“You’re not going to suggest something to do today?” Jasper asks,
“No,” he deadpans. At our blank stares, he elaborates. “Look, you guys have spent the last, what, four days driving down the East Coast? You haven’t even made it halfway yet! You’ve got to make some sacrifices, guys. Spend all day driving, spend the night at KOA, and then spend all day tomorrow in Atlanta. The next day, on Friday, you’ll be in Jacksonville. Sounds like a good plan to me.”
It is a good plan. I won’t deny that, but beyond the fact that I’m tired of driving already, I don’t know if Jasper and I can last a whole day in the same enclosed space. This uneasy truce we’ve made while being in Maryland has been admittedly nice. We’ve had some space from each other, and now we can brace the world on ourselves again.
But how long would we have to drive on the highway for, bored out of our minds?
“I don’t know…” Jasper says slowly.
“We have to do it,” I lament. “We only have two days to get there.”
“All right, fine.” He shrugs. “But if we’re going to the Coca-Cola museum, I get to choose what we’re doing after.”
“Good with me.”
~.*.~
After breakfast, Jasper and I are packed and ready to go in a matter of minutes. The five of us stand in Ren’s cramped kitchen and say our goodbyes. Surprisingly, I find that I’m going to miss them after only one day since meeting them, and if I ever get the chance, I want to come back.
Lila, teary-eyed and sniffling, pulls Jasper into a hug so fierce I’m surprised he doesn’t suffocate. Thomas is leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, frowning. After Lila gives me a hug that proves she’s a lot stronger than her petite frame suggests, Ren grasps my hand in a firm grip. When I pull my hand away, there’s a folded paper in it with his phone number.
He winks at me. “In case things with Jasper don’t work out.”
I roll my eyes. Jasper says, “Feel free to give him your number, June.”
Thomas launches from the counter he leans against and hands me a container with a slice of pie. “It’s my special recipe.”
“Wow. Not even out of high school, and you already have specialties?” I tease, but after eating his creations the past twenty-four hours, I don’t find it hard to believe. I hold the container in my hands delicately. Thomas shows his teeth in a wide smile that reaches his eyes, and I can’t help but grin widely back, though the knowledge of what he told me yesterday nags at the back of my mind. My grin doesn’t quite reach my eyes like his does.
The three follow us out to my car. Trailing down the stairs behind them, I grasp Thomas’s arm and pull him back, behind everyone else. He turns around, looking up at me, standing two steps higher than he is. His eyebrows raise.
“That girl…” I start.
Thomas’s head tips to the side, a look of confusion contorting his features.
Nervously, I switch the container of pie from one hand to another. The rest of the crew has descended another entire flight of stairs, leaving Thomas and me far behind before I find my voice. “In the picture you showed me of Jasper, with that girl. I know her.”
Remembrance lights his eyes, but his lips turn down. “That doesn’t sound good.”
I take a deep breath. “Her name is Melanie, and she’s my friend. My best friend.”
I expect Thomas to pass down judgment immediately, but surprisingly his expression turns earnest and open like he’s waiting for me to elaborate and is giving me the benefit of the doubt. I have to look away. “She never told me about Jasper, but I think I know how they met. She does bully him. She says awful things.”
“Do you?”
My face reddens, and my hands start shaking. I hide them behind my back. “It’s so much more complicated than it sounds.” Even as I say those words, though, I’m beginning to doubt them.
This time, Thomas steps up to a higher step, and his hand lands on one of my shoulders, his eyes finding mine and holding onto them with a fierceness—protection for his friend? Yards ahead of us, I hear Jasper and the other two laughing, and it makes me feel worse.
“You seem like a nice girl, June,” Thomas says. “He doesn’t talk about Mel a lot or her friends, but I have heard things. Bullying isn’t complicated. It is what it is, and there’s nothing that makes it okay.”
I suck in a breath, knowing deep down that he’s right. I open my mouth to try to justify my actions but hold back whatever it is I’m about to say. He’s right. I know he is. You can’t justify bringing another person down.
