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

by Caroline Andrus

  She bites her lower lip, and I wait. After a few seconds she says, “M&M’s. Plain.”

  I snatch a package of M&M’s from the display beside us and toss it on the counter. After paying, Summer takes pity on me and carries the popcorn and candy, while I carry the soda.

  When we reach our auditorium, I let Summer pick the seats. Where someone sits in a theater says a lot about a person. Like, if she wants to sit in the way back, does that mean she wants to skip the movie and make out? I don’t have to worry about whether she wants to or not, because she chooses two seats dead center. This also happens to be my favorite place to sit; to me it says, “I’m here for the movie.”

  We settle in for the previews. Every time a good looking one comes on, I lean over and whisper, “I have to see that one!” in her ear. Sometimes she comments back, but mostly she just smiles that tiny almost smile of hers.

  About twenty minutes into the film, I realize the girl who didn’t want concessions has eaten half the bag of M&M’s and a good portion of my popcorn. I offer her the drink to wash the snacks down. She hesitates, then accepts. It’s too dark to tell, but I’m fairly certain she’s blushing.

  “So, how was my popcorn?” I jest when the credits begin to roll, and the house lights come up.

  “I’m so sorry,” she says, hiding her face behind her hands. “I really wasn’t hungry, but if you put popcorn in front of me, I will eat it. I probably should have warned you.”

  I laugh and wrap an arm around her shoulder, squeezing her close to my side. “It’s okay. I really don’t mind.”

  “Are you sure?” she asks. “I should probably pay you for half.”

  “Don’t be crazy. This date is my treat.”

  She reaches into the popcorn tub and is met with the nasty, crumbly kernels at the bottom.

  “Come on, we’ll grab a refill before we go.”

  “No popcorn allowed in my mom’s car, sorry.”

  “We’ll eat it in the parking lot then, outside the car.”

  “Deal.”

  I eat slowly, ignoring my mom’s curfew, and try to make this date last as long as possible. But as they say, all good things must come to an end. All too soon, our popcorn tub is in the trash outside the theater entrance, and she’s driving me home. I don't want to say goodbye to Summer. She's finally starting to let me see behind her walls.

  “So, on a scale of one to ten, how would you rate this date?” I ask, as Summer pulls into my driveway and puts the car in park.

  “What?” she asks in surprise.

  “You heard me.” I grin, waiting for her answer.

  “Is ten good or bad?”

  “Ten is awesome.”

  “Hmm…” She pauses for a long moment, appearing to really consider things. “An eight.”

  I scoff. “An eight? Really? I bring you to one of the best restaurants in Southern California and you give me an eight?”

  She purses her lips and studies my face. Her gaze lingers on my lips for a moment, and her cheeks grow pink. “There’s still time to make it a ten…”

  She ducks her head toward the steering wheel. Her hair falls forward and conceals her face.

  I grin and lean across the center console. I push her hair behind her ear with my left hand and she tilts her face up toward me. I close the distance and press my lips to hers.

  Her arm snakes around my neck, and I take that as my cue to tangle my fingers in her hair. For a half second, I wonder if she uses special shampoo or if her hair is naturally that soft. The thought is gone as quickly as it came. I’m too focused again on her lips and their every tiny movement against mine.

  I could kiss Summer all day every day, and it still wouldn’t be enough. All too soon, she pulls back. I reluctantly release her, slowly running my fingers through her hair as I disentangle them. I’m delighted to see her cheeks are even more flushed now. She gives me a shy smile and runs a hand through her hair, fixing the mess I’ve made.

  “So, ten?” I ask hopefully.

  Her eyes meet mine, and if I think her cheeks can’t get any pinker, I’m wrong. She tries to hide her smile, and says, “Eleven.”

  I pump my fist before I can stop myself, muttering, “Yes!”

  A quiet laugh comes from Summer beside me. I look over and grin shamelessly.

  “What are you doing tomorrow? There’s a cool event going on and I want to take you.”

