“We really shouldn’t do this.” I stare down the almost vertical drop before us.
Matt’s eyes gleam as he sizes up the run we’re about to all but kill ourselves on. “If you aren’t busy living, you’re busy dying.”
“Isn’t it get rich or die tryin’?” Glav asks from the other side of me.
“That’s a 50 Cent album, dumbass,” Matt grumbles. “No, this is a saying, and one we’re about to fulfill.”
“It’s also a Fall Out Boy song,” I point out, keeping on the theme of Glav’s musical clichés.
“I hate both of you.” Matt sighs. “My point is, this is our last year in Chester. We won’t get to do this until next winter break, and who knows where we’ll be. Will one of us stay behind at our college for an internship? Will one of us be pussy whipped and spending the holidays with our hot sorority queen girlfriend?”
Glav interrupts him. “I sure wouldn’t mind being pussy whipped if that was my predicament.”
I chuckle as Matt shoots him a glare. “My point is, let’s do all of the crazy shit you’re supposed to do senior year. Like run this black diamond, let’s party until the cops come, let’s hook up with as many girls as possible and blow off school because that’s what we’re supposed to do. So far, I think we’ve done a great job, but we can try harder.”
“First and second marking period blew.” Glav pouts.
Matt smacks him on his puffy-jacketed shoulder. “What the hell are you talking about? Just because you lost sectionals and didn’t win a championship does not mean this year blew! Look at what we’re about to do.”
“Of which I am not in favor of, let me just voice that again.” I raise a gloved hand.
We’re all pretty good on skis and snowboards, but this is for semi-professionals. It’s a very difficult run, through a ton of trees and hairpin turns, and I might be having heart palpitations whenever I think about boarding down it.
Our soccer season ended after we lost the sectional championships, and a lot of the guys were bummed about not making it to states. I was too, but winning a championship was never really my end all, be all. Glavin was devastated at the time, but I think it’s giving him some fire under his ass to get in even better shape for his university program. He’s going to be like a bat out of hell when it comes to his first collegiate season. Which is good, it gives him something to work for.
“Whatever,” Glav grumbles. “Let’s fucking do this.”
I send a prayer up to whatever God protects fuckhead teenage boys and then strap my goggles on.
The initial drop, our snowboards gliding over the fresh powder as if we were bowling balls on a runway, is effortless. It feels like we’re shooting down the side of a mountain at warp speeds, but at the same time, it’s fucking exhilarating. It may be a dumbass thing to do, but it’s just dangerous enough to get the adrenaline pulsing through my veins.
We’re coming around the last bend when Matt wipes out. I see it as if it’s slow-motion, the way his board hits a divot in the snow and his body jerks forward. I have to slow my own speed, planting my feet sideways and skidding to a halt, snow shooting up everywhere around me. The force from Glavin’s stop is like a tsunami, spraying us both.
I quickly unhook from my board, aware that we’re sitting in the middle of the run and could be trampled at any moment by another boarder. But Matt is slowly getting up from where he planted face down, and I’m afraid he’s seriously injured.
He’s shaking his head, snow flinging off in all directions, and I see the way his shoulders vibrate. Shit, he’s so hurt that he’s not even bothering to cover his tears from his bros.
“Dude, are you okay? Did you break anything?” Glavin rushes over to him.
When I get over to them, bending to see if there is blood on the ice-white snow, my gaze connects with Matt’s face.
To see him … laughing.
“Oh God, that was fucking incredible!” He snorts, then lets out a huge fit of laughter.
I smack him in the head, only slightly regretful that he might have a concussion already, and let out the breath I’ve been holding.
“Jesus, I thought you were fucking crying. I thought you for sure broke your leg or punctured a rib. You’re an idiot.”
“That was epic, though.” Glav shrugs and offers his fist out to Matt, so he can bump it.
Matt returns the gesture. “You bet your ass it was. And look, we didn’t even die, Mr. Mom. Now let’s go dry off, I’m hungry.”
Thirty minutes later, we’ve ditched our snowboards and yeti-sized winter gear in favor of the lodge. The fireplace crackles behind us as we munch on the mountain of cookies we bought to go with our hot cocoa. It may be girly, and none of us will admit this out loud, but it’s kind of our favorite part of ski season.
“Did you guys submit all of your applications?” Glav asks.
Matt and I both roll our eyes and death glare him simultaneously. We’re so tired of talking about this shit, it’s ridiculous.
“I told you already, I pick my hat in a week.” Matt is going to make his decision when we get back from winter break.
He’s going to sit at a table and pick the hat of the school with the best division one football program. My friend has been committed to Kentucky College since he was a sophomore in high school, but next week he is making it official.
“And I don’t want to think about this shit anymore.” I sigh, annoyed.
This feels like all we do these days, speculate about where we’ll get in and whether we’ll get any money toward tuition. I’m getting so tired of it, but it also makes me very anxious. What if I don’t get into the Brockden architecture program?
“You think you’re going to get in?” Matt asks, sipping his hot chocolate.
I shrug, stuffing a cookie in my mouth. “Who knows?”