“I regret it,” I finally manage to say, and my throat closes. Telling it to Georgia last night wasn’t as hard. Admitting it again to one of Jasper’s closest friends is even harder, and the shame in my chest only burrows deeper, wrapping around my heart and squeezing.
“So, you did bully him.”
It’s not a question. I nod.
Thomas draws in a slow, deep breath. “If you think he hates you, he doesn’t.” As I start to reply, he holds up a hand to stop me. “Maybe four days ago, he did. Jasper can be quick to make judgments about people, but once he spends time with them, he’s also quick to change his opinions. He has a soft heart. If you gave him any reason to not hate you, then he changed his mind. It’s part of the reason why Lila calls him the compassionate one.”
Slowly, I nod again, but my hands still shake.
“I like you,” Thomas admits. “If Jasper didn’t want me or Lila or Ren—his closest friends, his childhood friends—to like you, then he would have said you’re Mel’s friend.”
“I’m his cousin’s fiancé’s sister,” I say. “We’re trying not to strangle each other or sic other people on each other.”
Thomas shrugs and repeats, “He didn’t say anything.”
With that, he starts down the stairs again, and without any idea about how to respond or what to think, I follow. Jasper is throwing his bag in the backseat when we arrive, and I quickly follow suit. Then Lila is hugging us again, and Ren is giving us detailed instructions on KOA. Thomas sends one last smile my way before I get into the driver’s seat, but I notice that this time it doesn’t reach his eyes. I close the door and stare at the steering wheel.
Jasper slides into shotgun. “Ready?”
I glance at the clock on the dashboard. Twelve thirty-two. Without any other options, I put the car in drive.
Seventeen
“Do you hate me?”
We last only an hour before Jasper declares he cannot listen to my music anymore.
“It’s the same ten songs over and over,” he says. He shakes his head and looks incredulously at the radio as if it’s the Honda’s entire fault for playing the music that’s coming out the speakers.
Even though he’s insulting my taste in music, I laugh. “Seriously, Jasper? You hate it so much, fine. You can have the radio.” Besides, I’m getting tired of those same songs coming on every other hour too. My music list could be updated.
“You’re going to thank me,” he says. He reaches into the backseat for a package I’d seen Lila hand him after squeezing him to death in her strangling hug. I hadn’t asked what it was, but as he tears it open in his lap, I see that it’s CDs.
He sees me glancing and mutters, “Eyes on the road.”
I ignore him, feeling only slightly insulted. “Lila gave you CDs?”
“Since this new car does actually have a CD player,” Jasper starts, “Lila was kind enough to donate some old CDs.”
I’m not sure what to expect Lila’s taste in music to be, but when Jasper disconnects my phone and he slides the first CD in, I find it’s a mix of early and late two thousands throwbacks to the best of the eighties. And although I would love to pay back Jasper for giving me a hard time about the music I’ve been playing, I can’t bring myself to. That’s because listening to Jennifer Lopez and Queen with Toto’s Africa in between is the best kind of track I’ve listened to and sung to in a while.
And after ten minutes of liste
ning to me belt out to the music, Jasper groans. “This is worse than before.”
“It’s your mistake for thinking Lila made you a CD only you’d like,” I say. “Remember? She says I’m the athletic one. I’m one of you now.”
I’m joking when I say it, but Jasper slides me a look. It’s that blank expression, though this time I can’t see through the minuscule cracks to get a hint at what he’s thinking.
He sighs. “I’m going to take a nap.”
He’s wearing a hat—yes, a black baseball cap—and he pulls it down over his eyes before bunching up his sweater against the window and leaning against it. My feelings struggle with growing uneasiness as I consider what he said aloud and what he chose not to say. Only a few times have I managed to get a handle on what Jasper is thinking. This is not one of those times.
