Something I'm Good At: A Sol del Mar High Novel

by Caroline Andrus

  She stares at me in confusion, a cute little crease forming between her eyes, but she doesn’t say anything.

  Here goes nothing. I play it cool and say the words I’ve been rehearsing in my head for the past two weeks. “I’d like to ask you out, Summer.” I take another bite of my sandwich, chew, swallow, and grin at her again.

  Her mouth falls open, and the hand dipping the carrot stills. “You don’t even know me.”

  It’s not a no.

  “Exactly,” I say. I pull out a juice pouch and poke the straw through the foil packaging. “But I’d like to. What do you say? You and me, dinner and a movie Friday night?”

  She shakes her head. “I can’t.”

  I’d be lying if I said I’m not disappointed by her response, but I’m not taking no for an answer. I've spent way too much time planning out what I was going to say when I saw her again, and what we would do when I got her to go out with me. When I set my mind to something I don’t back down, which is why they know me so well at the urgent care.

  “Okay, not Friday. What about Saturday?”

  She shakes her head again, and there’s a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. “I’m flattered, Kane, really, but…” Her eyes bore holes into the table between us.

  “But what? I’m not your type?” I’ve heard that one before. But none of those rejections stung like this, because none of those girls were Summer.

  Her lips curve up into a little smile. Just as quickly, it’s gone. She shakes her head again. “I’m not at a place in my life where I can date right now. I’m sorry.”

  I sigh. This is a rejection I haven’t heard before.

  “You seem really nice,” she adds quickly.

  “Will you at least sign my cast?” I hold my injured arm toward her.

  She hesitates, then nods. “Okay.”

  I dig around in my backpack. Finally, I fish a marker out from beneath my math and English textbooks and hand it to her. I slide my arm across the table and hope the cast doesn’t repel her. I’m a teenager and guy; that’s a messy combination. After two weeks, my cast is looking pretty grimy and is no longer the vibrant blue it once was.

  Summer’s eyes scan the cast before she settles on a place to sign. Her palm brushes my fingertips, and I grin at the contact. Her hands are soft, but her fingers are surprisingly cold. I want to tell her I’ll warm them up, but I bite it back. I don’t want to scare her off.

  In beautiful, loopy cursive, she scrawls her name across the cast. She returns the marker and her phone begins chirping. Pulling it out of her bag, she silences it.

  “Sorry, I’ve got to go.” She closes her container of dip. Quickly stuffing the remains of her lunch into her bag, she slings it over one arm and flees toward the school.

  I’m left alone, rejected, and blinking in confusion. Finally, I call after her, “See ya later!”

  Disappointed, I slowly stuff my lunch back in the brown bag, then trudge over to my usual table. Abigail has joined Mark, and I sit down across from her.

  “So, that was Summer, huh?” Abigail says. She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. “She’s cute.”

  I glare. “She’s more than cute, she’s beautiful,” I say. “And I already called dibs.”

  “Dibs don’t count if she bats for my team and not yours.” Abigail laughs, then takes a bite of her quesadilla.

  “So, did you ask her out?” Mark asks.

  “I did,” I answer without elaborating. Maybe they won’t ask for details.

  “And…” Abigail prompts, waving her hands in the air.

  “I’m working on it,” I mumble.

  Mark laughs. “She turned you down. Sorry, buddy.”

  “She didn’t turn me down…” I sigh and throw up my arms. “Okay, she turned me down. But it wasn’t a hard no,” I insist, looking pointedly between both my friends. “It was more of an, ‘I’m-not-dating-right-now’ kind of rejection. I think I can change her mind.” I nod, determined.

  Mark and Abigail exchange a look, and I can tell they don’t believe me. This just fuels my determination to win Summer over. There’s something going on with her, she seems sad, and I want to be the one to cheer her up.

  4

  Summer

  Saved by the bell, or rather, the alarm on my phone. I hurry into the school building—away from Kane—and through the halls until I reach the nurse's office. Miss Hill, the school nurse, greets me with a smile. Her dark eyes sparkle with warmth.

