by Sally Henson
“Listen to this list I've compiled over the past few days; then tell me I'm wrong.”
“Oh, I'll listen, all right.”
“A. Every time you got mad at Cameron yesterday and were about to blow a fuse, Lane stepped in and soothed you. 2. When you left the cliffs, he followed you. C. Cameron said Lane stayed back after basketball tonight to talk you into coming to the diner because he knew you'd still be upset. D.” I laugh at her intertwining of alphabet and numbers. “He looked like someone had punched him in the gut and stole his favorite dog, after the picture revelation you gave tonight.”
My stomach starts to knot up. I think I see where she's going with this.
“5. Then he looked like he was going to punch Cameron in the face for the description you gave. Did you hear his voice when he asked Cameron what you two were doing up there?”
I close my eyes and slowly shake my head.
“Wait, how many is that?” She counts on her fingers. “F. He asked you for a ride home when his dad offered to pick him up after his meeting at the firehouse this evening. 7. I was sitting behind the wheel and got the best view, even better than you, of what was going on between you two on the hood of your car.”
I sit straight up and whip my head toward her, but she persists. My mouth hangs open. I can't believe she's all out accusing me of breaking rule number three.
“That’s not how just friends touch each other and look at each other.” I start to protest, but she holds her palm up to me, uttering a staccato, “Ah! I'm not finished.”
I concede, though my breath a growl at her.
“You looked scared to death. But Lane looked like he was going to wrap his arms around you, pull you close, run his fingers through your hair and kiss you. Desire, tha—”
“Hold it right there!” I've heard more than I want to. “He's been acting a little weird, but this list is absurd. Lane and I are like brother and sister. Talk like this is how rumors get started. He needed us both tonight. I needed you both tonight. He laughed and carried on with you surfing, too. And you heard what he said about busting a gut at us up there like morons. He's just been—stressed. He starts college soon.”
“Maybe you have a point with the stress and leaving soon for college, but deny it all you want, there's something else, something more between the two of you. And really, Regan, it's okay.” She stops to let out a great big yawn. “It's okay if you like him that way.” She gives me a soft smile and says, “I'm tired.” Then suddenly, she flops over on her back and pulls the sleeping bag over her legs.
My mouth twists. The knot in my stomach has spread to my chest. I don't like her talking like that. “It probably took all your energy to think up those ridiculous ABC, 123 points. I'm surprised you made it through without passing out.” I yawn. “I hope this was supposed to be funny, though I don't find it funny at all.” I lie back down. I jolt back up. “Lane and I are best friends, Tobi. We're not more than that. We don't break the rules.”
“Ah. So, you say.”
“Tobi,” I growl and throw my pillow at her.
She giggles. “Okay, okay. It's obvious to me you're more than friends. But I won't say another word unless either of you wants to talk to me about it.” She tosses my pillow back to me.
“You are so ridiculous. Go to sleep. Your brain is suffering from a lack of oxygen.” I shake my head, roll my eyes, and then sigh. I try everything to get her comments out of my head. I lie back down and stare into the darkness.
“By the way, rule number three is so overrated and outdated,” Tobi ekes out in a sleepy voice.
I lay here trying to put her words out of my mind forever. She's teasing, making fun. Lane has been my best friend forever. Maybe Tobi's trying to distract me from what the guys said about me yesterday. I close my eyes for a moment and try to focus on the crickets and tree frogs. They have such a soothing effect on me. It's working. The pressure in my chest lessens, and the knots in my stomach begin to unravel. There's been so much happening in such a short amount of time. I didn't sleep the greatest last night, and it's late. I'm so tired right now. I don't think I can make sense out of anything. So, I give in to brain-veg and seek out nature around me as the white noise of nighttime in the country lulls me to sleep.
