by Amber Garza
My stomach knots. “Where else would you be?”
“Maybe back home. Maybe somewhere else. Who knows?”
His response concerns me. How can he not know where he’ll be in two months? “Where is home?” I decide to go with the most benign question first.
“San Francisco.”
“Ah.” I lick my ice cream swiftly, catching it on my tongue. “That makes sense. You’re a city boy.”
“Yep, and you’re a suburban girl.” He grins.
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m not. I’m a city girl who happens to be living in suburbia.”
“Are you saying you don’t fit in here?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. The kids around here think I’m weird or something.”
“Weird is good. Normal is boring,” he says in a tone more serious than before.
I freeze. “What?”
“Yeah, I don’t like girls who are normal. I like different, exciting, like you.” His gaze crashes into mine, his dark eyes piercing into my soul.
I shudder. Ice cream drips onto my hand, coating my fingers.
“Better eat that before it melts.” Colt points to my drippy cone.
He takes the last bite of his own cone and then wipes his hands. After swallowing thickly, I proceed to finish mine. But it’s challenging, since my stomach is all sour and nervous after Colt’s statement. Did he say that he liked me or am I reading too much into it?
“Thanks for the ice cream,” Colt says just as I take the last bite.
“Sure.” I wipe my mouth with the napkin and then stand up. Sweat covers my back, causing my shirt to stick to my skin. Colt stands too, and together we walk toward my car. I’m already thinking about how great the air conditioning will feel. I fish my keys out of my purse, but my hands are so sweaty they slip from my fingers and crash to the concrete.
Colt bends down, retrieving them. When he stands back up, he holds his palm out to me. I reach for them, my fingers brushing over his skin. My heart hammers in my ears. He curls his fingers so that for one moment we are holding hands. I hold perfectly still and gaze up at him. Our eyes lock and I find it difficult to draw breath. Then a car peels in next to us and the moment is broken. I sigh, snatching the keys. Before he can pull his arm away, my gaze catches on his tattoo, and my stomach drops. His tattoo swirls down his arm in black sweeping strokes, and ends right at his wrist. It’s not like I hadn’t noticed it before, but I just hadn’t gotten a good look at it until now. A snapshot of the robber, a black tattoo peeking out of his shirt, flashes in my mind. Shaking, I step away from Colt.
“Hey, McAllistor, you okay?” Colt moves toward me, concern etched on his features.
“Yeah. Fine.” I clear my throat. “Just hot, I guess.”
“Yeah, you’re hot, alright,” he teases.
I want to soar on his words, to enjoy the compliment, but I feel sick. Could I have been right all along? Did he have a part in the robbery? Usually I trust my gut, but this time I’ve been all over the place. One minute I don’t trust Colt, and the next minute I do. It’s because he’s so damn hot, it’s clouding my judgment. I need to just get him home and then take some time to process everything. Maybe with some distance I’ll find clarity.
TEN
COLT
Pagie has been acting super weird ever since the day she took me to get ice cream. The next couple of days she doesn’t offer to give me a ride and avoids me at work. At first I just slough it off and ignore her as well. Two can play at this game. If the chick expects me to beg, she clearly doesn’t know me very well.
But on the third day I notice her staring at me all during our shift. Every time I try to make eye contact she turns away quickly, a guilty look on her face. It makes me wonder if there is more to this than just some silly game girls play. I think back to our second conversation when she suspected I had a part in the shop’s robbery. Doubt and fear nag at the back of my mind. Did something happen to make her suspect me again?
If so, I need to talk to her – convince her I had nothing to do with it. The last thing I need is for her to go running to the cops or something like that. It would ruin everything I have going right now. The truth is, I kind of like what I’ve got going here, and I don’t need anyone to mess it up.
I catch up to her after work just before she can hide inside her car. She doesn’t respond when I call her name, so I run up to her and grab her by the upper arm. The skin on skin contact sears my flesh. I’m not used to touching people. Well, other than Zander and Bristol. And it makes me uncomfortable. But she’s given me no choice. I need to talk to her.
