by Kasie West
She squeezed my hands and then said, “I have some paperwork to do in the back.”
Halfway through my shift, Skye came in holding an ad. “Ooh la la, Charlie. I didn’t know you modeled.”
I thought she was kidding, when she slid across an ad for the bridal store and there I was, in several shots promoting their makeup line. I noticed two things right away. One, this was not just some cheap paper flyer like Linda had printed out that sat by the register for customers to grab when they came in. It was a nice, shiny color ad a couple of pages long. And two, the pictures weren’t extreme close-ups, like Antonia had promised, but my whole body sitting in that chair . . . with my very recognizable face.
I could feel the blood drain as I stared at the ad.
“You okay?” Skye asked.
“I—” I met her eyes. “This isn’t . . .” My face felt numb and I wanted to sit down right there behind the register. If my dad saw this, he was going to kill me. “Where did you get this?” Maybe they hadn’t put out the ad yet. It was a local business. Maybe she knew the owner or something. After all, why would Skye be getting ads for a bridal store?
“In the mail.”
“The mail? Your mailbox?”
“That would be the one.”
“Crap.” My adrenaline kicked in and I suddenly felt like running around the city collecting every last ad from every last mailbox. “When? Today?”
“Yes. Just now.”
“Can I . . .” I pointed to the ad.
“Yes, keep it. I never go to that store.”
“You never go? So do they just send their ad out to everyone in town then?”
She folded the ad in half and handed it to me. “No. I was a bridesmaid once and got put on their mailing list. Now I get their ads all the time.”
“Their mailing list? Their mailing list. They have a list. You’re on it.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.” I was not on their mailing list. We never got their ads. Nor did anyone I knew. I had never even heard of the store before I had helped out Antonia. My shoulders relaxed.
Skye headed for the back, but she stopped halfway there and turned around. “Charlie. I didn’t mean to offend you the other night at the concert.”
“Offend me?”
She used her thumb to point over her shoulder. “About Linda. I didn’t mean she’d replace your mother or anything.”
“Oh.” I suddenly remembered how she told me Linda would soon be as important to me as she was to her. “No. It’s okay. I know.”
She looked at the floor. “Linda has helped me through a lot. My mom left when I was little. . . .”
I took a slow breath. Now was the time when I told her I hadn’t had a mom since I was little either. When I made her feel understood. When I became more understood myself. When I stopped being a fake. I opened my mouth, but she turned without looking up and quickly walked to the back. Who needed to be understood anyway?
To be safe, when I got home, I checked the mail. Happy to see the pile of envelopes inside, meaning I was the first one to check it today, I gathered them in my arms and flipped through the stack. There were a few ads, but not the dreaded one. Now that the shock of it had worn off, my mind spun. They used me in an ad. Without my permission. That was so wrong. Then I remembered the form the guy had asked me if I’d signed. Oh no. Some other girl signed a paper giving them permission to use her image and I filled in for her that day. This was so unfair. I wondered if she was getting paid for this.
I shut the mailbox and took a few steps toward Braden’s house. I needed someone to talk to and his was the first face that flashed through my mind. Halfway to his door, I stopped with a sigh. He was still mad at me, and I was still mad at him for how big of a baby he had been about Evan. And for how mean he had been to me because of it.
I pulled out my phone and called Amber.
“What a coincidence. I just got off the phone with Braden.”
My head whipped over to Braden’s house as if he’d be standing there, hanging up the phone. The porch was, of course, empty. I gave it a dirty look and walked up to my front door, entering the house. “Really? How’s Braden?” I didn’t mean to say his name with a hint of sarcasm; it just came out that way.
“He’s good. He told me you were going to some sort of basketball camp next week.”
“Yes. I am.”
“I didn’t know you played basketball.”
I took a breath. “I do. And soccer.”
“Cool. But too bad you’re going to be gone because I’m having a party next week. I wish you could come.”
Cool? That’s how simple it was to be myself? I just had to tell her? I felt stupid. “Yeah. I’m going to be gone. But we always do an end-of-the-summer thing here at my house after I get back. You should come.”
“Of course. Sounds fun.”
I walked up the stairs, my feet telling me I was still upset about the ad by how loud they sounded on each step. “So hey, did you happen to see the ad the bridal store put out today?”
“No. Why?”
“I’m in it.” I realized I said that sentence really loudly and looked around to make sure nobody had heard me. The coast was clear, so I went into my room and shut my door.
“What? I didn’t know you modeled.”
I resisted rolling my eyes and said, “I don’t. It’s images for their new makeup line. I was in there that day helping out Antonia. I guess the girl that should’ve been there signed a form. I claimed I was her because they were being all weird about parental permission that day. Now I know why.”
“Oh, crap. That sucks.”
“Exactly. What should I do?”
“Unfortunately, it sounds like you . . . well, she . . . kind of signed over creative rights to your image. I guess if you got a lawyer involved you might be able to challenge it. But you lied about it, so I don’t think you’ll have much recourse there. Are you in big trouble?”
