Mrs. Morris laughed. “That’s our Dylan. Always the charmer.”
“And always a string of girls trailing after him.”
“Don’t I know it.” Mrs. Morris shook her head. “His dad and I have warned him over and over, the boy needs to keep his guard up when it comes to the girls. Good grief, some of them just throw themselves at him. We keep telling him to stay strong in his convictions and to honor his commitments. But it’s not easy for a young man.”
“And there’s my April, doing just what you said—she’s practically throwing herself at the poor boy.” Mrs. Stewart chuckled. “I swear, she just got that swimsuit and suddenly she thinks she’s all that and a bag of chips.”
Mrs. Morris just smiled. “Oh, April doesn’t worry me so much. I think Dylan respects that she’s only fifteen. And he’s always treated her like a little sister. I doubt that’s going to change now.”
“That’s what Carrie Anne says about Dylan too.” Mrs. Vincent laughed. “Not that she appreciates being treated like a little sister that much.”
Sophie cleared her throat and slowly stood up.
“Oh, I’m sorry, dear,” Mrs. Vincent said. “I almost forgot you were still here. I’ll bet our conversation is making you uncomfortable.”
“Or putting you to sleep,” Mrs. Morris added.
“Are you feeling okay, Sophie?” Mrs. Vincent peered up at her. “You look a little pale.”
“I’m just kind of stiff and sore. I wish I’d driven out here myself, then I could go home and—”
“I know—why don’t you just take the Jeep and drive yourself home?” Mrs. Vincent suggested.
“But wouldn’t Pastor Vincent be—”
“Nonsense.” Mrs. Vincent was already reaching for her purse. “I have my own set of keys.” She handled them like a prize. “And you’re a better driver than Carrie Anne is anyway.”
Mrs. Morris chuckled. “That’s not saying a lot. Hasn’t Carrie Anne been in several wrecks since she got her license?”
“They weren’t all her fault,” Sophie said.
“Anyway, Sophie has a much safer driving record.” Mrs. Vincent handed Sophie the keys and patted her hand. “She’s also got a much better academic record.” She smiled sadly. “I just wish you could rub off onto my daughter a bit more, Sophie.”
“You’re sure it’s okay to take the Jeep?” Sophie clutched the keys. She so wanted out of here.
“Of course. Just drive carefully. I’ll drop Carrie Anne off at your house later to pick up the Jeep. Now you just go home, take some Advil, and get some rest.”
“And put some ice on that chin,” Mrs. Morris called out.
Sophie thanked them and moved as quickly as she could toward the parking lot. All she wanted was to escape from those mothers and their aggravating conversation. And away from the others before the boats came back and they returned to camp for lunch and to gape at Sophie like she was a sideshow freak.
But mostly she just wanted to escape from Dylan. She could tell—by the way he had looked at her (or rather, the way he hadn’t looked at her), by the way he had spoken to her (or avoided speaking), and by the way he couldn’t wait to get away from her—that it really was over. Almost as if it had never been. What they’d had was finished, and it was meant to be buried and forgotten. Sophie was no fool. She should’ve known that this was how it would end.
She cautiously backed up the Jeep, thankful that her brother had taught her how to drive a clutch when she was only fifteen. She took care not to scrape against the tree trunk or the bulky SUV. How had Carrie Anne managed to wedge the Jeep there so tightly?
Finally out of harm’s way and exiting the parking lot, Sophie took in a long, deep breath. She asked herself how an intelligent girl like her had ever fallen for someone like Dylan in the first place. Why hadn’t she known better? How could someone so smart do something so freaking stupid?
“It’s easy,” he had told her on that first day they’d spent time together at camp. It was matinee Wednesday, and while the prepubescent campers were parked in front of a full-length film with unlimited junk food, the camp counselors got to enjoy a little break—two blessed hours free from all responsibilities.
“I’m really, really scared.” Sophie stood there, frozen with fear, staring at the big log that stretched like a bridge over a fast-moving creek about twenty feet below.
“Come on,” Dylan urged her. “You can do it.”
