Caleb and Kit

by Beth Vrabel

  “Yes,” Kit said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Yes, I mind.” She sat down on the wide front-porch steps and hummed a little.

  “Why?”

  “We don’t have a phone,” she said serenely.

  “No phone?”

  “No phone.” A skinny cat crawled out from under the porch and curled between my legs. It climbed the porch steps and darted around Kit to disappear into the house. Kit hummed. “Not yet, anyway. We just moved in a couple weeks ago. This was Grandmom Ophelia’s house, but she died last month. Mom and I are living here, taking over the estate.”

  “But you don’t have a phone?”

  “Not yet,” Kit said, still humming.

  “How do you keep in touch with people?”

  Kit shrugged. “Mom has a phone but she keeps it with her.”

  My mouth opened and closed a couple times. “What if you need help?”

  “Why would I need help?” she asked.

  For just a second my chest caught fire again. I swallowed it back so I could think. “What if something happened?”

  “Then I’d deal with it.”

  I shook my head. “Can I borrow your mom’s phone, then?”

  Kit leaned back on her elbows. “She isn’t here.”

  “When is she getting back?”

  “I have no idea.” Kit stood and brushed the peeled paint flecks from the porch stoop off her dress. She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Listen, if it’s a big deal, I’ll show you how to get home.”

  “I’m sorry,” I muttered. But the simmering in my chest settled.

  “Next time, bring your phone so you can stay longer. This doesn’t even count as an adventure.” Kit skipped a little as she turned back toward the woods.

  “I will,” I said, feeling stupid as I trailed behind her but also kind of happy since she had said “next time.”

  “Can you come here tomorrow?”

  Man, I was glad I was behind Kit so she didn’t see the huge grin that spread across my face. “Yeah, after school.”

  “Or… you could skip school and meet me on the golden boulder. It’s a perfect breakfast spot.” Kit held back a stray branch so it wouldn’t smack me in the face. “The fairies sweep it clean every morning at dawn.” I fake-laughed, but Kit just stared at me like the fairy thing wasn’t a joke at all.

  I coughed into my elbow. “Wouldn’t your mom get a little suspicious if she suddenly had another student to homeschool?”

  Kit’s eyebrows sunk but she just shrugged. “I think I’m going to take tomorrow off.”

  “You can do that?” I asked. “Just decide to take the day off?”

  “I can do whatever I want,” she said.

  “Well, we only have two more days of school,” I said, but Kit didn’t answer. Not that I was super excited about school ending or anything. This summer was going to be the worst ever, thanks to the stupid day camp Mom was forcing me to go to. “Do you stop school for the summer?”

  Kit shrugged. “I guess we will.”

  At the edge of the stream, I paused before stepping in, not sure if the rocks would be slippery. Kit leaped from smooth rock to smooth rock. The beams of sunlight through the breaks in the trees’ canopies were like a spotlight on her steps, like I was following a yellow brick road. Where would it lead? I wondered as I placed one foot into the stream.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The whir of the air conditioner made it tough to tune in to Mrs. Richards as she went over details of our end-of-the-year essay. A master of creativity, Mrs. Richards decided this year’s theme would be “How I Plan to Spend My Summer.”

  All around me, kids leaned toward the chilly air as it pumped out of the air conditioner. That is, everyone but Shelly Markel, who pulled on a cardigan and held on to her bony elbows like she was icing over.

  “It’s so, so cold!” she whined when Mrs. Richards answered her half-raised hand. Shelly gripped her elbows again and, between chattering teeth, said, “It’s only eighty degrees out! Can’t we just have the windows open like every other room?”

  Mrs. Richards’s eyes slid to me and then to the floor. “No, the air-conditioning is important to… to cutting back the humidity. We’re very lucky to have it!”

  The rest of the school wasn’t air-conditioned. Just my classroom. Just for me. As if on cue, a cough rippled up and out of me. I wiped at my mouth with a tissue. Shelly scrunched her nose and shuddered, this time not at the cold.

  “But it’s so uncomfortable!” she whined.

  Mrs. Richards smiled. “Think how good it’s going to feel when you come back from recess!”

