How I Fall

by Anne Eliot

  I shake my head. “I don’t. Because I live right by the willow grove, just text me when you leave your house, or better yet text me and I’ll come get you.”

  Patrick glowers at me and shakes his head just as Ellen looks up, smiling.

  “Okay. Cool. Saturday, then.”

  ellen

  “That’s Cam Campbell?” Mom’s driving like a grandma into the Golf Club’s private beach access even though it’s early Saturday morning, and we haven’t seen another car since we entered the gate. Mom turns down the radio as we pull up in time to watch Cam expertly maneuver a gold BMW golf cart from the golf course pathways onto the sandy, rutted pathway that leads down to where the trees make a grove and shaded picnic area next to the lake.

  He sees us and waves. I wave back.

  “Well.” She blinks. “He’s very handsome, isn’t he?” She darts me a look.

  I force my voice to ultra-bored and dig around in my bag like I’m looking for something. “I guess, but I don’t care how he looks as much as he probably doesn’t care how I look.” I glance up and wrinkle my nose. “Why?”

  “He’d be lucky to catch you, honey. And why shouldn’t he try? Or maybe you should chase after him? Even if it’s just to land one first kiss.”

  “Mom. Really? Where did you get this idea? Bad Parenting Advice News, or Get-Your-Teen-To Make-Out-Now dot-ARE YOU INSANE?”

  She laughs. “What? It’s your junior year. You should land a first kiss one of these days. So…” Mom trails off as she cuts the puttering engine on our rusted-out Subaru Outback. It’s not lost on both of us that the flashing wheel rims on Cam’s golf cart are probably worth more than our whole car.

  Seeing us pull in, he leaps off the driver’s seat and holds up his phone to show that he’s taking a call then grins and turns away.

  Mom sighs. “What was I saying…oh yeah. So…why not a boy who looks like him?” She shakes her head as though she needs to clear it like I always do when I first see Cam Campbell.

  It takes every ounce of my acting skills to not suck in a breath and let out a dreamy sigh as he throws back his head toward the sunrise and laughs into his phone. It’s a laugh that’s so booming and low that it practically shakes all of his sexy right through our rolled up windows and hits me somewhere behind my heart, just where I’ve been holding my breath this whole time.

  As I breathe out slowly, Mom raises her eyebrows high like she’s on to me and says, “If his dad gets his way with the college to NFL plan, that boy’s face alone is going to sell a whole lot of sneakers and energy drinks. No wonder his father pushes that kid so hard.”

  “Pffft. Please.”

  “And his outfit…so flattering. Why don’t more guys dress like him?”

  “What? Mom, stop yourself. Every guy dresses like that. He’s just wearing a plain white T-shirt and some Levis. Seriously nothing special.” I let my eyes travel over Cam’s outfit but once I’m there, I can’t look away.

  Fine…maybe Mom’s right. Maybe Cam’s plain white T-shirt is setting off the extra wide line of his broad shoulders. Maybe it’s also highlighting his tanned face, neck, arms, not to mention every ripple in his pecs and back! And, fine! It’s a T-shirt that tightens in just the right spot at the end of the shirt sleeves right in the center line of his huge biceps. And…okay, it’s true. There’s something about the jeans. Because these Levis on every other boy would look saggy, droopy and cute enough. But on Cam, of course they look as if they’ve been tailor made to an exact fit from his hips to ankles.

  Mom sighs all dreamy as he approaches. “Oh to be young. Aren’t you supposed to have chaperones? Where’s Patrick and that new girl, Laura, this morning?”

  “They’re coming at ten. They couldn’t handle waking up this early.”

  “What if you can’t control yourself? Even if he is a Campbell, like I said…well…honey…wow…I’d hardly blame you if—”

  I whisper through my teeth. “Mom. No more comments. And please, don’t turn into one of those boy-pinching cougar ladies, either. Because…eew.”

  “Did you just call me—” She’s turned away from him, mouth still open, but half-laughing now.

  “Yes. I. Did. You just crossed the cougar line. No going back.”