4
I take Tobi home just after breakfast. She's going to be slammed the next couple days with work. Tonight's agenda is the sale barn. She says the action's fun to be around, but usually, only old dudes show up, so there's not much to look at but cattle. Her dad insists that's the purpose for going, though Tobi would like something more alluring to hold her attention. She always has gut-busting stories to share after her visit, too. My stomach hurts so bad from laughing when she's through, it takes a day to recover. It doesn't help that Cameron always backs up her visual clips with his own colorful play-by-play. They'll have to percolate this time for a few days until we get back together.
Lane's working the next few days, too. He almost always works Saturdays, and I'm working Saturday. That means I'll have some time to myself. I don't mind being by myself. Don't get me wrong; I love hanging out with Tobi, Lane, and the gang. But when I’m alone, I can think without anyone trying to get inside my head. Sometimes Lane asks me what I'm thinking when we're hanging out and I’ve been quiet for too long. It’s like he has this sixth sense because almost every time I'm thinking about my future. I dream about being near the ocean and away from this town.
I usually don't mind sharing my thoughts with Lane no matter what they are, but I always share them with God. That's why I don't feel alone when I'm out in the woods or at Fox Creek by myself. I suppose it’s that I see God's creation everywhere, and feel closer to Him in nature, too. My plan for the rest of the day: spend some time in the woods and on the banks of Fox Creek—maybe do a little fishing.
The next afternoon Ms. Willis calls to see if I can work both shifts on Saturday. I'm not turning down extra work, that's for sure. But I do ask if Stacey's working. Thankfully she's not, so it should be a pleasant day. When I tell Mom I'll be working both shifts, she informs me I'll have to use Dad's work car. I'm not thrilled about that.
The car looks and sounds like it's on its last leg. Green teal was a popular color for the Geo Metro. The four-door is rusting along the bottom, below the doors. A huge dent in the right front fender by the tiny tire is riddled with rust, too. Its three-cylinder, 55-horsepower engine barely makes it to the speed limit, and there's something about the muffler that makes it roar as loud as the ATV does. It's always dusty inside and out; I don't think my dad ever cleans it. The hunk-of-junk is a manual stick shift on the floor; it has AM/FM radio that doesn't work, heat, but no A/C, and no power anything. It does get a whopping 40 mpg. This last tidbit of the specs is what persuaded my dad to purchase this car. That and it cost $770. He's been driving it for two years without any problems, except it whines at 55 mph and pouts if pushed to go 60.
I don't really trust the reliability of the Geo, so I leave ten minutes earlier than normal for work. This thing is so loud it’s hard to even think in here. I travel on the main road toward town. I pass Lane’s road and think about road surfing with him a couple days ago. My heart flip-flops against my ribs. I’m not sure why he acted so weird that night.
A few minutes pass, and I drive by Tobi’s road. Does she really think Lane likes me more than a friend? I’ve been doing my best to forget her stupid list since that night. That must be one of the most hair-brained things she’s ever come up with. I shake the thought of that whole night out of my head and think about tonight. Tobi, Haylee, and Cameron are going to a movie, and Lane's working until seven. I guess I’ll be on my own tonight. I’ll be glad to snuggle in my bed with one of my favorite series next to my open window.
When I pull into the gravel parking lot, I decide to park on the far side, facing the road. This way I don't have to back out of a parking space. I'm the first one to the pool, so I wait by the gate for Ms. Willis to arrive. My standard procedure is to assess the locker
room as I walk through to sign the time sheet. Ms. Willis heads out to the pump room to check the pool chemicals to be sure the PH and chlorine levels are right. Checklist in hand, I head back to the girls’ locker room when I hear a vehicle drive through the parking lot and skid to a stop in the rocks. When I get back to the office, Joey and Jimmy are walking down the sidewalk, pushing and shoving each other.
Joey and Jimmy Houston are brothers. Seeing them together makes me think of my brother. I miss him.
I stop in the middle of the office with my arms folded across my chest, tilting my head to the side. “Who was driving? It sounded like you fish-tailed through parking lot, slinging rocks with your tires .”
“Jimmy.” Joey lifts his brows and pokes his thumb toward his brother. “He's a lousy driver, but my mom's making me let him drive to get some practice.”