Paige stares down at where my hand is clamped over her arm, a wary expression on her face. “What do you need, Colt?”
I drop her arm and shove my fingers into my pockets, tucking them away safely. “I just want to talk to you.”
She nods, leaning her back against her car. “About what?”
“About why you’re avoiding me.”
“I’m not.” Her face colors, and she bites her lip.
Whenever she does that I imagine what it would feel like to touch her lips, to close my mouth over hers. “Give me some credit, McAllistor. I’m not Jon, okay? I can tell when someone’s avoiding me.”
A brief smile flits over her lips. “Okay, you got me.”
“So you admit that you’ve been avoiding me?”
She nods. “I’m just confused, Colt. I’m feeling all these conflicting emotions around you, and I’m just trying to process it.”
I smile. “Yeah, I kinda have that affect on girls. I make them feel things.”
She swats at me. “Shut up, egomaniac.”
“Why don’t you tell me what you’re confused about? Maybe I can help.” I lean closer to her, catching a whiff of her woodsy scent. It makes my head swirl. “Please? I’ll buy you an ice cream cone.” Yesterday I got my first paycheck. I haven’t spent any of it yet, but it’s amazing to have my own money. Money I actually earned legally.
A broad grin sweeps her face. “It’s okay. You don’t have to do that.”
“Really? You’ll just tell me for free? Wow. You’re pretty generous, McAllistor.”
She offers me a tight smile, but her fingers play with the bottom of her shirt, betraying her anxiety. Lifting her head, she looks me straight in the eye, and I see the conflict inside like a storm raging. “It’s just that I’m not really good at admitting when I’m scared. I’m sort of known as the tough one. Not just at school or with my friends, but at home too.”
As she speaks, I realize that Paige has had pain in her life as well. Things haven’t always been carefree like she wants everyone to believe. My heart goes out to her, and it terrifies me to the very core.
“The night when I was robbed I stayed calm and tough, just like I’ve been taught to do, just like I’m expected to do, but inside I was freaking scared to death.” A shudder runs through her body and I want to hold her, but I don’t. Sometimes I wonder if I’m broken, if I’ll ever be able to comfort someone, or touch someone without it feeling foreign and odd. “I have all this anger inside toward the guy who robbed the shop, you know? I hate him for scaring me like that.” Her eyes flick to my arm. “He had a tattoo on his arm. I only caught the bottom, but it’s similar to yours.”
My heart sinks. “You think I’m the one who robbed you?”
“I don’t know what I think, Colt. I told you. I’m so confused.”
“Unbelievable.” Running a hand over my head, I blow out a frustrated breath. Her words have built up a wall around my heart. Paige was the first person I felt connected to in a long time, and she thinks I’m a criminal who robbed her at gunpoint? What the hell? “I take back what I said the other day. You are a good liar.”
She sucks in a breath. “What are you talking about?”
“You said you weren’t like the plastic people. You said you don’t judge me because of how I look, but you do. You do judge me. And you know what, Paige? This hurts worse because I th
ought we kinda had something. Most people judge me without getting to know me.” I turn away from her, disgusted. At this point I don’t care if she calls the cops on me. Let them come. Let them interrogate me. It won’t be the first time, and it won’t be the last. Besides, this town is just like all the other ones. I can’t run from who I am. I have no idea why I even started to believe that was possible. “You got to know me and yet you still think the worst of me.”
Paige frowns, reaching out her arms to me. If she touches me now, I won’t be able to take it. So I spin around and stalk off.
“Colt!” She calls after me, her tone desperate.
I keep walking, tuning out her voice.
“Come back. At least let me give you a ride home.”
Whirling around, I laugh bitterly. “Oh, now you want to give me ride? Where the hell have you been the last couple of days?”
Her face pales.
