Eddie looks dubious. “Have you ever heard any guy on the baseball team mention your parents? Tease you? Ask you out?”
“Well, no.” I don’t add I just considered that to be a symptom of my prevalent unpopularity.
Eddie leans back in his chair. “There you go.”
“But that—it doesn’t mean—” Geometry is the furthest thing from my mind as I struggle to string a complete thought together.
“There wasn’t a presentation,” Eddie replies, obviously confused by my confusion. “When I made the team, the older guys just made it clear not to say anything bad about you. Or talk about you the same way as other girls. Not around Winters, at least.”
I have a lot of trouble focusing on explaining the Pythagorean theorem after that. Eddie seems distracted too, so I end the tutoring session a little early.
“Here, do these three for next week.” I hand him a review sheet. “I’ve got the senior trip this weekend, but we can go over them all on Tuesday to see how well you grasped what we went over today before your test.”
“Okay,” Eddie replies, grabbing the sheet and shoving it in his backpack. “Thanks, Lennon. Have fun on the trip.” He grins a little.
“No problem,” I respond, packing up my own belongings and standing. “And thanks,” I smile back before I turn to leave, but Eddie’s nervous voice stops me from departing.
“Lennon?”
“Yeah?” I turn back around.
“Um, could you not say anything to anyone about what I told you? I figured you knew, and I don’t think—”
I’m quick to reassure him. “I won’t say anything.”
“Okay. Good.” Eddie gives me a relieved grin.
I spend the walk across the east pasture vacillating between obsessing over what Eddie said and trying to forget about it. I know I need to settle on the latter. A few kisses from a boy who gives me butterflies is fine. Normal.
Anything else? Anything more?
Will only end badly. For me.
Caleb shows up at dusk, while I’m distributing the plastic buckets containing the horses’ evening grain. As soon as I finish, he grabs my hand and drags me outside. Night is imminent, marring the familiar surroundings into a shade of dark gray that’s almost black.
“Come on!” Caleb directs me in the direction of the front pasture.
I trail after him, trying to figure out what the hell he’s doing. With an easy confidence, he vaults over the fence onto the grass. I have to climb up on the rails before swinging a leg over and jumping down to the ground.
Caleb walks over to the towering oak tree on the far side of the pasture, and then takes a seat on the grass that’s just beginning to emerge from hibernation.
I follow him, but don’t sink down beside him. I hover awkwardly, trying to figure out what he’s doing. Finally, I just ask.
“What are you doing?”
Caleb shoots me an amused glance. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
I’m assuming he intended it to be a rhetorical question, but I answer anyway. “Sitting in the grass.”
“Stargazing, Matthews. It’s a full moon tonight.”
“You’re an astronomy nerd?” I scoff, but drop down on the hard ground beside him. I’ve never sat down in any of the fields where the horses graze, and I’m reminded why as my butt hits the hard dirt. It’s uncomfortable. And cold.
“We prefer to be called cosmologists,” Caleb says seriously, before his stoic expression cracks into a smirk.
“I feel like only an astronomy nerd would know the word cosmologist,” I reply.
“Touché,” Caleb responds.
“You haven’t said anything about the article,” I say, unable to hold the words back any longer.
“What’s there to say?”
“Well, you could say something,” I retort.
“It’s the best thing I’ve ever read,” Caleb tells me. Very seriously, and I suddenly regret pushing him.
“Not sure how Mary Shelley would feel about you saying that,” I respond, trying to lighten the intense look in his eyes by bringing up the English project we still haven’t fully finished.
“Mary Shelley didn’t write that I’m a lot more than my last name and baseball.”
I shrug. “You are.”
“No one else has ever said it.”
“Well, I might have some experience with other people putting labels on you that define who you are, whether you want them to or not.” I kind of get the sense Caleb is about to say something that will remind me of what Eddie said, so I shift topics abruptly. “I’m going on the senior trip.”