  She hesitates, her lower lip pulled between her teeth again. I wait, holding my breath as I count the seconds until she replies.

  “Sure.”

  “Can I pick you up on my bike, or will you want to drive?”

  She chuckles. “How far are we going?”

  “Not far.”

  She narrows her eyes, then says, “Okay. You can drive.”

  I grin. “You won’t be disappointed. Eleven sharp. Be ready.” I lean across the seat and give her one last lingering kiss. “Sweet dreams.”

  I exit the car and race to my house, turning to wave when I reach the door. She backs out of my driveway and takes off down my street. I wait until the vehicle is out of sight before entering my house.

  “How was your big date?” Mom calls from the living room.

  I follow her voice and collapse on the couch beside her. “Mom, that’s the girl I’m going to marry.”

  18

  Summer

  I finish slathering my skin with sunscreen and stare out my front window, waiting for Kane. I can’t believe I’m going on another date with him. What happened to my resolve? I’m so selfish. I shouldn’t let him fall for me, not when I’m so broken. But I’m afraid it’s too late anyway. He’s already in too deep.

  At promptly 11 AM, I see him tearing down the road on his bike. I sling my purse over my shoulder and yell, “I’m going out with a friend. Bye!”

  I bolt out the door and meet him at the end of my driveway.

  “I know, I break you and you’ll kill me,” he greets me with that big, adorable, goofy grin of his.

  I smile at him then glance at my house. “You know it. Now let’s go.” I hop onto my usual spot on his handlebars. This is becoming way too normal.

  “What’s the big rush?”

  I twist my upper body and look him in the eye. “I don’t want to have the whole meet the parents drama right now.”

  He frowns, and I turn to face forward again. I can’t remember ever seeing him without a smile. Even when he was sitting in the urgent care with a broken bone and bloody chin, he still had a grin on his face. I hope I didn't hurt his feelings. I’m just not that open with my parents. They never even met Bradley, and we dated for three months.

  Kane pedals away from my house in silence. We ride like that until we reach the beach.

  I hop off the handlebars. “Do you ever go anywhere besides the boardwalk, the skatepark, and urgent care?”

  “Sure. School.”

  I look at him skeptically. I actually don’t mind being here again, but I am wondering what's so amazing that he had to bring me here today. I won’t admit it to anyone but going out two days in a row is really draining me.

  “Trust me, you’re going to love this.” He flashes me his trademark grin then chains his bike to the rack. He slings an arm over my shoulder and guides me down the boardwalk toward the parking lot. The place is extra busy, even for a Saturday.

  “What is going on today?” I ask, scanning the busy area in bewilderment.

  Kane is practically bouncing with excitement. “Food trucks!”

  “What?” I ask in surprise.

  “A whole bunch of food trucks are here today. I can’t wait to buy you my favorites.”

  I stand still as a statue for a moment and take in the scene. An area of the parking lot is sectioned off and there are food trucks lined up, each decorated in bright colors. Pictures of food and the menus decorate the sides. Crowds of people are milling around, many with containers of food from the trucks.

  Kane gives my arm a light squeeze and guides me into the chaos.
I try to disguise my reaction. I wasn’t sure what to expect from today, but it wasn’t this. And I sort of love this.

  “Have you ever had Ming’s Egg Rolls?” He points to a food truck painted in reds and yellows and covered in Chinese characters.

  I shake my head, still trying to take in everything.

  “What about Paco’s Tacos?”

  I shake my head again. “I’ve never actually eaten from a food truck,” I admit. “Except for ice cream.”

  Kane freezes in place, then turns to gape at me. He removes his arm from around me and places both his hands on my shoulders. He stares into my eyes, and a tingle of warmth spreads through my body at his touch.

  “You poor sheltered soul.” His voice is as serious as his face. “You don't even know how lucky you are to have me.”

  I smile. “Thank goodness for urgent care then.”

  He nods once, the motion definitive. “Exactly. It was fate. I’ve been sent to show you the wonder of food trucks.”