“It’s fine. I actually prefer walking. It’s safer.” I narrow my eyes at her and then turn back around. Once I get out of the parking lot, I hurry down the street, my head down. The sun is hot on my back, and I wipe sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. A car pulls next to me. When I glance over at it, I see Paige in the front seat motioning for me to get in.
“Colt, come on.”
“Go away, Paige.” Her persistence is annoying actually.
“Please, Colt. Just get in.” A car honks and swerves around her, but she keeps driving slowly, staying next to me.
“God, you really are a terrible driver, you know that?” I cross my arms over my chest. “Just go home, Paige.”
“McAllistor.”
“What?” I stop walking and she slams on her brakes. Cars are looking over at her like she’s a lunatic, and I’m starting to think that maybe she is.
“That’s what you normally call me. Why did you stop?” Her expression is so genuine it kills me.
“That was when we were friends,” I say simply.
Her face falls. “We’re not now?”
“Why would you want to be my friend if you think I held a gun to your head and scared the shit out of you?” I lean into her car, pressing my face as close to hers as I dare. “You know what I think? I think you know I didn’t do it. I think you know I could never do that to you. You’re not scared of me, you’re scared of what you feel when we’re together. I know, because I feel the same way.” I push off her car. “Now move your car before you get a ticket, or get yourself killed.” Without letting her respond, I walk away.
ELEVEN
PAIGE
I drive home in a daze. In fact, when I pull up in front of my house I momentarily wonder how I got here. Pretty freaky. I better not share this information with Mom. It’ll just worry her. My driving skills, or lack thereof, are already enough source of worry in our family. No need to add to it. While I get out of my car, Colt’s words play through my mind.
Is he right? Am I really just afraid of my feelings for him?
The look in his dark eyes cut through my heart. He looked so sincere, and I know what he said is true. He’s not the one who robbed me. I know it deep down in my heart. So why do I keep suspecting him? What is it about him that bugs me? I can’t pinpoint it, so perhaps it doesn’t have anything to do with him. Maybe it has more to do with me.
My cell buzzes in my pocket and I yank it out. For one split second I hope that it’s Colt. Then I realize how foolish my thinking is. He doesn’t have my number. I’ve never seen him with a phone either. I’ve kind of assumed he doesn’t have one.
Hadley: Wanna hang out tonight?
Me: What? No Tripp tonight?
Hadley: I want to c my best friend.
I smile, thinking that a girls’ night is just what I need.
Me: Me 2.
When I get inside everything is quiet. “Mom?” I call out. Normally she greets me when I get home from work. I head into the kitchen, but it’s empty, and she’s nowhere to be found. My mom doesn’t work, but her hobby is baking so usually our kitchen is covered in pans and flour. Not today. The counters are bare, scrubbed clean. A familiar fear descends in the pit of my stomach as a sense of déjà vu washes over me.
I climb the stairs, taking them two at a time. “Mom?” I call again.
Still nothing. My stomach twists. Her car was parked in the driveway, so I know she’s home. The front door pops open below me. I lean over the railing just in time to see Dad walk inside, briefcase in hand. Dad never gets off work this early. The minute he looks up at me and I take in his pinched face, I remember that Mom had an appointment today. It takes only a second to put two and two together.
Backing up, I take a deep breath. No, not again. The room sways, the walls bending and closing around me. My knees buckle, and I have trouble standing up.
“Paige.” Dad rushes up the stairs, grabbing me. “Calm down. Everything’s going to be fine.”
My parents’ door opens to the right of me. Mom stands in the doorway, her face streaked in tears. I bite down on my lips to keep them from trembling and blink back the tears that threaten to penetrate. I know exactly what she’s going to say.
“The cancer’s back.” Mom’s tone is resigned.
I hold my breath as Dad tightens his hold on me. Shoving off of him, I nod as if to say I’m okay. He leaves me and sweeps Mom into his arms. Her shoulders shake as she drops her head on his shoulder. I fight the sobs that want to leap from my throat. Swallowing back unwanted emotions, I hold my head high. It’s time to be strong again.
