He blushes, and it makes him look young. “You’re not opposed to eating potato salad with your hands, are you?”
“What?” I say again, this time in surprise.
He flashes me a sheepish smile.
I close my eyes, shaking my head and laughing. “Hands it is.”
23
Kane
A breath of relief escapes me. With some other girl, forgetting the utensils for this picnic could have been a complete disaster. It would be just my luck to get dumped for something so dumb less than 24 hours after becoming official. But Summer laughed it off. I knew it the instant she first spared me a second glance, but every moment I spend with this amazing girl just reminds me that I’m the luckiest guy in the world.
I pop the lid of the grapes open, reach in, and pop a couple in my mouth. Summer, sitting only two feet away, reaches into her cactus purse and pulls out a travel bottle of hand sanitizer.
“Smart idea,” I say, offering her my palms. She squirts some onto my skin and I rub my hands together. I reach for the food.
"Wait!" she cries.
I cock my head to the side in question, my hand paused above the grapes.
“Let it dry, you dork.” She rolls her eyes. “Hand sanitizer tastes nasty.”
“Smart and beautiful.”
She tips her face down, hiding behind her shield of hair. I take advantage of the moment and scoot across the towel, so my knees are touching hers. I place my hand under her chin and tip her face up, forcing her eyes to meet mine.
“Smart and beautiful,” I repeat. Her already pink cheeks brighten, but she holds my gaze. I smile at her, then press my lips gently to hers for just a moment. “You’d better get used to the compliments.”
“Compliments, accidents, and forgetfulness.” She narrows her eyes. “That’s what I signed up for?”
“And bad jokes.” I glance at the food behind me. “Are my hands ready?”
She nods once. Grabbing the container of grapes, I pull one off the stem and turn to her. “Open up.” She obeys, and I place it in her mouth.
“Thanks,” she says, smiling. Her gaze flicks to the assorted containers spread out. “Hand me the potato salad?”
“As you wish,” I say, using the infamous line from The Princess Bride, which I remember was in her top five. Then I reach out and grab the container. I hand it to her, and she removes the lid, setting it carefully aside.
“Open up,” she echoes my earlier words.
I do as she commands and watch her dip two fingers into the potato salad. I wait for her to bring the food to my waiting mouth.
She pauses six inches from my face, and her lower lip finds its way between her teeth.
I open my mouth and say, “Ahhh,” as though I’m a baby, waiting for the choo-choo train spoon to enter the tunnel.
She smiles, rolls her eyes, and slips her fingers into my mouth. My teeth close against her fingers in a gentle bite, and she jerks back, smearing potato salad all over my chin. We both burst into laughter.
"Jerk!" But I know she doesn’t mean it. She’s smiling too much.
The rest of our picnic is lighthearted and fun, with only a few more minor food accidents. When we’re done, we kick off our shoes, and walk down to the water’s edge to rinse our hands and faces.
“Hey, Kane,” Summer says, leaning over and rubbing her hands together in the water.
I look at her. “Yeah?”
“Think fast!” She whips her hands out of the water, sending a spray of salt water at me.
Laughing, I immediately crouch close to the water and retaliate, sending my own shower of water.
She splashes back, and for a minute we have a small water fight.
Standing, she shields her face and laughs, as I send a big splash at her. “No more!” she cries.
“You started it.” I shrug, the grin on my face so huge it almost hurts. I reach out for her hand. “Truce?”
She accepts my peace offering, and together we return to our belongings.
“A picnic was a good idea,” she says, drying herself on the big towel.
“I’m full of ideas,” I reply. “A few of them are bound to be good.”
She laughs, and it’s music to my ears.
I lean over and place a kiss to her lips. Ideas for our next date are already spinning in my mind.
Two weeks have passed since Summer and I became official. Two full weeks of getting to see her and kiss her every day, even weekends. In other words, these have been the best two weeks of my life. The only thing that would make it better is if she’d show me her tattoo.
