If Erin hadn’t told me to, I don’t think I would have climbed into the back of the car that day. I was so scared that we were going to drown. All I could do was sit there and cry. I was paralyzed by fear. But Erin made sure that I moved. She made sure that I kept my head above water. She kept me alive.
That’s how much I owe her. I owe her my life.
20
When the camp
bus pulls into the rec center’s parking lot, all this gravel dust flies up into the air. It sticks to my sweaty skin. It gets in my eyes.
We’re having a heat wave. It’s supposed to be almost one hundred degrees today. For extra fun, it’s crazy humid.
I really don’t want to be here.
Erin wanted both of us to come with her to say good-bye. So Jason drove us over for Erin to catch her bus to sleepaway camp. Erin’s stoked because this year she gets to be a leader-in-training.
She’ll be in Vermont for two months.
Jason and I will be here.
Alone.
Parents are dropping kids off. Kids are dragging duffel bags across the gravel. Damp dust surrounds everything.
“I hope the bus is air-conditioned,” I tell Erin.
“I know,” she says. “It could not possibly be any hotter.”
Jason reaches over and picks a piece of driveway off my arm.
I panic. I don’t think he realizes what he just did. He’s just standing there holding hands with Erin, squinting into the sun. Picking a piece of driveway off someone’s arm is the kind of thing a close friend would do without even thinking about it. Except it’s not that simple with us. Every time Jason’s done something like that when Erin’s around, I’ve panicked that she can tell.
I really wanted to kiss Jason the day he told me he liked me. I never wanted anything so much in my whole life. But of course I didn’t kiss him. I’d never have been able to face Erin again. It’s the worst kind of luck that she’s already with the boy I want to be with. Or maybe fate got us confused.
Not kissing Jason that day was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. We just stood there in silence, looking at each other for a long time. Then he came closer, like he was going to kiss me. But I stepped back. I told him there’s no way I could ever hurt Erin like that. You don’t hook up with your best friend’s boyfriend. Even if he breaks up with her first. Which I would never want to put her through, so it’s pointless to even think about. I have to push those thoughts out of my mind and keep them there.
It’s a freaking impossible situation with no solution.
Desperately scrambling to draw attention away from the fact that Jason just touched me, I stick out my arms and go, “I know, it’s ridiculous! Look at all this dirt!”
Erin’s squinting, too. But not from the harsh sunlight. She’s squinting right at me.
Because she knows.
Wait. How can she know? It’s not like there’s anything
to
know.
I need to take the paranoia down a notch.
“Okay, you guys.” Erin puts her bag down. She turns one of her rings a few times. “This is it. Next time you see me, we’ll almost officially be seniors.”
Jason’s like, “Far out.” He’s still holding her hand.
Erin kisses him.
I look away, scuffing my flip-flop on the gravel.
“Don’t forget to write,” Jason says.
“You better write me!” Erin swats his arm. She’s already made it clear that writing is mandatory. Cell phones and laptops aren’t allowed at her camp. “I swear, if I don’t get at least two letters a week, I’m coming back to kill you.”
“Two letters a week!” Jason does this mock dying thing. “You’re already killing me!”
“Oh yeah, right,” Erin says. “Like that’s a lot.”
“Guys don’t have that much to say,” Jason informs her. “I’m sure Lani will write you all the time.”
“Absolutely,” I promise. It’s the least I can do.
Kids start packing into the bus. A groan goes through the crowd. Someone found out there’s no air-conditioning and it’s a three-hour ride.
“Good luck with that,” Jason tells Erin. He gives her a big hug.
Then I hug her. “I’ll miss you.”
“Me, too.” Erin picks up her bag. Then she does a beauty-pageant wave. “Be good!”
We watch her find a seat on the bus. We watch the bus pull out. We stay until we can’t see her anymore.
Erin seems so hopeful. Like when she comes back, everything will be exactly the same way she left it.
Like nothing will change while she’s gone.
21
“How does it
always know?” Blake marvels.
“Exactly!” I yell. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!”
