by Amy Sparling
“Sure, we can.” He winks at me and then looks at the woman behind the counter. “Can we get a sampler?”
“Sure thing, Jeremy.” The older woman smiles warmly at us and then turns around and grabs a pie tin. It has one slice of each of the twelve pies the shop offers. That’s actually genius. “You need two forks?” she asks, smiling at me.
“Yes ma’am.” Jeremy takes his wallet out of his back pocket, but the woman slides the pie closer to him and shakes her head.
“No charge. We love seeing you here. And it’s even better that you brought a beautiful young lady with you.”
“Ignore her,” Jeremy says. “She makes it her life goal to embarrass me.”
“Oh, and I’m so good at it!” The woman says with a hearty chuckle. She hands two plastic forks to me and then leans forward, pretending to whisper even though she’s not whispering at all. “He’s a keeper, honey. I promise.”
“Thanks,” I say, glancing up at Jeremy. “I had a feeling he might be.”
We find a small empty table tucked into the corner and make our way over to it just as a bunch of teenage guys walk in. “Jeremy!” one of them calls out while the other three guys walk up to the counter to order. “Nice to see you, man. Haven’t seen you since school got out.”
“What’s up?” Jeremy fist-bumps his friend. “Good to see you, too. What’s been going on?”
“Surfing, boarding, the usual deal. We’ve just been carving it up this morning and now it’s time for some eats. You know how grumpy Hayes gets when he’s hungry.” Jace winks, hooking his thumb toward the tall guy with shaggy hair that’s ordering pie. I recognize him as the cook who makes the best French toast.
“I’m going to go wash my hands,” I say, slipping out of their conversation and to the bathroom. I’m starving and I’m so ready to dive into tasting twelve different types of pie. I wash my hands and try not to freak out at my reflection in the small framed mirror. My hair is a total mess, so I take it out of its ponytail and try to wrangle it into a cute messy bun. It’s better, but not by much. My bare face would look a lot better with some mascara and lip gloss, but at least it’s not sunburned. Oh well. I guess I can’t do much about my appearance right now. And Jeremy has already seen me, and he still chose to hold my hand.
The woman behind the counter was right. He would be a total keeper if only I lived in Sterling Beach. With a sigh, I leave the bathroom and notice that the guys are all standing around the small table. They can’t possibly want to sit with us because there’s not enough chairs, so what are they doing?
One of the guys is holding out his cell phone, showing something to everyone else. Jeremy looks on right next to Hayes.
“Dude, he just breaks up with her,” the guy with the phone says. “You can tell she totally wasn’t expecting it. There’s no way this is a skit. It has to be real.”
My heart stops. My breath catches in my throat. And then, across the small restaurant, all other sounds fade away until the only thing I hear is Lane’s voice talking as the video begins. We’re a thousand miles away from home but the worst day of my life has made it here to Sterling Beach. And Jeremy is going to see it all.
I don’t have any tears left to cry. But I do know one thing I’m still good at.
Running away.
Nine
My family doesn’t stay long after the one-sided yelling match. They left the very next day, which is fine by me. I don’t want to see anyone right now, especially not my stepsister.
Days later, I hear my granddad answer the door, then say the same thing he’s said for the last four days. “Sorry son, she’s not feeling well. I’ll let her know you stopped by.”
This must be what people did before cell phones existed. When they had to actually show up at someone’s house, day after day, if they wanted to talk. The way it is now, people just call or text you a million times until you reply. But Jeremy doesn’t have my phone number. In all the times we’ve hung out over the last few weeks, there was never a need to share phone numbers. He would just show up and I’d be here.
Ghosting someone on a cell phone is a lot easier than in real life. I’ve had to keep to my room, telling Grandad I don’t feel well, for four days now. I can’t believe Jeremy is still coming by. Can’t he take a hint? I am completely, horribly, irrevocably humiliated. I don’t want to see him. I can’t look into his eyes anymore now that he knows I’m a pathetic loser who got dumped on the internet. I wish he would just accept that and go away.
