I was so startled that it took me a second or two to realize I needed to stop running to avoid a collision. I did, but just barely.
“Whoa,” someone said. “Look out.”
It was a horse-drawn sleigh, and I’d nearly run into the horse. The sleighs are one of those cozy romantic things that couples pay extra for at the carnival. It would probably be the next stop for my group after they finished skating. I’d gotten away just in time. This sleigh had a couple in it, curled up together in the back seat.
“You can’t come through this way,” the driver said. “This is the sleigh track through here.”
“Sorry,” I said.
“Babie?” Looking up, I saw Cameron Schaeffer. He disentangled himself from Gracie and stood up. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” I said.
“Why aren’t you with your friends?” Gracie asked.
“I just decided to head home. I thought I would cut through this way.”
“You can’t walk home by yourself,” Cameron said.
“I’m not a little kid.”
“I know,” Cameron said. “It’s not safe to be walking around by yourself in the dark.”
“This is Shallow Pond,” I reminded him.
“I’ll give you a ride,” Cameron said.
“Why don’t you get Jenelle to drive you?” Gracie said. “Cameron and I weren’t planning on leaving yet. We haven’t finished our sleigh ride, and then we want to go skating.”
“Actually, I’m getting tired of having to explain to everyone what I’m doing back in town,” Cameron said.
“I’m fine,” I told them again, but Cameron insisted on driving me home. I think he was just looking for any excuse he could to leave the carnival early. He may have been a complete shit, but I felt bad for him. The Shallow Pond winter carnival was sheer torture.
Gracie, on the other hand, was clearly pissed to be leaving early. She glared at me as we got into Cameron’s car. It was old and came to life with a very reluctant shudder. As we pulled out of the parking lot, Gracie waved to someone she recognized. She rolled down the window to shout something at them, and cold air blew on me.
“You’re freezing out your sister in the back seat,” Cameron told her. She sighed, gave one last wave, and rolled the window back up.
“Oh, it was so funny,” she said. “Everyone kept thinking I was Annie, you know, because I was with Cameron. Right, Cameron? Wasn’t it funny?”
“Yeah,” Cameron said.
“Yeah, Mrs. Mullen thought I was you,” I said.
“She has bad eyesight,” Gracie said. “Did that new guy show up? The one who likes you?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said.
“She’s going through her moody teenager phase,” Gracie told Cameron, in a voice loud enough for me to hear her clearly.
Cameron glanced at me in the rearview mirror, and I’m not sure, but I think he was trying to offer me a sympathetic smile. Perhaps he wasn’t so bad after all. Hell, between the winter carnival and having to spend the evening with Gracie, I figured he’d certainly done his penance.
It wasn’t until we’d pulled up in front of the house that I realized I forgot to get Annie her roasted chestnuts.
Six
I woke up Sunday morning to my cell phone ringing. It was Jenelle. I’d ignored all her calls and texts the night before. I wanted to ignore this one as well, but I knew from experience that she would try calling the house line instead.
“That was total bullshit yesterday,” I said.
“Well, I’m glad you can admit your mistakes,” she said in a snotty voice.
“No, I meant what you did to me was shit. My behavior was completely reasonable.”
“Storming off like a spoiled kid?”
“I told you I didn’t want to go to the carnival with Zach.”
“What? It’s not my fault he was there and Dave and Frank felt bad for him being all alone.”
“Cut the crap,” I said. I didn’t hear anything for a few seconds and wondered if she’d hung up on me. “You still there?”
“I don’t like seeing you all miserable and depressed, and I just thought if you met a nice guy, maybe you would come out of your funk.”
“I don’t need a guy to make me happy,” I said.
“What? Are you saying I do?”
“I’m saying that the only thing that will make me happy is getting the hell out of this piece-of-crap town.”
“I guess we’re not good enough for you, is that it? We’re just small-town folk and not all cosmopolitan like you are, because you’re from—wait, where are you from again? Oh, that’s right, Shallow Pond, just like the rest of us.”
“Look, I just woke up,” I said. “Can I call you back later?” My head hurt, and I didn’t really want to have this conversation right now.
“Just forget it,” Jenelle said, and this time the silence signaled the end of our conversation.
Odds were, only a handful of kids from my class would actually stick around Shallow Pond after high school. Most kids went off to college or whatever, and few of them ever returned except for the occasional holiday or funeral. I knew Jenelle probably wouldn’t be spending the rest of her life in Shallow Pond, but the difference between her and me was that she wouldn’t have minded spending the rest of her days there, whereas I couldn’t imagine a worse fate. Of course, part of the reason I was so desperate to leave, so hung up on getting out of that place, was our own family legacy. The Buntings seemed to have a difficult time getting away from Shallow Pond.
