Maybe the summer did hold possibilities for me after all.
“We should do something tonight,” I said.
We were outside, on the blacktop—the kids running crazy on the playground in the midafternoon heat. Our little guys were playing a rule-less version of kickball with a group of six-year-old girls. We were basically keeping watch. On Friday afternoon, even Owen was lax on organization. One more hour until send-off. For some reason I was pumped.
“Dude, I’m working, remember? I get off at ten—after that maybe?” Wade said.
“Maybe.”
“Why don’t you call Nick and those guys? They’re probably up to something.”
“Nah.”
“You need to stop avoiding them, Bry.”
“I’m not avoiding them; what am I supposed to do with them? Hang out in the parking lot and watch them do stupid shit?”
“You used to be leader of the stupid shit, remember?”
Did I remember? I’d never friggin’ forget.
I dare you, Lakewood.
“And look where it got me.”
“C’mon, I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant . . . you need to do more than Realm Wars, dude. It’s time.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Since your mom is cool, I’ll take that,” he said, punching my shoulder. Just then one of the bigger kids from another group grabbed the kickball and threw it away from the game.
“Aw, shit, can’t these kids just chill?” Wade said, and trotted toward them. I pushed over to get the ball, but someone came out from behind the Dumpster to retrieve it. Nick. He palmed the ball and threw it with one hand to Wade. Then he noticed me.
“Oh hey, sorry, Bry. I didn’t see you.”
I dare you, Lakewood.
I’d been mouthing off, throwing shade about Nick’s recent obsession with parkour. The Dumpsters were close together, the tree branch right there. I’d watched him do it. I knew I could do it better.
The tree branch had been in front of me when I jumped out. I’d calculated the distance. My fingertips grazed it.
You used to be the leader of stupid shit.
“No worries, I get that a lot,” I said. He laughed, came closer. Nick had taken my fall the worst. Blamed himself. I dare you, Lakewood. I knew it wasn’t his fault. He knew it wasn’t his fault. But things had been strained since then. As close as Tori and I had become, Nick kept his distance.
“So, you’re Monty, huh?”
“Hey, shhhh, have to keep my identity on the down low. You know, like Peter Parker and Spider-Man. Right now I’m just, you know, janitor, doing my daily walk of the grounds. Or as I like to call it, lying low until the weekend.”
“Right.”
Cass walked out of the building carrying a large plastic garbage bag and headed for the Dumpster.
“Duty calls. Later, Bry.” Nick jogged over to the Dumpster and opened the top for Cassidy. She smiled at him and laughed at something he said. My jaw clenched watching the exchange, I wasn’t sure why—nothing extraordinary was going on between them, but all I could think was I knew her first.
No. Nope. Nuh-uh.
Falling for her would be asking for annihilation. I had to admit, though, when she talked about being homesick that morning, I’d noticed she didn’t mention a guy.
I’d been stoked.
“Think he’s making the moves on your partner?” Wade asked.
I wheeled around. “No.”
“You should go for it, Bryan.”
“I don’t know.”
“What’s to know? She’s here for three months—she’s perfect. A summer rental.”
I couldn’t think of Cassidy in those terms, but I smiled. I didn’t want to look interested for fear Wade would get involved. I didn’t need to be fixed up. If something was going to happen between me and Cassidy, I wanted it to happen on its own.
Colby dashed up to us then, holding his hand over his left eye, tears rolling down his cheeks. Hunter was by his side.
“He got hit in the face.” Hunter turned to Colby. “It’s okay, you’re not bleeding, Colby.”
Colby wailed.
“C’mere, let me see,” I said, pushing closer to him. After being around him for two weeks, I got that Colby was the kind of kid who needed to have the seams of his socks lined up exactly or he would pitch a fit. He was beginning to come out of his shell though, which was cool. He stepped closer, his breath in quick gasps.
“Okay, buddy, listen, can you take a deep breath for me? Just one, real slow, then let it out.” He tried to do it, but couldn’t.
“I’m going to look at it, okay?” I pried his hand, which was surprisingly strong for a little kid, away from his eye and saw . . . nothing. He was red, but it didn’t look like it would bruise. I hadn’t been paying the best attention—what if something worse had happened? Maybe parents were right to worry about me.
“Oh, no, Colby-Wan, I think you’re going to need major surgery,” Wade said. Colby paled. “Yeah, you know, like a bag of ice or something.”
“Everything okay?”
Cass.
She knelt down so she was eye level with Colby and Hunter.
“I think we need some ice,” I said. She stood up.
“I’ll get some; hang tight, okay?” Colby nodded while she ran off toward the building. Nick followed Cass inside.
“I don’t like kickball,” Colby said.
“Me either,” I said. “I always miss kicking the ball.”
Colby and Hunter looked at each other, then back at me, eyes scanning my legs. I could see them working it through.
“But . . . you can’t kick,” Colby said.
“Yeah, kind of a bummer, but that’s not why I don’t like it; I just like volleyball and basketball better.”
“You play basketball?” Hunter’s eyes widened.
I smiled. “Yep, but I’m not very good at it. I’m pretty decent at volleyball.”