Blake is
so
hooked on our weekly horoscopes. We’ve even established a new ritual for the summer. Blake comes over every Monday and we read each other our horoscopes. They can be a little tricky without school as a frame of reference, though.
Around here, you could totally avoid everyone all summer if you wanted to. It can be really desolate unless you make an effort to get together with people. The only people I’ll probably see all summer are my parents, Blake, Danielle, and everyone at my summer job. I quit swimming class when school ended. I had a minor meltdown in my last class and made an executive decision to give up. So I’ve been pretty isolated. Which is a good thing.
We live in farm country. Not that we live on actual farms or anything. Well, a few kids from school have parents who are farmers, but they live in regular houses. It’s just that New Jersey is called the Garden State because of all its farms. We have a lot of roadside markets selling fruit and vegetables. There are places open to the public that grow berries and pumpkins. I work part-time at Bear Creek Berry Patch over on Dark Moon Road. They grow all different types of raspberries. I didn’t even know there was more than one kind of raspberry before I started working there last summer. My job is to help customers who come to pick their own berries. I also do some berry picking for the owners. It’s cool because I can ride my bike there. Driving is something I only do when I have to. I hate contaminating the atmosphere with more pollution, plus wasting all that nonrenewable fuel makes me want to cry.
“This horoscope thing must be magic,” Blake says.
“Or fate.”
“As in, it’s fate that they always know what to write?”
“Now you’re getting it.”
“Hmm.” Blake scoots over to the other side of the couch. That area is closer to the ceiling fan, so it’s like half a degree cooler over there. As usual, our central air is more like a random trickle of air that’s not nearly cold enough.
I go, “How are we supposed to play now?”
“I can still reach.”
Some people might think I’m a loser for hiding in my living room, playing 500 on a gorgeous summer day. That is just not true. It’s actually a smart way to pass the time. This way, I’m not tempted to do other things. Other things that are potentially harmful.
Blake goes, “How’s the berry business so far?”
“Oh, you know. Booming as usual.”
“What’s my favorite kind of raspberry that’s—”
“Taylor.”
“Yes! When are you bringing me some of those?”
“We don’t pick them until August.”
“That’s just wrong.”
“When are you bringing me your first professional creation?”
“Patience, my dear, patience.” Blake got a summer internship at a glassblowers’ studio. He got into glassblowing a few months ago. He saw these amazing glasses in a gift shop in town and asked where they came from. It turns out they were made a few towns over, by real glassblowers. Blake is psyched to be learning from them, but his dad is less than thrilled. He’d rather see Blake get a paying job and start earning his own money. They had a huge fight about it. I really thought Blake’s dad was going to force him to work at Big Guy Burger. Somehow, Blake convinced his dad to let him take the internship. It makes me sad that his dad had to be convinced.
“Is your dad still in a huffufle about it?” I ask.
“Oh, he’s huffufled, all right. Imagine if he knew I’m gay on top of making zero bank? The
horror
.”
I wish there was a way for Blake to tell his dad who he really is. Things shouldn’t be like this.
After Blake wins, I shuffle the deck to play again.
He’s like, “So are you hiding in here all summer or what?”
“I go out. I go to work, don’t I?”
“What about going out for fun?”
“I’m having fun with you.”
“You’re avoiding him.”
“Who?”
Blake leans back on the couch. He watches the fan whir.
“You know who.”
“No I don’t.”
“Let’s see. He’s about five nine, light-brown hair, green-blue eyes, is a lifeguard, is cute, rhymes with mason.”
“You think I’m avoiding Jason?”
“Umm . . .”
“Because I’m not.”
“Of course not. You’re just . . . hanging out. Here. With me. Because it’s so fun and all.”
“You know I love hanging out with you.”
“Has it ever occurred to you that you’re in love with him?”
I stop shuffling. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters. It’s your life. You should stop fighting your feelings.”
“What would be the point of that? He’s my best friend’s boyfriend, remember?”
“Yeah, but since when can we control who we love?”