“Are you kidding me? My dad hasn’t seen it, and he won’t if I can help it.”
“It’s just a local ad, Charlie. It could be worse.”
I sank onto my bed, feeling defeated. “I know.” This was my payback for all the lies I’d told lately.
“Try not to let it get to you. It’s something that people throw in their recycle bins after barely looking at.”
“You’re right. I’m glad I’m leaving for a week. Hopefully it will get my mind off everything.” And there were so many things that “everything” meant.
Chapter 28
I grabbed my duffel bag and slung it over my shoulder, picked up my pillow, and headed for the stairs.
“Dad, we need to leave in fifteen minutes,” I called down the hall, then took the stairs two at a time and dropped my stuff by the front door. In the kitchen, I grabbed a bowl and poured myself some cereal. The doorbell rang, and since I was the only one up and ready for the day, I went to answer it. “Ready” was a relative term. I had woken up, showered, thrown my hair in a ponytail, and pulled on some sweats. So when I opened the door and saw Evan standing there, I tried to resist the urge to shove my pillow in front of my face. He’d never seen me without makeup. I pursed my lips together. No. This was good. This was how I normally looked, and this would prove he didn’t care.
“Hi,” he said with a smile. “I didn’t want you to leave for a week without saying good-bye in person.”
“Oh. Great. Come in.” I stood aside. “I was just about to eat some breakfast. Do you want anything?”
“No. Already ate. But don’t let me stop you.”
As I poured the milk on my cereal, I felt Evan staring. I looked up with a questioning eyebrow raise.
“You look different in the morning,” he said.
I couldn’t tell if it was a good different or a bad different. “I haven’t put my makeup on,” I said. Because I usually don’t unless I’m going out, I should’ve added.
“Right.” He cleared his throat. “So, is th
is a girls’ camp or is it coed?”
“It’s coed. But we each have our own dorms, of course.” I took a bite of my cereal.
“That’s cool. I was just thinking . . . before you left . . . that maybe we should define what we . . .” The back door swung open and Braden stepped inside, his eyes locking with mine. I didn’t know if he even saw Evan sitting on the barstool. Braden looked like crap. His hair was a mess, his eyes looked more green than brown today, rimmed with red, like he hadn’t slept for days. His T-shirt was wrinkled, and he wore a pair of athletic shorts and flip-flops. Seeing him like that made my heart ache. I wanted to tell him I was sorry for calling him a jerk. There was so much I wanted to say, but I couldn’t, not with an audience.
“I’m sorry for the other night. I don’t want to leave things like this,” he said, without warming up to it. “Truce?”
I looked at Evan, then back at Braden. Braden finally noticed Evan and his expression went dark.
“Hey, man,” Evan said.
Braden just nodded, then turned his attention back to me. “Have fun at camp.” He backed out the door before I could stop him. I thought about going after him, talking things through. I hated how things were between us too, but as I took a step toward the door, my dad walked into the kitchen.
“Almost ready, Charlie?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, hello, Evan.”
Evan stood. “Hi.”
I took a couple of spoonfuls of my Cheerios and put the bowl in the sink. “I’m ready. I’ll be right out.”
He left the kitchen and I gave Evan an apologetic shoulder shrug. I wasn’t that sorry, though. I didn’t want him to finish the conversation he was trying to start before Braden walked in. I didn’t want to define our relationship before I left. I needed the time away to think about our relationship.
“When you get home, I want to take you out,” Evan said, coming around the counter and giving me a hug.
“Sounds good.” I started to pull away, but then realized he wanted a kiss, too, so I stepped forward again and right onto his foot. “Oh, sorry.” I looked down, but apparently he was still going in for the kiss, because we bumped heads. “I’m not doing well this morning.”
He slid his hand onto the back of my neck.
“Oh,” I said. “Third time’s a charm?” I leaned forward and our lips finally met. Knowing my dad was waiting in the car—and with the look that had been on Braden’s face moments ago flashing through my mind—I pulled away faster than I might have otherwise. “Thanks.”
He smiled. “Have fun.” He squeezed my hand, then held on to it as we walked toward the front door. My dad must’ve gotten my stuff, because it wasn’t there anymore.
“Charlie!” A loud cry echoed from upstairs, then what sounded like a stampede came rushing down. Gage wrapped me in a hug. “Be a good girl. Don’t work so hard that you barf like you did last year.”
“Your words of wisdom are invaluable.”
“You barfed last year?” Evan said.
Gage pulled back. “Oh, hey, Evan.”
“Hi . . .”
“Gage.”
Evan pointed. “Right. Still learning.”
“We should hang out while Charlie’s gone.”
“Yeah . . . sure.”
I bit my lip, not sure how I felt about that. I wanted my brothers to get to know Evan. I liked Evan. But I was feeling unsettled, like I still needed to figure out my feelings. I squeezed Gage’s hand, went up on my tiptoes, and whispered, “Take Braden out today, okay?” He nodded against my cheek. I backed toward the car. “Well, I’ll see you guys later.”