I waited a few seconds to see if Jenelle was going to call back or perhaps send an angry text, but the phone remained silent. I climbed out of bed and headed downstairs. The kitchen was empty, and I wondered if I really could be the first one up. I poured myself a bowl of cereal and was just about to start eating when the back door swung open and Gracie stepped in with a bag of groceries. I couldn’t believe that my sister would actually go into Mr. K’s on her day off to go
shopping.
“I ran into Shawna at Mr. K’s,” Gracie said. “She told me you totally ditched them last night.”
“Well, that’s her version of the story. It’s actually a bit more complicated than that.”
“Oh, I don’t think it’s complicated at all. I think you’re a selfish, miserable little girl who can’t stand to see anyone else happy.”
“Yeah, that must be it,” I said. I pretended to be completely engrossed in reading the facts about whole wheat on the back of the cereal box.
Gracie put away the groceries she’d bought, muttering to herself as she did so. She sounded like a bit of a crazy person. Finally she shoved the milk into the fridge and turned around to face me. “Cameron and I were having a good time last night until you came along and spoiled everything.”
“Cameron wasn’t having a good time,” I said.
“What are you talking about?”
“He was miserable. You know, once you’ve lived in places where things actually happen occasionally, it’s hard to return to a world where the winter carnival is about as exciting as it gets.”
“Just because it’s not your sort of thing doesn’t mean other people don’t enjoy it, and, FYI, it’s not always the event itself that makes things fun, it’s who you’re with.”
I thought about this. There had been something bothering me ever since I saw Gracie and Cameron cuddled up together in that sleigh, and Gracie’s words seemed to drive this home for me.
“What the hell are you doing?” I asked.
“Putting away the groceries. What does it look like?”
“No, I mean with Cameron.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I saw the two of you together. Gracie, are you two like a couple or something?” She didn’t answ
er right away, but she didn’t have to. I could see the look on her face—she liked him. “Oh, this is so wrong.”
“It’s not wrong at all,” Gracie said. “We’re two grown-ups. Cameron’s only a few years older than me. I don’t see what the big deal is.”
“But this is Cameron Schaeffer. I mean, what about Annie?”
“What about her? She told us to go to the carnival to-gether.”
“Yeah, but she didn’t mean it like that.”
I realized I had lost my appetite. I dumped the rest of my cereal bowl into the sink.
“That was all a long time ago,” Gracie said.
“You can’t do this to her,” I said.
“Can’t do what to whom?” Annie asked. She was standing in the kitchen doorway. I don’t know how long she’d been there. I looked at Gracie, hoping she knew better than to say anything out loud. She looked flustered and nervous.
“Nothing,” Gracie said.
Annie raised a skeptical eyebrow. “How was the carnival?” she asked.
“Fine,” Gracie and I said in perfect unison. Annie gave us another curious look.
“I forgot your chestnuts,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right,” Annie said. “They always smell better than they taste anyway.”
Gracie finished putting away the rest of the groceries and all but ran off, saying she had something she needed to do upstairs. I didn’t want to be alone with Annie. I knew she’d start asking me questions about the carnival, and it would only be a matter of time before I blurted out something about Gracie and Cameron. So I said I was going to take a shower and abandoned Annie in the kitchen.
Jenelle made a point of not speaking to me at school on Monday. I couldn’t tell if Shawna was in on the silent treatment campaign also, but I figured it would be just as well to avoid the awkwardness of the lunch table. So I spent my lunch in the library instead, trying to read my history book but not having much luck. It was true that Shallow Pond wasn’t exactly awash in eligible bachelors, but there were at least a few of them. Surely Gracie could have hitched her star to one of their wagons. Did she really have to pick Cameron Schaeffer, of all the available men in town? It wasn’t like he was that good-looking.
“Hey.” It was like he was reading my thoughts or something. Unbelievable. Zach Faraday stood beside the study carrel. “I didn’t see you at lunch, so I thought I might find you here.”
“Perhaps I’m not at lunch because I needed to get some studying done,” I said.
“Oh, sorry. I’ll let you get back to your work.” He started to walk away, and I was thinking it had gone incredibly smoothly, but then he stopped and turned back toward me. “I feel like we kind of got off on the wrong foot.”
“We haven’t gotten off,” I pointed out. I was careful not to look at Zach. It was easier that way. If I looked at him—those eyes, that smile—it might have just melted me. I assured myself that as long as I kept my distance, I would be fine.
“What I mean is, your friends. I mean, they were all trying to play matchmaker or whatever, and I guess I should have realized you weren’t really involved in any of that. That they were kind of doing it behind your back and all. I thought maybe you were just kind of shy.”
“It’s cool,” I said. “I forgive you.” I turned away and read the same paragraph in my history book that I’d been reading for the past twenty minutes with no success. I thought he would take a hint and walk away. He didn’t. I could feel him standing there. I finally spun around and glared at him. “What?”
Why did he have to be so damn good-looking? I wondered if he stood for hours in front of his mirror practicing looking cool. His clothes must have cost a small fortune. If he really was an orphan, perhaps he was one of those orphans who’d been left a big fat trust fund.
