The Odds of Loving Grover Cleveland

by Rebekah Crane

  I glance at Bek, who’s staring at the ceiling, his foot tapping on the ground.

  It takes a few hours before they’ll let us go back and see her. When we finally get to her room, Cassie is staring out the window.

  The restraints are gone today. I’m thankful Grover and Bek didn’t see them. Bek sits on the end of the bed as Cassie looks at us with a shocked face. She clearly wasn’t expecting all of us. Bek touches her feet, which are covered up by a few layers of blankets. Even covered, Cassie looks cold.

  “Well, Sticks, that was quite a performance. Not quite what I expected, but you’ve always kept me on my toes, which is what I love about you,” Grover says. He emphasizes the end part. The love part.

  Bek hiccups as he sits crying at the end of the bed. He bends down and kisses Cassie’s feet over and over.

  “Mon amour. Mon amour. Mon amour,” he repeats.

  Cassie’s face paints in horror, but she doesn’t move. Grover touches her hand. “You can’t lie about love,” he says. He inspects her nails. “Nice color, by the way. Totally you.”

  I smile at her, and in the most beautiful way possible, Cassie smiles back.

  At the end of our time, I ask the boys to give me a minute.

  “I’ll see you soon, Sticks,” Grover says to Cassie. “Now you say it back.”

  “I’ll see you soon, Cleve.”

  “That’s a promise,” he says.

  “That’s a promise,” Cassie says. He exhales a large breath, and he and Bek leave the room.

  I pull up my seat next to her bed. I’ll gladly give it back to the doctor if he can promise Cassie never has to come here again.

  “Why did you lie to me about your aunt?”

  Cassie looks off at the window. “Because it isn’t your problem.”

  “Like hell it isn’t my problem.” My voice rises.

  Her eyes come back to me. “What are you going to do, Z? Erase my past? Change it? The past may be gone, but it’s firmly in place. You can’t do anything about it.”

  “I could have at least listened.”

  “Listening does nothing.”

  “Stop acting like you’re alone,” I yell and stand up, the tears starting again. “You’re not alone. You made me need you! You made me love you! And now I need you to tell me you won’t give up again. Even if it hurts like hell. You can’t give up. I won’t let you take that away from me.”

  Cassie looks at me wide-eyed as I plop back down in the seat.

  “God, Z, you’re selfish.” And then she places her hand on top of mine. “You need me?” I nod over and over, tears falling on my shirt. “I’ve never been needed before.”

  “Well, get used to it,” I say.

  “Hey, Z?”

  “What?”

  “Clearly you’re not over your lesbian phase. I hope Cleve knows.”

  I nod, wiping a tear from my cheek, and smile. “He’s kind of excited about it.”

  Cassie laughs again and the room brightens.

  Before I walk out, I turn back to Cassie and repeat the words she said to Dori just a few weeks ago. “I can’t believe you tried to kill yourself with pills. What a sissy fucking suicide.”

  Cassie smiles. “Thanks, Z.”

  The waiting room smells different when I get there. I breathe in again. Rose perfume. My eyes scatter through the people around me. Grover and Bek sit watching the TV.

  And then I find the source of the smell. I gasp and yell at the same time. It’s my mom.

  HOPE

  CHAPTER 33

  Dear Detroit Child Services,

  We reject your ruling.

  Sincerely,

  Cassandra Dakota LaSalle’s best friend, Zander . . . and her mother

  My mom looks up from where she’s standing at the nurses’ station. Her eyes light up the second she sees me, and mine must be doing the same.

  I run to hug her and smash myself so hard into her skinny body that she almost falls over.

  “Mom. I’m so glad you’re here.” I press my face into her neck. Her skin feels like sunlight. Like she brought the dry Arizona wind with her.

  My mom grabs my face with both of her hands and lifts it up. She inspects me and wipes a finger across my cheek.

  “You’re crying,” she says in a wobbly voice.

  I nod as more tears fall. “Sorry I waited this long.”

  She grabs me, rocking me back and forth. “It’s okay, baby. I’m sorry, too.”

  We continue hugging, standing in the waiting room. I guess happiness can be found in a hospital if you stay long enough.

  “I’m so glad to see you,” she whispers in my ear.

  “Me, too.” And I mean it.

  Someone taps my shoulder and I look up.

  “I thought I should introduce myself to my future mother-in-law.” Grover rocks back on his heels. My mom inspects my smiling face again with a pensive look on her own. Like she can’t believe what she’s seeing.

  From head to toe, she takes in the long boy next to me. “This must be Grover.”