The great thing about Grandad is that he doesn’t pry. I think he knows I’m not actually sick—like the stuffy nose, puking, fever type of sick—but he doesn’t ask any questions. He brings me food and then carts away my empty dishes. He really is a great guy. Before I go home, I need to make sure I tell him that.
I spend another day in bed, watching the little TV in the corner, and avoiding the phone. My phone is connected to the internet and every time I look at it, I remember that stupid video. I want to live in a simpler time where the only technology is cable television and electricity and no one is humiliating other people for all the world to see.
As soon as my stomach starts to rumble for dinner, there’s a light knock on my door. Grandad comes in, carrying a pizza box and two bottled sodas.
“You like pizza, right?”
I nod. “I love pizza.”
“Good.” He walks across my dad’s old bedroom, to the glass doors that open out onto a balcony—only I’ve never been able to get them open. He reaches up and unhooks a lock at the top of the door. Weird. I’ve never even noticed that lock before. The doors swing open with ease.
“Let’s eat out here,” he says, setting the pizza box on the little end table that’s between two patio chairs.
There are no plates or napkins. Grandad just opens the box and takes a slice of pizza with his hands. I do the same thing.
We eat in silence, staring out at the obscured view of the beach for two whole slices of pizza, and then he clears his throat and looks over at me. “What’s going on, Hadley?”
“Um, nothing?” I say lightly, hoping he was asking in a lighthearted kind of way, not a we-need-to-talk kind of way.
“You’ve gone back to sulking in your room this week,” he says, his expression stern but also kind. “I thought you were over this. What Kyndall did was stupid but you shouldn’t let it bother you. You’re such a better person than she is.”
I guess he wasn’t asking in a lighthearted way.
I shrug. “I don’t care about her. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine,” he says. “Did Jeremy do something?”
I shake my head quickly. “No, he’s great.”
“Jeremy is a good kid. He’s been through a lot. And he’s clearly worried about you, so you staying in your room ignoring him is awfully rude if he didn’t do anything to hurt you.”
“I know…” I say, feeling guilt rise up in my throat. “I just… it’s a long story.”
Grandad reaches for another slice of pizza. “I have time. I’m retired. I have all the time in the world.”
I swallow. Am I actually about to reveal my humiliating breakup to my grandfather who I barely know? My subconscious snorts sarcastically in my mind. Who else are you going to tell? Your cousin screwed you over, your dad is mad at you, and all your friends at home are laughing at you.
“Jeremy accidently saw a video on the internet. My boyfriend—well, ex-boyfriend, broke up with me and he filmed the whole thing and put it online.”
Grandad’s nostrils flare and he curses under his breath.
Now that I’ve started talking, I don’t want to quit. Telling someone feels so much better than keeping it all to myself. “It was bad enough that my whole school saw it and is laughing at me, but the video got so popular that the guys in Sterling Beach saw it too, and they showed it to Jeremy when we were in town the other day. I got so embarrassed, I just came home and I haven’t talked to him about it. I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t want to see him. It�
��s too humiliating.”
“Why do you think Jeremy should be punished for something another person did to you?” Grandad asks.
“I’m not punishing him,” I say defensively.
Grandad’s expression says otherwise. “You can say that all you want, but you haven’t had to see the look on that poor kid’s face every time I tell him you don’t want to see him.”
“But if I see him, he’ll want to talk about it, and I don’t want to talk about it.”
“So tell him that,” Grandad says. “He’s a good kid. If you tell him you don’t want to talk about it, he’ll accept that.”
“I guess you’re right…” I say, feeling like total crap. “But I’m still horribly humiliated.”
“So what?” Grandad snorts. “It happens to everyone. All you can do is overcome it and spend time with people who care about you. People who accept you for who you are.”
