“You won,” Dad pointed out once Cody left.
I nodded. “And Hephaestus?” I asked hopefully.
Dad shook his head. I can’t say I was surprised the hunk of scrap metal didn’t win an award at the gala, but I felt bad for my dad anyway. “Next year,” I assured him and headed for bed.
Vic comes home late. I hear him crash in his room at 1:47 a.m. Part of me wants to barge through his door and demand the full story, while the other part of me aches to remain in denial. He was dealing drugs after Mama went to prison, which means her sacrifice for him was for nothing. He hasn’t changed at all.
Despite my restlessness I fall asleep, but the craziness of the night maintains a tight clasp on my subconscious. I’m at The Chocolate Shoppe. My apron is a mess. It’s been a long day and I’m about to close. But then I fumble a bottle of caramel and hold my breath as it dives off the counter, plummeting toward the ground before someone sweeps in and catches it.
I look up to find two very green eyes staring into mine.
“Got it,” he says, one side of his smile tilting upward into a crooked grin with killer dimples.
Cody.
It’s a dream, a very pleasant dream as I relive that night in broken fragments, everything from him ordering chocolates to the photo-booth pictures to parting ways in the mall parking lot.
“Hey,” I call after him as he walks away. He turns, still walking as I hold up his chocolates and stuffed dog. “You almost forgot.”
He shakes his head, walking backward with a wide smile. “They’re for you,” he calls out.
I look at the bag of chocolates in my hand—all of my favorite chocolates—and the dog, stunned.
The dog.
I spring out of bed, feeling light-headed and confused. The dog. Cody did give me something else that night.
The glow of early dawn slithers in through the broken slats of my blinds, illuminating my closet door with a hazy blue light. I throw open the closet and search through my things on hands and knees, remembering how I threw the stuffed animal in here in a senseless rage after seeing Cody at school that first day. And then I forgot all about it.
My hand brushes past something soft and fluffy and I drag it out.
The dog.
I stare at the cute white dog, wondering what on earth would possess Cody to take the time to buy a stuffed animal at the mall when he knew he was in danger.
What if Cody’s memory failed him yet again? Is it possible he didn’t throw his phone away after all?
I squeeze the dog, shifting the stuffing aside as I feel around. Nothing. No phone.
I let out a resigned breath of air. It was worth a try. Some of the stuffing has fallen out, littering the carpet at my knees. Curious, I pull the dog up to eye level, finding an opening in the seam—almost like someone tore it open.
I shove my finger inside and feel around, wondering if I’m crazy. Or could it be? A tiny piece of something hard touches my finger and I pinch, drawing it out to reveal a flat little square. A SIM card. For an iPhone.
I sit on my bed and stare at it. The clock on my wall ticks with the passing of time. My initial feelings of triumph ebb as I consider what this could mean—for Vic. Fin and Damian aren’t the only ones this recording will bring down. Am I actually considering this? Handing over incriminating evidence on another member of my family to Special Agent Rush?
Minute after minute passes until two hours have gone by.
I find myself at Vic’s bedroom door a moment later, slowly pushing it open to reveal a still-sleeping Vic, his sheets a tangled mess around him. The earthy, stale scent that is so my brother reaches my senses. It’s foul and yet, at this moment, oddly endearing. My throat tightens. Vic is a mess and is most likely involved with drugs again. When will it end?
He stirs in his bed. I should dart down the hallway, close the door, or at least flinch at the thought of Vic finding me in his room uninvited, but I stand my ground.
His brow twists in confusion when he sees me.
I hold up the SIM card, feeling the sting of tears in my eyes and wondering if I should have gone behind his back after all. But he’s my brother. The only sibling I have.
“This is it, Vic,” I say. “Cody’s recording of the drug deal. It wasn’t thrown away after all.”
Vic sits up, his feet touching the floor as he buries his head in his hands and exhales.
