Authors: Emily Hainsworth
“Cam,” she says with a seductive smile. “I’ve been wondering. Did you and I ever …?”
My face gets so hot, I’ve never been more thankful for the dark of night. I have to look away from her bare, smooth silhouette. Things are different enough for each of us, why has this thought never crossed my mind?
“No—” My voice breaks and I clear my throat. “That’s where we were going. The night of the crash.”
“Oh …”
I wait for what feels like an interminable second. “Did you?”
“Never had the chance.” Her voice is low with regret.
I let out a long sigh, relieved.
She shivers and rubs her arms.
“You’re freezing, aren’t you?”
I dig around until I find the sweater I’d been wearing, and drape it over her naked midriff. She pulls it to her nose and inhales, wrapping herself in my sleeves. But then she props herself up on one elbow and juts out her lower lip.
“I’m sick of sneaking around this way—cramped in my car, shivering on the playground. It’s getting old fast.”
I shrug, reaching to tickle her toes. “We can’t risk being seen … again.”
She smiles, obviously scheming. “What if we had a whole house to ourselves—a great big bed, a warm fireplace, and I could guarantee no one would ever find us?”
I recline my seat and move as close to her as the center console will allow.
“I’d say tell me where and when.”
She grins. “My parents will be gone all night Friday—totally last-minute, some business colleague died. I was going to tell you first thing.” She sits up, and my sweater falls into her lap. Her skin is illuminated by the soft glow of a light mounted high on the water tower. I’m used to her hair cascading down around her shoulders, but with her curls in disarray high up around her chin, I get an uninterrupted view of her nearly naked torso. The only thing between me and the soft rise of her breasts is a very purple, very revealing, very sexy lace bra.
She leans over. “Come spend the night with me.”
I shift uncomfortably, no longer bothered by the cold. “What’s wrong with right now?”
She runs her hand down my bare chest, alerting every nerve beneath my skin.
“I want our first time to be special … not some fling in my backseat.”
I exhale and bite my lip, trying not to focus on how good she looks … what it does to me. It seems like an eternity since the night when it
should
have happened. Our eyes connect, and I envision all the times it nearly did. She must see it on my face, because even in the dim light, I can tell she’s blushing. The air heats between us and I catch her hand in mine—maybe this is just what we need. This one thing to seal us together and erase all the doubt.
HALF OF THURSDAY BLURS BY IN A WHIRL OF BLANK FACES
,
bells ringing, and lockers slamming. I barely pass a trig test and survive a second round of dodge ball in the morning. If I can get an essay written before fifth period history, I’ll be caught up on assignments for the week, but my mind keeps jumping ahead to Friday night.
When I finally make it to lunch, I stake out the usual doorway and pull out a notebook and pen. I’m supposed to answer the question,
In
Ethan Frome,
what is the significant realization that Ethan makes?
I’ve filled about half a page when a flat silver object skitters across the floor and knocks into my shoe. I pick up the cell phone and glance around for its owner, but the scowling person coming toward me with his hand out is Logan.
I hold the phone up. “Lose something, West?”
“Hand it over, Pike.”
He’s angry—I bet I can make him angrier. I toss the cell phone into the air.
Logan scrambles, surprised. He reaches out, actually has it, but then it slips between his fingers. I catch it again before it hits the floor.
I get to my feet. “Fumble.”
Logan’s face goes as red as our school’s mascot. I hold the cell out to him. Several groups of people are watching now to see if I get my ass kicked. I wonder if
this
Logan would freak out if he ran into Viv; if he’d dare lay claim to her “ghost.” The thought relaxes me and I’m not sure I feel like sinking my fist into his face anymore.
“Shame you have to lose this season without me,” I say, slapping him on the shoulder.
He balls up his fists, nostrils flaring … but then Tash appears beside him and takes one of his hands. He looks at her, back at me, and something in his posture changes. He sticks the phone in his pocket and, still holding Tash’s hand, pushes away through the cluster of gathered people.
Mike shoves through the dispersing crowd. “What the hell was that?”
“Never mind,” I say, settling stiffly on the floor, sore from the twenty push-ups I did this morning. I might not be a player anymore, but I can still look good on Viv’s arm. Mike scowls at me and starts walking away. I pick my notebook up, then toss it back down and jog after him.
“Mike!”
He turns. He’s chomping on an energy bar.
“If my mom calls your place Friday night … tell her I’m there.”
He stops chewing. “You want
me
to cover for you?”
“Yeah.”
“Why should I?”
It sinks in now that he’s pissed. And why wouldn’t he be? All I’ve done lately is act like a dick to him.
“Look, I’m sorry,” I mumble. “It’s important. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t.”
His expression changes. “Who’s the girl?”
“Girl? There’s no—” I collect myself. “Yes or no?”
“Cam, I think you owe me. I’m not doing this for free.”
I glare at him, but he doesn’t blink. I wrinkle up my forehead in frustration. There’s no time for this. After Friday, everything will be okay again—better than okay. But my night with Viv has to be perfect. Nothing can get in the way. I force myself to unclench my jaw. It’s just a detail, but so much is at stake. If one thing goes wrong … it could ruin more than our night. I consider pleading, but he just stands there and waits.
“You’re right,” I say, surprising myself. “I do owe you.”
He studies me like he’s trying to decide if I’m bullshitting him, but I guess he’s satisfied with the look on my face.
“Fine, whatever. I’ve got your back.”
MOM
’
S CAR IS IN THE DRIVEWAY WHEN I GET HOME. THIS NEVER
used to be a good sign after school, but she’s been around a lot more since she started trying to be maternal. She’s even making an effort to keep the place clean. Her shower is running when I walk in the front door, so I head for the kitchen to hunt down some food.
