Cross Country Hearts

by Suzanne August

  “You know,” I say carefully, placing my foot on the first step. “Your friends… aren’t like mine.” Hand gripping the bridge’s railing, Jasper watches me with a wary expression, so I add, ”It’s not a bad thing. They’re just… different. I like them a lot.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  Jasper stops in his pursuit across the bridge, leaning gingerly against the wooden frame. He tilts his head upwards, eyes squinting at the full moon. At first, I think it’s because he’s thinking hard again, trying to form those words before he speaks them, but then I realize it’s because he doesn’t want to look down—at the canyon and its river rushing below us.

  “June…” he starts. He stops just as abruptly as he began, and then he shakes his head and brings his eyes level with mine. “They’re the best friends anyone could ever have.”

  I frown. Somehow, I don’t think that’s what he was going to say.

  “Georgia,” Jasper goes on. He nods to himself. “They’re like her. They don’t let what anyone says change them.”

  I stare at him.

  “I’m not trying to be insulting,” he says, and then he smiles. It’s a genuine, soft smile that’s directed at me. Something in my chest twists, an uncomfortableness that I’m not familiar with. He goes on. “Far from it, Pierce. I benefit in my life because of my friends. Probably how you could benefit from Georgia.”

  It takes me a moment, especially because I think this is Jasper’s way of saying I should embrace an influence that comes from Georgia instead of Melanie, but then I finally decide that this is Jasper’s way of saying that I do have friends like his. I don’t know what to think or say in response, so I push the thoughts away and push forward, passing Jasper as I cross the remaining length of the bridge. The three ahead have almost disappeared from view.

  “Come on, Jasper,” I say. “We’re going to get lost.”

  Jasper pushes off from the railing, but I notice how he keeps one hand gripping the frame and follows closely behind me. As our feet meet the soft ground and leaves underfoot once more, Lila’s words come back to me once again.

  Jasper is the compassionate one.

  ~.*.~

  I want to talk to Melanie. I want to ask her about Jasper. Of course, I know she won’t answer, so I decide to call Georgia instead.

  She answers on the second ring. “June! Where are you?”

  “In Maryland.”

  There’s a pause. “What’s in Maryland?”

  I stand at the foot of the bed in Ren’s parents’ room. Slowly, I lower myself to sit on its edge and stare out the window. It’s past midnight now. “I didn’t know if you’d be up.”

  I hear her snort. “Of course, I’m up. Melanie had this party—”

  “Jasper’s friends,” I blurt. “Jasper’s friends are in Maryland.”

  Another pause, this one long and agonizing. “So… you guys haven’t killed each other yet?”

  Georgia’s smart. She has a sixth sense when it comes to people, and she must understand that I have no idea how I’m feeling right now. Yet, I know what I want to express, but how do I say it? How do I ask? I slouch forward and stare at my shoes. Then I notice that I’ve tracked mud into the room. Great. I switch my phone to the other ear, nervous.

  “No,” I say, finally. “We haven’t killed each other yet.

  “I don’t know if I like the sound of that.”

  “How does it sound?” I get up, my eyes roaming the room. I kick off my shoes and shove them under the bed.

  “I don’t know, but you don’t sound happy.”

  I sigh. “Do you remember the summer Melanie worked downtown? Near Quincy market.”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “And she met that guy.”

  “Yeah. Some random kid she worked with. He was a grade above us or something.”

  “Did you ever meet him or… did Melanie ever show you a picture of him?”

  “June, where are you going with this?”

  There it is. I cross the room and grab the roll of paper towels. Ren’s parents are wise for keeping some in their room. Instead of cleaning up the mud, though, I stare at the wall, paper towels clutched to my chest. “Did you?”

  Pause. “No.” She draws the word out. She sounds cautious.

  I shove the towels onto the night table. “What happened to him?”

  “I don’t remember,” she responds. “June, it was a long time ago. What does it matter?”

  “I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I met Jasper’s friends today. One of them—he showed me a picture of Jasper and this girl. And the girl, Georgia. It was Melanie.”