“You hate me,” he said.
“I don’t hate you.” I didn’t. I didn’t like him, either. I couldn’t afford to like him. I wanted to avoid having to feel anything about him.
“Well, it seems like you hate me.”
“Look, I’m sorry you got stuck moving to this shithole town halfway through your senior year of high school. It’s a fate I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy, but I’m sorry if I don’t feel like it’s my job to play angel and try and rescue you or something.”
“I don’t think I’m really looking for an angel. I would settle for a friend.”
“I have enough of those,” I said.
“You’re talking about those flighty, giggly girls who tried to fix you up with some guy against your will? The girls who aren’t even speaking to you at the moment?”
Damn you, Zach Faraday and your incredible powers of observation. “Jenelle and Shawna have their flaws, but we’ve been friends a long time,” I said.
“I suppose one more friend would push you over your limit then?” He smiled at me like this was all some big joke, and it was one of those million-watt smiles. I could feel my defenses weakening.
“In August, I’m leaving for college and never looking back.”
“I don’t think spending the rest of my natural-born life in Shallow Pond was exactly what I had in mind either, but August is, like, eight months away. So, what do you say? Truce?”
“Sure, whatever.”
“Friends?” he asked.
I sighed. “Fine, friends.”
He held out his hand and I shook it. It was ridiculous and formal, and I couldn’t help but laugh at it.
“Ha, I knew you could smile.”
I snatched my hand away and shook my head. “Don’t push your luck,” I said.
“Right, well, I’ll let you get back to your studying.”
He walked away and I watched him leave. Of all the people in this school, why did he feel compelled to be friends with me?
I returned my attention to the history book, but my brain was even more useless than it had been before. I couldn’t make any sense of the words on the page. I kept thinking about the way Zach’s hand had felt so warm and soft and perfect. I kept thinking about that smile. I kept thinking about the way he’d gone out of his way to be friends with me. Was this how it all began? I felt dangerously close to the precipice, like at any moment I would stumble off and into the waiting arms of Zach Faraday. It seemed like only a thin thread was holding me back from becoming the sort of girl who could throw away her whole life for some stupid guy.
I forced myself to read the history book, trying to drill each word into my head and chase away those ridiculous thoughts that had taken up residence there.
Seven
“I hate to tell you this, but that television isn’t even turned on.”
I looked up, and Annie was standing next to the couch smiling at me. I’m not sure how long I’d been sitting on the couch staring off into space.
Nearly a week had passed since the carnival, and it had been a strange week. Jenelle and Shawna were finally speaking to me again, but things weren’t back to how they used to be. It felt like something had changed forever between us. I wasn’t sure that things could ever go back to the way they used to be. Maybe it was because we were growing up and changing.
“I was planning on making some biscuits from Mom’s recipe to go with dinner. Why don’t you come help me?”
It sounded like a question, but what Annie was really saying was get your lazy ass off that couch before you grow roots. I followed her into the kitchen.
It looked like she had finally kicked that cold. She was up and about and acting like her old self again. It was good to have her back to normal. At least something in my life was normal.
Annie flipped through the little tin box that held all of our mother’s recipes. Some were worn-out pieces of paper clipped from magazines, but the best recipes were the ones on dirty, stained index cards that had been written in her own hand. Annie pulled out the biscuit recip
e and placed it on the counter. I stared at the familiar card with its looping handwriting and tried to conjure up an image of my mother.
“Did you used to help her make biscuits when you were younger?” I asked.
“Well, I was pretty young,” Annie said. “She would let me help her measure the flour, though.”
That was the reason Annie was such a good cook. She’d actually had someone to teach her. I helped her get the ingredients out, trying to imagine that there was a third person in the kitchen with us. But there was no third person, just an old recipe card and an empty place.
“Gracie said you had some sort of fight with your friends.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said.
“Sometimes it helps to talk about things.”
“We’re not fighting anymore,” I said. It was true, but it almost felt like a lie. It was like the fight between us would never quite go away. “When you were getting ready to graduate, were you excited about college and moving away?” I asked.
“I had mixed thoughts on that,” she said. “Shallow Pond was my home. It was the only place I’d ever lived. I was scared about going away.”
“Really?” I didn’t feel that at all.
“You’re not scared at all?” she asked.
I thought about it. The only thing I was scared about was getting stuck in Shallow Pond, or having to come back.
“I’m scared of things not working out,” I said. “I’m scared of failure.”
“Well, so you are human after all.” I ignored the derisive tone in Annie’s voice. If it were anyone else I might have snapped at them, but I couldn’t snap at Annie.
“So, you didn’t go to school because you were scared?”
“Well, yeah, that’s a big part of it. It’s complicated.”
I watched her as she stirred the biscuit ingredients to-gether with a wooden spoon. She stared off into space as if she was seeing the future she’d given up on.
“Complicated, how?” I asked.
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