It’s the first time I’ve been outwardly doubtful about anything to my friends, and they give me strange looks. But after I finished my supplemental essay and submitted the whole application, I didn’t feel any sense of completion. There was no settling in my soul, my chest still feels just as anxious as it always has.
Maybe it’s just my overall confidence that has taken a blow. Since I found out about Blair finding my list about her, I can’t help but remember through the past two years with a fine-tooth comb.
The future seems so uncertain, both in my personal life and when it comes to college.
I don’t say as much to my friends, who all but have their athletic scholarships locked up. Instead, I try to distract myself by listening to their argument about who is the best quarterback of all time, while drinking copious amounts of hot chocolate and shoving cookies in my face.
Shit, I sound like a girl on her period.
Which only makes me think of Blair, and what she’s doing right now halfway across the world, even more.
23
Blair
In the end, Dad agrees to one week, not two, in Haiti.
He and Mom are still in talks about her coming to visit sometime over the winter break, since she ended up backing out of the actual holiday. So, the compromise was one week volunteering on the new school build, and then home to await my narcissist of a parent to see if she’ll actually show up.
But as we walk into the village, waving to the resident Haitians and the volunteers from all over the world as we pass, I don’t even care that I might have to put up with Mom. This is worth it, just to be here and show my father the place where I discovered myself this summer.
Dad and I have traveled by plane, bus, and very old truck to Maplat, a mountain village in need of help. I volunteered in Jacmel before, a town that is still reeling from the earthquake that rocked the nation. We’re here to build about twenty wood houses, which are really no bigger than one of my classrooms back at Chester High School. But these houses will give twenty families a place to call their own, when these people could have and most likely are living in the harsh, unforgiving mountains of Haiti.
“Oh no,
who let her back in?”
The voice, with its deep Haitian lilt and friendly demeanor, hits me right between the shoulders.
Turning, I take in Junior. He looks exactly the same as when I left just a few months ago, if not a little more tired. I’m sure with the summer volunteers leaving, he’s been even busier than usual.
“They told me you couldn’t handle all the work alone, so here I am to clean up your mess.”
He snorts as we meet in the middle and hug, and I turn to introduce him to Dad.
“Dad, this is Junior. He leads most of the projects out here for the nonprofit and was born in the village just over the border of Maplat. Junior, this is my father, Todd.”
They shake hands, and Dad speaks, “We’re both very excited to be here. I’m ready to help, so put me where you need me.”
Junior hooks a thumb in my direction. “This one couldn’t stop talking about you this summer, so I know all about what you do. I was actually wondering if you could look over the plans for the wooden houses we’ll be trying to build during these coming weeks. We have a limited number of supplies, but I think if you look at the plans, we may be able to squeeze out three or four more with your expertise.”
Dad nods, and I see a twinkle in his eyes. “Anything to help out.”
“He’s more than thrilled to look over blueprints, it’s practically his favorite activity.”
Dad slings an arm around my shoulder and gives a wry grin. “Being anywhere with you is my favorite activity. But architecture is a close second.”
Two days later, we’re elbow deep in building materials.
My hands are callused and every muscle is sore, but I’ve never felt happier. Coming to Haiti, especially with Dad, is one of the best decisions I’ve made this year. I needed to get out of Chester, to give myself some space from all the drama and stress that has gone down there. We need this time to bond before I leave for college sooner rather than later. The Maplat people need our assistance, and I can’t wait to show them the houses we are building that they will now make homes.
“I have to admit, I’m ashamed that my girl can cut a dovetail better than I can.” Dad pouts as he watches me on the electric table saw.
“You might be the architect, but no one ever said you’re a builder,” I tease, finishing the cut and turning off the saw.
Dad helped Junior ration the building materials and rearrange the blueprints so we could get three more houses built than we’d originally planned.
“No, I suppose not. Though you may have a future in it.” Dad’s eyes perk up with glee, and my heart sinks a little.
“Dad, you know my plan,” I shoot him down.
He sighs, but not in a sad way. “No, I know, and I’m so proud of you. I can’t wait to see what you accomplish. I’m just sad that dream will probably take you away from our small town, but I am so damn proud of you, Blair.”
“I have to get in first, Dad.” I chuckle.
He waves a hand. “Psh, as if you won’t. Those admissions people would be morons not to admit you right away.”
I blush, because it never fails to make me feel loved that I have a parent who believes in me so much. I know not everyone has that kind of support.
Later, we’re sitting on a big boulder overlooking the valley, the lush greenery dropping down low beneath our muddy boots.
“I know there is so much devastation here, but it really is a beautiful country.” I breathe.
Dad nods beside me, taking a ladle of his tchaka, a traditional Haitian pork stew. “You’re not kidding.”
We’re both quiet for a while, eating our stew and savoring the flavors of this country. I know I’ll miss it when I leave, because as hard as I’ve tried to recreate Haitian dishes at home, there is just something about the local ingredients that can’t compare.
“I’m going to miss you next year, kiddo.” Dad sounds sad, and I lean into him for a hug.
