My fingers comb her wet hair away from her face. “Me too.”
Amber’s hand catches mine as she folds forward, pressing her head into my chest, and cries.
***
“You’re still here.” It’s a statement, not a question. I’m surprised.
Hope’s sitting on the edge of my bed when I finally peel myself away from a passed out Amber.
She clears her throat. “Is that okay? I didn’t want to intrude on you two, but I didn’t want to leave either.” She scoots over as I fall face-forward across the bed next to her.
“I’m exhausted,” I sigh, my face swallowed up by my blankets.
The mattress moves. “I’ll go. I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”
“Don’t go.” Rolling over, I shift to lay lengthwise on my bed. “Tell me what happened tonight.”
The room is dark with the exception of the bathroom light from down the hallway shining in. She shifts from foot to foot then takes a seat on the edge of the bed again. “I went to the party.” She turns sideways, tucking one leg beneath her. Her face in shadows, I gauge her emotions by her tone. “I realized you were right, I shouldn’t have let her go alone. I knew better, especially with the way she’s acting.”
“Thank you for going after her.” My anger hasn’t dissipated, but I’m grateful. “Come here.” I pat the bed. She kicks off her shoes and falls into my open arms, resting her face against my neck. Her warm lips grazing my skin. “It’s late, do you have to get home?”
“Nah, I told my parents Amber was having a hard night and I might not be home.”
“And they were okay with that? With you sleeping under the same roof as me. With no parental supervision.”
“When we first started dating, Mom and I had the talk. She trusts me. Besides, we graduate in three weeks. I think they agreed there isn’t much they can do at this point anyway.”
I release a long yawn and pull her closer. “Stay with me, then?”
“Absolutely.”
My heavy eyelids close as two things play on my mind. One—after hearing Amber cry her heart out about missing Mom and Dad, I would take the comfort of anyone. I’m not happy because Hope is here, I’m merely happy I’m not alone. And two—Hope knew where the party was and didn’t tell me. I’m not sure if I can forgive her.
***
Watery sunlight filters through my blinds, waking me at an ungodly hour. I just went to sleep, didn’t I? I don’t want to get up. I groan and stuff my head under my pillow, searching for the remnants of my dream.
Red hair whips around a pretty face as Ruby and I walk along the busy streets of Manhattan, hand in hand. Her laughter echoes off of the skyscrapers down 7th as I point out details of buildings and places she’s only seen on television and in movies. When we reach the theatre district she stops, her eyes wide as she beholds the colorful signs advertising show after show.
“Someday you’ll be on one of those billboards, Ruby.”
She smiles, facing me and pulling me in for a kiss, her body pressing against mine.
Her warmth feels so good. I reach for her, rolling to my side and kissing the bare skin peeking out from where her shirt has slipped off her shoulder. “I’m so glad we’re here together,” I whisper, my fingers touching the fine silk of her red hair.
“Me too,” she murmurs.
Hope? Oh no. My eyes snap open. “Hope!” I shoot up as though the bed’s on fire.
“You sound surprised. Were you expecting someone different in your bed this morning?” She’s teasing. She has no idea how close to the truth she is.
“No.” I assure her, lying through my teeth. I rub my face and slide to the edge of the bed. “Sorry. It’s not like I wake up with a girl in my bed every morning. You surprised me for a second.” I throw in a chuckle for show.
Holy crap. What in the world am I doing here? This isn’t right. Hope’s hands touch my back, winding around my waist. This isn’t right, my brain chants.
“This isn’t right.”
“I’m sorry?” Her hands loosen around my waist.
I gather my courage. “I can’t do this, Hope. I can’t lead you on. Not like this.” Hands drop, the bed shakes as she scrambles away from me. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“What are you talking about?”
There’s someone else. I’m not sure I love you. I might love another. I see her face when I should see yours.
“I need some time to figure a few things out. I care about you.” I turn, refusing to be a chicken. Big mistake. Her blue eyes already display the hurt she feels. Her hands are balled against her chest, as though she’s trying to hold herself together. I can’t tell her about Ruby. I can’t break her like that. It might be nothing. “I really do care about you. But, with Amber, and my parents, and school, I’m . . . can we take a step back for a few weeks?”
“Take a step back?” Maybe those were the wrong words. Hope’s hurt turns on me. Yep, wrong words. Her eyes narrow as she pushes herself off my bed and twists her long hair around a fist. “What does that mean? Are you breaking up with me?”
I stand, putting myself on level ground with her. “You lied to me.” It’s much easier to use my anger at her over Amber as an excuse than Ruby.
“I went to that party last night and stayed with Amber, for you. I watched her and brought her home—”
“You let her get drunk. You didn’t tell me about the party, and when I asked you about it, you didn’t tell me you knew where it was. You let me worry about her half the night.”
Her hands fly in the air. “I didn’t know you would worry about her like that. And I promised her I wouldn’t mention it.”
“You cared for keeping her secrets more than me—more than her.”
“No. I—”
“You should go.”
“Brett?”