“No, I can’t,” she said. “I have absolutely no sense of balance.”
“Just hold my hand.” He calmly extended his hand to her, smiling that gorgeous smile. Without even thinking, she took it. And perhaps for the first time ever—or at least for as long as her seventeen-year-old memory served—Sophie’s body slipped into motion, moving effortlessly and almost unconsciously, following his lead. It was almost as if they were dancing. Her steps matched his, and like a dream, she gracefully made her way across the log. It was truly magical.
Of course, she had to go and lose it on the other side. She shrieked as her foot slipped on a piece of damp moss, and she knew she was history. She envisioned herself splattered down below—rescuers struggling to pluck her lifeless body from the creek, the camp director calling her parents and informing them of the sad news.
But in that very same instant, Dylan reached out and grabbed her hands with both of his and pulled her toward him onto solid ground. “Careful there,” he warned.
Her heart pounded like a jackhammer as he continued to hold on to both her hands, steadying her and gently edging her away from harm’s way and toward him. Finally they stood face-to-face. She was just inches from him, and her hands, still clasping his, were now shaking uncontrollably. Whether it was from fear or unbridled passion, she wasn’t even sure. But when he looked down into her eyes, she knew she didn’t care. His eyes were an intense blue, like a deep mountain lake. She imagined herself diving into that lake and swimming.
“See?” His face came closer to hers. So close she could feel his warm breath. “I knew you could do it, Sophie.” And then, like a dream come true, he kissed her . . .
Suddenly a horn honked from behind the Jeep, and Sophie realized now that the light had already turned green. She put the Jeep into first and too quickly released the clutch, causing the engine to stall. Bart’s words echoed in her head: “Don’t pop the clutch, Sophie. Nice and easy.” The horn behind her blasted again—three times—like maybe she couldn’t hear it. Pressing her lips tightly together, she stepped on the clutch and restarted the ignition, taking off more slowly, more carefully this time. “Get a life,” she muttered as she made her way across the intersection. But even as she said it, she knew she was talking to herself as much as to the impatient driver behind her. Seriously, it was time for her not only to get a life but to get a grip, and to just get over it. The sooner the better. That is, unless she wanted to drown in sorrow and guilt, like she’d been doing for more than a week now.
“Dear God,” she began to pray aloud as she turned down the street to her house. “I am so sorry. Okay? I am really, truly, seriously sorry. Please, please forgive me. Please help me to start over again. I really, really need you now, God. And I’m really, really sorry.” She parked the Jeep in front of her house, turned off the engine, leaned her head on the steering wheel, and whispered, “I’m so very, very sorry, God. Amen.”
It was the first time she’d genuinely prayed in more than three weeks—ever since she’d first fallen for Dylan. She just hoped that God understood the reason for this little lapse in communication. She hoped that he was as kind and gracious and forgiving as she had once believed him to be. And she hoped that, as Pastor Vincent liked to say, God was capable of do-overs.
Because right now, more than anything else, Sophie needed a fresh start.
4
“Ew, Sophie!” Kelsey North looked up from her lunch with a sickened expression. “What happened to you?”
“I was run over by a truck.” Sophie sat down and glared acro
ss the table at Kelsey. “What does it look like?”
“Seriously?” This came from Jenny Garcia.
“Give her a break,” Carrie Anne said. “She tripped and fell, okay?”
“I thought maybe you just had a huge zit on your chin.” Hannah Johnston smiled so big that her teeth looked straighter and whiter than usual against her bronze complexion.
“Funny.” Sophie stuck a straw in her soda and wished for teeth as nice as Hannah’s . . . and for this day to end. The first day back at school and all her friends were obsessed with how horrible she looked. Why couldn’t they just get over it?
“So, long time no see, Sophie.” Jenny leaned forward. “Tell us, what did you do on your summer vacation?”
“Yeah,” Kelsey said. “I heard you were a counselor at middle school camp. Did you like lose your mind or something?”
These girls were friends from youth group, but it was the first time Sophie had seen any of them since early in the summer. Somehow she’d gotten the mistaken idea she’d missed them.