  She makes a face as I move to unlock my door and give her the say-anything-else-and-die expression. Cam’s approaching my side of the car. Before I realize what he’s done, he’s opened my door and is holding out his hand like he’s waiting for me to step out!

  Mom’s brows shoot up, but before she can utter one word I grab Cam’s hand like it’s not a big deal and let him take some of my weight as I maneuver my legs out of the car. As he pulls me up really close and just as I’ve got most of my weight on him, I have to grip his forearm way too hard to keep myself from taking a digger onto the parking lot. His whole arm tenses against my hand when he realizes what I’m doing.

  By the time I face him, my cheeks are burning with shame and my head is spinning with all of those wishes I war against every day that have me long to be someone else. “Thanks.” I yank my bad arm away and hide it behind my back, staring at the red marks I’ve left on his forearm.

  “Sure.” He shrugs like it wasn’t the most uncomfortable and awkward thing in the world for him to have me desperately clinging to him like a freak.

  I sigh. But it was. It just was.

  He leans down and speaks to my mom. “Hello, Mrs. Foster. Thanks for getting Ellen and the gear to the project.”

  Mom nods. “Nice to see you, Camden. I hope the project doesn’t take up too much of your time.”

  “Oh, I don’t mind…I’m into photography so…it’s going to be good.”

  Cam leans farther into the passenger door to say more which leaves me unable to process anything he’s saying because I’ve begun staring at the back pockets of his…amazing…jeans…and legs…and…

  *Ellen Foster loses it. Works extra hard to concentrate on what’s being said, not on Camden Campbell’s amazing…butt. SLAPS FACE. Forces her head back to planet earth.*

  “And so, I’m getting my own car soon. A Nissan Pathfinder. It’s scheduled to be delivered to the dealer by the end of this weekend, then my dad’s going to drive it around some—he says for the engine—but it’s because it’s brand new and my dad loves new cars. Finally. It means sooner rather than later, and with your permission, of course, I’d like to drive Ellen down here. I made perfect scores on my driver’s exam. I could show you the papers if you’d like or—”

  Mom’s laughing. “Oh, that’s not necessary. I’m sure you are a wonderful driver. Miss Brown has assured me you are completely safe all around. That’s why she chose you to work with Ellen on this project, right? Because you are going to watch out for her and keep her safe from falling out of trees or falling in the lake, right?”

  *Screams: AWKWARD!*

  “Yes, ma’am. That’s my assignment. I won’t fail it. I’m really looking forward to…” he tosses me an apologetic look before finishing, “making sure she’s okay.”

  “Wonderful. That’s just what I hoped you would say.”

  He stands up, smiling, only to meet my pissed-off stare dead on.

  “What?”

  “Hold up, people.” It’s my turn to lean down into the car so I can also glower at my mom. “Let’s all be clear on this, Mom. He and I are both here to take some amazing photos. And because we are going to win the WOA contest. That’s the part he’s not going to fail. I don’t need anyone to keep me all safe-and-sound!”

  “Well, I’m not going to be able to drive away unless I know he’s also watching out for you.” Mom glowers back. “You are, Cam? Aren’t you?”

  “Right. Yes, ma’am. I will. I’ll do both. I promise.” Cam’s got this panicked face like we’ve both just scared him a little. “So…don’t wo
rry. I’m on duty for all things. No need for you two to get in a fight.” He lowers his voice. “Please.”

  “We aren’t fighting.” I blink at the worry on his face. “Mom just gets so over-protective and we push each other’s buttons.”

  “She’s right,” Mom calls out. “I embarrass her every day. And yes, you are welcome to drive Ellen anywhere, any time.”

  “Oh, well…in that case…” I see the back of Cam’s neck start to turn red, but instead of moving away—or running from my mom like he should—he holds his ground and keeps talking to her! “I’d also like to offer to drive Ellen to school. Every morning if my parents agree. Because I know she hates the bus like I hate the bus. And I live so close by that I thought I could get Laura and maybe even Patrick in on it too? Like a car pool. And it would be cool. Easy.” He darts me a look over his shoulder before adding, “Fun.”

