How My Summer Went Up in Flames (6 page)

I’m reaching into my pack for bottled water when it happens: Something makes a dive for my head. I stifle the urge to drop the F-bomb as I drop my bag, spilling Cheez-Its onto the cave floor. My heart is about to explode. I turn in circles and start running my fingers through my hair like I’m giving myself a shampoo.
Please don’t be a bat. Please don’t be a bat.
My silent freak-out is starting to attract some attention. So much for the captivating beauty of Dream Lake. Matty turns around. A snaky smile spreads across
his face as he catches my eye and saunters toward the back of the line.

“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod,” I whisper-scream when Matty arrives at my side. “Matty! Something just dive-bombed me. Is it in my hair? Do you see anything?”

I think Matty will know what to do, but he just stands there, smiling and shaking his head. Joey would have saved me from the bloodsucker by now. That’s if Joey would have agreed to explore a cave to begin with, which he wouldn’t.

“Matty, is it gone?” I say as I grab hold of his arm and watch the cave ceiling. “Was it a bat?”

“Not a bat,” Matty says, “Batman.”

Matty bends down and picks up a small plastic figure off the floor. By now, we have attracted the attention of our guide and a few random tourists.

“Is everything okay back there?” Darren asks as he peers around the crowd. Then he spots the Cheez-Its on the ground and his eyes bug out. “Miss, I’d like to remind you that food and drink are not allowed inside the caverns.”

It’s at this point that I see that man with the kid on his shoulders walking toward me. The kid’s face lights up when he sees Matty holding the tiny Caped Crusader.

“You found my Batman,” the boy exclaims.

I’m too relieved to be angry. Thankfully, Darren is moving on, and the crowd is following.

“You suck,” I tell Matty. I don’t even want to look at him as I drop to my knees and scoop up the mess I made. Within seconds, Matty is at my side helping.

“Now, that was funny,” he says.

I roll my eyes.

And then Matty starts to sing. “I’ve got a feeling, there’s a plastic Batman in my hair. . . .”

I purse my lips and try not to smile, but I can’t help it. The next thing I know, I’m laughing so hard I’m doing sleep apnea snorts and I’ve got to pee. And you know what? It feels pretty damned good.

I call my parents as we’re pulling away from Luray
Caverns. Matty dials for me. He’s carrying his responsibility too far. It’s so annoying. After what seems like thirty-five-thousand years, he hands me my phone. It’s nice to hold my cell again. I miss it. It’s like I’m constantly aware of this two-by-three-inch void. After some initial chitchat with Mom about where we are and how I’m feeling, I start to work my magic.

“Guess what?” I say.

“What?” Mom says.

“Logan is taking us all to Dollywood. Can you believe it? I said I wanted to go and he said ‘okay.’”

Logan can be a dick if he wants, but now he’s a dick on his way to Dollywood.

“You’re going to California?”

“No, Ma, Dollywood. In Tennessee.”

There’s a long pause, and I know it’s because Mom is either totally confused by how happy I am to be going to Dollywood or completely dumbfounded by the fact that such a place exists.

“That’s great, honey.” Mom sounds hesitant. “Have a good time. Let me get Dad. He wants to say hello too.”

When Dad finally picks up the kitchen phone, he tells me I need to speak with my lawyer soon.

“His name is Steve Justice.”

“Are you kidding me?” I hope this isn’t some guy my dad found from a cheesy TV commercial.

“A good friend of mine recommended him. He said Steve knows his way around a restraining order,” Dad says. “You’re going to have to set up a call with him to answer some questions.”

“Okay, will do,” I say. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Love you,” he says, and then he just hangs up. My dad doesn’t transition well on the phone. Never has. When the conversation’s over, there’s no “good-bye” or “talk to you soon.” It’s nothing but dial tone.

“My dad says admission to Dollywood is on him. I can put it on my emergency credit card.” I’m cringing inside at my lie. The karma police are coming for me soon.

What else can I do? If I don’t want to spend extra time at some strange girl’s house, I need to secure our diversion to Dollywood. Admittedly, I care less about the theme park and more about screwing with Logan’s plan. Plus, I don’t want them to know I was talking about my lawyer. “Oh, and my mom says to thank Logan for taking such good care of her daughter. Just like you said you would.”

Matty raises his eyebrows. He knows when I’m up to something, but I know he wants to go to Dollywood. In my head, I silently promise God I’ll pay back my dad.

