Sunkissed

by Kasie West

  “I needed to see you,” she said. “Your sister said there was no internet and that’s why you haven’t been able to text me back.”

  “Lauren? When did you talk to Lauren?” Did she call the pay phone back and ask for Lauren? This thought made me angry. I was allowed to be angry.

  Shay turned to Mari. “Can I talk to Avery alone for a minute?”

  And because Shay said things with such confidence and command, Mari responded, “Um…sure.”

  I wanted to grab her hand and tell her to stay, back me up, but she had no idea what was going on because I hadn’t told her. I cursed my private nature as she and Clay walked away.

  Shay waited until they were gone, then said, “You weren’t talking to me. What was I supposed to do?”

  “Wait until I was ready.”

  She flinched, surprised. She was used to me trying to smooth things over, immediately accepting her apology. That’s why she was here, after all, because I hadn’t and she was probably positive that she could make it happen in person. “You’re my best friend, Avery, and this has been really hard for me.”

  “Hard for you? You kissed my boyfriend.”

  “He wasn’t your boyfriend at the time.”

  My mouth fell open, but no words came out. I realized I was still gripping my Popsicle stick, my hands splattered with orange. This felt like it was adding to my humiliation.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know it was still wrong.”

  I let the anger live, bubble inside me, and said what I’d been wanting to say all summer. “It feels like you don’t know that it was wrong. I thought I was going to get back together with him. I told you that. But even if I hadn’t told you that, you shouldn’t have kissed him. You hurt me, Shay.”

  “I know.”

  “Was it the first time?”

  “What?” she said, even though I was sure she knew exactly what I was asking.

  “Had you kissed him before? When he and I were together?”

  “No!” Shay said. “No, we didn’t. We talked a few times but we never—”

  “What does that mean? You talked about what? When?” I felt a presence to my left and looked over to see Brooks, paycheck in hand. I thought I’d feel even more humiliated thinking about him overhearing this conversation but instead I felt a huge amount of relief.

  He gave me a single look that said You okay? When had I started being able to read him?

  I honestly wasn’t sure what I was, but it wasn’t okay. My eyes must have said as much because he took a step closer to me.

  “Avery and I were having a private conversation,” Shay said with a smile at Brooks. She was pretty. I’d forgotten just how pretty, and how she could get guys to cave with her smile.

  He shrugged. “I’ll leave if Avery wants me to.”

  “Stay,” I said.

  Shay’s eyes were sad as she turned them to me. “Avery, can’t we work this out? Alone.”

  Could we? She’s your best friend. And you miss her. I sighed at my own thoughts. Now that I’d said my piece, maybe I should take her to our cabin, where we could sit and have lunch and talk. Maybe…My eyes narrowed as I looked over her shoulder and saw someone in the distance standing by a car. “Shay? Did Trent bring you here?” My voice was even, cold. I almost didn’t recognize it.

  “I had no other way to get here! He wanted to help. He feels bad. We did this for you.”

  I felt the Popsicle stick crack in my grip. This is what she always did. She pretended her selfish actions were for my benefit. “You need to leave.”

  “I drove five hours for you.”

  “For you. You drove five hours for you. I’m not okay with what you and Trent did, what you’d obviously been doing for a while, and I’m not okay with you showing up here trying to force me to forgive you for it.”

  “I’m not trying to force you, Av. I thought you wouldn’t want to throw our entire history away.”

  “Yeah, I thought the same about you.”

  She paused and then asked, “So that’s it? We’re done?”

  “Yes…No.” I took a deep breath. With Trent standing in the background, my initial instinct had been to say yes, but she was right, we did have a history, and I wasn’t going to make a rash decision, especially one that involved a boy. “I don’t know right now. I need time.”

  “You’ve been here like five weeks.”

  “I need more time. Are you going to give me that?”

  She clenched her fists, but then her eyes shot to the ground. “I’m sorry. I’ll give you more time.”

  I nodded.

  She took a step forward as though she wanted to give me a hug but my entire energy must’ve repelled her because she swallowed hard, did a one-eighty, and ran back to the parking lot. I immediately felt guilty. She was obviously trying. Why couldn’t I get over it? It’s not like I was still hung up on Trent. I was so over him.

  “Don’t do it,” Brooks said, and I realized I had taken a step toward the parking lot.

  “Why did she have to do this today of all days?” It’s like she knew the audition was the next day. Knew this would mess with my emotions and my confidence.

  “Avery, look at me.”

  I turned toward him and met his eyes.

  “Repeat after me. You’re fun, brave, and hot.”

  I tried to smile but it fell flat. I leaned my forehead against his chest and it wasn’t until his shoulders tensed that I realized we were out in the open. I took a step back. “I’m sorry,” I said, looking around to see if anyone had seen us. A few guests walked the path and a car was backing out in the parking lot, but that was it.

  “No, it’s fine,” Brooks said.

  “I just need…” I pointed over my shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” I left without looking back.