  “Did you have a good break, Summer?”

  Miss Hill is only twenty-five, so it’s easier to talk to her than some of the other adults. Today, her curly black hair is pulled back with a thick brown headband, and she’s wearing her trademark shade of MAC lipstick; Antique Velvet. It looks amazing against her rich brown skin, but awful next to my own warm ivory pallor.

  Toward the end of last school year, I’d gotten to know Miss Hill well. I spent a lot of time in her office before and after my diagnosis.

  I shrug. “It was fine. How was yours.”

  Nurse Hill beams and holds her left hand out for me to see. Her nails are painted a gorgeous shade of crimson, but it’s the diamond sparkling from a gold band that catches my eye.

  “Wow. Sean popped the question?”

  She nods in excitement. “Last month. We’re planning the wedding for next summer.”

  “That’s great,” I say. “I’m really happy for you.”

  “Thanks.”

  Taking a seat in the plastic chair next to her desk, I hug my backpack in my lap. Miss Hill unlocks the medicine cabinet and retrieves my meds. I fiddle with one of the gold and turquoise beaded bracelets adorning my left wrist.

  There’s a photograph on the desk beside me and I inspect it while I wait. Nurse Hill with her new fiancé. I frown, jealous of her normal life. I’ll never have a fiancé, because I’ll never curse anyone to a life of having to deal with me and my illness.

  She turns back to me, a plastic bag of pill bottles in hand, and frowns. “You okay?” she asks.

  I nod and force a smile. I don’t think she buys it, but she doesn’t say anything.

  While she counts out the pills, I pull a bottle of water from my backpack. She watches as I swallow each one and drain the bottle.

  “Looks like your dosage of Prednisone has gone down since I last saw you in the spring,” she says. Her voice is optimistic and chipper; exactly the opposite of how I’ve felt every second since my diagnosis.

  “Yep.” I don’t tell her that I’ve been on and off the stuff all summer, at various dosages.

  “Well, off to class with you then. Lunch ends in—” Nurse Hill glances at the clock on the wall, “—three minutes.” She turns her back on me to lock up my medications, and I grab my bag and walk to the door.

  “Hey, Summer?” she calls.

  I freeze with my hand on the door handle and turn back and meet her eye.

  “If you need anything, even just to talk, come see me, okay? I’m a good listener.”

  I nod, and Miss Hill flashes that warm smile of hers again.

  Yeah, right, like talking would help. I’m broken, and there is no cure. I’ll be on medications for the rest of my life, until one by one my organs fail, and nothing can help me anymore.

  Leaving the office, the halls are nearly empty. I’m almost to my next classroom when the bell rings. Students stream out of the cafeteria, and I’m thrown back into the everyday chaos of high school. I'm surrounded by my peers who are healthy and happy, their entire lives ahead of them. I feel a surge of anger and resentment bubble up. Last year, I was just like them. My only worries in the world were getting my homework in on time and what to wear to prom.

  “Hi, Summer.”

  I turn at my name and come face to face with my ex-best friend.

  “Hey,” I mumble, hoping she can hear how unenthused I am at her presence.

  “How’s it going?” Rachel looks around at our classmates streaming past. She’s clearly as uncomfortable with this con
versation as I am. I wonder why she’s even instigating it. After she cheated with my boyfriend, I was so hurt and angry, I dumped them both and haven’t spoken to either since. I lost nine years of friendship with that one kiss.

  “I’m fine,” I answer. As the words spew from my mouth, I realize how clipped they sound. It’s a lie, of course, but one I’ve been telling so people will leave me alone and not ask more questions. It’s not like they actually want to know how I am. If I tell the truth, I’ll just scare them away, so I force a smile to alleviate some of the tension.

  “Oh, okay, good.” Rachel doesn’t look like she believes me, but I don’t really care. “So…you really quit the Volleyball team.”

  I nod. “I’m focusing on classes this year.” More lies. It took all summer to get my medications straightened out, and it quickly became apparent that volleyball took too many spoons. I love it, and I miss it, but I’ve come to accept that it’s a part of my past now.