I climbed in the car and sank against the seat with a loud sigh.
“Boy troubles?” my dad asked.
I rubbed my hands on my thighs. Could I really talk to my dad about this? It would probably make him uncomfortable. I’d come back from camp and he’d have new advice from his coworker Carol, who was starting to seem a little nosy to me. “I don’t know. This is all so new to me that I don’t even know what ‘boy troubles’ means.”
He laughed. “Don’t think too hard. And you don’t have to jump into a relationship with the first boy who looks at you nice, Charlie. If you don’t like him, there’s nothing wrong with that.”
“What makes you think I don’t like him?”
“The look of terror on your face when I walked into the kitchen a minute ago.”
I started to nod, but then remembered that look wasn’t for Evan. My dad walked into the kitchen right after Braden had walked out. “I don’t know how I feel.” And that was the truth. I hoped camp would help me sort things out.
Chapter 29
Camp took place at a little private college on the coast, three hours south of us. The first two days at camp, I shut everyone and everything out, even my friends I hadn’t seen since last summer. I got in the zone, focusing only on the game. It felt good to let my body take over and my mind think only about basketball.
“Keep playing like that, Charlie, and you’re going to have your pick of colleges,” one of the coaches said as I threw my ball into the bin to leave the gym for the night.
“Thanks, coach.”
I left the gym and breathed in the coastal air. I didn’t usually run on the beach. I wasn’t sure why. Our house was only about ten miles inland. I hadn’t wanted to tie up the car for my daily run. But the ocean helped me sink even farther into my brainless routine. Its repetitive rhythm and steadiness lent to my complete shutout of the world around me. So I headed to the beach for a pre-dinner run. It was freeing not to have restrictions on what time of day I could run. Some other kids from camp had the same idea, and I fell in step with a group of guys who I knew from last summer.
We all greeted each other but didn’t disrupt our run with talking. This was what I liked about camp—a lot of focused people coming together. This was me. Already this week had redirected me, reminded me about what I loved. The game. The competition. So did that mean there was no place in my life for other things?
No. I just had to bring myself to the game and make sure everyone still wanted to be part of my life. Braden was right, as hard as it was to admit: Evan didn’t know all of who I was. But he was wrong about the other part—that Evan wouldn’t like me if he did. I thought he would. I smiled and picked up my pace.
With my hair still wet from my shower, I headed for my dorm room, ready to sleep hard tonight. I opened the door. Susie looked up from where she lay on her bed, staring at her phone. She’d been my roommate for the last two years.
“Hey, Charlie.”
Our schedules had been off this year because we were on different teams, so this was the first chance I’d really gotten to talk to her. I kicked off my flip-flops and threw my duffel bag into the corner. “Hi.”
“You’re killing it out there this year. I need whatever coach you’ve been using.”
I smiled. “It’s called the trying-to-sort-out-boys program.”
She sat up on her bed and tossed her phone onto the nightstand. “I’m listening.”
I groaned. “There’s nothing to tell. One boy is driving me crazy and another boy might not be the One.” I sank onto my bed with another groan.
“Tell me about him.”
“Which one?”
She shrugged. “Both.”
“Evan. He’s cute and nice and fun.”
“But . . .”
I laughed. “But maybe I haven’t been completely myself around him.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I thought he wouldn’t like me.”
“Well, that’s no good.”
“I know.”
“And what about the other boy? Is he a contender in the race for your heart too?”
“I don’t think there’s really a race. But no, he’s not. He’s my neighbor and apparently thinks he’s my boss. He’s mad at me for dating Evan. He doesn’t like him.”
“Braden?”
I whipped my head toward her.
“Right. And yes, Braden.”
“What doesn’t he like about him?”
“He thinks he’s . . .” I tried to think of the word Braden used to describe Evan. “Ridiculous.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Because he wears loafers or something. No good reason.”
She smiled knowingly. “So Braden is jealous. You didn’t tell me Braden liked you.”
“No. He doesn’t.”
“What makes you think he doesn’t like you?”
I rolled onto my side, hugging my pillow to my chest. “He told me.”
“Ouch.”
“No. It’s not like that. I don’t like Braden. Well, okay, I was crushing on him for a while, but we’re friends. We can’t like each other like that. It was more embarrassing than hurtful,” I said, remembering the humiliation that night by the fence.
“Does he like another girl?”
“No. Well, actually, yes. One I introduced him to.”
“What does she have that you don’t?”
I gave a single laugh. “Femininity.”
She threw a wadded-up sock at me. “Who wants that?”
“Apparently guys.”
Susie laughed. “So I hear.” She rolled onto her back. “If he doesn’t want you for you, then he’s not worth it.”
Hadn’t Braden said those exact same words to me when referring to Evan? I laughed. “Susie. You’re not hearing me. I don’t want Braden . . . anymore. Our friendship is more important to me.” But did we even have that anymore? My heart sank with the thought that maybe I had ruined that. Or he did.
“So then you’re going to try with Evan?”