  “Are you sure?” Georgia’s voice hardens, growing into a mixture of seriousness and skepticism. “You know Melanie hates him.”

  “I’m sure. He even called the girl in the picture Mel.” I pick up the towels again, then set them back down. How am I even going to clean up the mud with those anyway? But I can’t sit down. I start pacing the room. “I wanted to ask Jasper about it, but the thing is… I know Jasper hates Melanie. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “You haven’t asked anyone about it?”

  “Melanie won’t answer my calls, and Jasper… we’ve finally come to a point where we’re not always fighting. I don’t know how to ask.”

  There’s another pause. “Well, something like this would definitely spice things up in our lives.”

  I stop pacing. I blink. “Are you joking?”

  She laughs. “It makes sense! She never gave us a reason for why she hated him so much.”

  “She never gives us a reason, Georgia.”

  “Please.” I imagine her waving a hand in dismissal. “She hates Jasper King so much. It was always a little weird how intense it is.”

  “Thomas said she wanted to date Jasper, and he turned her down.”

  Another laugh, this one sharper. “That would set her off!”

  “It’s not funny,” I snap.

  Georgia’s voice quietens. “What’s up, June? Why is this bothering you so much?”

  “Because.” I return to the bed, sitting down so fast the bed creaks in protest. I take a deep breath. “He’s actually… a good person. I think.”

  “June Pierce,” Georgia says. Her voice rises. “Are you saying Jasper isn’t the thorn of your life? Do I hear this right? Jasper King isn’t the devil?”

  I bury my face in my free hand. “Don’t ever repeat that to Melanie.”

  “You shouldn’t care what she thinks,” she says, flippant. “What’s making you say that about Jasper? First, it was a road trip and saying that he isn’t so bad. What’s changed?”

  “Oh, he can still be insulting,” I say. “But he’s no loner. He has this way of thinking too. It’s like he thinks out every word and its meaning carefully before he says them. He was right to hate us, Georgia. We were horrible to him. Why wouldn’t he hate me?”

  “You… feel guilty, don’t you?”

  “Remember how we always thought it was weird he never painted a picture of you?”

  “Yes.”

  I bring my hand away, laying down on the bed and staring at the ceiling. “He said it’s because you’re your own person, and I’m Melanie’s puppet.”

  “He doesn’t sound that great to me,” Georgia says, and I hear the annoyed tilt to her tone.

  “He’s right,” I lament. “I bullied him because Melanie bullied him.”

  “It’s okay to feel guilty about it,” she says. “But he still shouldn’t have painted you, either. Also, what the hell happened to not saying anything if there’s nothing nice to say?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Well, when you come back, you’re telling me every detail. You probably don’t want me to ask Melanie about the summer before our freshman year of high school?”

  “No!” I slap a hand over my mouth. My gaze slides to the door, and I lower my voice. “I’ll ask Jasper. Tomorrow, maybe.”

  “You’re still going to the Co
ca-Cola museum?”

  “Of course.”

  “Okay. Call me when you’re in Georgia, girl. And make sure you get to April’s wedding on time. I’m going to hang up now, and while it’s okay to feel guilty about bullying Jasper, don’t let it eat at you. I know you, and I know you’re a good person on the inside. He doesn’t know us, remember? He has no right to judge.”

  “Georgia—”

  “Hanging up.”

  I throw my phone across the bed and bring my arm across my eyes. Calling Georgia didn’t help. It also definitely doesn’t help that Jasper’s friends are some of the nicest people I’ve ever met. They’re more accepting of newcomers than most of my own friends are.

  I could call April, but no. She’s too busy with her wedding, and I don’t want to burden her. I’m stuck in Ren’s parents’ bedroom, sleeping on a bed that’s not my own, with Jasper sleeping in the room across from mine. All I want is to ask him about Melanie. More than that, I know I need to apologize.

  I just don’t know how.

  Sixteen

  “He didn’t say anything.”

  When I wake the following day, I spend an unreasonable amount of time trying to figure out how to get the mud out of the carpet.