I brace myself for his tirade. “Cody doesn’t know I have it.”
Vic stands. I swallow hard, reminding myself to be strong. He walks toward me, navigating through the piles of laundry and trash on his floor.
He plucks the SIM card from my fingers, towering over me.
“It will catch up to you someday, Vic,” I say past the lump in my throat. “One day, sooner or later.”
Cody’s argument about right and wrong comes to mind, and I agonize over whether I’m doing the right thing. I close my eyes as though I can block out reality. Here I am handing this valuable piece of evidence over to the person it incriminates. How can I go on being Cody’s friend keeping this piece of the puzzle from him? He was the victim that night. The truth is the least he deserves.
Vic’s fingers touch mine, and I open my eyes. He places the SIM card in my palm and closes my fingers around it.
He nods once. Twice. “I know,” he says. “And this belongs to Cody.”
Brushing past me toward the bathroom, Vic leaves me in his open doorway without another word.
CHAPTER 40
Cody
I stare at the box in my closet. Cody’s Room: Jimmy’s things. I slide the lid open with ease this time, knowing Jimmy would have wanted this. Forgetting, I’ve learned, is rarely the solution. He would have wanted me to remember all the times we shared, from the very best to the bitter end.
The deck of old-fashioned baseball cards rests on the top. I smile. I shift through the Ninja Turtles, spotting a few other action figures I hadn’t noticed before. And then the time machine. My smile broadens.
“It’s a time machine,” Jimmy had answered my questioning stare when I found him hunched over the LEGO creation.
“You traveling ahead in time, Jimmy?” I’d teased him.
“No, I’m coming back in time someday.”
“What for?”
“In case I grow up someday and lose my imagination, like all the adults say you do. This way I can come back and remember all these genius ideas I’ve got.”
Jimmy was a lot of things. Humble wasn’t one of them.
The sketchbook is the hardest part. My hand brushes over the thick cover, wiping away some dust. I open it at last, finding one of Jimmy’s earliest sketches of our family. The second is a sketch of him as a kid dressed in full Luke Skywalker attire with Yoda on his back. Another of himself with a bat raised over his shoulder on home base. The picture of the Scottsdale Stadium catches my eye, the one I watched Jimmy draw on his eighth birthday.
Time Machine Figure 1: NBA Star Cody Rush
I smile at the caption above the next drawing. The sketch is of me as an adult wearing a red Chicago Bulls jersey. It’s a pretty good depiction of me, actually, the older me Jimmy never saw. I turn the page to find another time machine picture. This one is of me behind the wheels of a nice sports car. So far, I’m loving the future Jimmy drew for me.
Page after page, picture after picture of the future as Jimmy saw it. I’ve never seen these until now.
Time Machine Figure 7: Special Agent Cody Rush
There I stand with my gun drawn, an oversized badge at my hip. But where is Jimmy? I turn the page, finding it blank. This was it; the last picture Jimmy drew. I flip back and stare at Special Agent Cody Rush again. It’s only me, no Special Agent Jimmy Rush at my side. In fact, every time machine picture has only one person in it: me.
A few other odds and ends are scattered along the bottom of the box: a Buzz Lightyear and some plastic binoculars I remember getting in a kid’s meal. I place everything except the sketchbook back inside.
Time machine. Ninja Turtles. Baseball cards last of all. I situate the lid on top and put it back in my closet. Things Jimmy would have wanted me to keep.
I take the sketchbook to my desk and place it where I can see it. Today. Tomorrow. Maybe I’ll leave it there forever. Special Agent Cody Rush stares back at me from the page.
He should go inside. I recall the thought I had that day when Jimmy and I were pelting lizards with our airsoft gun in the backyard, the day he got sick. I ignored that instinct and it’s haunted me for years.
I grab my wallet and keys, glancing back at my room as I shut the door. There will always be too much quiet, a voice that’s missing, empty spaces where Jimmy’s things would have been. But maybe, as his time machine pictures suggest, Jimmy was okay with that.