  “Lead the way, Oh Wise One.”

  He releases my shoulders and grabs my hand again, leading me through the crowd of food truck patrons.

  Our first stop is Paco’s Tacos, where he orders only enough food for one. I grab the food while he pays. It smells amazing.

  He winks, then leads me to the next truck. “We’re getting something from every truck,” he explains.

  I look warily at the taco in his hand. I really shouldn’t be sharing food with anyone, not with my lupus. But how is this any different from kissing him? Or downing half his soda at the movie last night? I smile and take a bite of the taco before offering it to him. He leans forward and takes a massive bite, spilling taco guts all over the pavement and the front of his shirt. I laugh.

  “Oh crap.” He brushes the lettuce and ground beef off his shirt. It’s another food pun shirt. This one says, “All I wanna do is eat tacos with you (or without you, I’m here for the tacos.)”

  By the time we’re done, we’ve sampled one food item from seven different food trucks.

  “So, what was your favorite?” he asks, taking a bite of a gyro before offering the last of it to me.

  “You’re putting me on the spot,” I answer, letting him pop the last bite directly into my mouth. I chew and think, then say, “It might have to be Paco’s Tacos.”

  Kane pumps his fist, then holds his hand up for a high five. “Excellent answer,” he says when I slap his hand.

  We finish with the last of our food truck fare, then he leads me down the boardwalk.

  “Time to burn off all those calories?” I ask jokingly.

  “Didn’t I tell you? Food truck calories don’t count.”

  “Ri-ight,” I reply, drawing out the word.

  He slips his hand in mine. “Actually, I just didn’t want to take you home yet. I like spending time with you.”

  “I… like spending time with you too,” I admit. I glance at him from the corner of my eye. He’s grinning ear to ear. I have another moment of panic, hoping I’m not setting us both up for heartache and disappointment.

  19

  Kane

  I’m finally going to do it,” Abigail announces, setting her lunch tray down at our usual table.

  “Do what?” Summer asks, looking between Abigail, Mark, and me.

  “I’m getting a tattoo.” Abigail is grinning ear to ear, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

  “Uh huh,” Mark says from his place beside her. He pops a tortilla chip into his mouth.

  “You don’t believe me,” Abigail accuses.

  “It’s just that…” I begin. “How can I put this delicately?”

  Mark snorts, and I shoot him a glare. He speaks up before I can finish. “You always say you’re going to get a tattoo, Abz, but you never follow through.”

  Abigail elbows him in the ribs. It’s refreshing to see someone else on that end of her annoyance for once. “This time I’m serious. I’m going sometime this week, after school.”

  “What are you getting?” Summer asks. When I turn to face her, she looks genuinely curious.

  “A seahorse.”

  “Cute. Where?”

  I hadn’t pegged Summer as the kind of girl to get a tattoo. Her level of interest in Abigail’s has me second guessing though.

  “I’m not sure yet.”

  “Well, where are you considering?”

  Summer leans forward in her seat, bringing herself closer to Abigail. A bubble of jealousy creeps forward, and I push it back. I know Summer wants to be with me and not Abigail. Our weekend together is proof enough of that. She rated our first real date an eleven after all. But still, even though I want her to get along with my friends, it’s hard to share her.

  “You should come with me,” Abigail says, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. I look between the girls. While I've been fending off the green monster, I’ve missed part of their conversation.

  “Okay, but only if you’ll go dress shopping with me for homecoming.”

  “Deal,” Abigail agrees. “I suppose I’ll need a dress too.” She shoots me a glare, and I smile in return.

  “Don’t you have to be eighteen to get a tattoo?” Mark asks, changing the subject.

  “I know a guy,” Abigail says with a sly smile.

  “Won’t your parents kill you?” Summer asks. Her excitement over their pending excursion seems to fade as the age limitation sinks in.

  Abigail shrugs. “I’ll get it somewhere they won’t see it.”

  “What’s the point in a tattoo nobody can see?” I ask, baffled. I have no plans for getting a tattoo, but if I did, I’d get a whole sleeve and wear it proudly.