I’ve only managed not to think about Melanie for fifteen minutes. Now she’s back at the forefront of my thoughts, and no Britney Spears or Michael Jackson will push them back, especially with a sleeping Jasper leaving me alone to drive. I will have to bring the issue up soon because I can’t go on wondering about it. Since I won’t get answers from Melanie, Jasper is my next best shot.
An hour after Jasper has fallen asleep and almost three since we’ve been on the road, I pull into a service plaza with a burger joint. First, I fill up the gas, and when I open the car door to reach for my coat because I know a restaurant has got to be cold to fight against this summer heat, Jasper has woken up and is looking around.
“Lunch break,” I tell him. “Come on. There are burgers.”
I don’t wait for him, and by the time he gets into the restaurant after me, the waitress is already showing me to our table. The waitress asks him for his drink order as he’s sliding into the booth across from me. Then he, without looking at me, picks up the menu and looks at the options.
It’s a quiet lunch, but it’s not uncomfortable. Maybe, at the start of this road trip, we would’ve been fuming in silence for the simple fact that we had to be in each other’s presence. Today, we’re both tired. There’s a reason Jasper felt the need to take a nap after only a few hours of sleep.
Still, while I’m sure Jasper sits in his own comfortable silence, I squirm in my seat. The anxiety has been slowly growing, its roots eager to strike at my chest, but how do I bring up Melanie to Jasper when she’s only a topic he scorns at? And maybe part of the reason I’m scared to ask is that I know he’ll give an honest answer. Jasper is a lot of things, but he doesn’t lie or hide the truth. He lets it all out. It’s a good thing. Maybe it’s even an attribute I’ll begrudgingly admit I admire about him, but right now, I’m not sure I could handle the honesty.
I pick up the silverware and unwrap the napkin, fiddling with it under the table. I just need something to do with my hands. The waitress has brought us our drinks by the time I finally muster up a few ounces of courage.
“Jasper…” I start, and when I look up, he’s already watching me. His eyebrows furrow. He’s looking in the direction of my hands that I know he can’t see under the table, but it seems he knows what they’re doing. I still my hands. I try to, anyway.
Jasper brings his gaze to mine. “What?”
And my courage is crushed when the server comes to our table to take our orders. After she notes our sandwich order and walks away, I find that Jasper is watching me with curiosity. His expression is not quite the usually blank facade he enjoys wearing around me. He looks like he wants to ask because, after all, I was about to say something to him before getting interrupted.
I can’t bring myself to do anything more than open my mouth and try to speak.
So, I don’t. Jasper tries to make small conversation. It works, sort of, but the truth is that I feel anxious because we’ve never actually been able to make small talk between ourselves. Left to our own devices and stripped of the intense emotions of hate, we don’t know exactly what to do with each other.
After a quiet lunch, we get back on the highway. Jasper puts in another CD Lila made, but somehow, even with the speakers blaring music, I feel a sort of silence. Jasper knows something is up with me, and I know that I can’t keep quiet. Jasper’s arms around a smiling Melanie’s shoulders nag at me. She’d been so comfortable in his welcoming arms.
In the end, it’s wondering about Thomas’s last words to me and his strained goodbye that finally gives me the courage I need. To make it even worse, I remember how Lila calls him the compassionate one, and I wonder what it means to be a ‘real’ girl to Jasper.
We’ve crossed the border into North Carolina when I finally manage it. My hands grip the steering wheel, and I keep my eyes on the highway before me. Then I ask it. “Do you hate me?”
Whatever it is Jasper has been expecting me to say for most of the afternoon, I know when I glance at him that this wasn’t it.
Instead of one of his eyebrows raised, it’s both. “Do you really want me to answer that?”
“Thomas says you don’t.”
Jasper’s quiet for a moment. “I wonder why you had that conversation.”
Deep breath. “Why didn’t you tell him I’m Melanie’s friend?”
“He doesn’t know who Melanie is.”
I let the breath out, slow. “He showed me a picture of you and Melanie. He knew her as Mel.”
