P.S. I Like You

by Kasie West

  “I don’t think we’ve officially met,” Ashley said to Cade. “You’re Wyatt’s coach, right?”

  Cade looked up, and swallowed. “And Lily’s friend,” he said, winking at me.

  “You two are friends?” Ashley asked, the surprise in her voice a little insulting.

  “More like acquaintances,” I said coolly. Who hate each other, I almost added but stopped myself in time. “We hang out in completely different groups.”

  The back door flew open and Jonah and two of my cousins came running out. The two little ones went straight for the grass but Jonah went to the rabbit cage.

  “Hey, Coach!” Jonah called. “Do you want to see Bugs Rabbit?”

  “You mean Bugs Bunny?” Cade said.

  “No, it’s a rabbit.”

  Cade looked at me and I smiled. “It’s a rabbit,” I echoed.

  “Of course it is.” Cade nodded to Jonah. “Yes, I see him. Very cool.”

  Jonah opened the cage and both Ashley and I said, “Leave him inside.”

  “I’m just holding him.” Jonah brought the rabbit out and over to show Mark and Cade.

  “Have you ever eaten rabbit?” Mark asked. “It’s actually pretty good.”

  Jonah’s mouth fell open and Ashley shoved Mark’s shoulder with a laugh. “He’s just kidding, Jonah,” she said.

  A second too late, Mark nodded his head. “Yes. Just a joke. We won’t eat Bugs Bunny.”

  “Bugs Rabbit,” Cade said before Jonah could. Cade scratched the rabbit behind the ears and Jonah must’ve taken that to mean he wanted to hold him because he dropped the rabbit in Cade’s lap. Cade let out a grunt, obviously surprised, and couldn’t wrap his arms around the rabbit in time. It hopped up onto the table and somehow managed to step in every plate in under five seconds, each one of us reaching for but missing it.

  Finally, I stood and picked it up. This was my first time picking up the evil pet, though, and apparently I didn’t know how because its back legs became like mini saw blades, its nails chewing into my arms. I let out a shriek and dropped the rabbit and it took off across the yard.

  I studied my arms. Most of the cuts were surface scratches, but one longer one beaded with a few drops of blood. When I looked up, Cade was chasing Bugs with Jonah on his heels.

  “Seriously, rabbit is tasty,” Mark said then chuckled at his own joke. “Just sayin’.”

  Cade dove, arms outstretched, and managed to land perfectly, capturing the little pest. Jonah cheered and my two cousins who had joined in the chase jumped up and down, clapping. Cade, on the ground, rolled onto his back, bringing the rabbit onto his chest. The rabbit now looked like a docile kitten as Cade stroked its fur.

  “He’s going to pee on you,” I called.

  Cade laughed as if this was a joke, now with all three of the kids sitting in the grass at his sides and petting the rabbit. No, it wasn’t the cutest thing ever. I refused to admit that.

  Cade picked a few strands of grass and was trying to feed them to the rabbit.

  “He doesn’t like grass. He eats carrots and lettuce and pellets,” Jonah informed him.

  “What are pellets?” Cade asked.

  “I don’t know but they smell gross.”

  Cade laughed again, a deep genuine laugh, and all the kids joined in. I was glad he was enjoying himself. The letter about his normal family Thanksgivings was not a happy one. I guess I could be glad for him today. Tomorrow, all bets were off.

  Jonah relieved Cade of the bunny and tucked it away in his cage. Ashley and Mark took the contaminated plates inside. My little cousins went back to picking weeds that looked like flowers. Cade stayed on his back on the grass, hands clasped behind his head, ankles crossed. My feet had a mind of their own because they walked to stand next to him.

  He squinted up at me. “Your brother’s cute.”

  “He knows it, too. Kind of like someone else I know,” I muttered, before I could stop myself.

  Cade laughed. “You’re not talking about me, right? Because we have a truce.”

  It had been a joke … sort of … but he was right, we had a truce. “You have grass stains on the knees of your pants now.”

  He lifted one leg and looked, then put it down and patted the grass next to him. “Sit down.”