  “I’ll know I have it,” Abigail states, giving me a look that shows what she thinks of my intelligence.

  “Fair enough,” I relent.

  Abigail turns her attention back to Summer. “So, when are we doing this?”

  “Meet you by the flagpole after school tomorrow?”

  “Deal.”

  Mom is waiting for me in her car when I arrive home after school.

  “Come on, Kane! Let’s not be late.”

  I let my bike fall into the grass at the side of the driveway, even though Mom hates when I do that. I jog to the car, toss my backpack on the backseat, and then climb into the passenger side.

  My cast is finally coming off today. As soon as Dr. Roberts releases me, I'm grabbing my board and heading to the skatepark.

  When Mom parks, I’m out of the car before she is.

  “Come on, Mom. Let’s not be late!” I throw her words back at her, then race for the building. I push the door open, and I’m greeted by the twenty-something receptionist.

  “Hey, Missy, how’s it going?” I ask, leaning against the counter and grinning.

  “I’m well, how are you, Kane?” Her gaze lands on my cast. “Is that thing finally coming off?”

  “Yep.”

  Mom enters, and Missy hands over the paperwork for her to sign. She takes a seat in the waiting area, while I stay and chat with Missy.

  We don’t have to wait long before the nurse, Nora, calls me back.

  “Dr. Roberts will be in soon to get that cast off,” she tells us, once we’re settled in the room, and leaves.

  Mom smiles at me. “Did you learn anything from this experience?”

  I shrug. “Don’t land on my wrist when I fall?”

  She shakes her head. “How about, keep both feet on the ground?”

  “Mom. That’s so boring.”

  There’s a short rap on the exam room door, and then it opens. Dr. Roberts appears in the doorway, carrying a laptop and a tray with a cast saw and other medical supplies.

  “Kane, how’s that wrist feeling?”

  “Amazing, Dr. R. I’m ready for this thing to come off.”

  He smiles and picks up a marker. “Then let’s do this.”

  After marking a line on both sides of the cast, he picks up the saw, then makes an incision on both the top and bottom. A few snips with the scis
sors and the cast is off.

  “Oh, god,” Mom says, covering her mouth and nose with her hand. “I’d forgotten about the smell.”

  Dr. Roberts chuckles. “Take it easy, Kane. Your wrist is going to be weak for a while. I’ve got some exercises for you to work on to build your strength back up.”

  “I remember from the last time,” I tell him. I eye the cast sitting on the table. “Can I keep that?”

  “No!” Mom exclaims.

  “But, Mom,” I object. “Summer signed it.”

  Mom gives me The Look. “You can have her sign a piece of paper. That smelly thing is not coming back into my house.”

  I sigh and stare forlornly at the cast. Before I needed that cast, Summer didn’t know I was alive. Maybe Mom’s right, though. I don’t need the smelly old cast with her signature, not when I can kiss the girl pretty much whenever I want.

  Before we leave Dr. Robert’s office, Mom forces me to scrub the hell out of my wrist for the same reason she refused to let me keep the cast. I suppose the strong scent of antiseptic soap is an upgrade from the cast smell.

  I forget all about that when we arrive home and mom reluctantly returns my skateboard.

  “Do not,” she says, “I repeat, do not, make me regret this.”

  I give her my most angelic smile and promise. My appointment took up enough of the afternoon that there isn’t time to make a real dinner, so we have sandwiches. Mom excuses herself to work in her office, and I grab my board and tell her I’m heading out.

  Though I can’t travel as fast on my board as I can on my bike, it’s nice to have it back. I do a few simple ollies in the driveway to get the feel of my board again, then take off for the skatepark.

  “Look who got his cast off,” Dennis says, as I skate up to the arch. “How’s it feel?”

  I grin. “It feels good. I can’t wait to get back to it.”

  “Right on, man.” He looks around, as though he’s expecting someone. “What happened to that cute chick? You haven’t brought her around again.”