimes,” he said. “If you wanted to.”
“Of course!” I laughed. “When I get my new phone.”
His grip on my hand tightened. He was leaning in toward me, his eyes half closed. This was it. What I had been hoping for! And yet….
I must have stiffened because Mateo stopped and looked at me weird for a second, but then he shifted so that he was standing just a little farther from me, and he kept right on talking like nothing had happened.
“So if I ever decide to go backpacking across Europe, I’ll let you know. Maybe you can come along.”
“I’d like that.” I smiled, relieved and just a little bit sad. I didn’t understand what had just happened. There was supposed to have been a connection. A zing. But when he started coming toward me, it was missing. How could that be? All those times we’d been together….
And then it dawned o
n me. Every time the zing had been there, Logan had been there, too. In fact, I got a little zing just thinking about it.
But Logan was like a brother.
Wasn’t he?
He had been once. But then he changed. I changed. Or maybe I just discovered more sides to us both. Could it really have been him all along?
In a flood, I thought of all the times he told me so, but I had taken it for granted. Hold on to me, he’d said. I’ve got you. I’ll always be there for you.
Except now I was leaving.
I glanced back at the building. But first I needed to talk to Logan.
“Well, I just wanted to say good-bye,” Mateo said.
“I’m glad you came.”
“Tell Logan I can still whip his butt at goals.”
I laughed again even as I pulled away. “I will!”
“Don’t forget to text.”
We said good-bye in the lobby, and then I turned and sprinted up the steps, two at a time, to Logan’s apartment. His door was closed. Without even waiting to catch my breath, I pounded on it. “Logan! I need to talk to you!”
A door behind me opened, and I spun around. Daniel poked his head out into the hall. “Hey. Keep it down. It’s siesta time for some of us, you know.”
“Where’d they go?” I asked.
“Yes, I’m feeling much better, thank you.”
I took a deep breath and forced myself to slow down. “I’m sorry you’ve been sick, and I’m glad you’re doing better.”
“Why, thank you.”
“I’m looking for Cavin and Logan. Do you know where they are?”
“On the way to the airport would be my guess. The flight to Dublin was four hours ahead of the flight to New York.”
I sagged against the doorframe. “They’re gone?”
“Probably.” He scratched at the stubble on his chin. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? Is there a problem?”
“No,” I said dejectedly.
He closed his door, and I sank to the floor in the hallway. For half a second I considered running outside and waving down a taxi. Wasn’t that what they always did in the movies? I could picture myself sprinting through the airport, catching Logan just before he filed through security. Maybe there’d be kissing, I didn’t know. But I did know in reality I’d never find out.
Pushing to my feet, I trudged back down the steps. I guess I couldn’t blame Logan for not sticking around to say good-bye. He probably thought I had a thing for Mateo. Mostly because, well, I had thought I had a thing for Mateo. I guess the theme for this trip could be “Cassidy Is Clueless.”
I had just reached the bottom of the stairwell and was reaching for the door when it flew open, knocking me backward. But before I could fall, Logan caught me. As always.
“Where have you been?” he said, out of breath.
“I was looking for you.”
“And I was looking for you. We’re leaving. The limousine service just got here.”
I nodded because I couldn’t speak. Now that I’d found Logan, I couldn’t think of anything to say.
A car horn blared.
“That’s probably Da.” He pulled back. “I gotta go.”
“Okay,” I whispered. Stupid lump in my throat.
He reached for the door but then turned back. “Stay out of trouble.”
He looked so stern, I couldn’t help laughing. A little. “That’s no fun.”
He took a step toward me, trying to look intimidating. “I’m serious.”
I moved toward him. “I know. It’s kind of weird.”
By then I was so close I could have leaned right in and kissed him on the lips. But I didn’t. Instead I pulled him into an awkward hug.
He stood stiffly for a moment—long enough that I started to feel like a real idiot. I was trying to figure out how to get out of it with the least humiliation possible when he hugged me back. Tight. And then he said into my hair, “It was good to see you again, Cass.”
The limousine honked again, and he pulled away. He wouldn’t look at me. Jerking open the door, he said in a gruff voice, “Don’t stop writing that blog, okay?”
“Why?”
“I want to keep up with what’s happening with you,” he said. So he had been reading it.
“Logan!” Cavin yelled. “We’re waiting!”
“Coming, Da!”
I stood helplessly as he pushed the stairwell door open.
“Wait!”
Logan turned and looked at me. Expectant. Curious.
“I…. uh….” I wanted to tell him how I liked him, but the words wouldn’t come. What if he didn’t like me back? What if me telling him ruined whatever friendship we already had? “I’ll walk you out,” I said finally.
“Okay.”