“Really? I thought you said . . . ”
“Yeah, I know. But I talked to Gramps last night, and he really wants me to go. Be normal, you know?”
Caleb shares my rueful smile. “It will be good practice for when you’re gone next year.”
This is when I should tell him I’m staying in Landry. That those big, exciting things I wrote are waiting for him aren’t ones I’ll share in. That this uncertain, fragile feeling between us has a set expiration date.
Caleb hasn’t mentioned college before, and that’s exactly why I should say something right now. Something I once imagined him mocking me for somehow became something it seems like he should know.
But he lays down and tilts his head back to look up at the sky, and it’s too perfect of a moment to destroy. I lie down, too, and then scooch closer to the enticing warmth being cast off his body. I’m rewarded when he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me flush against the side of his body.
I’m glad he can’t see my face, because I’m definitely blushing in response to the close contact. The uncomfortable ground I’m on disappears when I feel his hot breath on my neck, when his lips begin to ghost down the column of my throat. My breathing grows embarrassingly fast, as my overwhelmed lungs work double time to pull in as much air as quickly as possible.
“Caleb,” I whisper. “What are you doing?”
“This is even more obvious than the last time you asked me that,” he replies, a hint of laughter in his voice. He repositions us so I’m the one flat on my back, and he’s hovering above me. “I’m kissing you, Lennon,” he murmurs, before doing just that.
This time he doesn’t bother with my neck, going straight for my lips. Molten heat travels through my body like a river of lava. One hand slips under my shirt and along the skin of my stomach, then my ribcage, and finally brushes against the underside of my left breast. I moan as I arch against him, giving into my body’s instincts entirely. Caleb tugs on my bottom lip with his teeth, and I stop caring I probably shouldn’t do this. The hard ground beneath me disappears. The cold air can’t penetrate my heated skin. I can barely remember my own name.
And right now?
I don’t really want to.
SEVENTEEN
__________________________________
I can almost taste the anticipation in the air; it’s that thick. Excitement permeates every recess of the ordinarily dreary halls of Landry High.
It’s departure day for the senior trip. Despite my initial reluctance to attend, I feel the first glimmers of excitement as I head towards the gym to drop off my duffle bag. Mr. Tanner is the one who checks me in and hands me a paper tag to attach to my bag. He must be chaperoning, which I’m a little surprised by. Spending two and a half days in the woods with a couple hundred teenagers is kind of what I envisioned his worst nightmare might look like. He’s definitely never given me the impression he got into teaching because he loves spending time with young adults.
“Okay. Add it to the stack,” he tells me in an unenthused tone once I’ve written my name on the tag. I toss my duffle bag amongst the designer luggage, and then head towards my homeroom.
I sit down right as the final bell rings, then glance at the empty seat beside me. I work my phone out of my pocket and send Cassie a quick text. Where are you??
Her response comes immediately. Woke up with a fever.
A lump of
cement appears in my stomach. I know what that means. She confirms it a second later. I can’t go on the senior trip. Any excitement disappears. Cassie is my life vest. My bridge. Without her I’ll be adrift. Stranded.
I text back saying I hope she feels better soon, but inside I’m reeling. Cassie’s been talking about the senior trip for weeks. I’m sure she must be devastated to be missing it. But it means I’ve lost my ally.
The school day passes quickly, probably because I’m dreading its ending. It’s pretty obvious who the seniors are, since they separate from the crowd of underclassmen to rush towards the coach buses already loaded with our luggage. I’m one of the few who trails behind.
The inside of the bus I board is plush. A far cry from a wheezing, overtired, yellow one. The air is being circulated, blowing the artificial scent of cleaner throughout the massive vehicle. The central carpet is a light gray, almost white, which seems like a bold choice. Oversized seats line it, upholstered with some sort of dark gray leather. I walk halfway down the aisle until I spot a pair of seats that are empty. I sink down in the one closer to the window.
“This seat taken?” I look up, and Will’s hovering in the aisle, looking down at me with a friendly smile.