“Awesome,” Spencer says, and pulls out his iPhone. “I’ll see if I can get some deets on Dollywood.”

Spencer’s kid-in-a-candy-store approach to life is very endearing.

My own phone makes the new-text-message noise. I look at Matty. “Am I allowed to read it?”

“Let me see who it’s from first.”

My stomach does a flippy thing. I don’t even want to let myself hope that it’s Joey. I’m hurt and mad, but I still
want to talk to him. I need closure. It would make me feel so much better if he reached out to me. And then it hits me—can a TRO be violated in reverse?

“Lilliana,” Matty says, and hands me the phone. I look at the screen.

YO. GOT INFO. CALL WHEN YA CAN. L8TR. L.

“Can I call her?”

Matty dials and hands me the phone only after Lilliana picks up. What does he think? I’m devious enough to program Joey’s number under Lilliana’s name? Okay, I am. I just didn’t think of it in time.

“What’s up?”

“Joey’s been talking shit about you,” Lilliana says.

“What kind of shit?”

“He’s been telling everyone how you put out on your first date.”

“What? How do you know this?” I keep my voice even and turn toward the window. I feel Matty, Logan, and Spencer listening. I don’t want to give away how upset I am as the state of Virginia passes by in a blur of blacktop and green.

“My brother’s working at ShopRite for the summer. He’s worked a few shifts with Joey. Says he brags about all
the crazy shit he does with the slut. He’s been telling everyone you were easy, but she’s better.”

In our town, at some point everybody either works at ShopRite or knows someone who does. Sometimes, Eddie hangs out with Lilliana’s brother. I hope this disgusting lie doesn’t get back to him.

I don’t say anything for a few seconds. I’m afraid to talk. I don’t want to cry. I am trapped in this car with my anger and I can’t do anything about it. What a sleazy thing to do, although I guess I can understand Joey bragging about his exploits with my slutty replacement, but why drag me into it? Is this revenge for his car? I’m shocked he wants to hurt me like this.

“You okay?” Lilliana finally asks.

“I’m good. Call you later.”

“Sorry. I thought you’d want to know.”

“I did. I do. Thanks.”

I disconnect and hand my phone back to Matty without looking at him. I’m helpless. As my life in New Jersey falls apart, I’m hundreds of miles away and relying on Lilliana to tell me what’s happening. I’m so confused. Is that all Joey wanted all along? To get in my pants? I thought it was enough for him to be
with
me, not
be
with me.

None of this makes sense. Joey had always been completely respectful. Never tried to push me into anything I didn’t want to do. He let me initiate things, and mostly, it was just kissing. He seemed fine with that. On Valentine’s Day, after we’d been together for about five months, he worked it so we’d have his house to ourselves for a few uninterrupted hours. He ordered out from my favorite Italian restaurant and bought me gold heart earrings. We messed around on the couch for a while. Joey is the best kisser. He has this way of doing things with his mouth that makes a girl want to do more. So, yeah, it was me who said we should go upstairs. I thought I was ready, but once we were actually in his bed together, on the verge of crossing that line, I pulled the plug on the operation. You don’t spend two-and-a-half years in an all-girls Catholic school without developing some sense of guilt.

Joey was wonderful about it. He just wrapped his arms around me, turned my chin so he was looking straight into my eyes, and said: “I love you. I’ll wait.” Then he added, “Your first time should be special. Even if it’s not with me. Remember that, Rosie. You are worth it.”

At that moment, he felt like a best friend and a boyfriend. I loved having the excitement of “someday” to hold
on to and couldn’t imagine my first time being with anybody but him. He would wait for me. I didn’t realize he meant until someone willing came along. Maybe if I hadn’t put the brakes on, we’d still be together. My head hurts. I close my eyes and lean back against the seat.

I don’t know how much time passes before I open my eyes again, but when I do, I meet Logan’s gaze in the rearview mirror.

“You aren’t getting carsick, are you, Catalano?” Logan asks in his usual, caustic tone. His eyes tell a different story. It’s weird, but I can tell he’s concerned. Weirder still? The thought of him worrying about me is oddly appealing, making it hard to think of a snarky comeback.

“I’m fine,” I say. And leave it at that.