  I didn’t take kindly to commands but, again, my brain didn’t seem to be in control of my body. I sat. Cade rolled onto his side to face me, propping himself up with one elbow. Then he just stared at me. For so long that I began to squirm under the scrutiny.

  I didn’t want to be the first person to say something but I couldn’t help it. “You should look into catching rabbits for a living. You’re not half bad at it.”

  He smiled. “That would be almost as manly as becoming a cowboy.”

  I laughed. “What are your career plans, anyway?” I asked, realizing we hadn’t ever talked about that in our letters before.

  Cade sighed. “You sound like my dad.”

  I noticed that he didn’t say stepdad, even though I assumed that’s who he was referring to. “Was that supposed to be an answer?”

  “Baseball. Those are my plans for now. Let me know if you hear of any rabbit catcher openings though.”

  I knew a non-answer when I heard one. But I was used to Cade sharing with me (in his letters, at least). And, even though it made no sense, it hurt a little that he wasn’t willing to do that now, in person.

  But of course he wouldn’t open up to me, Lily. I wasn’t someone he liked. I wasn’t whoever he thought the letter writer was.

  “Are you still hungry?” I asked, changing the subject. “There’s probably more food inside.”

  “No, I’m good. I actually ate at my house before coming here.”

  “Then why did you come?” I asked.

  “Because your brother invited me. He’s a good kid.”

  I ran a flat hand over the top of the grass, letting the blades tickle my palm. “Is that the only reason?” I wanted him to talk about home. Vent, like he had in the letters. If he’d had a bad morning, I wanted him to talk about it. Maybe I wanted to prove to him that he could talk to me.

  “Did you want there to be another reason?” He tilted his head and lifted one side of his mouth into a half-smile. I realized what I’d just implied without the context of the letters.

  “No! Of-of course not,” I stammered, willing my face not to turn red. “I just wondered why your parents didn’t make you stay home. My parents don’t let me leave on Thanksgiving.”

  His air of confidence seemed to falter. He lay back on the grass again. “Yeah … I’m sure my parents like me to stay home, too. My mom likes for us to spend time together.”

  “She does?” That’s not what he’d said … well, written, before.

  “Of course. What Mom doesn’t, right?”

  This boy had up the biggest wall ever. I wasn’t sure what it took to get him to be real outside of his writing. “Not all moms are good moms. Or dads.”

  Cade didn’t even flinch or squeeze his eyes shut. He just turned his head and studied me again. “Your arm is bleeding.”

  I looked down to see a few red drops along my arm. “Oh. Bugs got me. It’s no big deal.”

  “You probably want to clean that. He’s not exactly the most sanitary creature in the world.”

  I could tell our conversation was over by the way Cade draped one arm over his eyes like he was settling in for an afternoon nap. It hurt more than I wanted it to.

  It was five thirty and Cade was still at my house. I’d given him one hour and he’d lasted over three. I’d totally lost the bet I’d made with myself. Mark was long gone. He hadn’t even stayed long enough for my grandparents’ annual stories about Thanksgivings past, featuring my mom as a teenager who went on a hunger strike for turkeys everywhere. And he definitely hadn’t stayed for the pie we were about to eat.

  The pie. The event I had been pushing off for the last hour, trying to outlast Cade. He could not be here when we did the family tradit
ion I had spelled out so perfectly in the letter. Any minute he would leave. He had to. Those were the thoughts I’d had for the last one hundred and twenty minutes. Minutes filled with my little cousins attaching themselves to Cade’s ankles and not letting go while he walked around. With my dad explaining to him every step of how he built the bookcase in the living room. With my mom using his wrist as a measurement for a “man bracelet” she was making. She had said that out loud to him: “I’m going to make a man bracelet. Let me see your wrist.”

  I’d lost count of the number of times my face had turned red. Of how many times Cade had looked confused or amused. I wondered how many of these stories were going to be hand-delivered to Sasha later.

  “Where is Sasha, anyway?” I asked abruptly as we sat on opposite couches, Cade’s wrist still being wrapped in the brown leather cording my mom wielded.