  The morning of the audition arrived and as Maricela braided small braids along the side of my head and clipped them with fat bobby pins behind my right ear, my stomach did a million somersaults. I’d spent the night playing and replaying my conversation with Shay in my head. Wondering if I should’ve said more or less. Wondering if those were the last words we’d ever exchange. Then I reminded myself about the audition and proceeded to forget all the words to the song I was supposed to sing and had to say them over and over again until I convinced myself that I hadn’t forgotten them. I had hardly gotten any sleep.

  “What about these?” Tia held up a pair of combat boots. They’d already picked out my whole outfit and were now accessorizing it.

  Maricela looked over, a bobby pin in her mouth. “Yes, I love those. What size are you?”

  “Seven and a half,” I said.

  “They’ll be a little big, but you’ll be sitting on a stool, right?”

  “Right.”

  Tia shoved them in a backpack along with some other supplies they’d equipped me with—bright red lipstick, some silver bangle bracelets, glittery eyeshadow. Basically the things I couldn’t waltz through camp in or it would be obvious.

  “How did things go with your parents this morning?” Maricela asked. “And what did they say about the spa tickets?”

  “I told them I was going to a hair tutorial.”

  “You did not,” Tia said.

  I smiled. “No, I didn’t. I actually didn’t have to tell them much. Just said I was checking out the archery range. And they were so excited about the spa but wondered how I got the passes.”

  “Oh, right,” Maricela said. “Didn’t think about that.”

  “Yeah, neither had I. So I ended up telling them I won them at some lake competition.”

  “Wow, nice save.”

  “Yeah, thanks. I actually can’t wait until this is over because I hate lying to my parents and my sister.”

  “So you’re planning to lose today?”

 
I gave a breathy laugh. I hadn’t analyzed it, but she was totally right. I had been viewing today as the end.

  “That looks so good, Mari,” Tia said, studying the braids.

  “It does, doesn’t it?” She patted my shoulders when she was finished. “Well, even if you lose, at least you’ll look good doing it.”

  Tia laughed. “Great pep talk.”

  “Come on, you need to go.”

  * * *

  After Brooks and I checked in at the venue in Roseville—an art deco–style theater—I went to the bathroom to apply the finishing touches to my look. I was surprised I had the whole counter and mirror to myself. I looked under the doors to the stalls; those were empty too. “Huh.”

  I unloaded the contents of the backpack onto the counter and suddenly wished Lauren was with me. She could’ve helped me get ready and her constant chatter would’ve eased my nerves.

  I held up the black tank Maricela had decided on, making sure the holes wouldn’t hit me in the wrong places. It looked pretty safe, but I was still going to wear the red and blue flannel over the top of it.

  It took me maybe ten minutes to finish everything and when I stepped back and looked in the mirror I felt…like I was going to puke. I looked good, but my stomach was rolling and my head felt light. I rushed to the first stall and stood above the toilet for a moment. Nothing happened.

  “You can do this, Avery. You’ve been doing this. You’ve been having fun, even.” I drew in a deep breath, collected my backpack, and went to find Brooks.

  Brooks sat on one of the folding chairs that had been set up in a holding area. The room was full of bands and their friends, waiting for their turn to try out.

  “Hey,” I said, sitting next to him and dropping the boots on the floor, the last thing I needed to put on.

  Brooks looked up from his phone (it was weird seeing him distracted by one of those), gave me a once-over, and said, “That works.”

  “Really? That’s the best you got?”

  “You look hot,” he said with a smirk.

  “Better.”

  “Oh, I have our numbers.” He retrieved a white square with the number thirty-seven on it from a stack of papers. He peeled off the back and was about to stick it on my shorts when he must’ve realized what he was doing. “Sorry, here.”

  “It’s fine,” I said, pulling on the bottom of my shorts to create a flat surface.

  He stuck it on and smoothed it out. His eyes went to mine and then shot down again and he resettled himself in his chair. “I’m really excited,” he said. “Because it seems there are very few girl lead singers. I think we might have a chance at this.”

  “Yeah, the bathroom was a ghost town.” I leaned over and pulled on my boots, then started lacing them up. “Wait, you think we might have a chance because I’m one of the only girls?”

  “Yes…Well, I mean, no, that’s not the only reason. We have good material and you sing great. I’m just saying, I think it gives us an even better shot.”

  “Remind me never to ask you to give a motivational speech,” I said.

  “I’m sorry. You’re right, I’m really bad at this. It’s because I feel super confident in you.”

  “Okay, okay, you’re warming up,” I said, but my stomach was still rolling around, somehow having freed itself from the rest of my organs.

  Brooks was staring at his phone again. I held my hand out in front of him and it took a moment for him to look at it, confused.

  “Let me see it,” I said.

  One side of his mouth lifted into a smile and he placed his phone in my upturned hand. I looked at the apps on his first screen. There were several social media icons, a maps program, and a few games.

  “Super boring, right?” He held out his hand as if he thought I was going to give it back without checking out the next screens. I swiped.

  I could tell right away that this was the screen that held his life. He had a music editing app and a songwriting one. There was one for hiking and one that mapped the stars. He even had a poetry app. The last two at the bottom were a medical dictionary and something about signs and symptoms. They probably helped him navigate talking to doctors for his dad.