  “Ugh!” Shelly sighed. Her lips did look a little blue, I guess. It was hard to tell since they were pressed together so tightly. Her ponytail jiggled a little from her shivering so hard. Or, at least, her acting like she was shivering so hard.

  “Shut it, Shelly,” Brad hissed when Mrs. Richards turned back to the front of room. He yanked on her ponytail, then crossed his arms behind his head and tilted toward the cold air. Brad grinned at me.

  I shook my head and scribbled How I Plan to Spend My Summer across the top of my notebook page like Mrs. Richards had asked.

  “Now,” the teacher said, “jot down a few ideas below that.”

  Shelly’s pencil scratched out idea after idea. Behind her, Brad muttered to himself, “Football practice, dirt bikes, water skiing…”

  But I only came up with two words.

  “What kit?” Brad asked when the bell rang a minute later. He was leaning over my shoulder.

  “What?” I asked, jamming the notebook page into my folder.

  “Your summer plans.” He sat on the edge of Shelly’s desk, effectively trapping her in her seat. She zipped her backpack harder than necessary and sighed deeply but didn’t say anything, just like he knew she wouldn’t. Shelly’s been in the same class as me and Brad since kindergarten and had yet to say a single word to him. Her face flushed the color of a ripe red garden tomato whenever she looked his way, though.

  Brad ignored her grumbling or maybe truly didn’t notice her. I never could tell. “Your essay. All you wrote down was ‘With Kit.’ With what kit? Is it another model superhero thing?”

  I shrugged. “Nothing, I just—I just couldn’t come up with anything.” For some reason, I hadn’t mentioned meeting Kit to Brad. Not because I was hiding anything. It just hadn’t come up. I mean, I guess it was coming up now, but something kept me from saying anything. Part of me wondered if I hadn’t imagined the whole thing—going off on my own, finding a girl in the water, seeing her mansion hidden in the woods. It sounded more like a fairy tale than a real life thing.

  And, yeah, okay, part of me—a big part—knew that if Kit met Brad I’d go from being Caleb to being “Brad’s friend Caleb” almost instantly. That’s always what happened. It wasn’t Brad’s fault or anything. He was a great friend. My best friend, since forever. But somehow he seemed to suck up all the oxygen in any room he was in. Everyone else just sort of existed around him. Instead of Caleb and Kit, we’d become Brad and Kit with me in parentheses at the end.

  Brad tossed a football casually in the air, making it twirl as it landed back in his hands. “Ready to play?”

  “Yeah, you bet!” I said. Brad clapped his hand on my shoulder as I zipped up my backpack and stood.

  “I don’t get why you need a special air conditioner but can play football at recess,” Shelly snapped behind us.

  Without turning around, Brad and I said, “Shut it, Shelly,” at the same time.

  As we headed out the metal double doors to the recess area, Brad tossed the ball to me and ran backward, hands up, for me to throw it to him. Back and forth we threw the ball until we got to the open field where a dozen other guys were already gathered. “All right,” said Brad, tucking the ball under his arm after divvying people up for teams. “Ready?”

  “Wait a sec!” Jett, a kid who had just joined the football team, held up his hands. “Your side has an extr
a player. That’s not fair.”

  “It’s just Caleb,” Jack, Jett’s team captain, said, then stiffened when a crumpled-up sort of noise leaked out of me.

  “But why do they get an extra player?” Jett pressed.

  Brad popped him in the shoulder with the heel of his hand. “Lay off.”

  We ran to our huddle, though the soupy air was already making it a little harder than it should’ve been for me to hustle.

  “Here’s how it’s going to go,” Brad said. “We’re doing a counter. I’m going to fake to Ian, so you head right. I’ll hand off to Caleb.”

  “No, man!” I said. The other guys around us didn’t say anything. Still, I could see they were annoyed.

  Brad grinned, making the dimple in his cheek flash. “I’m telling you, it’ll work. I’ll pass the ball right into your hands. All you’ve got to do is barrel down the middle. Zach, Logan, you guys make a path for him. Cool?”

  Reluctantly, I nodded. The other guys did, too.