I sit back down on the edge of the bed. “Just go, Hope. Give me a few days here, okay?” I barely register her whispered “okay” and “goodbye” when she walks out of my room. I no longer know what I want. My stomach drops at the sound of the door closing. I hate myself.
Sitting on the couch a few hours later, I read Ruby’s letter. I hate myself more now. Everything Ruby wrote wipes Hope from my mind as one thought stays present: we might have a chance. We might have a future.
SUNDAY, MAY 23
I throw my backpack over my shoulders and skate away from the house before Amber wakes up. I’m not in the mood to field her questions about Hope today. I’m not in the mood to ignore calls from Hope, either. So I skate. Pushing my foot into the ground, I propel myself faster and faster. I have no idea where I’m going. I’m just going.
Ruby,
Today’s letter comes from a small park located near the Appalachian Trail. Have I told you about the trail, and how it runs through Palmer? After so many letters, I can’t recall, so I’m sorry if this isn’t news to you. The trail is pretty famous on the East coast. People come from all over to hike the over 2,000-mile-long trail from Georgia to Maine. Every spring we meet a bunch of cool hikers. Some stop and chat for a few minutes, some set up camp for the night, some set up for several nights to replenish their hiking supplies in town. It’s pretty cool. I planned on doing it after gradation with some buddies of mine. It’s a rite of passage for the adventurers around here. Plans have changed though. After the crash I backed out. Amber was worried, and Gram too. And with the memorial...well, it doesn’t seem to fit into the schedule anymore. Maybe another summer.
I find myself unsure of how to spend the last few weeks we have until school starts back up. Do I go to Florida and surf on the beach? Do I stay here? Maybe I could spend some time in New York with Cole, mapping out all of the cool spots for you to check out once you live there. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Me doing research for you?
About your last letter. You didn’t come between Hope and me, not really. I mean you did, but it isn’t your fault. Amber has always had horrible taste in guys. I can’t tell you how many c
onversations between her and my mom I had to listen to over the years, it’s sad. But, Mom always had one piece of advice. It’s so cliché, but she would say, “Amber, if you and (insert loser’s name) are meant to be, nothing will stop it.”
I don’t know if that’s true—my mom always believed in soulmates though—so, if I believe her, it doesn’t matter what we do. If we’re meant to be something we will be. Fate, right?
Do you believe in fate and soulmates?
—Brett
P.S. I just remembered your question about snacks. I’m a guy, I eat pretty much everything! If I had to choose one favorite, it’d be popcorn. It needs loads of butter though. And Reese's Pieces! That’s my movie theatre snack. What’s yours?
I flip the paper for Ruby’s letter over and grab my colored pencils out of my bag. I draw her my own cartoon version of the trail. From corner to corner I give her trees, hills, rock, and blue sky. Then I hide a little version of me sitting on a ledge overlooking my town, and a dialogue bubble that says, “Wish you were here.” I dedicate this plane to adventure.
I SAW THE LIGHT
Ruby
FRIDAY, MAY 28
Brett held up his end of the bargain. I now cannot wait to see what he’s going to draw next on his planes. I wish I was there too, Brett. I bet it’s beautiful.
Brett,
Wait. Did you and Hope break up? What happened? You don’t have to tell me. I’m prying. I’m just surprised. How did I come between you? What did I do? I didn’t mean to. That is what you were telling me, though, right? I’m going to feel like an idiot if I misinterpreted that.
Now, I want to study the Appalachian Trail. I’ve heard of it, but I don’t know anything about it. How long does it take to hike the 2,000 miles? If that’s something you really want to do, we should do it together! Well, maybe not the whole thing. That probably takes a few months. I’m not much of a camper, but I’m up for the adventure!
You’d do that for me? Map out NYC? Maybe after the memorial, before school starts, we could meet up and check out some cool spots together? I mean...if you want to. I’m not sure we could make it work, but it might be fun? I want to move out there sooner than later to be more comfortable with the layout of the city, so I’m prepared when school begins. NYC is going to be such a change of pace from Fremonton. Kamry thinks I’m crazy for moving to a big city where I know no one. I think it’s going to be refreshing. A new start. Something I need, which I’m sure you can relate to.
Soulmates and fate. Fate used to seem like such a hoax to me. Predetermination and destiny in a world of unpredictability? Logic. That’s what makes sense to me. There’s a cause and there’s an effect. My view on this has changed recently. Maybe you can guess why. Now I’m thinking when someone unexpectedly comes into your life due to circumstances and makes everything better, it must be fate.
As for soulmates, I don’t know if I believe in them or not. To have one person in this world meant for you? I don’t know if I can believe that. What are the chances of finding that one person you were meant to be with out of the millions of other people on the earth?
My pen stops mid-thought. My conversation with Brett plays in my head. We graduate the same day. What are the chances?
What are the chances . . .
What are the chances a plane would fall from the sky with my mom and 233 other passengers inside? What are the chances there would only be two other teenagers my age who lost their parents? What are the chances Brett was the one to read my first letter and not Amber? What are the chances after that one letter we were able to create a bond that would spiral into this?
What are the chances?
I go back and scratch through the last paragraph.