  “I—I—it seems like a lot of trouble,” I protest.

  I glance at Mom who’s ramped back in and is now beaming like I just won a prize. “Oh, wonderful! We only recently found out that Ellen’s not legally allowed to drive which I’m sure you can imagine,” Mom rolls her eyes, “has been quite a shock as we were counting on it. Ellen’s been pretty upset about the news. I’m sure this offer will make her very happy.”

  Because I’m working to straight-face the part where Mom’s just told Cam a secret I didn’t want anyone to know, and I’m about to choke to death, I can’t speak.

  “You aren’t allowed to drive? Ever?” he asks softly, straightening again.

  “Um…” I shake my head, caught up in his expression that’s so open and gentle—so full of sympathy and understanding that it feels like his felt-gray eyes have just wrapped me up in a bear hug so tight I whisper an answer without thinking, “People who can only half-function, half the time don’t get licenses. So…even though it’s only my left side that’s affected, it appears I’m dangerous to myself and others.”

  “Wow.” He frowns and pulls me deeper into those eyes as he processes what I’ve said. His eyes have widened some with shock, then more concern, then…the worst thing ever: pity. Something I never want. Something I never allow myself to see or accept from others, either.

  But…wow. Something I’d never even imagined coming from Cam Campbell.

  I find myself caught and stuck somewhere inside his eyes and the air flowing between us. I get that he’s just somehow seen all my weak spots and every ounce of pain and each denial about my CP that I hide even from myself.

  My heart suddenly twists too fast and too tight, and I’m wondering how it feels kind of good and very safe and completely vulnerable all at the same time to have him knowing too much about me. With another small shrug, I decide to lie as if my life now somehow depends on him believing me. “It’s not a big deal. Honest. I didn’t want to drive.”

  I can tell right away he’s not buying it, but he doesn’t call me on it, just shakes his head. I shake mine back, daring him to call me out on the lie and ratchet on an expression that tells him, begs him, to leave it alone.

  Thankfully Mom is blabbing on, “Of course, Ellen will pay her way on the rides to school, or it’s not a deal. And my Ellen’s amazing at baking, aren’t you honey? Patrick Gable has really taught her some tricks. She’ll bring breakfast sometimes, too. She makes such great pastries. And cookies and breads and muffins. She’s also great at dough balls.”

  “Dough balls?” Cam’s expression goes from sad to confused, then wild with choked-back laughter.

  I pull air back into my lungs, grateful to have the subject change. “Yep. That’s what she said. Dough balls.”

  Mom’s chattering away, “You know, for pizza or bread. Ellen’s so fabulous she could open her own bakery.”

  I mutter, “Is your mom as humiliatingly proud of you as my mom is?”

  He mutters back, “She doesn’t have to be because I’ve got my dad on that job, remember? But yes. She loves to talk about how strong and handsome I am.”

  I laugh, while Mom goes on. “And not to be a spoiler, but she’s even brought some white chocolate cherry muffins with her today. Fresh and just for you I suppose, because she woke up very early to make them special this morning.”

  “I did not!” I feel my face coloring hot. “I mean…I just made them. They aren’t special or anything, that’s all. And there’s enough for everyone. So I made them. For everyone. Not just you.”

  “Cool, sure. Of course. Because…” He blinks, pausing to bite his lip again before going on, “Food is good.”

  “It is.”

  *Screams: SAVE ME. I can’t be left alone to talk to Cam Campbell all by myself! Obviously this project can’t work. I need to get back in the car with my over-chatty mom and drive away.*

  I eye my empty seat in the car and consider shouting what I’m thinking out loud, but I don’t. I want to win the WOA contest too much. Drowning in my own awkwardness is totally worth a whole summer living at the Western Ontario Arts School.

  “Are the pulleys and ropes we need for the project in those boxes in the back?” Cam asks.

  “Yes. Mom, pop the hatchback? There are four boxes.”

  “I’ve got them.” And then as though he too, needs some distance, adds. “Meet you at the golf cart?”