We walked all the way through the lobby before I got up the nerve to say anything more. Even then, I couldn’t look him in the eye. “I’m glad you came back,” I said to the floor.
“So am I,” Logan said. “Will you?”
I looked up at him then. “Huh?”
“Da said you were goin’ back to the States for a bit. But he said you’d be back.”
“He did?” I don’t know why that surprised me. Or why I never considered the possibility that Ohio wouldn’t be permanent.
“Will you?” he asked again.
“Absolutely.” Already my mind was turning, trying to figure out how I would do it. And how quickly.
“Logan!” Cavin yelled.
“I gotta go,” Logan said. He gave me another quick hug and then ran over to the waiting limo. Before he climbed inside, he turned back to me. “Write me this time.”
“Check your e-mails this time!” I said.
He just waved. The last thing I saw before the door slammed shut was Logan’s smile.
The limo sped away. I watched it weave into the flow of traffic and disappear.
“Señorita!”
I turned my head away from the voice in time to avoid the flash. I wasn’t going to let them get to me. Not now. Not when I finally had it figured out.
Leaving didn’t have to be the end of anything. Logan had gone away for a while; now it was my turn. As long as our friendship was still there, we could always come back.
I wandered into the lobby and sat on the steps, thinking about the months to come. For the first time, the idea of going back to Ohio didn’t scare me so much. Grampa was gone, but his memory was still there. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad staying with Gramma for a while. She missed him, too. We had a lot to talk about.
When the time was right, I’d convince my mom and dad to let me return to the show. Maybe I couldn’t find the words to tell Logan how much I liked him, but when I was back, I’d show him. I’d make sure he knew.
It wouldn’t be easy, but like Grampa always said, nothing worthwhile ever is.
Besides, I like a challenge.
Gramma called me to come downstairs
and start chores at insane o’clock. Seriously. The sun hadn’t even cleared the stand of birch trees behind her house yet. She was one of those early-to-bed, early-to-rise types who thought 5:00 A.M. meant chores, not snooze buttons.
“Come on, Cassie. Up and at ’em!” she chirped. “We have a lot to do if we’re going to be ready before your entourage arrives!”
I groaned and rolled over, pulling my pillow over my head. “They are not my entourage!” I grumbled. My voice was muffled through the feathers, but she heard it anyway.
“Well, they sure aren’t mine.” She banged on the ceiling. “Let’s go!”
If Gramma ever read my online confession, I’ll never know. She hasn’t mentioned it, and neither have I. My gramma is one of those types who doesn’t like to “dwell on the negative,” as she puts it. She just welcomed me back to the farm and put me to work. To Gramma, sharing work is like sharing love.
She must have loved me a ton. We scrubbed the entire house together every time a news crew came out to interview me, which in the four weeks since I had go
tten to her farm was a lot. I guess when you live in a small town in a small county, all news is big news. The daughter of travel-show hosts Davidson and Julia Barnett living on a farm in their viewing area was enough for them to send out a crew. But when they realized la chica moda, the girl who toppled an international smuggling operation, was living on a farm in their viewing area, it was time to call out the morning shows, the daytime chat shows, and the evening special-interest shows.
At first, Gramma was a bulldog, turning down every request. “Your mother and daddy want you out of the spotlight,” she told me. “And until they say otherwise, there’s not even a question.”
Eventually, though, the media (along with the network) wore Mom and Dad down enough that they allowed me to do short interviews—as long as Gramma was in the room with me at all times. Which was a smart call because, believe me, Gramma would put an end to any questioning if the journalist so much as stepped one toe out of line.
“No personal questions,” she warned them. “Nothing leading. Don’t even think about using statements from her blog without permission.”
She was so tough, I was surprised anyone even wanted to interview me anymore. But they did—we’d had crews in the house at least ten times in the last three weeks. Gramma made us scrub the place spotless every time, so I was pretty sure today’s visit didn’t require a 5:00 A.M. wakeup call.
And before you say it, I know, I know. This whole thing started because I couldn’t sleep, and now I couldn’t drag myself out of bed. But that was a different time zone. A different motivation.
Besides, now I was spending hours almost every night on the computer, talking to Logan online. I wasn’t getting to bed as early as I used to. But Gramma didn’t know that.
“Come on, sweetie!” she called. “You can’t hoot with the owls at night and soar with the eagles in the morning!”
Or maybe she did.
Whenever we’d stay at Gramma and Grampa’s place, I got to sleep in my mom’s old room. I would often lie in her bed and wonder what it had been like for her, growing up on the farm. When I’d asked her, she told me that when she was my age, it was more of a working farm, with a huge garden to tend and cows to milk and sheep to shear. Grampa had even toyed with keeping llamas for a while. But that’s not what I’d meant. I wanted to know what it was like growing up with Gramma.