Jimmy elbows him in the side. “You're such a liar.” He shoves Joey into the wall and runs to the boys’ locker room. Joey gives a quiet chuckle and holds a finger to his smiling lips as he walks by. Joey will be a senior this year and is already eighteen. He's on the swim team, through the city pool. Our school is way too small for a swim team. He plays basketball and runs track at school. He's tall, like six-three or something.
Jimmy will be a sophomore this year. He's nearly as tall as his brother, swims on the city team, and plays basketball and baseball at school. Their mom is my volleyball coach. They're nice guys and fun to work with, because they're too busy punching and shoving each other to bother with me.
The pool shuts down for an hour and a half between 3:30 and 5:00 for the kids to go home, rest, eat, or whatever. We get a lunch break then, too. It's 3:20. Ms. Willis gives us the cue to sound our ten-minute warning of three short blows. Some of the older kids and adults get out at that time, dry off, gather their things, and head to the locker room. The little kids never want to get out. Finally, one long whistle sounds, signaling the pool is closing.
There are always a few stragglers we coax out of the water and through the locker rooms. I stand in the doorway of the girls' locker room to make sure no one comes back out to the pool, and once it looks as if all have left, I check every stall and corner making sure everyone and everything are out. Joey and Jimmy come in from the boys' locker room, and we wait at the front ledge while Ms. Willis goes to the pump house to check on the pumps and retest the PH and chlorine levels of the water.
“You guys can leave. I'll wait for Ms. Willis to finish up.”
“Great. Thanks.” Joey pushes his brother to the end of the office and under the ledge. “Hey, you working tonight?”
“Yeah, I'm on for tonight. How about you two?”
“We'll be here.”
“See ya,” I yell as they walk out of my sight through the locker room. I lean on the ledge of the office and look across the water and park. I’m in the mood for some cheese cubes from the diner. I should do some laps when I get back to get rid of the sluggishness from the fried food. There’s a faint scent, I inhale through my nose, something in the air that smells nice. I breathe deep again. It’s a fragrance, but not flowery. I look around the pool and fence but see nothing out of the ordinary.
Ms. Willis is taking forever. I’ll straighten the candy and baskets to get ready for later. As I turn around, there’s someone at the window ledge. “Oh!” I press my hand to my chest. My knees buckle a little. I lean over my knees to take a deep breath and get a grip. “Jerk.” When I raise my head, Lane’s head is thrown back and his body shakes with laughter. I keep my gaze on him, cocking my head to the side.
He drops his head with his forearms on the ledge, clasped hands, holding himself up. He moans as he catches his breath, lifting his head to see me.
My shoulders fall back in place as I stand and blow a puff of air through my teeth and across my lips.
The giant smile he had on when I turned around is replaced with a crooked grin. His ugly blue-and-white work shirt makes his eyes look amazing. The jolt of fear I first had when I turned around is still making laps inside my body. I stumble to the ledge to have something to steady myself with. He bites his lip every time a shudder of silent laughter works through him, and I can’t seem to look away from the point where his teeth meet his bottom lip.
“I’m sorry. I can’t resist sneaking up on you.” Lane puts his hands on my folded arms in front of his and rubs back and forth. His words and touch break my trance. He pulls his body back. “You’re shaking.”
I shrug my shoulders. “You scared the crap out of me.” His lips stretch into a straight line. “What are you doing here?”
“I knew you were working, so I thought you might want to hang out during your break.” He leans back on the ledge.
The nice fragrance I smelled earlier is him. I take in a slow, deep, inconspicuous breath through my nose.
“Do you want to grab something to eat?”
“Uh.” I clear my throat. “Sure. I need to wait for Ms. Willis to finish up.”
She steps under the ledge by the pool as soon as I said it. “No need to wait. I'm all finished. I'll see you back here at four-thirty,” she says, dismissing me.
“Okay, bye.” I cross the office and walk through the locker room to meet Lane. He waits for me by the gate with his hands in the pockets of his khaki-colored cargo pants. My nose scrunches up as I look at them. I hate those baggy pants.
