How My Summer Went Up in Flames

by Doktorski, Jennifer Salvato

  “No. But I’d never been on a horse until today either.”

  “And look how well that turned out. If you decide to do it, look me up. I’ll take you for a ride. You’ll love floating with the clouds.”

  My stomach already feels like it is. I know Lucca is just being friendly, but my resistance is fading. Could I make it to Albuquerque in the fall? I’m afraid to look at the guys. I sense they’re the ones doing the eye rolling now.

  “Call me here when you need to plan your next getaway.” Then Lucca leans in and gives me an innocent, but sweet, kiss on my cheek. His scruff gives me chills.

  I turn to see Lucca’s dad and my three guys staring at us. We stare back at them. It’s like a gun duel at the OK Corral. Matty is the first to make a move. He runs a finger along the scrape on his forehead. Logan turns and walks toward the car. Lucca’s dad tells him to bring the horses into the barn. Lucca starts to lead Penny away from me, then stops. He takes off his necklace and walks back. In one quick motion, he fastens it around my neck.

  “I can’t take this,” I say.

  “How ’bout you give it back next time I see you. You know where to find me.” He gives me a crooked, flirty smile, then saunters back to Penny. I think we both know we’re never going to see each other again, but I like the idea of having a cowboy in New Mexico to fantasize about whenever I’m in a funk.

  Matty waits for me. He puts an arm on my shoulder, buddylike, and leads me toward the car.

  “It always starts off well, doesn’t it? Let’s go before Lucca’s horse ends up like Joey’s Mustang.”

  I shrug off his hand and shoot him a cold, hard stare. Matty smiles and throws his arms up in surrender. “Just trying to be helpful.”

  I give him my give-me-a-break face as he opens the door for me. I’m not really mad; I know he’s only joking. As Matty walks around the car to his side, I stand there for a few seconds, my hand on the door, gazing at the barn and the mountains beyond. It’s funny, I think as I slip inside and slam the car door shut. It’s Penny, not Lucca, who I’m already missing.

  Chapter 15

  The ride from New Mexico to Arizona is the most tedious stretch of the journey thus far. Outside the car, the scenery is flat, brown, and repetitive, while inside, it is ridiculously—no, make that annoyingly—silent. Here we go again. At least girls have actual hormonal shifts that account for their mood swings. It’s biology. But these three, what’s their excuse?

  For the first hour, Logan won’t turn on the car stereo. Matty has his earbuds in, Spencer is fingering the strings of his guitar without strumming, and I’m listening to my own tunes. Even though I’ve got control of my phone (Matty handed it to me when we got in the car), I’m having trouble getting cell reception out here. I keep waiting for someone to say something—anything. I see signs for Historic Route 66, but no one even mentions it. I remember this section of Spencer’s itinerary. He called it “The Mother Road.”

  I’m shocked and disappointed when I yell, “Hey, look, we’re coming up to the Continental Divide!” and no one acknowledges that I’ve spoken. I’m not even sure what it is, just seems like something this crew would be interested in. Why are they mad at me? It’s not like I was making out with Lucca. And I’m not the one who kissed him on the cheek. Or gave him Native American jewelry. Fine. If they want to play the silent treatment game, I’m going to win. Honestly, it’s like they don’t want me to be happy. One step up, two steps back. I am so freakin’ sick of this car and them.

  I turn up the volume on my music, fold my arms, close my eyes, and plan to sleep until we reach the Grand Canyon. I can’t believe I felt wistful about leaving the ranch and this trip coming to an end. I want to see my family and my girlfriends. I want to sleep in my own bed. I want to get my stupid effin’ court date over with and get on with my summer routine. This sucks! I am throwing a mental tantrum. I am done with these three. I wonder if I can ignore them for the rest of the trip. It’s been days since Dollywood, and I’m ready for this roller-coaster ride to be done.

  • • •

  About thirty minutes later, Matty points a pack of spearmint gum my way. “Want some?” he asks. I pretend to sleep. A few minutes after that, Spencer says, “We’re almost to Gallup.” I ignore him, too. It’s always on their terms. Well, I hope they’re catching a breeze right now.