“Nope,” I reply, smiling back.
Will sinks down next to me. “I figured this was exactly the sort of school-sponsored outing you’d try to avoid.”
I give him a wry smile. “I tried. My grandfather thought it would be an important life experience.”
“Survival training would qualify, I guess,” Will replies seriously.
I laugh. “Yeah, I guess so. Cassie’s sick, though, so it could be a lonely weekend.”
“What do you mean?” Will asks, pleasant and unassuming like always.
“Will. You don’t have to pretend like I have friends aside from Cassie. I got comfortable with being an outcast a long time ago.”
“You’re not an outcast, Lennon,” Will replies.
I raise both eyebrows, and he correctly interprets my disbelieving expression. “I mean it. I know tons of people who’d love to be your friend. Marcus talked about you showing up at his party for like three days.” Will pauses. “The whole baseball team doesn’t usually show up either.”
“Huh,” is all I say in response.
“If you were a little more open to it, some people might surprise you.”
I’m tempted to dismiss Will’s words, but he’s the third person to tell me that. Maybe there’s some truth to it.
“I’ll get right on that,” I reply. “We only have a month left of high school, so now’s the time, right?”
Will gives me a small side glance that makes it clear he caught my sarcasm. I’m distracted from our conversation when the popular contingent passes by our row. None of them bother with a second glance, but the first one I catch suggests Caleb might not be thrilled with my seat companion.
I stare out the window for most of the trip. It’s a three hour drive, most of it through the Kentucky wilderness. Landry might be a small town, but it is a town. The winding road will take us past the occasional farm, and then it will be fifteen minutes before we encounter another.
We climb up and over a couple of mountains, and then we arrive at our destination. The campground is surrounded by a grove of pines and situated on a sandy lake shore. The sun has just begun to set as we all disembark from the buses, painting the sky with streaks of yellow, orange, and pink. The air is still; the surface of the lake peaceful.
Mr. Tanner’s booming baritone breaks the tranquility as he starts calling out the cabin assignments. I’m the first name in cabin five, and to my relief I hear Julie and Shannon are both residents as well. Just as important, Madison is not.
We’re assigned to tables in the main dining lodge based on our cabins, which solves one dilemma for me. Caleb doesn’t make any attempt to talk to me, which resolves another. There’s a massive campfire blazing next to the lake when we walk back to our cabin, following dinner and a lecture on responsible leadership. I spot a few classmates darting off into the woods, but most of the senior class seems to be actually heading into their cabins. I imagine most of my peers are either biding their time or trying to lull the chaperones into a false sense of security, but I could care less either way. I don’t have to pretend like this is my usual bedtime, because it actually is.
I’ve just exited the cabin’s bathroom when Shannon approaches me. “We’re sneaking out for a bit,” she tells me. “Do you want to come?”
I’m surprised, and touched, she’s including me, but it doesn’t alter my answer. “I’m really tired,” I reply, with what I hope is a grateful smile. “Rain check? I’ll go tomorrow night.”
Either Shannon is a really good actress, or she’s genuinely unbothered by my refusal. “Okay. Night!”
She slips out of the cabin with most of the other girls in tow, and I climb the rungs of the ladder to my upper bunk bed. Everything inside the cabin is decorated in soothing tones of off-white, honey wood, and light green. We’re so close to the edge of the lake I can hear the water lapping against the shore, and the sound lulls me to sleep.
When I wake up, it’s to a disaster zone. Or at least to what closely resembles one. I descend the ladder, only to find there’s not really any place to step. Clothes, magazines, and make-up are everywhere. My cabin looks like the aftermath of a middle school slumber party.
I manage to clear a path to my duffle bag by sweeping most of it towards the right side of the cabin with my bare feet. I get dressed, use the bathroom, and then step outside.
It’s early. I didn’t bother to check my phone, but I’m guessing my internal alarm clock ensured I was up no later than usual. The mostly dark sky indicates the sun has barely begun to rise.