  I hear no one in the living room or kitchen, and I don’t want to go out alone and wait for everyone to wake up. But after ten minutes, I’ve cleaned the stain and sent a text message to Melanie, which I know she won’t answer.

  Then I call April because I want to check-in, but I suppose she’s too busy to answer her phone, and I only send a text message to my mother to let her know I’m still alive. After all that, I’ve only managed to kill thirty minutes, so I face the music and push myself to my feet and brace myself for the world.

  It’s only Thomas in the living area, and he’s at the stove again.

  “Morning,” I say.

  Thomas looks up briefly. I know I look ridiculous, stumbling out from the hallway in all my hungover glory. I didn’t bother changing into pajamas last night, and I always have bed hair. This morning, I may look like a true redhead who has no soul. Not that I’m never accused of that when I look presentable.

  “How’s the headache?” Thomas asks.

  I shrug. “Not too bad. Definitely has to be a lot better than Lila’s or Ren’s.”

  He smiles and nods at the table. “Bring the chair up.”

  His head dips, and his attention returns to the stove. I peer over his shoulder before heading for the chair and see that he’s making omelets. They smell amazing. The egg, butter, and herbs he adds to the mix waft together in a delicious smell. I pull the chair up and sit in silence, watching Thomas do his magic. He doesn’t say anything else, and I’m too tired to try. It’s a struggle to keep my eyes open.

  Then the apartment’s door slams open, and unsurprisingly, it’s Lila who emerges. When the door hits the wall, I flinch at the sound. I wonder if Jasper and the others are used to Lila’s obnoxious noises.

  “I’m up!” she declares. “I’m up! No need to wake me.” She strides over and slaps the apartment’s key on the kitchen counter. Thomas barely even acknowledges her. “Under a textbook. No wonder I never found it. I never read my textbooks.”

  I stare at her. “What, the key?”

  “Yes,” she whooshes out in a long breath, and then she shakes her head. “It’s been gone for months!”

  “Lila,” Thomas says dryly. His eyes stare at the cooking pan, though. “Don’t you have a headache?”

  “Nope. Never.” She wanders over to the table and drags a chair back to the stove, settling down next to me. “So, June, what’s the plan for today?”

  “I’m not sure,” I say. “Jasper and I haven’t made any concrete plans.”

  There’s also the fact that we haven’t made it halfway down the East Coast yet, either. I know I’d like to go to Atlanta per Georgia’s request, but I have no other ideas, and if Jasper has any, he hasn’t voiced them to me. Today is Wednesday. We have two more days before we have to be in Jacksonville. All I know is we need to put some serious distance between us and Maryland today.

  “You should ask Ren,” Lila suggests. “He’s tagged along with his parents a couple of times. He might know some cool places on the East Coast.”

  “You should go wake them up. It’s almost eleven,” Thomas says. He reaches over to pull a large plate out from a cupboard and then flips the omelet onto it. Then he opens the carton of eggs next to the stove, cracking a couple into the pan.

  Lila waves her hand. “It’s too early for them.”

  “I thought you didn’t care,” I say. “You woke them up at nine yesterday.”

  “Contrary to popular belief, I do have a heart.” She stands, kicking back the chair and grinning down at me. “But I’ll go wake them up anyway.”

  I turn back to Thomas and point to the omelet. “Can I try?”

  Thomas glares. I guess it’s off-limits until they’re all ready.

  Ten minutes later, I’ve set the table, Thomas has five plates of omelets ready, and there are five chairs crammed into the limited space. While there’s a background noise of yelling voices from a bedroom not far away, accompanied by the clash of dishes Thomas washes in the sink, I place milk, silverware, and orange juice on the table’s center. Thomas and I have sat and already started on breakfast by the time the other three emerge from the hallway. Lila walks briskly over, pulling out a chair and plopping down.

  “Jump right in, guys!” she calls over her shoulder. She doesn’t wait. She immediately dumps a load of ketchup onto the omelet before her. “Thomas has graced us with his awesome food once more!”