Unable to look at my parents any longer, I slip into my bedroom and close the door gently behind me. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I shoot off a text.
Me: I can’t come over. Mom’s cancer’s back.
Hadley: I’m on my way.
Grateful, I slump against the wall. I would never admit that I need her, but I do. Badly. I can’t fall apart in front of Mom and Dad. It wouldn’t be fair. But Hadley’s another story. She can handle it.
I call in to work the two days following my mom’s diagnosis. The first time she got cancer was my eighth grade year. That was my last year going to private school. Mom's medical bills mounted and my parents couldn't keep up with the tuition, so I started Gold Rush High as a freshman. And that was when I met Hadley. By the time Hadley and I got close, Mom was in remission. I remember thinking that it would have been nice to have a friend like Hadley when we first found out about Mom’s cancer. At that time I didn’t have any friends, and my sister was of no help at all. She fell apart, became suicidal and started cutting. Honestly I was so angry with my sister for that. Mom didn’t need to deal with anything other than her illness. That’s why I vowed to stay strong and not give Mom anything extra to worry about.
My sister finally got it together, and now she’s away at college. I really hope this news doesn’t send her spiraling downward again. But I can’t worry about her. She’s an adult. I’m the one left - the one who’s going to have to deal with this.
Hadley’s been so supportive the last two days. She calls numerous times a day to check on me and she keeps popping by. I’m so appreciative, I really am. But the truth is that I feel myself becoming a little resentful of her. I mean, she has no idea what this feels like. No one in her family has ever been sick. Sure, her family has their own issues. When her parents split up she confided in me that she was jealous of the great relationship my parents have. I know there were times she had a hard time being around them because of that.
I guess that’s how I feel right now. It’s hard to try to explain to Hadley just how awful it is to have a sick parent. She has no frame of reference. She has no idea what it feels like to wonder if your mom will survive, if she’ll live. Hadley doesn’t know what it’s like to imagine a life without the woman who gave me life, who’s wiped my tears and bandaged my wounds, the woman who’s read me bedtime stories and tucked me in. A life without my mom just seems like a dreary one. It rips my heart out to even picture it. But I know it’s a possibility, and that tea
rs me apart.
This morning Dad took Mom to the doctor to discuss treatment options. I couldn’t bring myself to go. I already know what they’ll say. I remember all too well what it was like when Mom was on chemo. There were days where all I heard was retching in the toilet. Days upon days of Mom sleeping or complaining of stomach cramps and headaches. And then came the loss of hair. I double over, clutching my stomach remembering my mom’s sobs as she held clumps of hair in her hands. I steel myself for it, wondering how I’ll survive a second time. How we’ll all survive.
A knock on the door startles me. I sniffle, running a hand down my face. As I head to the front door, I pull my fingers through my tangled hair, working out some kinks and knots. When I fling it open, I gasp at the sight of my unexpected visitor.
“Colt?”
He stands in front of me, hands in the pocket of his ripped jeans. He wears a light t-shirt, his hair is tousled, and sweat covers his forehead.
“I hope you don’t mind. I kinda got your address from work.”
I nod, unsure of what I feel.
He jiggles his leg nervously, and something about it is so endearing. “Jon said you were having some personal issues, but he wouldn’t say what, so I just wanted to check on you.”
The statement pierces my heart, and I worry for a moment that I might cry. I breathe in deeply through my nose and exhale through my mouth, warding off the tears. “I’m fine,” I finally say.
“If this has anything to do with me, I’ll quit. It was your job first, McAllistor.”
I freeze, honing in on his last word. McAllistor. “So, we’re friends again?”
“If you want to be,” he says, deadpan.
My bottom lip trembles. I remember that Colt lives with his aunt. He’s clearly had a rough life. Not that he’s told me anything about it, but it’s pretty obvious. It makes me wonder if there is a reason he came into my life at this time. Like maybe life isn’t just random occurrences. Maybe it’s something more. “I could use a friend right now,” I tell him, transparently.