  “We’ll be stopping for food and gas when we get there,” Logan says. “If she wants to sleep, or pretend to sleep, let her.”

  What I want to do is kick him in the back of the head with my foot, but I keep up my game of possum. Besides, I can eat without talking. A minute later, the car slows to a stop and Logan puts it in park. That was fast. But when Logan starts pounding the steering wheel and yelling, “Shit, shit, shit,” I open my eyes and see that we’re on the side of the road, not in the parking lot of some fast-food restaurant.

  “Flat?” Matty asks.

  Spencer leans over to look at the gauges. “Outta gas,” he sighs.

  This is so not Logan. His personality is definitely lacking in some areas, but I’ve always felt safe with him. He’s like my dad: always in control, always knowing things, like when we’re running low on fuel and where we’re supposed to be and when. I’m feeling a little sorry for him but quickly push it away.

  “Matty and I will walk down the interstate and get some gas. It’s only a few miles,” Logan says. I look down the road. I can see the next exit from here. It doesn’t look that far, but nothing does on the open road. Who knows how long it will take them. And it’s disgustingly hot outside. “Spence, you and Rosie stay here with the car.”

  I pull out a bottle of water from my backpack and hand it to Matty. “Take this. And buy yourself some more at the gas station before you walk back. You need to stay hydrated.”

  “Thanks, Rosie.” He looks less than thrilled to have been enlisted to make the long, sweltering trek with Logan the Grouch.

  I watch them walk along the shoulder until their shapes blur in the heat rising off the pavement. Then I join Spencer, who is sitting on the trunk strumming his guitar. He plays a classic rock riff I recognize from Guitar Hero and segues into another song.

  “This is my Monsters of Rock Guitar medley.”

  “You’re really good,” I say. “How about playing me something I know.”

  Without even thinking about it, he launches into the chorus of “Rosalita.”

  “Am I that predictable? A New Jersey girl who likes Bruce?”

  “Predictable?” He shakes his head and chuckles. “No.”

  “Can’t deny my love for Bruce.”

  “Nothing wrong with that. He’s a genius. Anyway, I know you’re named after the song.”

  “Matty,” I say.

  “Talks about you all the time. You know—”

  I hold up my hand. I’m feeling embarrassed, for me and Matty. Spencer is about to tell me something that, on some level, I’ve always known. “I don’t think I should hear this.”

  “Got it. No words. Does that apply to my brother, too? You do know why he’s acting this way, right?”

  What about Avery? I want to say. But really, I don’t want to delve into Logan’s or Matty’s or even Avery’s psyche. I’ve already made a mess of my love life. No need to enter into a love rhombus. Instead, I take the guitar from Spencer. “Do you think you can teach me to play this thing?”

  “For real?”

  “Yes, for real. I want you to show me what you showed Matty. I want to be able to play a song.”

  “Okay, then. Let’s start with a G chord.”

  Spencer puts the guitar on my lap. He takes my left hand and places it on the guitar’s neck and drapes my right hand on the body. Then he carefully manipulates my pinkie, middle, and pointer fingers into the correct positions on the nylon strings.

  “Push down on these three strings. Careful not to touch the others.”

  I push down as hard as I can. It’s not easy to hold them down, though.

  “Good,” Spencer
tells me. “Now, take your thumb like this—” He grabs my right hand. “And strum.” He guides my hand across all five strings.

  “That sounded like crap,” I say.

  “It did. Playing guitar is harder than it looks.”

  “I can’t keep the string down and strum at the same time. This is very uncomfortable.”

  “I hate to say this. . . .” Spencer trails off.

  “What? You don’t think you can teach me?”

  “You may not want to learn when you hear this: The fingernails must go.”

  “What?”

  “You must suffer for art.”

  I look down at my hands and the pretty gel manicure I got with Avery. My nails aren’t super long and I don’t wear acrylic tips or anything, but still. I like the length and how they look with polish. Do I want to sacrifice my happy hands?

  I let out a deep breath. “I don’t have a nail clipper.”

  Spencer pulls his keys from his pocket. Of course, he’s got one dangling from the ring. Right next to a pocketknife.