I finally spare him another glance. He’s staring at me, and his facade has slipped into an expression somewhere between shocked and guarded, maybe even a little aggravated. “What are you asking?”
“I don’t know,” I admit.
“Then don’t ask.”
My grip on the steering wheel tightens. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“You don’t have one.”
“No. I did ask one.”
I can’t look at him a third time. I can’t. I do. He’s turned to the window, hiding his face from me. His shoulders hunch and his hands ball into loose fists.
“No,” he says. “I don’t hate you.”
It’s almost… as if the usual, laid-back persona he’s always managed around me has slipped, and he can’t get it back into control. What does that say? Does it unnerve him that I know about Melanie and him?
I can’t risk another question. What’s more, I used up the reserve of courage I’d collected for hours. I turn back to the road. After several minutes of uncomfortable silence, I turn up the music.
The silence is still deafening. I drive on.
I drive for so long my back starts to hurt, and I feel cramped. I stop for a bathroom break, and when I come back, Jasper has climbed into the backseat for another nap. I suspect it’s not because he’s tired, but because he wants to avoid another conversation with me.
As I slide back into the driver’s seat and bring the car back onto the highway, I’m relieved that he’s no longer in the passenger seat, always there in my peripheral vision.
The sun eventually dips into the horizon, and the faint glow of the moon becomes more prominent. The GPS states we’re minutes away from KOA. It’s almost eight o’clock by the time we reach the site. Like Ren said, we don’t have to camp like real adventurers, but although it costs less than anything we’ve paid for a place to stay so far, the bottom side is that there’s only one room.
Though granted, there are separate beds. When we walk into the tiny cabin designated to us, we discover they’re bunk beds.
“I call top bunk,” Jasper declares. It’s the first full sentence he’s said since falling asleep in the back of the car. He throws his bag onto the top mattress, pulling out a cigarette and walking out the front door without another word.
Well, all right. Maybe he hasn’t forgiven me yet for finding out about Melanie.
As I wait for Jasper to come back, I realize that I didn’t see him with one cigarette yesterday. I wonder if that’s because he didn’t want his friends to see or if there was another reason. I wonder if I drive him to have the urge to smoke. I wonder why he never lights it.
Jasper doesn’t come back in
side, but I hear him putting firewood together in the fire pit. I debate whether or not to join him, but considering the strained long afternoon drive down here, I decide we need a little more space than only ten minutes. I grab my flip-flops and brace for the outdoors. Burning wood and one black-clothed Jasper King greets me.
“I’m going to the snack bar,” I tell him. “Do you want anything?”
He shakes his head, and as I walk past him, he doesn’t spare me a glance.
At the snack bar, there’s a group of a few girls and a guy, all my age. I grab some chocolate and some pre-made sandwiches—Jasper will be hungry whether he admits it or not—before stepping in line behind the group. One of them, a tall girl wearing only a white pullover to cover a one-piece bathing suit, looks over her shoulder at me. She considers me for a moment, then turns fully around.
“Just the chocolate?” she asks. “You’re going to make s’mores, right?”
I glance down at the few items in my hands. “Uh… I wasn’t planning on it.”
Another one of the girls, wild brown hair and summer dress on, overhears us and leans over to get a better look at me. “You have to make s’mores! You’re camping!”
“I… Uh…” I have no idea what to say.
“Markus,” the first girl says. “Hand me one of the graham cracker packets and some marshmallows.”
“Hey, Happy—” The guy at the front who is paying for their hoard of snacks objects to the second girl’s—Happy?—hands grabbing what the first girl ordered.
“Relax, Markus.” Happy rolls her eyes and forces the two items into my hands. “My name is Happy. Yours?”
My eyebrows rise at the name. “It’s June.”
“Nice to meet you, June,” she says. “What cabin are you in?”
“Fifty-four.”
“We’re sixty-two!” the first girl declares. “I’m Darius. We’re having a party tonight with some other people our age at KOA. We’re down on the lake and have one of the big cabins to ourselves. Join us!”
Cross Country Hearts Page 15