The Summer We Fell

by Amber Garza

  “Come join us.” Regan indicates the empty chair next to hers. “I was just about to squeeze all the juicy details out of Sloane about her boyfriend.”

  Mom slides into the chair, smiling widely. “Ooh, have things gotten serious with you and Adam?”

  I push the carton of ice cream away, suddenly not hungry at all.

  “Adam?” Regan’s eyebrows knit together. She shoves her spoon into the ice cream. “Who’s Adam? I was talking about Cruz.”

  “Cruz?” Now it’s Mom’s turn to look confused. “I thought you were dating Adam Stewart.”

  “Adam Stewart?” Regan’s caramel colored eyes widen. “The football player?”

  I nod. “We were dating, but now we’re not.”

  “Oh, no. What happened?” Mom places her hand over mine.

  Regan pushes the carton of ice cream toward me. Now I could use some sugar for courage. I pick up my spoon and scoop some ice cream into my mouth. With the ice cream on my tongue, I shrug. After swallowing, I say, “I decided I wanted to date Cruz instead.”

  “It’s about time,” Mom says, surprising me. Then she nudges my sister. “Hand me a spoon, please.”

  Regan hands Mom her spoon, and I shove the carton in her direction.

  “So you’re not upset?” I ask Mom.

  “Upset?” Mom asks. “Why would I be upset? I love Cruz like he’s my own son. Besides, I’ve seen this coming for years.”

  “Apparently everyone has,” I mutter under my breath.

  “You two are perfect for each other,” Mom says, her mouth filled with ice cream.

  I smile, relieved that she’s okay with it.

  Regan’s eyes lift to the wall clock. “What time is Dad going to be home?”

  “Pretty soon. He’s just wrapping a few things up at the office.” The smile leaves Mom’s face. “And actually I wanted to talk with both of you before he gets home.”

  My stomach coils, and I’m praying she’s not going to dump any more bad news on me.

  “I just want you girls to go easy on your dad. He loves both of you so much, and he knows he hasn’t handled this whole thing with Kacey well. He feels terrible that he didn’t tell you both sooner. But how does anyone know how to behave in this kind of situation? It was all so unexpected.”

  You can say that again.

  Mom turns to Regan. “He’s really excited that you’re here for a visit. Maybe we don’t have to discuss this tonight, okay? Tonight why don’t we all just enjoy some family time?”

  I hold my breath, awaiting Regan’s answer. When she nods, I exhale, relief washing over me. Regan may like confrontation, but I hate it. And I’ve had more of my fair share lately. I’m grateful for the momentary reprieve.

  Today is Fourth of July, and the house is quiet. Regan is going out with some old high school friends, and Mom and Dad are attending a barbecue at one of the neighbor’s. While getting ready for the fireworks show that Cruz is taking me too, I get a text from Becca.

  Becca: Guess who asked me out?

  Me: Graham.

  Becca: Bingo. We’re going out tonight.

  Me: Yay! Have fun.

  Becca: U 2. Have fun with Cruz tonight.

  Me: I will.

  Sometimes it still seems weird to talk to Becca so openly about Cruz. She is his ex-girlfriend, after all. But she seems cool with it, so I suppose it’s all right. Dropping my cell on my dresser, I pick up my brush and run it through my hair. I’m wearing a pair of jean shorts and a red tank top. The nice thing about dating Cruz is that I can truly be myself. When Adam and I dated I worried so much about how I looked all the time. It’s like I felt like I had to fit into a certain mold or something. But with Cruz, I know he likes me exactly like I am. It’s freeing.

  Cruz: I’m heading over.

  I quickly swipe on some lip gloss and then head to the front door. When I open it, Cruz stands on the porch looking hot in a grey t-shirt and cargo shorts. He greets me with a kiss, effectively wiping off the lip gloss I just applied. But it was worth it.

  “You look beautiful,” he says, and I blush. I don’t know when I’ll be used to him saying things like that. Maybe never. In some ways I hope I never do. Then I won’t take it for granted.

  “Thanks.” I bite my lip. Stepping outside, I close the door behind me.

