But Asher being gone is a good excuse to spend some time with Kara. I’m fried from my day on the river, so we’re sitting in a shady spot on the deck.
“Still no news?” Kara’s voice is even and almost uninterested.
“About?”
She raises her eyes and looks toward the house, as if Asher just stands there at all times, like a sentinel at our door.
I shake my head, but the words—the stories—are filling me up, trying to burst out of me like an overfilled balloon. I don’t know what’s stopping me, but all I can do is shake my head.
Kara and I paint rocks and talk about college—when we’ll only be an hour apart instead of four—and around lunchtime my mom sits down with us.
“You want to go to the river this afternoon?” Mom picks up one of my rocks and sets it down next to another one. A large daisy, and a cluster of three little ones. She sets another covered in vines and leaves next to them.
“I swam this morning, but maybe tomorrow?” My mom knows I swam this morning, so it’s weird that she would offer to take me to the river.
She nods and digs around in the box I keep my rocks in, pulling out a few more and making her own little rock collage of flowers, leaves, and birds. “I’m going to get my glass and join you out here,” she says as she gets up from the table and disappears back into the house.
Five minutes later, she has a small pattern laid out on the table, and pieces of colorful glass cluttered on top of it. Kara and I paint and she fidgets pieces together until they resemble a bird the size of my hand.
“Things seem to be going well with you and Asher.”
Mom’s words make my stomach jump. What does she know? What has she seen? Does she somehow know what happened last night in Asher’s bed? Or on the river? Oh my god, does she own some kind of spy-drone? Everything around me has blurred into a swirl of panic.
Kara’s trying hard not to smile.
“I’m glad the two of you are getting along,” Mom says.
Getting along. Not kissing, or sneaking into each other’s rooms to do who-knows-what. Getting along.
“Yep.” It’s all I can manage in the aftermath of thinking my mother somehow knows all of my dirtiest secrets. The imaginary ants crawl off of me and scatter to the floor.
“Well I’m glad Greg got through to him.”
“What do you mean?”
“I know you feel guilty about the fish.” Mom pushes a bright red piece of glass into a corner. “You think getting kicked out of the houses is your fault. And don’t get me wrong, you’re not blameless. Not even close to it.” It’s been weeks, but her voice sounds irritated again, just talking about it. “But the pranks have never seemed like you.” She picks up a piece of glass and moves it to the side. “And I know something happened that night before the fish.” At this, Kara’s eyes snap from her paints to mine. She knows what happened the night before. My date with Caleb.
“I could hear you in your room doing god knows what…” Mom looks to me and raises her brows.
“Mayonnaise.” I toss one of my rocks back into the box to keep my hands busy. “That’s all you need to know.”
“Ugh.” Mom shakes her head. “Well, after the fish incident I told Greg he better talk to Asher, tell him to fix things with you. I’m glad it seems to have worked.”
Mom is beaming with pride for being the fixer she prides herself on being. I, on the other hand, feel like I may throw up. And it must show on my face, because when Mom excuses herself for another drink it’s not two seconds before Kara says, “Now do you have anything to tell me?”
I do. I tell her everything. And as the words rush out of me all of our moments click together like puzzle pieces in my mind.
Asher
When we get back from the fish town, Sidney isn’t in the house, or on the deck or the dock. The only reason I find her is because I call her and hear her obnoxious ringtone. It’s faint, and only rings once, but it’s enough to let me know that she’s here somewhere.
I walk to the front of the house again and catch a bit of movement in the water, to the far side, out by the little cluster of trees that jut out.
“Are you ignoring me now?” I mean it as a joke, but she doesn’t say anything, just squats down and picks up a rock, tossing it into a red sand bucket a few feet away. “Are you mad at me?” I sound amused when I say it, because there’s not anything she can actually be mad at me for. She just keeps looking down at her toes, plucking rocks out of the water, like if she ignores me I’ll go away. “You can’t be, I haven’t even been here all day to do anything.”
Sidney looks up from her toes and meets my eyes. “Did your dad tell you to fix things with me?” She throws up air quotes and she has the angriest fingers I’ve ever seen.
Crap. “It wasn’t like that.”
“Wasn’t like what?” She stands up and slams her hands onto her hips. “Like you were suddenly nice to me? Suddenly interested in me?”
Crap crap crap. I know exactly how this looks, and I don’t even know how to explain this in a way that won’t scare Sidney one way or the other. But also, she’s blowing this completely out of proportion. “No, it wasn’t like that.”
“I get why you didn’t want to tell our parents now. I doubt your mom would have been on board with you making out with me just to keep the peace this summer.”
“I’m not some sort of gigolo over here. My dad told me to stop the pranks. He didn’t tell me to leave my bedroom door open to do it.” She’s trying to turn this into something sinister, just because she wants to be mad at me and find a way to tell herself this whole thing should be over.
“Well, consider it mission accomplished. I guarantee there will be no more pranks. No dates required.”
She’s shutting down, shutting me out. It’s like I can see the ghost of Old Sidney floating overhead, preparing to reinhabit her body with every word that comes out of her mouth. She decided I was guilty before we even talked. And our next date was going to be a surprise, but I don’t have the luxury of springing it on her anymore, not when she’s looking at me like she wouldn’t get in my car if I paid her.