  He shrugged. “Family stuff. Where’s Lucas?”

  “Lucas? How do you … Why would I know where Lucas is?”

  “I saw you two at a concert the other night.”

  My stomach jumped. “Frequent Stops? You were there? I knew you’d—” I stopped myself before finishing with the words “love them.”

  Cade tilted his head. “You knew I’d what?”

  “Be there. I heard Sasha say something.”

  “Sasha didn’t go.”

  “Oh … she must’ve known you would be there.”

  “She did.”

  “Lucas and I … ” Did I really need to explain my relationship with Lucas—or lack thereof—to Cade? He didn’t deserve an explanation. Especially not in front of my mom. She knew I’d gone to the concert with Isabel and Gabriel and a friend from school. And thankfully, she wasn’t really paying attention now. “… had fun,” I finished quickly. “We had fun.”

  My mom flipped Cade’s wrist over. “Don’t move. I need to get the clasp.” She got up and left and for the first time today, the living room seemed quiet.

  A movie was playing in the other room, occupying the kids. My aunts, uncle, dad, and grandparents were in the kitchen doing dishes, and I wasn’t sure where Ashley had disappeared to.

  I nodded toward Cade’s wrist. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fun. I get a man bracelet.”

  I smiled. “I don’t think you get to keep it. She’s just using you as her model.”

  “Her model?”

  “It’s a fact, not a compliment.”

  “Because if you gave me a compliment you might have a stroke.”

  I laughed. “Probably not a stroke, but my brain would definitely revolt in some way.”

  He didn’t laugh along with me, just looked at the cording on his wrist.

  “Oh, stop, you don’t need me to tell you that you’re hot to know that it’s true.”

  “Are you okay? Did that hurt your head?” Cade asked.

  I kicked his foot with mine and he laughed.

  “So you think I’m hot?” Cade’s eyes sparkled.

  “Doesn’t every girl?”

  It surprised me when his cheeks turned a light shade of pink. I wasn’t sure why that embarrassed him in any way. I was positive he already knew it. He ran one hand through his hair. Then he said, almost too quiet for me to hear, “You’re not every girl.”

  My eyes darted to his, not sure I’d heard him right. Was he teasing me, like he had been all day? What did he even mean by that? Was it an insult? Was our truce over?

  My mom rushed back in. “Sorry, sorry. I couldn’t find it. Now we have less than five minutes until the movie’s over and we move on to pie.” She gave me a wink.

  “No!” The word sprang out of my mouth.

  Mom paused where she was affixing the clasp to the cord. “What? What’s wrong?”

  “It’s not that time of night yet.”

  “It is. It’s getting late.”

  “We normally do that with family only.”

  “Lily,” Mom scolded.

  This was the moment Ashley decided to materialize, holding my notebook out in front of her. “It’s time,” she said with a smile.

  I had completely forgotten about her vow to make me read a song. Terror raced through me. “No. Absolutely not.” I stood and rushed to her, rescuing my notebook from her grip.

  “You promised,” Ashley said.

  There was no way I could read a song now. The only one that was halfway finished was the one about Cade. And he was here. “I changed my mind.”

  “I knew you would.”

  “No, I was going to but … ”

  Ashley shot me a disappointed look and left the room just as the rest of the family filed in, my dad holding the blindfold. I was trying to think quick. This would be a dead giveaway. Cade would know for sure that I was the letter writer if this happened. And then he’d be horrified. We couldn’t have this huge revelation in front of my entire family where they’d get to see what the kids at school truly thought of me.

  “This is a special thing,” I said to my father, my voice rising in panic. “I don’t think we should do this with strangers.”

  “Lily,” my dad said, his brow dipping to disapproval level.

  “I’m so sorry,” my mom said to Cade, apologizing for me.

  Cade stood, unwrapping the cord from his wrist and handing it to my mom. “You know what? It’s fine. It’s time for me to head out, anyway. It is Thanksgiving, after all. My mom wanted me home. Thank you all so much for having me. Everything was amazing.”