  “That’s good,” she replies. Her gaze wanders around the hall again, as if searching for an escape. But she keeps talking. “I hoped it wasn’t because…because of me.”

  For a split second, I consider telling her that it is her fault I quit. But even if that were true, I wouldn’t want to let her know she had that much power over me. Instead, I force a laugh, and hope it doesn’t sound as fake to her as it does to my own ears.

  “Of course not.” Then I give us both an out from this awkward conversation. “But I’ve got to run if I’m going to get to class on time.”

  “Oh, yeah, right. No problem. I’ll see you later.”

  I give her a terse smile and hurry down the hall and around the corner until I reach the girls restroom. I walk to the row of sinks and stare at my reflection in the mirror, checking to make sure my rash is still hidden.

  Satisfied my disguise is still in place, I head to my foods class. It’s an elective where we learn about food from different cultures around the world. It seemed like an easy A.

  Entering the classroom, I look around for a friendly and familiar face to sit by. Or better yet, an empty seat away from anyone else. The classroom is set up with two rows of tables, each seating two students, and a path down the middle.

  With less than a minute left until the tardy bell rings, there are only two vacant seats, and I have to decide fast. The first is beside Rachel. After what she did at prom, I don’t think I can tolerate an entire term in such close proximity.

  The second seat is by Kane. Why is this guy suddenly everywhere? I’ve been wracking my brain, and I swear I’ve never seen him before. He has another dorky t-shirt on today, this one with a taco dinosaur. He’s kind of cute though, with his basic boy haircut and friendly brown eyes. Every time he speaks to me he has a grin on his face and his eyes light up. He oozes confidence, which is both super attractive and intimidating. What teenager has that much confidence? It’s unnatural.

  It doesn’t take long to decide. With more confidence than I feel, I stride to the chair beside Kane and sit down. He looks over and his eyes light up.

  “Hey,” he says. He doesn’t bother trying to hide his smile. Other guys would, in some attempt to appear cool, but not Kane. It’s that confidence thing again. He doesn’t cover up his feelings, he’s happy right now and not afraid to let the world know.

  “Hey,” I say back, setting my bag on the floor beside me.

  Our teacher, Ms. Knope, calls the class to order and takes attendance.

  “Turn to your table mate,” Ms. Knope announces from the front of the room. “And say hello to your partner for the remainder of the term.”

  “You know…” He chews on the end of his pen thoughtfully. “This isn’t dinner and a movie, but sitting next to you in class every day for the next couple months might be even better.”

  I stare at my hands folded on the table in front of me and suppress a groan.

  On my way to choir, I see Mr. Kaiser taping a sheet of paper up on the wall near the auditorium door. He teaches English and is also head of the drama department. Before I can get close enough to see what it is, Rachel rounds the corner and rushes to the sheet. A smile appears on her face and she snatches the pen, which is dangling from a piece of yarn taped to the wall, and quickly scrawls across the paper. I wait until she’s disappeared into the choir room before I approach.

  Fall Play Sign Ups

  I stare at the words on the sheet. It’s exactly what I expected. The date for auditions is set for two weeks from now, but beneath that is a place to sign up for stage crew. I see Rachel’s name. Every year she and I have done backstage work for the school plays. Costumes and makeup.

  Not this year.

  Rachel and my disease have taken this from me too.

  Turning my back on the signup sheet, I enter the choir room and take the seat I had last year. I'm a second soprano. Thankfully, Rachel is an alto, so she’s on the other side of the room. I don’t have to speak to her the entire period while Ms. Hammond goes through and listens to each of us sing. Afterward, she assigns us new seats for the year. I shift one seat to the right, which is one seat further away from the altos and fine by me. I don’t look at Rachel to see if she’s moved. I’m pretty sure I feel her eyes on me though.

  Before choir ends, Ms. Hammond tells us she’ll be holding auditions for the show choir on Friday. Another activity I’m losing.