I brush my teeth before heading out for the night. Hot date. Nine o’clock. I spit and rinse, placing my toothbrush back on the second shelf from the bottom as always. A new brush rests on the shelf below mine. Unwrapped but unused. Like it has for the past eight years. I take in a deep breath and let it go—everything. And I put the toothbrush in the trash.
“Have you been in here before?” the dark-haired, blue-eyed beauty asks me from across the counter.
I lean up against the display of chocolates and work up a mischievous grin. “Unfortunately, I don’t remember.”
It’s true; I still don’t recall coming into The Chocolate Shoppe that night or taking the photo-booth pictures.
Julianna places her palms on the counter and leans forward, a flirtatious smile playing at her lips as she inches toward me. “Hmm, well, you’re missing out.”
“Am I?”
She nods, her bottom lip drawn between her teeth in the enticing way that makes me want to pull her right up over the counter and kiss her breathless.
“So, what can I get for you?” she asks as she puts on a new set of gloves. “Are you buying for yourself or someone else?”
“Someone else.”
“Someone special?”
I nod, crossing my arms and leaning on the counter to bridge the distance that’s been between us for far too long. “She has no idea.”
Julianna smiles, the corners of her lips curving into her ever-reddening cheeks. “Well,” she says and stands tall again, digging her hand into her hip. There’s that attitude I love. “Then you’d better buy her some chocolates to let her know.”
“Think that’ll do the trick?”
“Mm-hm.”
“We’re on then,” I say. “Get me a box of nothing but the best.”
Julianna points out her favorite chocolates, boxing each one. Plenty of milk buttercream and lots of Rocky Road.
“Throw in a few of those almond buds, too,” I say.
She lifts a skeptical brow. “You sure this girl of yours likes nuts?”
“Those are for me.”
She laughs. We both tease and laugh as we close down the shop for the night and head out. We eat chocolates and take photo-booth pictures, recreating our first unofficial date. I plan on never forgetting this one.
Picture number one: chocolates in our mouth.
Picture number two: chocolate-covered smiles.
Picture number three: a chocolate-tasting kiss. I could get used to these.
I interlock my fingers with hers, drawing her hand up between us like that day in my backyard when we were covered in mud. Julianna looks into my eyes and whispers, “I love you, too.”
The machine flashes. Picture number four down.
“I should have told you that night at homecoming,” she says.
I look at our hands, enjoying the feel of her fingers in mine.
“And I wanted to tell you thank you,” she continues. “For the other night at the pageant. For coming. Thank you for everything.”
“I only wish I could have been there to hear you sing again,” I say, recalling the day she sang while I played the guitar.
“How about a personal performance sometime?”
I smile. “We’re on.”
Julianna’s expression turns solemn. She lets her hand drop. “I have something for you. Vic and I have something for you.”
“Vic?”
She nods. Takes a deep breath. She reaches into her purse and draws something out.
“What is it?” I say, unable to see what’s between her fingers in this dark photo booth.
She grips whatever it is in her fist before turning it over to me. “It’s yours, Cody. You didn’t lose it. Turn it in to the police; give it to your dad—whatever you need to do. Vic knows, and he’s ready to face the consequences.”
I stare at the tiny SIM card in her palm. A SIM card. For an iPhone.
I look up in disbelief. “Is this . . .”
She nods.
“How?”
“You gave it to me that night, only I didn’t know. You hid it in the stuffed dog.”
“What stuffed dog?”
She pulls the curtain aside and points to the stand of stuffed animals down the hallway. “You can buy me another one if you really want to re-create that night,” she says, one corner of her lips curling up playfully.
“The recording,” I say as I take the SIM card. Here it is. Solid evidence that will answer so many questions about that night. I look back at her, carefully reading her expression. Turning this in can only mean more heartache for her family. “Are you sure?”
She nods.