  Brad slammed his hand down on my shoulder again. “They’ll never expect it!”

  “Because it’ll never work,” Zach muttered when Brad jogged off to the field.

  I went to my usual spot in the backfield. Brad turned and nodded at me before stooping to take the pass off. He was totally confident that I could do this. And you know what? For a second I believed him.

  Ian charged ahead and Brad arced his arm, ready to launch the ball toward him. Guys on the other team darted in Ian’s direction. Everyone but Jett, whose eyes locked on the ball still clutched in Brad’s hand. But it was too late to back out now, even as Jett rushed in my direction, even as Brad rammed the ball into my hands.

  I ran ahead, pumping my legs. I tried to swivel around Jett, but there was no stopping him. He barreled right into me, hurling me in the air to land with a slam onto my back.

  “Yeah!” Jett cheered, but everyone else was silent. That is, until Brad rammed into him, knocking Jett to the ground beside where I now hacked into my fist, coughing up sticky phlegm and mucus.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Brad shouted.

  “I’m sorry!” I coughed. “He’s just fast!”

  But Brad wasn’t yelling at me. Instead he was hollering in Jett’s face. “What’s your problem?”

  “My problem?” Jett hopped to his feet. “I’m playing the game! Why is he playing if you’re going to freak when he gets knocked?”

  “It’s all right!” I pushed myself up, still coughing. “It’s fine.” I tried to smile but it came out wobbly. “He did me a favor, actually, breaking up some of the gunk in my lungs.”

  But Brad’s face still flamed. His hands were still curled into fists. “Why’d you tackle him?”

  “It’s football,” Jett countered.

  “It’s Caleb,” Brad spit back.

  Instantly I was ice-water cold. I stepped back. Twice. Then I turned and strode off the field.

  “Hold up!” Brad yelled at my back. “Hang on, Caleb. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”

  I shook my head, not bothering to turn around. Brad’s quick footsteps crunched the dry grass as he ran to catch up to me. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, his voice dropping.

  “I know.” I shrugged, fighting to keep my voice neutral. “Always wondered why no one ever tackled me.”

  Brad didn’t say anything. He just breathed out long and slow when I stopped striding off the field. “It’s not like it’s a rule or anything,” Brad said. “The guys, we just try not to knock you around too much.”

  My eyes burned but I wasn’t crying or anything. “Right,” I said.

  “Come on.” Brad’s arm raised to slam down on my shoulder. Without thinking, I dodged him. “Let’s go back.”

  “No, man,” I said. “I’m good.”

  Brad stopped walking but I didn’t. “You can keep score or something,” he called to my back. But I just kept walking away.

  “Caleb?” Mrs. Richards asked as I walked past. “Would you like to come inside with me? It’s a little hot out here.”

  “No, thanks. I’m fine.”

  “I’d love your company,” she said.

  I shook my head and kept going, sitting so my back was pressed against the brick of the school wall and a shadow covered me like a cool blanket.

  “Awww… did you get knocked down by the big bad football player?” Shelly suddenly stood in front me, her arms crossed and voice singsongy like she was talking to a baby.

  “Leave me alone, Shelly.”

  “Sucks not getting special treatment for once, doesn’t it,” she said, and turned on her heel to walk away.

  Anger surged through me, enough so that I probably could’ve scooped it up and thrown it to splatter across her like a water balloon. But I fisted a handful of dry grass instead, yanking it from the hard ground and crushing it between my fingers.

  “What’s your deal?” Brad charged up to where I sat at lunch. He peered around the table, seeing backpacks claiming all the seats around me. He nabbed one and pulled it from the chair, chucking it onto the table behind us.

  “I think someone was going to sit there,” I pointed out as I unpacked my lunch box. I never bought lunch like Brad and the rest of the guys, and I usually got to the cafeteria before anyone else, since I had to swing by the nurse’s office for a nebulizer treatment and six or seven Creon tablets before I ate. I was glad to be early most days, though. Getting a seat at the right table in the cafeteria was all strategy—come in quick as you can, dump your bag to save your seat, and then hop into line before someone cooler than you came along and moved your bag.