“I like talking to you, Grandad.” The words are out of my mouth before I realize it, and a blush comes to my cheeks. On the outside, he doesn’t seem like someone who would be all friendly and happy to talk about problems. But once you get to know my grandad, that’s exactly who he is. Hard and scary on the outside, but sweet and caring on the inside.
“I like talking to you too, kid.”
“I’ll apologize to Jeremy.” And I will, but that doesn’t mean I’ll keep hanging out with him. I’m too humiliated for that.
“Great. You can do it in about thirty minutes.”
“Huh?” Then I remember what day it is. “Oh. It’s Friday, isn’t it?”
“Poker night,” Grandad confirms with a nod. “I’ll see you there.”
I’m so nervous I can’t think straight. I don’t think things would be this hard if I didn’t have a huge crush on Jeremy. If he was just some guy, some random acquaintance, I wouldn’t be so scared to see him. I probably wouldn’t have run away when he saw the video. But he’s not just a random guy. He’s kind and gorgeous and has an interesting view of the world. He’s someone I like hanging out with. He’s not at all like Lane. And I know that I’ll never get to be friends with him, not really. And I’ll certainly never be anything more than friends. We live across the country from each other. It’ll never happen.
Still, crushes are powerful things. My crush on Jeremy makes my hands sweat and my heart race while I sit on the patio of Grandad’s house, watching all of his friends show up for poker night. Jan arrives with another container of cookies. This time they’re lemon cookies with crystalized sugar on top, and they’re amazing.
“Hey girl,” she says as she sits in the chair next to me. She smells like floral perfume. “You look tan. Did you finally get some sun?”
“A little,” I say, reaching for another cookie.
“Good, good. Sun is good for you.”
“Says the woman who wears a sunhat bigger than an umbrella,” Grandad teases.
“I’m old,” Jan says with a laugh. “I have to protect my old skin so I don’t get as many wrinkles. Young people should be in the sun every chance they get, though.”
She winks at me, then turns her attention to my grandfather. Their playful banter eases some of the tension in my joints, but soon I remember why I’m tense in the first place. Jeremy isn’t here.
It’s fifteen minutes after their poker start time and he’s not here. I don’t think he’s coming at all. The rest of the poker players just get started without him, but I can’t take my eyes off the patio landing where the stairs are, wondering if he’ll come walking up late, with some excuse as to why he wasn’t on time. In all the weeks I’ve been here, he’s always been on time.
Three hours go by, and two things are very clear.
Jan has the hugest crush on my Grandad.
And Jeremy isn’t coming.
I am consumed with guilt. This is all my fault. I ignored Jeremy all week because of my own embarrassment and now he doesn’t feel welcome to come hang out with his neighbors like he does every Friday, since long before I was ever here. He has been nothing but kind to me, and I ruined this day for him.
Is it possible to fall further down after you’ve already hit rock bottom?
Ten
It’s after midnight by the time Grandad’s friends go home. I help him clean up the poker chips and fold the poker table which goes in the outdoor shed after every poker night. I snap the lid on Jan’s container of cookies, which are half-gone by now. Every Friday she brings some kind of baked good over, and during the week, Grandad washes the container and gives it back to her only for her to bring it back filled with more food when Friday rolls back around.
“I’m sorry he didn’t show,” Grandad says as he hoists the folded table off the floor and carries it to the stairs.
“Me too,” I say. My eyes are dry from watching the stairs, and my muscles are tight from a whole week of stressing about life. At the beginning of summer, I wanted things to go back to normal. But now, I’m not sure what normal is anymore. My home life is weird now that I’m living in my stepsister’s ivy league shadow and my dad doesn’t trust me. I haven’t fully forgiven my cousin for letting me take the fall like that, and she’s the best friend I have. I’m single and the whole senior class has seen me humiliated online. There is no normal right now. Everything sucks.
I bring the cookies into the kitchen and then turn and stare out the large living room windows at the ocean that would be pitch black without the sparkle of the crescent moon overhead. I try to think about the last time I was happy. Genuinely, truly, happy.