He has a point. We can’t help who we love. Blake knows that better than anyone. Love isn’t logical, or even our choice.
Love chooses us.
After dinner, I help Mom wash the dishes. Dad’s snoring on the couch. A crossword-puzzle book is splayed out over his chest.
“Mom?” I go.
“Is that dish towel too wet? There’s another one—”
“No, it’s fine. I wanted to ask you something about Dad.”
She rinses a plate. “What is it?”
“Did you ever think . . . I mean, did you ever think that you were too different? You know, for things to work out?”
“Interesting question.”
She’s probably wondering where it came from. Of course, I could never tell her. What am I supposed to say? That I have way more in common with Jason than Erin does so I should be with him instead? Or since they don’t have as much in common, why are they together?
“Well,” Mom says, “some differences are important in a relationship. I don’t think it’s healthy for two people to spend all of their time together. That said, you definitely need to share some common interests. It’s the things you have in common that connect you.”
“But don’t you guys have way more differences than similarities?”
“Maybe. But a few big similarities are more important than lots of little differences. You have to think about what’s most important to you. If those things are most important to the person you’re with, then you have the basis for a strong relationship. The small things don’t matter as much.” Mom looks over at Dad, snoring away on the couch. “I know it doesn’t always seem like we’re on the same page, but you have nothing to worry about. Your dad and I still love each other.”
“Uh, that’s—”
“Nothing’s going to change.”
It’s like Mom thinks I’m asking because I’m scared they’re going to get divorced or something. If I had the energy, I might explain that I’m not asking about them. But then she’d want to know why I’m asking, and then what would I say?
I don’t know if Erin and Jason have enough important things connecting them. All I know is, Jason and I connect on so many different levels that it’s like a whole new plane of existence. We have the kind of connection my parents can’t even imagine. Or maybe they can, they just never found it.
If the psychic was right, I’ll have more than one great love in my lifetime. Which means I’ll get another chance. But is that any reason to throw my first chance away?
22
Here’s the number-one
reason why my summer job rules: I’m a berry freak. I have love for them in this order: raspberries, blackberries, blueberries, strawberries. I get these crazy cravings for them in the winter. Sometimes I even have these dreams where I’m right here at the berry patch, picking basket after basket like a fruit-starved maniac.
I’ve been helping a little girl pick raspberries for half an hour. She came with her older sister, but her older sister found something she liked more than berries. His name is Greg. Because of course Greg works here. He hates every minute of it, though. It’s obvious that this is the only job he could find, the way he’s constantly complaining about working outside in the broiling heat. I avoid the negative stressball that is Greg as much as possible.
“Try not to pick any soggy berries,” I advise the girl. “Or ones with leaves.”
When I get into the Berry Picking Zone, I kind of space out. I think about other things, working on automatic. I’ve been trying to avoid the Berry Picking Zone this summer. Especially today. Jason is all I try not to think about. Danielle invited me to this picnic at Green Pond, but I didn’t go. I know Jason’s a lifeguard there. I could probably find out what days he works and avoid going on those days. Or I could just not go there for the whole summer.
But What If? What if I’m doing the wrong thing? Is it really our fate to be apart?
After the sisters leave, I walk out deep into the field, away from everyone else. Right here, in the middle of everything, with the sweet summer breeze rustling through the leaves, I make a wish. I wish for the Energy to reveal my fate. To give me a sign if my fate is to be with Jason. And I promise myself that if I get a sign, I won’t avoid the truth anymore.
23
Being lazy in
the summer rules. It’s awesome how everything slows down so you don’t have to rush anywhere. It’s like there’s this unwritten agreement among everyone that it’s okay to do nothing. The most strenuous activity I did today was making watermelon juice with Mom. Okay, she did most of the work. She got the watermelons at the green market and lugged them home and cut them up. But I was in charge of blending and straining. The taste of watermelon changes when you put it in the juicer, so we never do that. We also made watermelon, honeydew, and cantaloupe popsicles. Those are the best on scorching days like today.