“Hey, I heard that Dylan Morris was at that same camp,” Jenny said.
“He was,” Carrie Anne said.
“You got to spend a whole month in the same camp as dreamy Dylan?” Kelsey looked suitably impressed.
Jenny just laughed. “Like it would matter.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sophie demanded.
“Oh, you know . . .” Jenny got more serious. “It’s not like you and Dylan would, you know, start dating or anything like that.”
“But they did talk,” Carrie Anne pointed out. “Right, Sophie? You said you guys talked.”
Sophie just rolled her eyes and pretended to be totally absorbed in opening a packet of ketchup and slowly squeezing it out onto her fries. Fries that Carrie Anne had already warned her against. Not that Sophie cared as she ate one after another.
“Yeah, well, talking is just talking,” Jenny said. “Now, if I had my chance, I’d do way more than just talk to someone like Dylan Morris.”
“Like you’d ever get the chance.” Carrie Anne’s voice sounded a little sharp. “Dylan wouldn’t give a girl like you a second glance.”
Hannah gave Carrie Anne a nudge with her elbow, like she was warning her not to go there. Sophie had to agree, but she wasn’t going to say anything.
“Meaning?” Jenny looked genuinely offended.
“I know what she means,” Kelsey said quietly.
Jenny made a bored expression. “Fine, let me guess. You’re going to start lecturing me about taking the purity pledge again, right?”
Of their group of Christian friends, Jenny was the only one who had refused to take the pledge a few years ago—to promise to abstain from sex until marriage. Jenny had claimed the pledge was hypocritical. Although Sophie hadn’t got that back then. She’d figured it was simply Jenny’s excuse to blow it. Not that she had. At least not that Sophie had ever heard about.
“For your information,” Carrie Anne said, “there are certain guys—the kind of guys who are worth waiting for—who appreciate the kind of girls who’ve made that pledge.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Jenny just shrugged.
“And Dylan Morris happens to be one of them,” Kelsey finished for her.
“Right, Sophie?” Carrie Anne looked at her.
Sophie just nodded, but suddenly she wasn’t hungry anymore. In fact, she felt all hot and prickly, and kind of like she’d just stepped off a Tilt-a-Whirl ride, only worse. She stood up and grabbed her bag.
“What’s wrong?” Hannah looked up with a frown.
“I’m done.” Sophie stepped back.
“Are you okay?” Carrie Anne asked.
“Yeah, you look like—”
But Sophie was already leaving—heading straight to the girls’ restroom. She barely made it to the first stall, and suddenly she was hurling into the toilet. She barfed so hard it felt like her brains were coming out. Finally she stopped and slowly stood up. Her head was throbbing, her heart was pounding, and all she wanted was to just lie down . . . and die.
“I told you those fries are lethal.” Carrie Anne pushed open the door behind her. “Gross!”
Without looking at her, Sophie flushed the toilet. Then she pulled off some toilet paper and used it to wipe her mouth and wipe the sweat off her face.
“Are you going to be okay?” Carrie Anne called from the sink area. “Ya want me to call for the school nurse or something?”
Sophie stepped out of the stall and slowly walked over to the sink. But she just stood there staring into the mirror. A scrap of white toilet paper was hanging from the ugly scab on her chin. “I’m a mess.”
“I’ll say.” Carrie Anne gently peeled the toilet paper from Sophie’s chin.
Sophie stepped onto the foot pedal that turned on the water, then dipped her hands into the spray, tossing some of it onto her face.
“Do you think it’s the flu?” Carrie Anne asked as she handed Sophie a couple of paper towels then quickly stepped back. “Excuse me if I don’t get too close.”
Sophie blotted her face with the paper towels. Tears were threatening again. She pushed the cool, damp paper on her closed eyes, telling herself not to start crying. She’d already made a spectacle of herself. Enough was enough already.
“I think you should go see the school nurse,” Carrie Anne said with conviction. “You might be really sick. Maybe it’s from falling down yesterday.”