We’re connected side to side, looking over the Haitian mountain ranges. “I’m going to miss you, too. But we’ll always be us. You’ll always be my number one guy.”
I feel the imprint of his smile on the top of my hair. “And you’ll always be my number one girl. Since the day you were born.”
The emotion in his voice is thick. “But I don’t have to be your only number one. I hope that when I go to college, you’ll take some time for you, Dad.”
It isn’t the first time I’ve inquired about his dating life, but it is the first time I’ve told him outright to find someone who makes him happy.
“You don’t need to worry about your old man. I have plenty of things in life that make me happy.”
“I’ll always worry, you’re my dad. And I want you to find someone to do those things with. I don’t want you to be lonely.”
Dad is quiet for a few minutes, still hugging me to his side.
“How did I get such a wonderful little girl? Just promise me something?” he asks.
“Yeah?” A cloud moves over the mountains, the sun temporarily gone.
“When you find the guy who makes you happy, make sure I get to vet him first. You deserve nothing but better than the best.”
My cheeks heat, but not because my dad is being embarrassing.
But because I may have already found that guy, and I just need to decide if I’m going to allow him to make me happy. If I’m going to trust him enough with my heart.
24
Blair
“Why did I let you bring me here? Why did you even want to come here in the first place?”
The look I give Laura is pointed, and she rolls her eyes at me. “Because for as much as we hate Hailey, we like free beer and a party with all of our classmates more. Which there is both of here. Plus, this is the coolest New Year’s party in all of Chester, and we weren’t going to sit home like the losers they think we are.”
I guess she has a point. As long as we can avoid Hailey, who is probably drunker than a skunk and trying to flash some random boy her boobs, then this night should be decent. Plus, I wouldn’t be sleeping anyway. We landed last night back in New Jersey from Haiti, and my internal clock is all over the place.
“I stole this from the laundry room, and we need to drink it before whoever brought it realizes its gone.” Nate flies up to us, revealing a bottle of top-shelf tequila under his shirt.
“You are so bad! Give me a swig.” Laura both chastises him and then takes a shot straight from the bottle.
“Gross, we don’t know where that’s from.” I eye it suspiciously.
“Are you going to be a buzzkill and try to make it through this night sober, or are you going to stop being a pussy and drink this shit?” He’s challenging me, and I’m just annoyed enough to prove him wrong.
Without another thought, I grab the bottle and take a swig. It burns going down, that signature taste of tequila singeing my throat and warming my stomach. It’s incredible how quickly I feel looser after just a gulp. My bones seem to melt a little, and I giggle as the two of them pass the bottle back and forth.
I only take one more shot, because I don’t want to lose my head. Have a good time? Yes. Start my new year off with puking into the bushes? No.
“So, who is going to be your midnight kiss?” Nate teases, all of us a little tipsy from the alcohol.
“I’m going to see if I can sneak up on Matt,” Laura blurts out, then throws her hands up over her mouth.
Nate’s mouth drops open. “Mr. Quarterback? The asshole who brings girls into the bathroom at school to get blow jobs? Laur, you’re better than that!”
I guffaw right alongside him. “How come I never knew you harbored a crush on the devil himself?”
“Oh, come on, he’s not that bad. A scoundrel, yes maybe. But it’s senior year and I’m not looking for a boyfriend or anything of the kind. I’m looking for a cute boy to make out with, of which he is supposed to be the best. So I’m going for it.”
I guess she has a point, but I still don’t want the jerk to hurt her.
“All right, just be careful. How about you, Oh Horny One?”
I’ve turned Nate’s question back onto him, mostly to avoid answering it myself but also to see his answer.
“That hot guy from Ridgeport is here, and he’s been checking me out all night. You best believe I’m all over that when the clock strikes twelve.” He licks his lips, directing our attention to the guy across the party who attends a neighboring town’s high school.
“And you?” Laura asks again, and I know she’s just trying to instigate.
I gave her and Nate the download, or part of it, on what happened on Thanksgiving and then right before the winter holidays. I’ve been keeping a lot from them, partially because I haven’t yet sorted it out in my head. They all but freaked when I revealed just what was going on, and that I finally confessed to finding Sawyer’s pros and cons list.
It’s like an electric current hits me square in the chest, that’s how I know he’s just entered the room. Sawyer is standing across the party, looking like sin in black jeans that mold over his thighs and a black long-sleeve that forms to his biceps and pecs. His hair is slicked back with some kind of gel, and I watch as the dimple in his cheek pops out as he laughs at something Glavin said.
Seeing him makes my inside go fuzzy, and my heart heats even more than it did with that last shot of Jose Cuervo.
We haven’t seen each other since school let out for break, about a week after he promised to undo all of the wrongs while we heatedly spoke just outside the business our dads share. I’ve missed him, which is strange. It’s been years of us not talking and actively doing things to spite each other. Of course, beneath that animosity there was underlying pain and yearning, but I never let myself admit it.
Now that Sawyer has opened the can of worms, and promised to get us back to where we once were, and maybe more, I find that I ache for him. There seems to be a deep cavern that’s opened up inside me, and the only thing that can fill it is time spent with Sawyer.
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