  “Hand it over,” I say. I clip all ten nails extra short and dust the shavings onto the ground.

  “I’m proud of you,” Spencer says. His face looks so sweet when he smiles. “Ready to try the G again?”

  “I’m all yours.”

  I struggle but keep strumming. Spencer coaches me. “Nice and even. That’s it.” And then on about my fifteenth try, it sounds like something.

  “There’s your G!” He’s all excited. “Now keep going. Once you master that, I’ll teach you the D.”

  My left hand is getting sweaty, so I wipe it on my shirt and then realize I’ve forgotten where I’m supposed to put my fingers. Spencer takes my fingers and gently places them where they belong.

  “What’s it feel like?” Spencer asks.

  “Guitar strings?”

  “No, being in love. Is it worth it?”

  It’s an interesting time to ask this. I’m sitting on the trunk of a Taurus, guitar in my hand, taking lessons from a guy who, six days ago, was a complete stranger to me, and why? Joey. Still, I do my best to sift through the bad stuff in my brain and find those golden moments—the ones I hope to feel again someday.

  The right corner of my mouth turns up as I remember the rush and excitement of falling in love with Joey. Those first days, weeks, months, were amazing. I thought about him all the time. I had no appetite and dropped seven pounds without dieting. I hardly slept but was never tired and woke up before my alarm most mornings. I couldn’t wait to start a new day even though Joey and I didn’t go to the same school. That part was hard. We couldn’t see each other between classes or at lunch, but every text and phone call gave me a rush. Going to different schools heightened the thrill of seeing his car in my school’s parking lot after the dismissal bell. And no matter how often I saw him, it never felt like enough. Back then, I never could’ve imagined hating him. I never wanted to let him go. I certainly couldn’t have predicted the events that led me to this moment in New Mexico.

  Spencer, who has been waiting for an answer, misreads my silence. “I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have brought that up.”

  “No, it’s fine. At first, it was the greatest feeling in the world. The anticipation of seeing him. The buildup to our first date, our first kiss. But then—”

  Do I tell him what’s it’s like when that’s over and heartbreak settles into the place where all those good feelings used to live? How the days seemed so, so long and I couldn’t sleep at night but I didn’t want to get out of bed because nothing felt as good as when I was with Joey? TV, magazines, even talking to my friends, all seemed tedious. I was uptight and distracted. All I had focused on for the past nine months was Joey, and I wasn’t sure what to do once he was gone.

  But I don’t tell Spencer any of that. He’ll have to find out for himself. Not that I wish it on him; I don’t. But we all have to go through it at least once, don’t we? Instead, I just look at Spencer and say: “Well, you know what happened. Here I am, right?”

  “It hasn’t been so bad, has it?”

  I look at Spencer and wonder if he’s ever been kissed. “Can I ask you something?”

  “I guess,” Spencer says.

  “Have you ever—” I stop. I don’t want to embarrass him. Not Spencer.

  “What?” He nudges me.

  I reach for his hair and comb my fingers through his super-straight bangs so they look more tousled and less like his mom cuts his hair. “I was just gonna ask you if you’ve ever thought of using some product. Here, let me get some gel.”

  Spencer surprises me and moves his hand up to meet mine. “No, you weren’t.”

  And then I shock myself. I slide my fingers to his cheeks and then, without thinking, I lean my face close, which isn’t easy with this guitar in my lap, and kiss him on the lips.

  Impulsive. It should be my legal middle name.

  I pull back for a second. He’s one of the good guys and deserves it. Not that I’m saying he deserves me, but he deserves to be kissed.

  And while I’m mulling over all this, Spencer catches me off guard and kisses me back. A real kiss this time. It’s soft and sweet and makes me wish I could fall for Spencer, but I can’t. When it’s over, I realize I’m holding my breath and my knees are shaking. The boy’s got some skills.

  “You’re really good at that,” I say.

  “Cosmo. Great for research.” Spencer smiles.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I probably shouldn’t have done that. I can’t explain why I do anything lately and—”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way. I’m thrilled to have that first kiss out of the way, and it’s not that you aren’t pretty, because you are. You totally are. But I can’t say I exactly . . .”