“Like falling-down sickness?” Sophie crumpled the towels, tossed them into the trash, and forced a smile.
Carrie Anne snickered as she handed Sophie her purse. “At least you’re still funny.”
Sophie put the strap of her bag over her shoulder and sighed.
“But I still think you should see the school nurse. I’ll walk you there, okay?”
Sophie just shook her head. “No, go back to your lunch.”
“What about you? And your lunch?”
Sophie nodded toward the stall. “I left it in there.”
“But what if you’re contagious?”
Sophie considered this. “Fine, if it makes you feel better, I’ll go see the nurse. Just go back and finish your lunch, okay?” “Okay . . .”
“And don’t tell Jenny and Kelsey and Hannah.”
“What?”
“That I just lost my cookies in here.”
Carrie Anne smiled impishly. “And I so wanted to tell Jenny that she’d made you sick.”
Sophie walked slowly toward the school office. She really had no desire to see the school nurse today. The last time she’d seen a school nurse was in fourth grade, right after she’d fallen from the monkey bars and split open her chin. Sophie had been bleeding so profusely that the nurse had looked like she was about to faint before she had the good sense to place a towel on Sophie’s chin and tell her to “apply pressure.”
Sophie reached up to see if she could feel where she’d eventually gotten six stitches, right below her jawline, but her chin was still so swollen from yesterday’s fall that she couldn’t even feel the scar. She was such a klutz.
“The nurse is at lunch,” the receptionist told Sophie. And this after Sophie had given her full name and that she might have the flu.
“Okay.” Sophie started to leave.
“But she should be back in a few minutes.”
Sophie studied the gray-haired woman. She had kind eyes and nodded over to what appeared to be a fairly comfortable-looking tweed sofa. “Why don’t you sit down and wait?”
“Thanks.” Sophie went over and flopped down on the sofa. Leaning back, she closed her eyes and imagined she was home and in her room, still sleeping in bed, and this day hadn’t yet begun. Better yet, she was home and in her room, sleeping in bed, and it was still July and she hadn’t gotten her heart broken by Dylan Morris yet. Oh yeah, the good old days.
“The nurse will see you now,” a quiet voice said.
Sophie sat up and blinked into the overhead light, startled to realize that she w
asn’t at home in bed but was sitting in the school office. She had actually fallen asleep.
“Mrs. Bernard is back from lunch,” the receptionist said. “She’s in her office now.”
“Oh yeah.” Sophie stood up, vaguely wondering if she had drooled in her sleep, or if she had spittle hanging from her scabby chin. She touched it gently and was relieved to discover it seemed to be dry. Still sore, but not coated in slobber.
“Sophie Ramsay.” The nurse stuck out her hand and shook Sophie’s. “I’m Mrs. Bernard, the school nurse.” She pointed to a chair opposite her desk. “Go ahead and take a seat.”
“Thanks.” Sophie sat down, placed her bag in her lap, and waited.
“Now, what seems to be your problem?” Mrs. Bernard frowned slightly. “Were you in some kind of an accident?”
Sophie quickly explained yesterday’s tumble at the lake and then how she’d just hurled in the girls’ restroom.
“Goodness, you’re having a little bad luck, aren’t you?”
“I guess.”
“Well, it’s a little early for flu season, but you never know.” She was getting something out of a cabinet. It turned out to be an electronic thermometer, which she placed on Sophie’s forehead. After a few seconds, she said, “Just a little over normal.” Then she checked Sophie’s throat and eyes. She poked here and there and finally proclaimed her to be healthy. “Maybe it was just something you ate,” she told Sophie as she closed the cabinet.
“So, I’m not contagious?”
“Not as far as I can see.” Mrs. Bernard peered curiously at Sophie as she folded her arms across her front. “And shall I assume that there’s no chance you’re pregnant, Sophie?”
Sophie blinked in surprise. “No,” she said quickly, “of course not. I mean, I’ve taken the purity pledge and everything.” As soon as she said that, she realized how stupid it sounded. She felt her cheeks flushing, and she just really wanted to get out of there. She stood. “So, I should go back to class now?”
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