The answer hits me hard, like a surfboard to the face during a wipeout.
The last time I was happy was with Jeremy.
“Grandad?” I call out. I find him in the kitchen stealing another cookie. He looks sheepish as he snaps the plastic lid back on the container. I grin, my previous thoughts overshadowed by what’s in front of me. “You know Jan likes you, right?”
“Of course she likes me,” he says, his mouth full of cookie. “Everyone likes me.”
I roll my eyes. “You know what I mean. She like likes you.”
“Oh,” he says. “Yeah I had a feeling.”
“Do you like her?”
He shrugs, but even his stoic, expressionless face can’t hide his true feelings.
“You totally like her!” I say, pointing a finger at him. “You should ask her out, old man.”
He snorts. “I don’t know.”
“We all deserve to be happy, Grandad.”
“Wise words from someone who has been avoiding the guy who like, likes her.”
“My situation is different. It doesn’t matter if he likes me. I live too far away and it would only end up hurting us both in the end. But you and Jan live on the same street.”
“You don’t have to go back home,” he says. “You’re family, after all. This is your home, too.”
“Wait…” I breathe as the reality of what I think he’s saying settles over me. “You’re saying I could move in here for good?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. It’s been fun having you here this summer. And as I understand it, things aren’t going so well for you at home. You could make new friends. Start over. And best of all, you could make sure your father doesn’t try to sell this house out from under me.”
“You’re serious?” I say, my jaw hitting the floor. “You’d let me live here?”
He nods. “I’d be honored.”
I rush forward and hug him. “Thank you,” I say over tears I hadn’t realized were forming in my eyes. Sterling Beach is an amazing community. He’s right. I could start over. I could finish school here and then go to college and get to keep living in this awesome beach house.
Grandad hugs me back and then pulls away, holding me at arm’s length. “I do have one condition though.”
“Friday night poker?” I ask.
“Not quite. If you want to live here, you need to get my favorite poker buddy back. It’s not the same without that spunky kid who loves life.�
�
I nod even though I’m a little bit terrified of the task at hand. Jeremy might be so upset with me that he refuses to join poker night ever again. But I made this mess and I’m going to do my hardest to clean it up.
“I’m on it,” I say as I practically skip back to my dad’s old room. If I’m successful, it won’t be my dad’s old room anymore.
It’ll be my room.
Eleven
Since it would be weird and rude to show up at Jeremy’s house after midnight, I forced myself to go to bed last night and wait until the morning. Now that it’s morning, I’m lying in bed staring at the ceiling, trying to get the courage to apologize to the boy who didn’t do anything wrong. It makes me cringe to think about how I acted. He didn’t deserve that at all. If he doesn’t forgive me, I won’t blame him one bit.
It’s not his fault that his friends showed him a video. He’s been nothing but kind to me and I treated him like crap. My stomach twists into anxious knots. I don’t know if I can get back the friendship we had, or if I could ever get back that little something extra we had. But I have to try.
I can’t possibly move in with Grandad full time if Jeremy is still mad at me. And moving in with Grandad feels like the best thing for me right now. I could have a new school, new friends, and a new life away from my horrible step mom and her equally horrible daughter, who both have my dad wrapped around their finger. This could work. This could be great.
I just need to suck it up and make things right.
I wait until eleven in the morning, because I feel that’s early but not too early. It’s summer time, so Jeremy could be sleeping in late. I fix my hair and put on some lip gloss and mascara but I try not to make it look like I’m trying too hard. I’m not exactly sure how someone is supposed to dress when they have to go apologize for being a total jerk.
With a deep breath, I walk outside and over to the neighboring house. I’ve never been over here before since Jeremy always came over to Grandad’s. The soft yellow paint reminds me of the sunrise. My heart is in my throat as I knock softly on the front door. A few terrifying moments later, the door opens.