The line for dance tickets winds down the hall and around the corner from the cafeteria. I wait with Mark, impatiently shifting my weight from one foot to the other. How long does it take to buy a ticket...and why isn’t the line moving?
“Dude, chill,” Mark says, when he’s finally had enough of my fidgeting.
“Sorry,” I mutter, forcing my body to still. I busy myself with people watching. My gaze skims over the familiar faces. These are the people I’ve seen every day for the last two years, some longer. I know most by face, if not name, but I wouldn’t say any are really my friends. Mark and Abigail are the only people I hang out with. They get me.
“Where’s Abz?” I ask.
“Eating lunch.”
“Why isn’t she here buying her ticket?”
“She threw scissors to my paper. I have to buy her ticket.” He shakes his head, but he’s smiling. I laugh.
Mark’s attention drifts behind me, and I follow his gaze and frown. Summer exits a room and hastily slinks down the hall away from us. She's out of sight before the door can fully close behind her.
“I wonder why Summer was in the nurse's office,” I muse. She’s moved out of my line of sight, so I turn back to Mark.
“Probably a headache or something.”
“Right,” I agree, but even as I say it, I don’t believe it. Most kids at school smuggle their own over-the-counter headache contraband in their bags.
We make it to the front of the line and purchase two tickets each. After a quick stop in the cafeteria for food, we finally arrive at our usual lunch table. Abigail and Summer are already seated, deep in conversation.
“What’s new?” I ask, as I sling my arm around Summer’s shoulders.
She smiles at me. “Nothing since yesterday.”
I scrutinize her for any sign of illness, but she’s as perfect as ever. Narrowing her eyes, she swipes her hand across her mouth.
“Do I have food on my face?”
“Huh? No.”
“Then why are you staring at me like that?”
“I just like to look at you.”
She blushes, and as always, hides behind her hair. “How much do I owe you for the ticket?”
“Nothing. I asked you, I’m paying.”
“One of these days you have to let me pay for something.”
I grin, but keep my mouth shut. I want to give her the world, but my savings are starting to dwindle. I might have to take her up on her offer to pay. Or get a job.
Across the table, Mark turns to Abigail. “Twenty bucks.”
“Pardon?” Abigail cocks an eyebrow at him.
“I’m not your boyfriend. I stood in line, but you still need to pay up. Our deal was that I would get your ticket, not pay for it.”
She rolls her eyes. “Semantics. Fine. I’ll pay you back this weekend. Though, maybe Kane should be paying for us, since he’s the reason we’re even going.”
I hold my hands up defensively. “Nope. That was not a condition when you agreed.”
In foods class, I study Summer’s profile as Ms. Knope explains some assignment we’re supposed to work on. Something about nutrients, I think. I’m too distracted to give class even half my attention. There’s still no sign that anything is the matter with Summer, besides her usual sleepiness. I suppose she does look a little paler than normal. Maybe she’s anemic? I think anemia causes exhaustion. And
paleness?
“You’re staring again,” Summer whispers out of the corner of her mouth.
I reach over and give her arm a gentle squeeze. “Wanna hang out after school?” I ask, keeping my voice pitched low.
Her eyes stay focused on the front of the room as she whispers, “As much as I’d love to, I really need to catch up on homework.”
“We can study,” I insist.
She tilts her face toward mine and smiles. “Next time.”
I nod, disappointed. I know I’ve been monopolizing her lately, and my own homework has been suffering. Maybe she has a point. Besides, if we studied together, I’d probably end up studying her and not my textbooks.
The memory of seeing her leaving the nurse’s office is still nagging at me. I want to ask, but I know her well enough now to know she’ll be evasive.
24
Summer
My head is pounding. My joints are aching. My cheeks hurt from the fake smile I’ve been wearing all day. As much as I’d love to spend another afternoon with Kane, my body is screaming for my bed. I’m simply out of spoons.