  Cruz and I used to sometimes attend the fireworks show when we were kids. I remember sitting in the stands with our parents watching the fireworks explode in the black sky, illuminating it with bright colors. Cruz and I would drink soda and eat chips. Afterward, we’d chase each other through the parking lot. Then we’d head home and play with sparklers in the front yard.

  Everything about this time is different.

  For starters, Cruz’s fingers are threaded through mine as we sit down on the bleachers, crammed in with hundreds of other spectators. That’s the funny thing about being a kid, you don’t notice things like crowds. At least I didn’t the last time I came. Now I’m feeling a little claustrophobic. I glance over at Cruz, knowing that he’s probably feeling the same way.

  When he catches me staring, he leans over and pecks me on the lips. Another thing that never would’ve happened the last time we came here. I think about Becca’s statement about being kissed during a fireworks show. Little butterflies tickle the inside of my stomach, and I squeeze Cruz’s fingers.

  The sky is almost completely black now, so I know the show will start at any minute. I lower my head onto Cruz’s shoulder and stare up at the blackening sky. The splattering of stars wink at me, the moon watching on. Patriotic music plays over the loudspeakers, and Cruz hums along under his breath. It makes me think of his band and how happy he was with how they were progressing. I hope my relationship with Adam didn’t mess everything up.

  “So what’s going to happen with the band?” I peer up at him, staring up at his chin through my hair.

  “I don’t know.” He shrugs. “We’re taking a little break because Trey’s on a family vacation, and Carlos is grounded the rest of the summer.”

  I lift my head. “What?”

  “Yeah. He was at some bonfire party at the lake the other night and the cops busted it. He was drunk and his Dad flipped out.” He shakes his head. “And I haven’t talked to Adam, so I don’t know if I still have a drummer or not.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say softly, my words almost drowned out by the loud chattering of the crowd around us.

  “Don’t be.” He winks. “I’m not.”

  My heart flutters against my ribcage. How had I resisted him all these years?

  “But I know how much your band means to you.”

  “Don’t you know by now?” His gaze finds mine. “Nothing means as much to me as you do.”

  Having no idea how to respond to that, I kiss him softy on the lips. As our lips connect, a loud sound resembling a gunshot rings out. Startled, I jump back just in time to see a splash of red in the sky. The firework sprays across the sky like it’s a splatter of paint on a black canvas. A grin leaps to my face when another firework is let off. This one is white, and it drips from the sky like droplets of liquid.

  “God, you’re beautiful,” Cruz whispers in my ear, and I shudder.

  When I crane my neck in his direction, he’s so close that my nose sweeps his. His mouth skims mine, our lips puckering until they touch. Fireworks glimmer in the sky, the sound piercing my ears. Cruz’s hands are in my hair, his thumbs grazing my face. His tongue thrusts into my mouth, his lips moist and warm. We move in sync with the fireworks show, explosive and bright.

  And it’s even better than Becca said it would be.

  26

  cruz

  The crowd is thick as Sloane and I leave the fireworks show. I hold tightly to Sloane’s hand as people shove past us. The scent of sulfur and fire is thick in the air. A mom pushing a stroller bumps me. I move over only to be rammed by a man holding a little girl in his arms. A couple staggers past, holding beer cans. The woman has colorful tattoos spiraling her arms.


  Scouring the area, I find an opening. It may take a little longer to get to the car if we take another path, but anything is better than being jostled in this crowd.

  I yank on Sloane’s arm, hollering above the crowd. “C’mon, let’s go this way.”

  She nods, following me. We pass a group of little boys playing with blow up swords. I remember Sloane and I doing something similar when we went here as children. At the memory I squeeze her hand. It’s surreal to me that we’re together. My best friend - the girl I’ve loved since we were in kindergarten - is now my girlfriend. It’s almost too good to be true.

  We finally make it out of the crowd, and my chest expands. “Man, that was brutal.”

  “You’ve never been a big fan of crowds. Remember our first trip to Disneyland together? I thought you were going to have a panic attack.”

  “You have a knack for remembering my low points.”

  “I remember the high points too, believe me.”