  A text message popped up as I held his phone and my eyes scanned it without thinking:

  $530 by the 1st. Are you sure you’re going to have all of that? You forgot to forward the hospital correspondence. Also, while you have service, call Gwen. She’s been trying to get ahold of you.

  The smiled slipped off my face and I felt like a jerk.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, handing it back.

  “Why?” he asked. “Karma, right?”

  “You got a text. I didn’t…I accidentally read it.”

  He laughed a little. “It’s fine.” He read the text, tucked his phone in his pocket, and smiled at me. “It’s nothing you didn’t already know.”

  Wasn’t it something I didn’t already know? Because I was certain he’d never said the name Gwen before.

  A side door opened and music, which had been muffled before, became clear. A man stuck his head out the door. He was wearing a headset and carrying a clipboard. He referred to that clipboard now. “Brooks Marshall, you’re on deck.”

  “Is that our band name?” I teased.

  “No,” Brooks said.

  “So vain,” I continued.

  “You’re such a brat,” Brooks said, poking my side.

  I laughed and grabbed his wrist. “The Brooks Marshall Band.”

  He twisted his hand, releasing his wrist and entrapping mine. Our eyes locked. “Come on. We’re on deck.”

  “Yes, on deck,” I said. “What does that mean?”

  He flashed his teeth. “That we’re next.”

  “Oh, right.”

  We stood and walked toward the stage door. “Your brilliant word brain needs to think of a good band name,” he said.

  My chest warmed with his compliment. “I’ll work on it.”

  We walked up the stairs to the stage and waited in the dark wings as the band performing finished up their song. Then it was our turn. A row of lights nearly blinded me as I stepped onto the stage. I resisted the urge to hold my hand up and block them. I didn’t want to look like I was new to this. Brooks dragged a stool from the side of the stage to the middle, in front of a microphone that was set up. I sat down and he adjusted the microphone to my height.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” a voice said over a speaker. I could just make out a table and five dark shapes behind that table in the middle of the theater chairs. It was actually kind of nice that I couldn’t see their faces. I hadn’t been expecting that.

  Brooks leaned into the microphone in front of me, his hair brushing my cheek as he did. “Hey, I’m Brooks Marshall and this is Avery Young, and we’ll be performing an original song for you today called ‘Rewriting History.’ ”

  “Sounds good,” a female voice said. “Go ahead.”

  Brooks stepped away from the microphone, gave my shoulder a quick squeeze, and then swung his guitar around to the front of his body. I moved both hands to the microphone, stilling my breath. My legs were shaking even though I was sitting down. Brooks played the opening chords and I closed my eyes.

  I sang the first lines with my eyes closed. “What’s tomorrow look like from over there because from here it looks a lot like yesterday….” My mind went completely blank and my heart jumped to my throat. My eyes flew open but still the words escaped me. “I’m sorry,” I said into the microphone. “Can we start again?”

  That was it, I’d just lost this for us.

  “Yes, please do,” a disembodied voice said curtly.

  Brooks stepped in front of me. “Hey, look at me. You got this.”

  Tears welled at the bottom of my eyes. “I just ruined everything.”

  “You ru
ined nothing. Just keep your eyes on me the whole time, okay?”

  “Okay.” I shifted on the stool so I was angled toward him. I could pretend we were in the back room at camp. Just me and Brooks. He offered me his magic smile and every nerve in my body relaxed. He nodded, then strummed the first chord. And as I sang to him, his expression softened and something like pride shone in his eyes. I didn’t look away.

  The hum of the last chord hung in the air at the end of the song and I felt…exhilarated. I’d done it. Brooks gave me a quick wink and I turned toward the shadowy figures in the seats.

  Finally, a voice said, “Okay, thank you. We’ll let you know once all the auditions are complete.”

  “Thank you,” I said into the mic. Then I did a weird bow-curtsey thing and we rushed off the stage and back into the holding room.

  My stomach decided it had held on long enough and I ran to the bathroom and straight to the first stall, where I threw up what little I’d eaten that morning into the toilet. Then I stood there, breathing heavy.

  The door creaked open. “Avery?”

  “I’m fine,” I said. But I wasn’t and another wave hit me, burning my throat and stinging my eyes as it came out.

  “I’m coming in,” Brooks said. “Hope you’re alone.”

  “You don’t need to come in.” I pushed the back of my wrist to my mouth and braced myself on the stall wall with my other hand.

  “What can I do for you?” he asked, pumping the paper towel dispenser. “Can I get you a Sprite or something?”

  “No, I think I’m better.”

  He turned the water on and then off and then he squeezed into the stall with me, pressing a cold paper towel against the back of my neck.

  “You don’t have to take care of me, Brooks. I can do this.” I took over holding the paper towel. “I’m sorry I sucked in there.”

  “You didn’t suck. You did really well. I’m proud of you.”

  I rolled my eyes and left the stall. At the sink, I rewet the paper towel and used it to wipe at some mascara below my eyes. Then I rinsed my mouth with water and spit it out.