  “Yeah. Bye, Mom,” I say pointedly.

  As I turn away, I pull in a long breath because I’ve been holding it far too long. My lungs ache as some fresh air burns back in.

  “Thanks again, Cam!” Mom’s voice is all happy which means she’s still feeling giddy about me possibly having a long-term ride to school.

  I try to picture Cam picking me up at my house. He’s already seen our rusted-out Subaru Hatchback. Will he notice the fresh paint that’s only partly hiding the dry-rot boards on our front porch? Will he see how Mom’s repaired one of the screen hinges with duct tape because we’ve got no clue how to fix a hinge and Mom’s too proud to ask Nash to do it? Will Cam come inside and peek into our living room and see the fabric on pretty much every piece of furniture is wearing thin? Will my ugly little Chihuahua mix, Pico, bark at him, lick his hand or bite him? Does he even like dogs? Can he like really ugly dogs? Does it matter?

  *Vows to meet him at the end of the driveway every single morning.*

  I turn back because Mom’s car is still here! Worse, it has started to smoke some and she doesn’t even notice because she’s staring at Cam. For real. “Sure is—handsome. This day is beautiful, I mean.” She flushes because I’ve caught her.

  “Mom. Boxes are out. You can drive away.”

  “What? Right.” Mom pumps the gas pedal and the car backfires making us all jump. I cringe as more smoke pours from some unknown source at the back of the car. “Have fun, kids!”

  “Have a good day, Mrs. Foster,” Cam calls out. Which makes my mom grin even wider and wiggle her brows at me as she finally drives off.

  Shaking my head, I make my way toward Cam’s golf cart, pausing at the edge of the pavement where the parking lot meets the start of the sandy pathway. I estimate the space between the golf cart and where I’m standing to be about the same length as a park bench. Glancing back quickly to make sure Cam’s not watching, I fling my heavy bag toward the seat and it lands exactly where I’ve aimed. Yes! A small victory! But I need two. And I need them fast.

  I just don’t want Cam to know too much about me in one day. In addition to not being able to drive, I also can’t make my bad leg support me on sand at all. Cam’s parked the golf cart in the exact spot where the sand is deepest. Nash would say I should have brought a little folding cane along with me down here to this grove, but of course…stupid pride…and all that. If I’m not bringing a cane to school, I’m sure not bringing one after school and on weekends!

  As Cam stacks two of the four big boxes he dragged out of Mom’s car into his a
rms, I pick up my bad leg and decide to hop on my good leg all the way to my seat on the cart. I hop around every day as part of my PT training, so this little stretch should be easy. By the time Cam arrives at the cart with the first load, I’m there, huffing and puffing a little, but sitting in my seat at least and hoping very much he did not see how I got into the golf cart.

  Between breaths I smile at him as though I haven’t got a care in the world. “Hope you don’t mind loading all the boxes,” I manage.

  He puts the boxes into the back. “No problem. Hope you’re cool with this hideous cart. Thought it would be easiest to haul stuff down to the beach. But it’s so ridiculous, huh?”

  “No. It’s perfect. I’m relieved, actually. I thought we’d have to wait for Patrick to help you with the boxes, and I thought I might slow you down as we walked to the beach, but now…we’re good.”

  “Are we?”

  “What do you mean?” My gaze catches on the way the sun lights up the tips of his sandy, light brown hair. Does this guy know how handsome he is, every single minute of every single day?

  “Was it okay that I asked her about driving you to school?”

  “Oh. Yeah. Sure.” I look away. “I mean…if you realize it’s too much of a chore to get me every morning, I don’t really care about switching back and taking the bus.”

  “Ellen.” He walks around to the driver’s seat and sits next to me. “It’s not going to be any kind of chore. As soon as my dad turns over the keys, I’m there.”

  “Look. You don’t know this, but I do. Any long term commitment involving me always becomes someone’s chore. It’s inevitable. I’m giving you an easy out card you can play later on, that’s all.”

  “Ellen. I only want to he—”

  “Please. Don’t say it.”

  “What?”