  “It’s just Zach.” Brad shrugged and slunk into the seat. My eyes slid to the lunch line where Zach waited. His hands curled into fists, but I knew he wouldn’t say anything to Brad about moving his backpack. I glanced around to make sure a seat was still open at the table behind us for Zach. Tables fill up fast. Most tables were full—only Shelly sat in a corner alone with her back to everyone else. I slid Zach’s backpack into the open seat.

  “What’ve you got today?” Brad asked around a mouthful of chicken nugget.

  I tilted my thermos in his direction. “Mac and cheese.”

  “Oh, man. That is not mac and cheese. Mac and cheese is nuked for three minutes with cheese powder and milk. That is… I don’t know what that is. But it’s so much more than mac and cheese. Is that bacon on top?”

  I nodded and laughed at Brad’s groan. “Five cheeses, too. Mom bakes it.”

  Brad threw his half nugget onto the plastic tray. “Life is not fair.”

  He didn’t mean anything by it, but suddenly both of us got quiet.

  “What’s going on with you, Caleb?” Brad finally said. “I mean, suddenly everything is so…”

  “Nothing.” I unwrapped a tub of thick chocolate pudding.

  “Something happened,” Brad said. “Does it have to do with recess? I already told Jett he’s out. He’s not going to play with us again, I’ll make sure of it—”

  “Why’d you do that?” I snapped. “He’s a good player.”

  “I’d rather play with you,” Brad said.

  More awkward silence.

  “Is it that kit you were writing about?”

  I coughed on the pudding. “It’s not a kit like something to make. Kit… Kit is a girl.”

  “Oh,” Brad said slowly, his eyes suddenly widening and his face going shiny. “A girl.” He laughed.

  “Not like that!” When he laughed, I threw the cookie I had been unwrapping at his head. Brad caught it (of course) and popped it into his mouth. “Just a person… who happens to be a—”

  “—girl,” Brad drew out the word. “Where did you meet her?”

  “She lives in the woods. Behind my house.”

  “Hmm. You should introduce us,” Brad said. “Maybe she has a friend.” He winked like a television bad guy and laughed. Believe it or not, we’d never talked about girls before. I mean, I had noticed, of course, that
girls suddenly seemed to get blushy and giggly around Brad and, yeah, I noticed the girls themselves. But we didn’t, like, talk about them.

  “Shelly would be crushed.” I laughed.

  Brad threw a carrot stick at me. Of course I didn’t catch it. The carrot just whapped me in the forehead.

  Brad walked with me to my house after school. “So,” he said, and stood on the tips of his toes to scan the woods. “Wanna introduce me to this girl? What’s her name—Kate?”

  “Kit,” I corrected. “Nah, I’ve got that essay to write, remember? You do, too. Tomorrow’s the last day of school!”

  “Exactly.” Brad grinned. “No way Mrs. Richards is going to grade it. It’s a waste of time. I doubt she even reads them.”

  Brad tossed his backpack onto the porch. “Come on,” he said, “let’s go.”

  I stayed put, my hand on the door handle. “Yeah, but we have to read the essays in class. So even if she doesn’t grade them, we’ve got to have something to hand in.”

  “Dude.” Brad put his hands on my shoulders. “Relax. Tomorrow’s Friday and the last day. No way is she going to bother grading them. Let’s go.”

  “I don’t—”

  Brad groaned, throwing his hands up in the air now. “You don’t what, man?”

  I don’t want you to steal her away from me. I don’t want you to suck up all the oxygen around me. I don’t want to be your sidekick—

  But before I could push aside all of those truths and come up with a suitable lie for why I didn’t want Brad to meet Kit, Mom saved me. “Caleb,” she said as she opened the door, the cooler air-conditioned air sending chills across my flaming face, “sorry, but you don’t have time to play outside today. I’m making an early dinner so Patrick has time to eat before track practice.”

  “Fine,” I snapped. I don’t know why I was mad at Mom suddenly, even though she had saved me from fighting with Brad. But I was.

  “See you tomorrow,” Brad said behind me. “Better get started on that essay.”