As for soulmates, I guess fate and soulmates kind of go hand-in-hand, don’t you think? So yes, I believe in them. Maybe there’s only one. Maybe there’s more than one. But I believe if things fall perfectly into place, there’s only one reason for it. You were meant to be with that one person.
I kind of want to make a paper chain, counting down the days to the memorial. It shouldn’t be something I’m this excited about. But I am. You give me a reason to be excited about it.
Luv, Ruby
P.S. If your house was burning down and you could only take one thing, what would it be? This would've been such an easy answer for me before January. I have pearl earrings my mom gave me for my 16th birthday that were passed down from her mother. They’re irreplaceable. Now, I’d be torn. I’d want to pocket the earrings and grab as many paper planes as my hands could hold. They’re just as irreplaceable to me now.
P.P.S. Favorite movie theater snack? Sour Patch Kids and Milk Duds. A little sour and a little sweet. I told you, I’m a mixture kind of girl.
HIP HOP HOORAY
Brett
THURSDAY, JUNE 3
“Gram!” Amber bounces on her toes, her arm waving before she takes off jogging. I follow after her, albeit slowly to allow them time to hug and gush over each other.
“My beautiful girl.” Gram’s eyes shine as she hugs Amber, smoothing her hair, holding her arms wide. “And you,” she turns, “how do you keep getting so good looking?”
“It’s in the genes, Gram,” I tease, relieving her of her shoulder bag and hugging her tightly. “How do you keep getting shorter?”
She swats at me, her face grimacing as she does. I frown as Gram rubs her shoulder. “I was stuffed up against the window for the last two hours, I’m fine,” she explains as she holds Amber’s hand and winds her arm through mine. “Let’s get my bags and go home.”
Home. What a funny concept. In a few months our Pennsylvania house won’t be home nine months out of the year. I pull into the driveway and my eyes rove over the brick facade taking it in. Grandpa Pratt inherited this house from his father. And him from his. Who will take care of it now? Do we sell it? Rent it out?
“Brett?”
“Huh?”
“Are you coming in?” Amber’s lips twitch. She’s standing in the passenger side door. Gram has already climbed out of the car. They’re both waiting on me.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” I pop the trunk for Gram’s bags. “You two go in, I’ll grab your suitcase, Gram.”
I’m hit with identical looks, before walking up the stone path. A car pulls up behind me. I check over my shoulder as I tug Gram’s way to heavy suitcase from the trunk. How long is she staying anyway?
It’s Cole. He tosses a wave as his engine cuts off. Gram’s daughter’s illegitimate step-son spending the weekend in the same house with her. That’s got to be weird, they made it work last June when Mom and Dad died. Surely they can get through this weekend.
***
“Are you ready for New York?”
Cole’s gaze returns from whatever he’s staring at in the sky to me. We flipped the porch lights off when we came out to keep the killer bugs away. It’s the two of us, sitting on the dark porch steps, staring into the night in silence.
“Yeah. I finished packing the apartment up this week. Oh, and I finalized my lease for a tiny box of an apartment in Queens. It’s not much, but with my rotation I’ll live at the hospital most days and nights anyway.”
I groan. “You don’t sound like that bothers you.” Med school, internships, residency—all the things Dad talked with me about when he thought I wanted to be a doctor. The concept makes me cringe now. I should tell Cole about changing my major. Eventually.
“It doesn’t.” He stretches his legs out over the porch steps. “You know it’s funny, when your dad and I talked about being doctors it was the one thing we always agreed on. It’s a crazy life, but I love it. He loved it, too.”
Yeah, he did. “You know, Cole . . . you don’t have to keep calling him my dad.” Cole’s head snaps my way. I clear my throat. “He was yours, too. He was ours.”
The night shadows hide his expression. His fingers scratch at his forehead and run through his hair— solid guy tells. I use them too. “I mean, call him whatever you want
. I don’t—”
“I didn’t want to disrespect you or Amber,” he cuts in. “He was more your dad than mine. The only thing we shared in the small amount of time we had together is medicine.”
“Well, he loved talking about medicine,” I point out. My voice cracks, my throat tightening.
“He loved talking about you two,” he counters as Amber and Gram pull into the driveway, returning from a trip to the store.
Amber climbs from the car then ducks back in, lifting a white box. “We brought dessert.”
“Ohhh, it’s from Buttercream, isn’t it?” I’m up and moving toward the vehicle before the last word exits my mouth.
Amber turns, holding the box to her chest as my grabby hands reach for it. “Mayyybeee,” she giggles.
“Hand it over.”
“Nope. I get first dibs this time,” she yelps as I grab at her arms and waist. “Brett! No.”
“You lie, it’s my turn.” Amber’s foot kicks my shin. I punch her arm.
“Children, children, calm down,” Gram scolds as the two of us kick and fight our way to the front porch.
“Am I missing something?” Cole asks.
“Dude, it’s a Buttercream Dream cake. You haven’t had one before?” My mind can’t comprehend how anyone in Pennsylvania hasn’t tasted the most perfect confection from our favorite cake shop.
Paper Planes and Other Things We Lost Page 18