  “Like what?” I prompt her, wanting to hear what my high points are.

  “Like the way you held my hand and calmed me down when I freaked out the first time we went in the Haunted Mansion.”

  “I’ll always help you when you’re scared, Sloane. That will never change.”

  “I know.” She grins.

  I steal a kiss on her cheek and then pull her forward. “All right. Let’s see if we can get outta here.” Glancing around at the large crowd and all the cars filling the parking lot, I have my doubts.

  “Maybe we should wait.” Sloane suggests.

  “And do what?” I raise my brows.

  “We can walk over to the park and hang out. Wait until the crowd dies down.”

  “Good call.” I lean in close. “I can think of a few things that will keep us busy.”

  “A few, huh? You overachiever. I only thought of one.”

  I chuckle as we turn away from the crowd and walk in the other direction. The inky black sky is streaked in smoke. It’s hazy still from the fireworks show. When we reach the park, there are no lights on so it’s pitch black. We duck under a grouping of trees and find a bench to sit on. It’s rickety and unstable, groaning beneath us. Earlier the park had been filled with people, but now it’s vacant. The light breeze causes the chains on the swings to rattle lightly. A few leaves skitter across the pavement like little insects. In the distance I can hear the sound of the crowd’s laughter and chatter.

  Turning toward Sloane, I bring my hand up to stroke her face. Her skin looks blue in the moonlight. Our faces turn toward each other, our lips locking together like two puzzle pieces. Like they’re meant to fit together. Her hand lowers to my thigh.

  A leaf crunches in the dirt followed by the sound of footsteps on the pavement. My head snaps up, my hand dropping from Sloane’s face. A man wearing a black hooded sweatshirt walks near us, a cigarette dangling from his fingertips. It sizzles in the pitch black sky, plumes of grey smoke circling. A sense of foreboding grips me at the sight of him. I’m about to tell Sloane that we should leave, when the stranger turns in my direction.

  “Cruz?”

  As recognition slams into me, my stomach drops.

  “Sloaney baloney?”

  Sloane stiffens. “It’s actually just Sloane, Julian.”

  “Nah, to me you’ll always be Sloaney baloney.” He brings the cigarette to his mouth, the orange tip glowing in the darkness. There are still traces of bruises on his face from the beating last month, a little swelling, a cut running the length of his eyebrow.

  “Great.” She gives me a pained look.

  I chuckle. “Julian, what are you doing here?”

  He pauses, and that’s when I know that the next thing out of his mouth will be a lie. Whatever he’s doing, it’s probably not something I want to know about. Drawing the cigarette out of his mouth, he exhales a stream of smoke. “Watching the fireworks show.” Shoving me over, he plunks down on the bench beside me. He reeks of sweat and smoke. “What about you two? Looks like you were making your own fireworks show.” He nudges me in the side. Then he tosses his cigarette on the ground, grounding it out with his foot. “I always knew you two would hook up at some point.”

  I remember our conversation in the hospital. Then I think about my family’s reaction when I told them about us. I guess our feelings were clear to everyone for a long time. It seems that the two of us were the ones in the dark.

  Two men dressed in black come into view, walking in our direction. Something about them shoots off warning signals in my brain. I snatch up Sloane’s hand, knotting our fingers together. The closer they get, the more nervous I become. My pulse quickens.

  “Oh. I’ll be right back. Just gotta take care of something.” Julian hops up.

  No way am I waiting for him to come back. This is clearly a drug deal or some other illegal shit like that. I’m not going to stand around and watch my brother destroy his life. It’s bad enough to know about it, I don’t need a front row seat. While Julian ambles over to them, I tug on Sloane’s hand.

  “Let’s get outta here.”

  “Yeah.” She nods quickly. In her eyes I see the same wariness I feel.

  We stand up.

  “Hey, man. I’m not trying to start trouble,” Julian says from just feet away.

  I freeze.

  “Who are they?” One of the men asks, pointing toward Sloane and me.

  “That’s just my brother and his friend. They have nothing to do with this,” Julian responds.

  Inwardly, I grown. Shit, why did he tell them who we are?