  “At your service, Zander’s mom.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Grover. You have quite an interesting name.”

  He winks at my mom. “You have no idea.” And then he takes out his notebook. I guess we all have a few habits that are hard to break. “I’m gonna need to ask you a few questions.”

  Madison takes Grover and Bek back to camp. Even Kerry leaves for a few hours to shower and sleep. But I stay with my mom. We sit in the waiting room, me in a chair that permanently dips in the center because I’ve sat in it for so long.

  “I still can’t believe you’re here,” I say.

  My mom pulls a granola bar out of her purse. It’s not her brand. She inspects the wrapper and shrugs. “It was all they had in the airport.” She snaps the bar in half and gives me one of the pieces. She takes a bite. And I smile. “The camp called when everything happened. They said you insisted on going with the girl. That you pulled your friend out of the water.” My mom takes another bite of the granola bar and chews slowly. “I couldn’t just sit in Arizona anymore. I needed to see you.”

  I tell her everything. I start at the beginning, the exact moment Cassie walked in the cabin door.

  “She said what?” Her face looks appalled.

  I go on from there, not leaving out a single detail until it comes to Grover. I leave that out. That is meant for me, him, a broom closet, and my memory.

  I tell her about the night it all came crashing down. I tell her how scared and sad and broken I felt. My mom looks in my eyes as I cry again. She brushes the hair out of my face and nods.

  “They’re going to send her to a group home. And she’ll be alone, again. But Cassie can’t be alone, Mom.” My sobs come at an uncontrollable pace. “She can’t.”

  “It’s okay, baby.” She hugs me.

  “No, it’s not okay,” I whisper in her ear.

  When my mom says she needs to make a few phone calls, particularly to my dad, I sneak through the automatic doors and down the hallway to Cassie’s room.

  She’s asleep in her bed, though the machines still beep around her. I watch her legs, waiting for one of them to move. She has more life left in her. I know it.

  Cassie rolls onto her side and exhales a deep breath. I do the same.

  Slowly, one of her eyes opens just the littlest bit, her hand lifts, and her middle finger pops up. Yes. She has more life left in her.

  CHAPTER 34

  Dear Molly,

  Life is strange. I don’t know why things happen the way they do. But I do know that living is just that. It’s a verb. An action.

  In French, vivre.

  To live.

  I was brought back to life this summer.

  I was found.

  And it feels good.

  Love,

  Zander

  Cassie comes back to camp on the last day. Kerry pulls up in front of the gates and looks into the backseat. I grab Cassie’s hand. Her eyes are tired and
her body looks like one harsh wind might break it, but she’s stronger than that. Broken heart and all.

  Kerry nods at Cassie and she does the same back. We drive through the boundary that marks the line between reality and camp.

  I help Cassie out of the car. Campers scatter around, hugging parents and lugging bags. A few stare at us, but Cassie keeps her eyes on the ground.

  I walk her to the cabin, my arm under hers for support, like she did for me weeks ago.

  When we walk through the door, everyone in the entire cabin sits on their beds waiting. Cassie looks into all of their eyes. I see a flash of fear. And then each one comes up to her and offers her their gimp key chain.

  “To remind you of who you are,” Katie says.

  “And that life takes teamwork.” Hannah places hers in her hand.

  Dori comes up next. “And that trust isn’t such a bad word after all.”

  I take mine out of my pocket. “That you are courageous.”

  Madison steps forward. She lays the statue of St. Anthony of Padua in the palm of Cassie’s hand.

  “To remind you that life takes perseverance through the hard times, but there is always a way to be found.”

  Cassie clasps them all tightly in her grip and stares down at her hand.

  “Thanks for saving my life, Madison.”

  “Actually.” Madison nudges Cassie in the shoulder. “I prefer it when you call me Mads.”

  The whole cabin starts to laugh. A moment later the bathroom door opens. My mom walks out, holding up one of Cassie’s cropped tank tops.

  “Oh, this is completely unacceptable.” She tosses it in the garbage can.

  “Excuse me.” Cassie looks at me with shock and a dash of anger painted on her face. “That’s my stuff you’re throwing out. Who is this woman?”

  I shrug as Cassie crosses the room, angry that my mom is rummaging around in her drawer.

  “I’m just making sure there are no more pills.”

  “What the hell is going on?”

  My mom stops and looks at her. “First rule, you eat what I cook. Second rule, you wear what I tell you to wear. Third rule, the only pills you’ll be taking are ones prescribed to you by real doctors. And you will be seeing doctors.”

  “You’re Zander’s mom, aren’t you?” Cassie says.