Each cabin has its own front porch, but I don’t dawdle on mine. I head over to the fire pit. Charred remains sit in the center of the stone circle. There’s a long bench on each of the four sides, comprised of a thick tree trunk that looks like it was cleaved in half. I expect the surface to be rough, but my fingers skim across the surface without encountering a single splinter. I take a seat on the one that faces the lake. Mist hovers across its surface, obstructing my view of the smooth water.
“I had a feeling you’d be up.”
I look behind me, although I don’t need to. I recognize the voice immediately. Caleb’s walking towards me, sleep still visible in his blue eyes. His hair is in the same disarray it was the last time I saw him this early in the day, and I have to suppress a smile.
“Habit.” I shrug.
He takes a seat next to me, and my body hums from the proximity. I was really hoping the amount of time I’ve spent this close to him lately would cure me of this, but my body is infuriatingly aware of the short distance between our bodies. Caleb seems oblivious.
“Want to do some sight-seeing?” He nods towards the lake.
“What? Now?”
“No. In three hours when everyone else wakes up.”
I ignore his sarcasm. “I don’t really think we’re supposed to . . . ” In fact, I’m certain we’re not supposed to leave the campground by ourselves. And we’re definitely not supposed to go out on the lake by ourselves. I imagine the only reason none of the chaperones have mentioned it yet is because they thought they’d be awake to curb any inclinations.
Caleb stands, and starts striding towards the shore. “Come on, Matthews. What are they going to do?”
I sigh, and stand, tracing his steps to the edge of the lake. “I’m more worried about you getting us lost at sea.”
“It’s a lake, Lennon. We’ll hit shore eventually.” Caleb grins, and it’s a dangerous one. Not because it’s the roguish, devilish one I’ve seen him give a lot of girls. Because it’s an affectionate, encouraging one I’ve only ever seen him give me.
I cave like a poorly stacked house of cards. “Fine.”
Caleb hauls a bright yellow canoe from behind some ferns, and slides the very front into the blue-gray water
. “Get in,” he instructs.
I comply, grabbing both sides when it rocks unpredictably. I’m pretty certain I hear Caleb chuckle, but when I glance back his face is as smooth as the water I’m suddenly surrounded by. In one graceful shove, he jumps in the small boat and pushes us away from shore. I hear the gurgle of shifting water as we move forward, and then I can barely tell if we’re moving at all. Everything looks the same. As in, I can’t see anything. I can hear the dip of Caleb’s paddle and the occasional slosh, but there’s no scenery passing us by. Just gray mist everywhere.
I spin around on the small seat so I can look at Caleb. “Do you know where you’re going?”
“Oh yeah, I paddle through mist all the time,” he tells me, then rolls his eyes.
“And you said I am unpleasant in the morning.”
I can tell he’s fighting it, but a smile breaks through. “You are.”
“We’re lost, right?”
“What do you consider being lost?” Caleb counters.
“Not knowing where you are?”
“I know we’re on a lake, Lennon.”
“Okay, fine. But do you know when we’ll no longer be on the lake? If we’ll make it back to Landry?”
“That’s your definition of being lost? Not knowing when you’ll be back home?”
“So you admit we’re lost?”
Caleb chuckles. “No.”
“How big is this lake?” I ask.
“No idea,” Caleb responds.
“I thought they said on the bus yesterday.” In fact, I know they did, I just wasn’t paying attention. Staring out the window seemed more enjoyable than mindless trivia. Turns out, it might not have been so irrelevant.
“You weren’t paying attention? Too busy talking to your bus buddy?”
“I was wondering how long it was going to take you to bring that up."
Caleb scoffs. “Please. I don’t care. I just think that’s it’s interesting—”
“Duck!” I shout.
Caleb’s oar goes flying out of his hand as he folds his torso forward. The lack of a paddle halts our already slow momentum, giving the mallard enough time to move out of the path of our incoming canoe.
The Hard Way Home Page 18