  I was a horrible person. I was sending Cade running because I was scared. I was scared that tomorrow he’d be back to his old self. That I’d be back to my old self. That he wasn’t the person I thought he was. That he was the person I thought he was. That I wanted to find out. I was scared.

  I followed him as he left, trying to think of some way to explain forcing him to leave without having to tell him the real reason. He reached the door.

  “So did the truce have a time limit?” he asked without looking back. “Or is this the hour when you turn back into a … ”

  He didn’t finish that sentence but I could fill in the blank. It helped solve my need to come up with an explanation. Instead, I opened the door and said, “Three hours is just as long as I can handle being around you.” I regretted saying it the second it was out of my mouth. I wanted to tell him I didn’t mean it. That I’d actually had a decent time with him today.

  “That’s not what the other girls say, but you’re not exactly a normal girl are you?” he asked with a wry smile.

  “Good-bye, Cade.”

  “Lily.” He nodded and walked down the dark path toward his car. I shut the front door and placed my forehead against it. The door felt cold which made me realize my face was hot. With shame or anger, I wasn’t quite sure.

  “Lily!” my mom called from the other room. “We’re getting started.”

  “Coming!”

  The pie I spent the next fifteen minutes tasting wasn’t nearly as good as it normally was. Apparently guilt had a bad aftertaste.

  It was the Saturday after Thanksgiving and I sat at the sewing machine set up on the kitchen table, finishing up a skirt. My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out to see Isabel’s name across my screen.

  “Hi,” I answered.

  “You want to come over?” That’s how she greeted me.

  I laughed. “Can’t. Babysitting.” The microwave beeped. “Hold on a sec.” I gathered the material hanging off the table and flung it on top of the machine. I went to the microwave as it beeped again and swung open the door to reveal four split-open hot dogs. “Wyatt, you put these in way too long.”

  “I’ll still eat them.”

  I pulled them out, put them on the table in front of him and Jonah along with a bottle of ketchup. “They’ll taste the same,” I said to Jonah before he could argue. “Eat. And don’t touch that.” I pointed to the sewing stuff on the other end then turned my attention back to the phone call.

  “You want to come over here?” I asked Isabel.
>
  “Yes! I’ll be right there,” she said, and I grinned.

  We hugged when she arrived like we hadn’t seen each other in ages. It had felt like ages since the concert.

  “How was Thanksgiving at Gabriel’s?” I asked her as she came inside.

  “Fun. I only got to spend a few hours over there. You know how my parents are about holidays.” We walked into the living room and plopped down on the couch.

  “I do,” I said. “I was surprised they let you go at all. Were there a lot of people there?”

  “Yes. Lots of kids. How about yours?”

  “Cade came over.” I felt like I had to tell her every little thing that had to do with Cade now so she didn’t think I was hiding anything from her.

  “What?” Her expression was as shocked as her voice. “Why?”

  “Wyatt invited him.” She already knew that Cade was my brother’s baseball coach this season.

  She gasped. “He didn’t.”

  “He did.”

  “And?” she prompted, her eyes growing even bigger.

  “And Cade was here for over three hours.”

  Her hand flew up to cover her mouth. “I’m sorry. You must’ve had an awful day.”

  I shook my head several times. “No. Quite the opposite actually. We called a truce and the day was pleasant.”

  She laughed. “A truce. Your idea or his? Never mind, I don’t know why I’m asking. That totally sounds like you.”

  I shoved her arm. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re funny, that’s all. So, wow, you and Cade are getting along now. It’s a miracle. Do you think it has to do with the letters? Does he know it was you?”

  “No. He has no idea. And when the clock struck midnight—well, when he left—the truce was over. We are so not friends. He and his girlfriend did get me sentenced to two weeks of detention, after all. I have a grudge to uphold.”

  “You never did explain to me exactly how that happened.”

  “A substitute teacher and a case of mistaken identity.”

  Isabel smiled. “That sounds like a mystery novel.”

  “It should be. Anyway, it was dumb. Sasha stole my seat and proceeded to do awful things in my name.” I threw my legs over Isabel’s lap on the couch. “But it doesn’t matter. It’s over.”