It feels like another flare up is on the way. I’ve been running myself ragged between Kane and school. I thought I was doing better, but it’s all catching up to me.
As soon as I arrive home from school, I kick off my shoes, not bothering to put them on the shoe rack.
On my way to my room for a nap, my phone buzzes in the back pocket of my jeans. I pull it out and smile at the screen. Kane has sent me a meme of a cheese grater with a block of cheese. It reads, “This might sound cheesy...but I think you’re really grate.”
I send back a heart emoji, then turn my screen off and lay down on my bed.
When my eyes open again, my bedroom is dark. I can vaguely recall my sister trying to wake me for dinner. Unless that was a dream, I remember rolling over, hiding my face beneath my pillow, and mumbling for her to go away.
Feeling disoriented, I feel around for my phone. I tap a button, bringing the screen to life, and cringe away from the brightness. I squint at the screen, tapping until I’ve brought the brightness level all the way down. Then I look at the clock. 3 am. Wonderful. And I missed my evening meds.
Clicking the screen off, I roll onto my back and squeeze my eyes shut. No matter how hard I try, though, I can’t fall back to sleep. So I lay there in the dark, staring at my ceiling, thinking about how awful and exhausting today will be. Sure I got almost twelve hours of sleep, they just weren’t during the hours I needed them most.
The seconds tick by.
Minutes.
Hours.
Sleep remains elusive.
I’m yawning when my alarm goes off, and any chance of sleeping is long gone. I’m not missing school over this. I refuse to let my disease win. Besides, it’s Thursday. I can make it through two more days of school.
My body is sore and aching when I force myself out of bed and through my morning routine. A hot shower helps loosen my joints. The skin around my tattoo seems redder now than it was yesterday, and I hope I’m imagining it in my sleep deprived state. Despite a heavy hand with my concealer, the dark shadows under my eyes remain. I look less like a zombie, but anyone looking close enough will be able to see something isn’t right. And I know Kane will be looking closely, he always is.
School is as painful as I imagined it would be. It’s a struggle to keep my eyes open, and I actually nod off while sitting upright in chemistry. I startle myself fully awake when I nearly tumble off my lab stool.
I must look really awful, because Mark shadows me in the hall from chemistry to my English class. He stays far enough back so it’s not obvious he’s following me, but I've never seen him take this path between classes before.
I try to pay attention to my friends at lunch, but I’m still out of it. I force myself to smile, and I nod when appropriate, but mostly I stay quiet.
“You okay?” Kane wraps his arm around my shoulders and whispers in my ear, while Abigail and Mark bicker about something across the table from us.
I nod, pushing my broccoli around on my lunch tray. I’m too tired to even eat.
Kane gives my arm a squeeze. Though I'm sure it's obvious I'm lying, he doesn’t press. “Can you hang out after school, or do you have more homework?”
I shake my head. “Sorry, I really can’t today.”
And I mean that. As much as I do love spending time with him, I physically can’t keep up my act for longer than the school day. Hell, I don’t know if I’ll even last until the final bell rings. I’m already struggling to stay awake.
We finish lunch and Kane grabs my bag and empty lunch tray without asking, then takes my hand and helps me to stand. He wraps his arm around my shoulders, and I lean on him as we ditch the tray and walk to foods class. I hope we don’t get called out by any of the teachers for PDA, because remaining upright is much easier with his assistance.
All through foods, I can feel Kane’s eyes on me. I struggle to keep my own eyes open, but knowing he’s watching me is a good motivator. I stare at Ms. Knope, though most of what she says is lost to me. I hope Kane is paying attention and taking mental notes, but I have a feeling he’s only paying attention to me.
When class ends, he walks me to my final class.
“You’re sure you’re okay?” he asks, pitching his voice low so that our classmates have less chance of overhearing.
I nod once.
Kane looks like he wants to say something, but he seems to think better of it. He lifts my hand and places a kiss on my knuckles. “I’ll text you later.”