  “Now, Cassie, if you’re willing to live by my rules, we have an extra room at our house.” My mom smiles at me from across the room. “It’s about time someone actually lived in it.”

  A gasp breaks from Cassie’s lips, but she still doesn’t move.

  “What about the group home?”

  “We still have to figure that one out,” my mom says. “It’s gonna be a bit of a fight. Are you ready to fight, Cassie?” She nods, her eyes on my mom like she’s a ghost or maybe even a saint. My mom pats Cassie on the back. “Good, because I don’t let go of things easily. I’ll fight until the very last second if I have to.”

  I walk up and whisper in Cassie’s ear. “All that hoping had to be good for something, right?”

  She looks at me and then my mom. “I don’t believe in that word,” Cassie says.

  “Well . . .” My mom hooks her arm over Cassie’s shoulder. “It’s a good time to start.”

  Later, when I’m packing, I unzip my bag and find the window screw Cassie gave me the first night of camp. I go into the bathroom and jam the screw back into place. It’s no fun when you can escape easily.

  We stand on the deck overlooking Lake Kimball. The water glistens in the fading sunlight. A slight breeze blows my hair away from my face.

  “I’m sorry you never got green,” I say to Cassie.

  She squints as she looks out at the water. “I got something else instead.”

  “Amen.” Grover smiles.

  A voice bellows up behind us, and we all turn to see Bek running across the deck with a short blond man trailing behind him.

  “I wanted you guys to meet my dad,” he says, out of breath.

  “This is your dad?” Cassie says to the man.

  “Mr. Trebek,” he replies and holds out his round hand.

  We all laugh. Even Cassie.

  And as the sun fades into the night, Grover leans over and kisses me.

  “Only one in fifty long-distance relationships last.”

  “I’ve always hated odds,” I say.

  “Oddly enough, me, too,” he says.

  “I’m glad you finally have the courage to acknowledge that.” I smile at Grover. “So will you write me?”

  “Where should I send my letters?”

  I take Grover’s notebook from his back pocket and turn to the page I wrote on weeks ago. There, in my handwriting, is my address. I point to it.

  “You’ve had me all along.”

  He clutches the notebook to his chest. “I love reality.”

  “We have one last thing to do.” Cassie pulls the fork she stole that first day from her back pocket. We all eye her as she walks over to the wooden railing that lines the deck of the mess hall. Using the fork, she etches a word into the wood. Then she hands it down the line and we all add our initials, until our names are permanently left at Camp Padua.

  The four of us turn from Lake Kimball and start the long walk to our cars.

  “So next year? Same time? Same place?” Grover asks.

  “I wouldn’t miss it,” Bek says.

  “Me neither.” I smile up at Grover as he reaches his arm around my waist.

  “What about you, Sticks? See you next year?”

  She glances over her shoulder and takes one last look at the word she’s carved into the wood—hope.

  “Absolutely.” Then she grabs Bek’s hand. “This doesn’t mean I like you.”

  “Of course not.” Bek smiles a true grin. “You love me.”

  I reach my arm around Cassie and pull her in close. “Let’s go home.”

  As we walk away, I steal a glance back over my shoulder and see Grover lift his arm high in the air and fist pump the sky.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  First—a huge, love-filled thank-you to Jessica Park. You always manage to help me find my way when I’m lost. You took a chance on a phone call with a random stranger a few years ago, and look at us now—soul mates. This book is what it is because of you. Thank you.

  To my agent and friend, Renee Nyen—you loved this book from the beginning. We have seen some crazy days, but we made it through together. I am so grateful for everything you do. Thank you.

  To my editor, Jason Kirk—I could not have asked for a better person to take this book and make it soar. Your enthusiasm is infectious. (And a special shout-out to Coco Williams!)

  To all the beta readers, friends and family, and fans who have championed my writing and my books, who have invited me into their homes for book clubs, who have asked me to speak at their schools, who have sat in my living room and brainstormed idea after idea—thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

  And to Anna, who said, “Why don’t you name him Grover Cleveland?”

  The rest is . . . history.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Photo © 2014 Cara Vescio

  Rebekah Crane is the author of three young-adult novels—Playing Nice, Aspen, and The Odds of Loving Grover Cleveland. She found a passion for young-adult literature while studying secondary English education at Ohio University. After having two kids and living and teaching in six different cities, Rebekah finally settled in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains to write novels and work on screenplays. She now spends her day carpooling kids or tucked behind a laptop at 7,500 feet, where the altitude only enhances the writing experience.

 

 

 
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