  “Felt anything?” I offer.

  “You either, huh?”

  Relief. It passes over both our faces. I can tell.

  “Yeah, but that’s okay. Save that research for a girl you’re really crushing on.”

  Despite the fact that we’re both cool with what transpired, I bite my lip and worry about what I’ve just done.

  “Rosie, relax. He doesn’t have to know about this.”

  “Who?”

  He shrugs.

  “I don’t know what you mean. It doesn’t have to be a secret or anything.”

  But Spencer knows that I know he’s got me all figured out. It’s nice that I’ve pretty much exorcised Joey from my heart, but it’s getting crowded in there. I think I need to reserve some space near my aorta or something. The last thing I want is to arrive back in New Jersey more confused than when I left. Spencer points to the guitar.

  “Back to work,” he says. “Two more chords and you’ll be able to play ‘Free Falling.’”

  And then he starts singing about a good girl who loves horses.

  I don’t know why, maybe it’s the sweet sound of Spencer’s voice, but my eyes brim with tears.

  Spencer stops. “Rosie? Are you okay?”

  “Can you teach me something edgier? Maybe something by Pink? ‘Free Falling’ is too sad.” The way Spencer looks at me makes the words pour out. “I used to think I was a good girl. But the truth is, I did a bad thing. I keep trying to justify it by blaming Joey for being a cheating asshole, but he didn’t make me feel this bad. I did this. I’m humiliated, mortified, disappointed, and disgusted with myself. I mean, he cheated on me, right? So that’s a pretty good indication that he didn’t love me anymore. Maybe he never loved me. And what did I do? I could have played it cool. Let him have his jailbait and kept my dignity. But I practically announced to the whole world how badly he hurt me. How much I still loved him. Why did I do that, Spencer, why?”

  I jump off the trunk and stand there on the side of the highway and throw my arms in the air in a giant V, the guitar still hanging around my neck. “I shouldn’t have lost control,” I wail. “And now Joey’s telling lies about me, saying I did things with him that I’ve never done with anyone. Look at where
being Rosie has gotten me.”

  Spencer blinks. “I hope I’m so in love with a girl someday that her breaking up with me would make me want to blow up her car. Well, that sounded bad, but you know what I’m saying. It just means whatever you do, whoever you care about, you’re in it all the way. And that’s nothing to feel bad, or humiliated, about.”

  “You really think so?”

  “Yes. I do. I think you just need an outlet for all that . . . passion.”

  “I am passionate, aren’t I? That’s what I tried to tell Matty.”

  “And for the record, Joey cheated on you because he found a girl who would do what you wouldn’t.”

  “I’m not so sure.” All this time, I figured it was because there’s something wrong with me.

  “I am. I go to school with him, not that he would know that. I’ve seen him in action. If Joey wanted a girlfriend, he never would have broken up with you. So don’t be surprised.”

  “About what?”

  “If he wants you back.”

  “I’m tired of surprises. Lately, things aren’t turning out the way I planned.”

  “Good or bad, nothing ever does,” Spencer says.

  “Fortune cookie?”

  “Nah.” He shakes his head. “All me.”

  • • •

  Logan and Matty finally return, gas can and water bottles in hand. They’re both bright red and sweaty. Logan promptly fills the tank and Matty raises his eyebrows at the guitar. If this surprises him, he should have been here twenty minutes ago. That would have given him an eyeball full.

  “Spencer’s going to teach me to play ‘Free Falling,’” I blurt out.

  “Glad you used this time to pursue your latent artistic urges,” Matty says.

  “Spencer thinks I need to channel my passion,” I reply.

  “How about you start by driving,” Logan says. He tightens the gas cap and walks around to the back of the car to face me.

  “He speaks,” I say.

  “I speak,” he says.

  Logan lets his hand linger in mine as he gives me the keys, and I wish his touch didn’t make every last inch of me want to kiss him, sweaty and all. No more boys. Guitar. I’m going to learn guitar. He looks more relaxed than when he left, and I hate to admit, but I’m relieved he’s not ignoring me anymore.