  Jasper, rubbing his eyes, clumsily slumps into a chair beside mine, while Ren crashes into the one on my other side, grumbling, “Not too loud.” I find amusement in the cowlick his short black hair is currently sporting.

  “Ren,” Lila says, but he doesn’t answer. “Ren!”

  He glares at her.

  “June and Jasper need recommendations for places to go,” she tells him.

  Ren grunts. Jasper reaches for the orange juice at the center of the table, but Lila grabs it from his hands and fills her glass. Jasper doesn’t even react. He just reaches for the milk instead.

  Ren grumbles to Lila, “Pour me some juice.” Jasper dumps milk into Ren’s glass.

  Interesting. I think. “We need to make a lot of distance today. We only have a couple of days left before we have to be in Jacksonville.”

  Ren turns blurry eyes on me. “Any ideas on what you wanna do?”

  “Coca-Cola museum in Atlanta.”

  “What?” Jasper sets down his glass of milk. “Why do you want to go there?”

  I cut another piece of omelet, questioning myself whether or not I had forgotten to tell Jasper that. “Georgia wants us to go there. She’s always wanted to go.”

  “Can’t she go herself?”

  “Who’s Georgia?” Thomas asks.

  “She’s my friend,” I say. “Why not go? It’s in Atlanta, and it could be interesting.”

  “I didn’t know Coca-Cola had a museum,” Lila muses.

  “It’s a tourist trap.” Done with his half-eaten breakfast, Jasper pushes his plate to the side and looks at me. “What is there even to do at a museum for soda?”

  “Remember the thing we had where we didn’t say anything if there’s nothing nice to say?” I say sharply. Jasper doesn’t respond, though we both know that crashed and burned before ten minutes passed outside Boston.

  Thomas glances between the two of us. “Why’d you have that rule?”

  I ignore him and focus on Jasper. “I didn’t want to go to the Met, and it turned out to be pretty cool. Plus, you can’t deny Hersheypark was cool after you went on a roller coaster.”

  “Hold on.” Ren sets down his fork and slams his hands palm down on the table. “Jasper went on a roller coaster?”

  Lila stares at me, eyes wide. “How’d you get him to go on a roller coaster? We’ve never been able to do t
hat!”

  Thomas reaches over to hold Jasper’s hand. “How did you survive to tell the tale?”

  Jasper scowls, snatching his hand away. “It wasn’t that hard!”

  I burst into a laugh, and when Jasper sends his steely eyes on me, I smother my mouth with my hands and look away.

  “I like this girl,” Lila announces. “It’s about time there was another girl in this group!”

  Thomas grabs Jasper’s leftover omelet and slides it onto my plate. “Here is half an omelet as a congratulatory gift for being accepted as our friend.”

  Ren nods sagely. “Anyone who can get Jasper on a roller coaster is welcomed.”

  “Back to topic!” Jasper shouts. “Fine. Fine, we’ll go to the Coca-Cola museum. Will everyone just shut up?”

  “Great!” I start cutting into the omelet, looking to Ren. “So, any ideas what Jasper and I should do today?”

  “Atlanta is pretty far,” Ren says. “You’re going to have to do a lot of driving today.”

  “We don’t have a lot of money, either,” Jasper adds.

  “Actually, we don’t have any money. I’m using my mom’s cash.”

  Jasper sighs and bobs his head. “My uncle is giving me some.”

  “So, you need a place to stay that won’t cost a lot?” Ren asks.

  Lila points her fork to each of us in turn. “You could just stay here another night.”

  Jasper and I voice our disagreement with that, though Jasper seems very reluctant to do so.

  “KOA,” Ren says.

  I blink. “Koh-ah?”

  He nods. “Kampers of America. That’s Kampers with a K but means the same thing.”

  “And,” Thomas begins, “you said it yourself, June; you’re an outdoors person. You proved that yesterday.”

  “It’ll be cheap,” Ren adds. “It’ll be something different, and it’s a cheater’s way to camp. Plus, there are hundreds of them all over the country. All you have to do is look up one between here and Atlanta and—” he snaps his fingers. “—you have a place to stay the night.”