As we’re leaving Virginia, we pass a pristine white post fence that seems to go on forever. I try to peer beyond it, looking for an enormous farmhouse or mansion in the distance, and that’s when I see them, four gorgeous horses on a ridge near the side of the road. One is black with white around its hooves. Two are a coppery brown, and one is a whitish, silvery color—she looks almost iridescent. And I say “she” because, despite her rippling muscles, she has a girly look about her. The horses make me think of Pony, and home. I
wonder if my parents are following me on some website, like the airlines do, charting my progress with the GPS.

We pull into a motel in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, around seven. Dollywood closes in an hour, so we agree to go first thing in the morning when the gates open. It’s obvious this unplanned stop is making Logan uptight, but he thinks we can still be on the road to Nashville by sometime tomorrow afternoon and then push on to Memphis the next morning. He’s trying to make up time for the Dollywood stop so we can still spend two nights in Dallas. Either he wants to win as much as I do or he really, really likes this girl. Or worse, maybe underneath all the nice talk, he’s just like Joey and only after one thing. I hope that’s not the case, but if it is, that’s more incentive to sabotage Logan’s Texas side trip.

The motel room has two double beds. It seems like a waste of money for me to get my own room, and truthfully, I’d be scared. I don’t do “alone” very well. I’m relieved when Logan says: “Who wants to find out about getting a roll-out bed?” As much as I hate to admit it, I like the way he handles things. Even though he’s bossy, I feel safe with Logan leading this trip.

“Me and Spencer can,” Matty says.

“Anyone else starving?” Spencer asks.

“Why don’t Logan and I make a food run?” Did I just say that? I can’t believe I’m offering to spend time alone in the car with Logan, but I don’t feel like sticking around here and trying to wrap my brain around the fact that I’ll be spending tonight in a motel room with three guys. Boy, I sure know how to make my parents proud.

It stinks to be back in the car so soon—literally. I didn’t notice the boys’-locker-room scent while I was immersed in it. Boys are smelly.

“Let’s get Wendy’s. I like their salads,” Logan suggests.

What’s up with this guy? Egg whites. Salads. Hasn’t he heard of the Baconator? I want to say,
Get a penis
. But I stick to the topic at hand.

“Fine. But I’m getting a burger and fries. I may need a Frosty, too.”

“Emotional eating will get you in trouble.”

Now I’m angry that I didn’t insult his manhood over the salad.

“Listen, Dr. Phil. I’m hungry. I haven’t eaten since that waffle hut, which seems like it was yesterday,” I only got, like, two Cheez-Its in my mouth before the Batman attack.

“It’s just—you seemed pretty upset after you talked to your friend.” We’re at a red light and he turns to look at me.

“Glad I could provide some added entertainment. What? Tired of listening to your country music station already?”

“I wasn’t trying to listen,” he says quietly. “Forget it.”

He sounds hurt. Maybe that’s why I decide to spill.

“My ex is telling people that I’m, ya know, that we—”

“Didn’t you?”

My eyes bug and I whack him on the arm.

“Ow. That hurt, Catalano.”

“It works both ways. Whataya mean, ‘didn’t you?’”

“I’m surprised, that’s all. I’ve seen Joey around school . . . and Matty said you were together awhile.”

“So you’re surprised I’m not slutty?!” Has that been his impression of me from the start? Is it because he knows the kind of girls Joey dates?

Logan actually looks somewhat embarrassed. His cheeks flush and he backpedals. “No. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with it, I just figured—”

Thankfully, we’re at Wendy’s. “Right. I’m glad you’ve got me all figured out.” I open the car door, slam it hard, and leave him sitting there for a few seconds. Eventually, he catches up with me in the fast-food-line maze. I’m looking up at the menu board as if I don’t have it memorized. Logan inserts himself into my line of sight and smiles at me. My
stomach goes all spacey. I chalk it up to hunger. He’s got a small dimple on the right side. I hadn’t noticed. Probably because he hardly smiles.

“I don’t have you figured out. I’m sorry. Really.”

I avert my eyes from him. I want to stay pissed, but I can’t. Especially since he said he was sorry. That’s more than Joey ever did. Even when we were together and had our little spats, he was never quick to apologize. “Fine. Buy me a blended chocolate Oreo Frosty and we’ll call it even.”

“Emotional eating,” he says.

I get burger combo meals for me, Matty, and Spencer and then turn Logan over to the Wendy’s lady. I smile when I hear him tack my blended Frosty onto his order. He wordlessly hands it to me as we head for the car. I pop the straw in and lean it toward his mouth like I used to do for Joey.