  As soon as the bell rings, I rush out of the room before Rachel has a chance to ambush me again. When I get to my math class, I’m happy to see that, though I recognize most of the faces, none belong to any of my former friends. I take a seat in the back corner and pretend to be invisible. This day can’t end soon enough.

  5

  Kane

  The sound of polyurethane wheels on concrete is music to my ears. The only thing that makes it sweeter is when those wheels are attached to my own board beneath my feet.

  My board is still locked up though, and I’m itching to get back out there. Instead, I keep my butt firmly planted on the sidelines. Watching everyone else have all the fun. Mom would be so proud.

  Mark and Abigail skate over and dismount their boards. Mark grabs their water bottles from beside me and hands Abigail hers.

  School has been out for almost an hour, and on the drive to the skatepark I told them all about my class with Summer.

  “Okay, so you have a class with her, now what?” Abigail asks before taking a long drink from her bottle.

  “Now I get her to fall in love with me.” Isn’t that obvious?

  Mark snorts, and I ignore him. He’s just jealous because he’s single and miserable. Okay, he’s not miserable. Mark seems content with Abigail, me, and his surfboard. He spends so much time surfing, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have time for a girlfriend.

  “You’re adorable, Kane,” Abigail says. She reaches out to pat my head, and I slap her hand away. I’m not sure why she’s always trying to mess with my hair, but it drives me crazy. Actually, that’s probably why she’s always trying to mess with my hair.

  “Has she even said more than five words to you?” Mark asks.

  I pause to consider. “Yes. She’s definitely said more than five words to me. Possibly even ten or fifteen.”

  “Have you considered that she might not be interested?” Mark insists.

  “I refuse to let your negativity burst my bubble.”

  The skin under my cast is beginning to itch. I dig a pen out of my backpack and push it under the cast as far as I can, trying to reach the spot.

  “Please tell me you didn’t do that in front of her,” Abigail says. When I look up, she’s cringing.

  “What? It itches.”

  Mark snorts again. “Kane. A regular Romeo.”

  “I need to find out what she likes. I’m sure we have something in common.”

  I’m actually not sure. She doesn’t seem like she’s the kind of girl to skate, or BMX, or even surf. I really don’t know anything about her, except that she was in the show choir last year, and she plays volle
yball. I attended every choir concert and volleyball game just to feast my eyes on her. And, oh yeah, she’s the prettiest girl at Sol del Mar High. It’s not much to base a relationship on, but hey, you’ve got to start somewhere, right?

  “Tomorrow, I’m going to find out everything there is to know about her.” I give my friends a determined nod.

  Abigail slips a stick of gum in her mouth and chews. She blows a bubble and lets it pop. “That’s a tall order for a fifty minute class.”

  After yesterday’s failure to win over Summer, I’m eager to see her at lunch and try again. But she’s not here. I sit with Mark and Abigail, but spend the time half listening to their conversation while I keep my eyes peeled for her to appear. I’m afraid she won’t be in foods class, but fortunately I’m wrong. When I arrive, she’s already seated at our table, her arms crossed on the surface with her head resting on them.

  “Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” I say softly as I take my seat beside her. I don’t want to startle her.

  She sits upright and looks at me in surprise. “Oh, hey.”

  It isn’t the friendliest of welcomes, but it isn’t unwelcoming either.

  “How’s it going?” I ask, setting my bag on the floor beside me. I catch a light scent of coconut wafting off her skin.

  She shrugs. “Another day in paradise.”

  I grin. With her beside me, it is paradise.

  “So, I’ve been thinking,” I say. She arches a brow and watches me skeptically. “I really don’t know anything about you, besides the fact that you enjoy hanging out in the urgent care as much as I do.”

  She casts a glance around the room, as if making sure nobody heard me, then raises her brow again.

  “I’m glad you seem to be over that fever.” I wink to show her I’m just playing. “So anyway, I have a list of questions to ask you. Are you game?”

  “Why?” she asks.

  I blink, confused by her question. “Why what?”