I nod again, watching him retreat down the hall. He looks back once, and I give him a weak wave. One more class, that’s all I need to endure, and then I can go home and sleep.
I zone out during my final class, watching the clock more than my teacher. The final bell rings, and I exhale a relieved breath. I made it. I don’t even bother stopping by my locker. I move as quickly as my leaden legs will allow and board the school bus.
When I arrive home, it’s a repeat of yesterday. I immediately climb in bed, but this time I manage to rouse myself for dinner when Mandy comes charging into my room. I push my food around my plate, trying to eat, but it’s too much work to lift the fork to my mouth and chew. Eventually, I give up and stare at my spaghetti.
“Summer, honey, are you feeling okay?”
Mom’s voice pulls my attention from my plate, and I meet her worried gaze. I nod silently. “Just tired.”
She hesitates for a moment. “Well, if you’re not going to eat, why don’t you head to bed. I’ll take care of your plate.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
I must look awful if she’s going to clear my plate for me. When I reach my room, I crash for the night.
When I wake, I feel better rested than yesterday, but I’m still nowhere near 100 percent. Even after my shower, I feel feverish, so I sneak to the medicine cabinet and steal the thermometer. Sitting cross legged on my bed, I slip it under my tongue and wait. When I remove it, I stare at the thermometer and silently curse the reading. I always run a low-grade fever, but this is higher than normal. I don’t think I’m in dangerous territory though. Not yet anyway.
I hear movement outside my bedroom door, followed by three taps. I quickly shove the thermometer under my pillow, and call, “Come in.” This is probably nothing. I’m going to school and I’ll be fine.
“How are you feeling this morning?” Mom asks, poking her head in my room.
I shrug. “Better than yesterday.” Not a total lie.
“Do you need to stay home? I can call school, and you can rest today.”
“No, I’m fine, Mom. I’ll go to the nurse if I need to.”
Mom studies me for a moment, then decides to believe me. “Okay, honey. Have a good day.”
“You too, Mom.”
I quickly run my brush through my hair and apply my lip gloss. The urge to peel back the fresh gauze over my tattoo is strong, but I’m sure nothing has changed since I las
t checked. I wonder if Abigail’s tattoo is the same. I shake my head and adjust my clothes. Grabbing my backpack, I exit my room, slamming the door shut behind me.
I feel no worse when I get to school, so I count that as a win. Homeroom is a snooze, and I’m eager to get through the first half of the day and to lunch. I’ve never told him, but I’ll always be grateful to Kane for talking to me at lunch that first day of school. I was resigned to finishing high school with no friends, and despite my reluctance to open up to him, Kane refused to let that happen. The last time I was as happy as I’ve been these last few weeks was before I got sick and received my diagnosis.
Deep down though, I know this will blow up in my face. Kane is amazing. He’s funny and sweet and kind. He’s always opening doors for me and carrying my backpack. He deserves better than what I can give him. I should’ve stopped this before it even started. But I’m too selfish for that. I like being with him. And I know that he’s going to get hurt in the end. And it’ll be my fault.
When I stop at my locker between first and second period, I’m hit with a wave of dizziness. Head resting against the cool locker, I take a few deep breaths, while I try to pull myself together. I’m fine. I have to be fine. Exhaling slowly, I open my locker and exchange my books, then set off for chemistry. I’m still a little dizzy, but I refuse to let it stop me. I will not let my disease win.
I stumble onto my lab stool, the metal scraping loudly across the linoleum floor. Ducking my head, I hide behind my hair. The last thing I want to do is draw attention to myself, and what do I do? I go and trip over my own stool.
Smooth Summer, real smooth.
I cross my arms over the surface of the lab table and rest my head. I’ve broken out into a cool sweat, and I can feel a rush of chills coming on. My body alternates between waves of heat and shivers.
This can’t be happening. Not here. Not now. I try to breathe deep and slow. Mind over matter. I will be okay. I will be fine.
Something I'm Good At: A Sol del Mar High Novel Page 15