“What?” I look up to see Lane’s hands out of his pockets, palms up.
“Oh, nothing.” I shake my head. “I didn't hear you pull up. Where'd you park?”
“I pulled up when everyone was coming out.” He motions to his truck on the edge of the parking lot by the road and then reaches up and twirls my ponytail around his fingers. “How many people did you have today? It must’ve been packed,” he comments while we walk side by side to his truck.
“It was, but I didn't look to see the numbers. Packed makes the day go by faster.” He let’s go of my hair. I get in the passenger side as he slides in behind the wheel.
“I'm hungry, where do you want to go?” I plop my bag on the floorboard and fasten my seat belt. He sets three small pieces of paper folded in half on the dash like little tents. On the front of each one is a hand-drawn picnic basket numbered one through three. I smile. “What's this?”
He raises his eyebrows and begins, “You have three options of where we eat. The picnic basket you choose will determine our eating destination.”
Wearing a smile, I snort and shake my head. “Clever.” My vision narrows in on each piece of paper as I determine which one I'll choose.
“Which basket do you choose?” he booms in a game-show host voice.
It makes me giggle. “Do they all say the same thing on the inside?” I taunt him.
“Tsk. Of course not. Now choose a basket.” His voice not so much game-showy, but more cut-to-the-chase.
“I choose....” I pause for dramatic effect. “Basket number two.” I lean forward to grab the paper and open it, but Lane snatches all three and sticks them in his pocket before I have the chance to see them.
I pull at his arm to get the papers, but I'm too late. “Hey!”
He grins enough that his dimples make an appearance, but he refuses to look my way and keeps his eyes focused on the road ahead as he pulls onto the street.
“They did all say the same thing! That's exactly something you would do.” I fold my arms and pout.
He laughs at me. “Actually, they don't have the same thing written on them. I'll show you when we get to where we're going.” He turns left at the stop sign by the park.
“What did number two say then?” I'm wondering where we’re going. He only gets thirty minutes for lunch break.
“Basket number two is a picnic.” He slows down like he’s going to turn.
“Picnic? You brought food?” We pack PB-and-J sandwiches and eat when we go fishing or swimming, but a surprise picnic? Now, that's new.
“You're full of questions, aren't you? Yes, I brought food. A standard pi
cnic lunch—cold fried chicken and potato salad. I splurged for our drinks, though.” He turns left at the last entrance to the park. The road winds around and connects to the other entrances. It's a small park with a long, narrow pond leading into a wooded area along the outer edge of the property. “I want to show you something.” He turns off the road onto the grass headed to the woods.
My brows raise. “Uh, should we be driving on the grass? I don’t want to get in trouble.”
He gives me a sideways glance. “It’s fine.” He drives through the trees and parks on the other side by the railroad tracks.
“I've never been back here.” I look all around. The tree branches and leaves cover us from the sun, and though the trees aren't thick enough to completely hide us, it would be hard to see us back here from the park.
Lane gets out and reaches over the bed of the truck to get the cooler and a blanket rolled up like a sleeping bag with twine binding it together. I meet him at the tailgate. “Open the tailgate.” He gestures with his head. I do and take the blanket, laying it flat on the tailgate for us to sit on. It's a red, white, and blue patchwork quilt. Lane places the cooler in the middle of the tailgate and sits down. I sit on the other side.
The tracks seem to go on and on. There's no crossing to be seen, no houses or buildings—no interruptions.
“How'd you find this place?” I'm amazed at the unexpected beauty of the train tracks and this hidden secret within the small wooded area of the pond.
He hands me a Styrofoam cup with a straw and a spoon sticking out of the top. “Grape slushy float.”
My mouth falls open. “Thank you.” I kick my legs and take a sip of the sweet and sour goodness.
He bows his head and gives me a closed mouth smile as he sucks on his straw. I roll my fingers in circle to spur him to answer my question. “Mm. My dad told me about it. He used to fish here when he was a teenager.”