“I get that you’re looking for something horrible about me, but—” She opens her mouth but I cut her off. “Just do one thing for me. With me. And then you can pretend like I don’t exist for the rest of the summer, if that’s what you want. You can go back to terrorizing me. Set all my clothes on fire on the front lawn.”
“I wouldn’t do that.” Her voice is barely a whisper, and it wasn’t a smart move to say it, to remind her of what a one-eighty our relationship has taken since the start of summer.
“I know, Sid, I’m just…” I don’t blame her for being mad, I just want to fix it. I need to fix it. “We said four dates. Come with me to Todd’s graduation party this weekend.” She opens her mouth to argue, and I keep going. “Come to my house. See where I live the other ten months out of the year. Meet my best friend. After that, if you still think that this all happened out of nowhere—that my dad somehow talked me into all of this—you can run away screaming.” I shove my hands down into my pockets. “I won’t stop you.”
“I’m not sure how seeing where you live is going to prove anything.”
“It will. Just trust me.” But even as I say it, I know that’s the problem. She doesn’t. Will she ever?
“Maybe I’ll see where you live and decide that you’re even nerdier than I thought. Maybe your best friend isn’t as awesome as you think, and the food will be horrible at the party, and this will all backfire on you…” She looks down at her bare feet in the water and I do, too.
“I’ll take my chances.”
“Fine.” Sidney looks out at the water and then back to me. “But it’s your last date.”
Last. Not second, not next. Last. I imagine Sidney will somehow cram her second date in before the party, so she can be done with me and cut me loose like every other guy.
“Fine,” I say.
“I’ll just te
ll my parents I want to go home that weekend, and you’re going to drop me off on your way.”
She didn’t say it like it’s optional, but I try anyway. “Or we could just tell them you’re going with me. Your parents won’t care that we’re going somewhere together for the weekend.” I’m testing a theory.
Sid bites her lip, and it’s all the answer I need. “You’re making it sound like we’re taking a romantic weekend trip, and not going to sit in a tent to sneak sips of keg beer out of plastic cups when we’re not talking to your friend’s sixty-year-old aunts who want to know our life stories.”
I can’t help shaking my head at the vivid scenario she’s conjured up already. “I thought you were mad I didn’t want to tell them.”
“I’m mad about your motivation for not telling them. We’re not lying, we’re just not offering up information on our personal lives. This is not need-to-know information. Our lives aren’t in danger. And we have nothing to announce. You’re taking me on a last-ditch date to a graduation party…” Her voice has lost some of its bite; she’s back to sounding like the sarcastic girl who insulted my clothing choices every morning while racing me for a stupid chair.
“That’s a lot of explanation for not doing anything wrong.”
“We agreed on four dates.” She says it firmly, her voice edged with that sharpness again. Before tonight it had been weeks since I’d heard it, and I’m hoping not to hear it anytime in the near future.
“Fine.” It’s not how I feel at all. I feel like maybe this is all a colossal waste of time. Like I’m playing a game that I can never possibly win, because the winner—or maybe more accurately, the loser—was picked before the race even started. But if I’m going to convince Sidney that I’m really in this, then this is my best chance. Maybe my last chance. “On the plus side, you can snoop in my room and get your lurky-lurker on.”
“Your room?”
“Yes. I have one of those. Did you think I slept in a crypt?”
“I wondered.” There’s the promise of a smile playing at the corner of her lips. This is our happy place—picking on each other. “But why would we be in your room if we’re going to a grad party?”
“We have to sleep somewhere?”
“Oh.”
“Is … that okay? I mean, I guess we could leave early and I don’t have to stay for the after-party and the bonfire and stuff. But that’s kind of the best part. I mean, I’m only stopping into the boring family part because Todd’s mom would kill me if I didn’t and—”
Sidney cuts me off. “It’s fine. We can stay.”
“We have a guest room,” I assure her.
“It’s a plan then.”
“Technically, it’s a date.” I wait for her scowl, but she smiles. It’s weak and tentative, but it’s there. Barely.
DAY 35
Sidney
I’m not mad anymore—not really—but the drive is still quiet and awkward. What are we supposed to talk about when we don’t know where we even stand with each other? It feels like with that one bit of info—that Asher might not have started things with me for the right reasons—we took ten steps back. And the car ride doesn’t help. Because I have three hours to think of all the horrible thoughts that have resurfaced over the last few days. Why would Asher actually want to date me? Why would he like me after years of going out of my way to make sure he didn’t? And if he doesn’t like me, then why is he doing all of this? What is the endgame to making me fall for him? The thoughts marinate and grow and become living, ugly things by the time we get off of the highway and reach the little town where Asher lives.
As we drive he points out everything we pass, like I’m here for a tour. And I don’t want to be interested—I try my very best not to be—but I’m dying to see all of these places. The tiny little place where Asher gets coffee in the morning, and the weird little antique shop where he worked after school his junior and senior year. We pass his high school, and even loop through the back parking lot to where the athletic center is. Asher pulls into a spot and cuts the engine, pushing his door open before I can even react. I crane my neck to see him outside his door. “What are you doing?”