  “What are they doing here?” The man moves closer to us. And that’s when I see the gun in his hand.

  I throw Sloane behind me, shielding her with my body. Her body trembles against my back.

  “Cruz, let’s go.” Her teeth chatter.

  “We will, babe. I promise.”

  “Hey, leave them out of it. This is between you and me.” Julian stands between me and the gunman.

  I breathe out, grateful that he’s acting like the brother I remember. The one who protected me.

  “Yeah, you’re right. It is you who owes the debt,” the man spats, holding up a wad of cash. “And this isn’t going to pay it.”

  “It’s all I have,” Julian whines.

  “It’s not enough.” The man’s tone is harsh, unforgiving.

  I grapple behind me for Sloane. As much as I want to help my brother, I have to get Sloane out of here. I have no idea what these guys are capable of, and I’m not sticking around to find out. “Let’s go,” I whisper, hoping we can run off while they’re distracted with their conversation.

  “And that means you have to pay.”

  I step forward, my body still in front of Sloane’s. As we take off, the sound of a gunshot slices through the air. If I thought the fireworks were loud, I was wrong. This was much louder. Pain rips through my shoulder and my body pitches forward, slamming into the ground. My head hits the ground, my mouth filling with blood. What the hell?

  “Cruz!” The sound of Sloane’s ear-piercing scream scares the shit out of me.

  I glance down at the blood pooling around my body. Was I shot?

  “Cruz.” Sloane falls to her knees, her hands fumbling with my face. “Oh, my god. This can’t be happening.” My vision is fuzzy, but I see her pull out her cell phone and dial with shaky fingers. I want to tell her that I’m okay. I want to reassure her. I hate how scared she looks. But the words stick in my throat. My mouth won’t move.

  Squinting, I look around for the man who shot me, but I can’t find him.

  Sloane is hurriedly talking to someone on the phone while still touching me. Tears fall from her eyes. She drops the phone. “Cruz, the ambulance is on the way. Just hold on. You’re gonna be fine.”

  “Is he okay?” Julian runs over to us.

  “How the hell could you let this happen?” Sloane shouts at him. “My god, if anything happens to him.” A sob slices through her words. “I can’t even think about it.”
I feel dizzy, so I close my eyes. Hot breath skates over my face. “Please, Cruz, you have to be okay. You have to.”

  I try to open my eyes, to respond to her in some way, but I can’t. I just can’t.

  “Cruz, please talk to me. I can’t lose you. I love you.”

  It’s the last thing I hear before darkness swallows me whole.

  27

  sloane

  I pace back and forth in the lobby of the hospital, rolling the fabric of my shirt in between my fingers. With each tick of the clock panic blooms inside of me. It started as a small bud, taking root when they hauled Cruz into the ambulance on a stretcher, dark red blood soaking his shirt. As I drove Cruz’s car behind the ambulance following it to the hospital, the bud started to open up, the petals fluttering inside. Once I arrived here and they wheeled Cruz back to a room, the panic grew into a full blown plant, leaves and petals strangling me.

  They won’t let me see him, and it’s killing me to stay out here. The minute I got in Cruz’s car I called his parents. They showed up right after I did, and then they were whisked off by a doctor. They’ve been gone awhile, and it makes me nervous. If it was good news, wouldn’t they be back by now?

  If only I were family. What a dumb rule. Who cares if Cruz and I are related by blood or not? We’re connected in our hearts. Deeply connected. Doesn’t that count?

  I knew I loved Cruz. I even suspected I was in love with him. But I never knew how much until he was shot. Until his body was thrown to the ground, blood spurting. Until his eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out. It was at that moment that my true feelings surfaced. I love Cruz so much it hurts. So much that I can’t imagine one minute without him, much less a lifetime.

  If he doesn’t make it, I don’t know how I’ll survive.

  My mind can’t even imagine a life without him. He’s prevalent in every memory I have since I was five years old. Cruz fills every experience, every laugh, every cry. Take him out of the equation and you take away the color. My existence becomes tainted in muted greys and whites, absent of color. Absent of joy.