I’ve got my hand on the fridge when the new phone blares its digitized ring from the opposite wall. I pick up the receiver, cradling it against my shoulder as I open the door to browse.
“Hello?”
“Cam?”
I freeze with a can of V8 in my hand.
“Don’t hang up—can we talk?”
Dad’s voice sounds unsteady. I don’t breathe.
“Look, I’ve been trying to get ahold of you—”
“How’s that going for you?”
The line goes quiet. Why did I speak? My thumb hovers over the end button.
“I bought the boat back, Cammer.”
He what?
I clamp my hand over my mouth before I can say anything.
“Mom says things have been tough lately. I thought maybe …” He sighs. “I thought you might like to go out on the lake?”
I stand there like a moron, holding on to the phone, but I swallow so he knows I’m there.
“You don’t have to decide now. The weather will hold.”
I open my mouth and pause, thinking of me and Dad on our boat, rocking lazily on the water. I can almost smell the trout. I want to cry
Yes!
But I also want a reason not to.
“Would Cheryl come too?”
“Nope,” he says. “Just you and me.”
I sink into a kitchen chair. It used to be so much easier to hate him. But ever since the accident … it’s like he’s called almost every day.
“You got the
Reel Fun
back?”
He coughs. “Lost a little money in the deal, but I’m hoping it’ll be worth it.”
I scan the open newspaper without reading it.
“I miss hanging out with you, buddy....”
“Yeah.” My chest gets heavy at his words. “Well—I gotta go.”
“Just think about it,” Dad says. “Take all the time you want.”
I click the phone off without moving. I can’t believe I let him win. I open my eyes, and my mom is standing in the doorway, her head wrapped in a towel.
“How’d it go?” she asks.
“You knew he was going to call?”
“I thought it would be a good idea for you two to talk.”
“Why?” I ask, incredulous. “You should hate him more than I do.”
She tugs at the sleeve of her bathrobe. “He’s not quite the asshole he used to be.”
“Mom! He left you for that—”
“You don’t have to remind me!”
I shake my head, trying to control my temper. “So, are you trying to pass me off on him, or what?”
“Excuse me?”
I gesture to the stack of dishes that have reappeared in the sink. “Life is hard enough, but if you can get rid of me—”
“No one’s suggesting you move in with him.”
“Then why talk to him at all?”
The towel falls sideways on her head. “He’s your dad, Cam.”
“Does he want an award?”
She sighs and pulls a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket. “I got to draw up my own divorce papers—I have an excuse never to see him again.” She tilts her head. “But you share DNA with him. He’s the only dad you’ve got.”
I grunt and stick the phone back in its cradle.
She fumbles for a light. I hand her a matchbook from a drawer.
I open the fridge door again, but I’m not hungry anymore. I find myself thinking about Owen, and I wonder if it’s worse to have a shitty dad or no father at all. I close the fridge door. Mom hung a picture of Viv there—the one I took at sunset. Somehow looking at it still makes me sad. As if she’s really gone … and I don’t have her back.
“What are you even doing home?” I ask. “It’s only four o’clock.”
“I had a court date tomorrow, but it got pushed to next week,” she says. “I thought I’d kick back and work in my pajamas till then … spend the weekend with my kid.”
I straighten. “Um, I kind of have plans—with Mike.”
“Oh.” She blinks at me. “But you haven’t … in months.”
“Part of my improvement package? I’ll be at his house Friday night.” I resist the urge to look away when I say this. You should never break eye contact with a lawyer when you’re lying.
“Mike Liu? I haven’t seen him in forever. Why don’t you guys come over here? It’ll be fun, like old times!”
I shake my head. “No—we’re doing guy stuff. You wouldn’t want us here.” This is lame, I need specifics.... “Video games! The new
Zombies versus Aliens
—I don’t have the game console. He’s got it all at his house, so … we have to go there.”
She raises one eyebrow. My stomach sinks.
“Well, you won’t mind if I call and talk to his mother—what’s her name again?”
I can’t speak as she plucks the phone off the wall. My palms are moist. Not because I’m worried about Mrs. Liu blowing my cover, that’s a given now. My mind is leaping to the next unknown—how Viv will react when she finds out I can’t come. What she’ll do.
Mom fusses with the number, and I don’t help her. She gets it from directory assistance—there’s only one Liu family in town—and it starts ringing. I have time to hope it’ll go to voice mail, but then her blank expression perks up and she smiles.
“Mrs. Liu? Oh, this isn’t—oh, Nicole! You sound so grown up. For a second you sounded
just
like your mom … is she there?”
I get my bullshit from my mother.
“Oh, I see. No, that’s okay, this is Loretta Pike—Camden’s mom? Just tell her to call me when she gets a chance—”
Pause. A glance at me.
“I’ll let him know, sweetie.” She laughs. “Okay, thanks, bye.”
My heart, barely pumping a second ago, now dares to shift back into hopeful mode.
“Mike’s little sister says she thinks you’re cute.” She winks.
“Uh, great.” I glance at the phone, calculating how soon football practice ends so I can give Mike a heads-up. I push my chair back and stand. “Well, I have a ton of homework. Guess you’ll have to check up on me some other time.”
She cocks her head and holds out her arms. “Come here, you. I’m proud of how hard you’re trying. Go see your friends and get out a little, have fun.”
I hesitate, letting the guilt creep in. Things were easier when she didn’t try so hard to care. I bury her in my arms, breathing in the scent of her shampoo mixed with cigarettes and her mom-perfume. I’ve never gotten used to bending down for her hugs, and even now I worry I might accidentally crush her. When I let go, she pinches my cheek like she hasn’t done since I was six.