“You can’t have a tour of my favorite places without seeing my pool.”
“Your pool?”
“Just get out of the car, Sid. You know you’re going to. The chlorine is calling you.”
He’s right. Of all of the places here, the pool is where I usually imagine Asher. I saw a picture of him once, in a weak moment when I decided I’d look him up online. He was standing on top of a diving block, his arms stretched forward, his legs tensed. That image is burned into my brain, just like the need I’ve always had to see Asher in the pool, racing through the water.
When I’m outside the car, he grabs my hand and leads me up the sidewalk to the brown brick building. There’s something about a pool building that smells like home to me. Every pool is different, but they all smell the same, and the scent nestles into my nose like it’s welcoming me. Telling me I belong here.
You usually get to a pool through the locker rooms, so I wonder if he’s going to drag me through the men’s, until he takes a sharp turn down a hallway and we enter what looks like an office. There are two small rooms connected by a glass window that takes up most of the wall, and beyond that another large window and door lead to the pool area. At the far desk a short round man sits in a white polo and khaki shorts. Beyond the door I can hear the telltale squeals of kids’ swim classes.
“Coach!” Ash yells as we step into the little room. I hang a step back and receive a tug forward, propelling me next to him as the man looks up from his desk.
“Ash!” The man’s eyes are lit up and he stands more quickly than I would have thought possible. “They toss you out of Oakwood before you even started? I’ve got a guard spot open if you’re looking.” He winks and squeezes Ash’s shoulder, and then his eyes swing to me.
“This is Sidney, the swimmer from Eastwood I told you about.”
My eyes go to Asher but he keeps his on his coach, who is stretching his hand out to me. “Nice to meet you, Sidney. I’ve heard great things about you. You’ve got a great coach over there. You and Ash are a big win for Oakwood’s program.”
I don’t know what to say, so I squeak out a thank-you and shake his hand.
“Taking her in to see your pool?” Coach says with a smile.
“That okay? I promise not to traumatize the kids.”
Coach laughs and stretches an arm out toward the door. Asher leads and I follow behind him, out into the humid air of the pool area. Just as I cross onto the tile, he pops his head back in. “You mind if we borrow a few training props? I’ll get them back before school starts.”
“Sure, take what you need,” Coach says, as if Asher didn’t even need to ask. “You using your vacation to train?”
“Sidney has a record to break.” Asher grins.
Coach closes the small gap between us and slaps a hand against Asher’s shoulder, giving it a rough squeeze. “Can’t ask for a better summer coach,” he says, and Asher seems to light up at the praise.
Asher gives the coach another half-hug, and pulls me farther from the door. On the wall to our left, a built-in tile bench stretches across the width of the large space. Asher sits down and motions for me to join him. Ahead of us, six lanes stretch out like watery roads. A row of diving blocks rises up in front of us, and I can’t help but think of that picture.
He stretches an arm out toward the far left lane. “That’s where I broke the school record for the two-hundred-yard fly my sophomore year.” He points to the middle lane. “And that’s where I broke the state record.”
My whole body twists toward him, shocked by this revelation. “Seriously? You broke a state record?”
“Ouch.” Asher throws a hand of mock anguish up to his chest as I turn back toward the pool. “Ouch, Sid.”
I poke him in the ribs with my elbow. “Oh stop, I didn’t mean it that way and you know it. H
ow did I not hear about this? My mom tells me the dumbest stuff about you, and she didn’t tell me this?”
“I made my mom promise she wouldn’t tell her.”
“You didn’t want me to know?” He would have to be deaf not to hear the hurt in my voice.
“I—” He stretches his legs out toward the pool, crossing one foot over the other. “I wanted to tell you myself, I guess.” He folds his legs back in and sets his elbows on his knees. This is what he’d look like between races, watching his teammates, waiting for his turn. Less clothes. “Which sounds delusional, because we didn’t even talk, and you hated me. But I wanted to tell you.” He turns and smiles at me, but there’s something new there, something a little guarded. There’s a self-consciousness I’m not used to seeing.
“I didn’t hate you.”
He lets out a little grunt that says, Sure you didn’t.
Another elbow to his ribs shuts him up. “So tell me all about it. I want to hear everything.”
Asher tells me about the meet. About how close the race was and how his lungs burned and he had no idea if he was even in the lead. How the win wasn’t as dramatic as he would have thought—how you’d think it would have been deafening or something, like how it is in movies, but the swim meets aren’t that popular in a small school. But then his teammates hoisted him up and threw him in the deep end, and everyone went out to celebrate. And then he called me.
That one missed call. The call I was so sure was a pocket dial. It was the biggest day of Asher’s life, and he called me. I can’t even wrap my brain around that. It’s hard to think that this place—somewhere I’ve never even been before—could have such an impact on us. On who the two of us are. Who we could have been a long time ago if I wasn’t the world’s pettiest person.
“Do you mind if we swing by my house before we head to the party?” Asher looks a little nervous when he asks, just as we’re walking out of the building. “I need to grab Todd’s present, and I want to show you something.”
Meet Me at Midnight Page 21