“Is Vic sure?”
Again she nods.
Dad will be happy, satisfied even. Julianna’s turning this in will sway his opinion of her for sure. Mom, Lizzy, and Rachel all love her. He’s bound to come around after this.
“Come on,” Julianna says, pulling back the curtain and climbing out.
I follow her, stepping on some type of card on my way. Trash, probably. A punch card for the carousel or a food court restaurant. But as I step away, the card catches my eye and I can’t look away.
“Come on,” Julianna calls out, already ahead of me. But I can’t stop staring at it. What are the chances?
“What is it?” Julianna asks, back at my side. She bends down, picks it up, and flips it back and forth like a piece of junk she’s considering tossing. “Hm, a baseball card.”
She tucks it into the front pocket of my shirt and gives my chest a pat.
I look down at the pocket, frozen. Deep in thought.
Our discussion of right and wrong, mercy and justice weighs on my mind. Julianna was right. Life isn’t fair. I’ve known that ever since Jimmy died. But I’ve learned a few things since that first night here in the mall, things I don’t fully comprehend and may never really understand. That maybe life isn’t all chance. Maybe some things happen for a reason. Maybe, even, Julianna and I were brought together that night by a force beyond our control.
“You were right, you know,” I say.
“Right about what?” Julianna asks. “That you’re a pretty boy?” She snags the photo-booth pictures from my hand and throws me a wink. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
She grabs my hand with a flirtatious smile and leads me to the exit.
“So, what now?” I ask. “My part of the date is over. The second half was yours to plan.”
She holds up a plastic bag. “Two cupcakes, specially made. Then basketball at a park. I wore my tennis shoes.”
I throw her a curious glance as I open the mall door for her.
“Don’t judge,” she says and steps out. “After spending everything on that pageant, I’m tight on funds again. Had to get creative.”
“Basketball, though?” I ask. “Are you sure?”
She pinches the rim of my hat and tugs it down. “The sport might be growing on me.”
Cupcakes and basketball? My luck keeps getting better.
“You know, I can take you to a show or something if you’d rather—”
“Uh-uh.” She cuts me off. “I expect you to bring your best game. I’ve never seen you play and I’m curious to find out if you’re as good a b
all player as you are a kisser.”
“So this is that type of competition?” I ask, receiving a playful nod from her in return as we walk to my car. Her bottom lip is pulled between smiling teeth.
Game on.
Read on for an excerpt from Laura Johnston’s evocative young adult
novel Rewind to You, available now in ebook or print on demand.
WISH YOU WERE HERE
One last summer before college on beautiful Tybee Island is
supposed to help Sienna forget. But how can she? This is where
her family spent every summer before everything changed,
before the world as she knew it was ripped away.
But the past isn’t easily left behind. Especially when Sienna
keeps having episodes that take her back to the night she wants
to forget. Even when she meets the mysterious Austin Dobbs,
the guy with the intense blue eyes, athlete’s body, and weakness
for pralines who scooped her out of trouble when she blacked
out on River Street.
When she’s with Austin, Sienna feels a whole new world
opening up to her. Austin has secrets, and she has history.
But caught between the past and the future, Sienna can still
choose what happens now . . .
“A fabulous, fresh new voice in YA.”
—Kay Lynn Mangum, author of The Secret Journal of
Brett Colton
“Laura Johnston scores a touchdown with this coming-
of-age love story.”
—Kelly Nelson, author of The Keeper’s Saga
“This poignant, sweet romance gripped my heart
from beginning to end.”
—Jennette Green, author of The Commander’s Desire
I toss my cell in my purse and take a deep breath, inhaling the sugary scent of vanilla and pecans. It’s the smell of River Street.
Let’s make a pact.
The words I heard my dad speak when I passed out drift back to my mind. But what was our pact? A crippling ache seeps into my heart as a thought settles in: I’m already starting to forget him.
Between Now & Never Page 32