“And he can do more chin-ups than me,” Wade said.
“Really?” they said together.
“No, he lets me win.”
“Not true, wanna go?”
I dare you, Lakewood.
“Not today,” I said.
“Awww,” Colby and Hunter moaned.
“But hey, watch this,” I said, popping up and balancing on my wheels. I didn’t usually like performing, but my diversionary tactic of doing a wheelie so Colby would stop thinking about his eye had worked. Popping was one of the first things I learned to do, even though my mom went ballistic. It wasn’t the cool factor, although for some reason people found it impressive. #wheelchairperk. It was practical for going up and down curbs that weren’t accessible. I’d even handled stairs that way. I did it a few more times when I saw Cass emerge from the building.
“Coool,” Colby said. Cass jogged over, a little breathless. She was holding a baggie with ice and two cake pops in her hand. She knelt down again.
“Here,” she said, putting the ice bag on Colby’s eye. He reached up to keep it in place. She held out the cake pops to both Hunter and Colby. They each grabbed one.
“Keep those pops quiet,” Cass said, putting a finger to her lips. “Tori doesn’t know I swiped them.” Hunter nodded, already half finished. Colby took a smaller bite, wide grin spreading across his face.
“That was pretty cool of Cass to swipe those for you. What do you say, guys?” I said.
“Thank you, Cassidy.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, standing up. Hunter swallowed the rest of his pop, handed Cass the stick, and took off for the game. Colby nibbled a bit more and handed it back to her half-finished, then took off after Hunter. Crisis over.
“Hey, you mind?” Wade grabbed the half-eaten cake pop out of Cass’s hand before she could even answer. “I love Tori’s cake pops.”
“Why does that sound dirty coming from you?” Cass asked.
He laughed and scarfed down the pop.
“Hey, um, what are you doing tonight?�
� Wade asked.
Cassidy blinked fast, looked at me. I had no idea what he was up to.
“My dad is taking us out to a lobster place. We have to get there early or else there’s like a three-hour wait or something. I don’t even think I like lobster, but you know, I have to go.”
“Bummer. Bryan here was looking for something to do.”
Friggin’ Wade.
“Oh, um . . . I’m not sure when I’ll be back, but maybe . . . what about tomorrow afternoon? We could look for that first scavenger-hunt clue? I’d really like to do something other than hang with my family.”
“Um, yeah, that would be cool,” I said.
“Great, I better get back before Tori realizes I’m gone. See ya.”
We watched Cass jog away.
“Hmm, that was pretty cool of Wade to pump Cass for info and get her to ask Bryan to hang out tomorrow, wasn’t it, guys?”
I shook my head, but could not contain my smile.
“You can thank me later.”
NINE
CASSIDY
“CASS, IT’S NINE—TIME TO GET UP,” HUNTER SAID.
I opened one eye to see him standing in the doorway, hands cupped around his mouth. It was a good thing I didn’t like to sleep naked.
“Do you know what knocking is?”
“I did knock. You were snoring.”
I rolled over to face the wall. “I don’t snore.”
“Yes, you do, like this,” he said, and as if I didn’t know what snoring was, he proceeded to demonstrate by snorting and huffing. Loud. I laughed and rolled over to face him.
“I do not sound like that.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Hunter, it’s Saturday. Don’t you like to sleep on Saturdays?”
“Sleep is boring.”
“You have so much to learn,” I said, pulling the blanket over my head.
“Dad sent me up. He made eggs. Scrambled. Your favorite, like me.”
I peeked out of the top of the blanket. “With cheese?”
He nodded.
“Did you help him?”
“Yep.”
There was a tiny flare in my gut, a momentary flash of whisking eggs with Dad. That had been our thing. It’s not like I wanted to do it now. That would just be odd. But I still thought about it as Hunter stared wide-eyed at me. Waiting. I’d been his age when Dad left. Seeing Hunter, I knew there was no way he could understand if Dad just up and walked out now. He’d be hurt. Confused. Just like I’d been—even if I couldn’t voice it at the time.
Dad wasn’t going anywhere in Hunter’s life.
I wondered what that felt like.
“Well, now you talked me into it,” I said, throwing back the blanket and getting out of bed.
“There’s also a box downstairs for you.”
“Really?” I grabbed my floral kimono and threw it over the leggings-and-cami ensemble I wore as pj’s. I followed him downstairs to the kitchen. There was something sweet baking—it seemed there was always something sweet baking, but it made the kitchen warm and cheerful. Easily my favorite room in the house. Dad and Leslie were sitting at the table. He was chuckling at something she said. She got up and squeezed his shoulder as she grabbed the kettle off of the stove. I’d never say it out loud, but it was kind of sweet how they made a point of eating together. I don’t remember Mom eating breakfast with us on Saturdays. She wasn’t a fan of eggs.
“Morning,” I said. Dad looked up and smiled.
“Cass, sit, I’ll get you a plate,” Leslie said.
Everything was lined up on the counter and the stove. Even their personal breakfast time was organized.
“No, that’s okay, I’ll do it,” I said. I took a plate from the cabinet and spooned a generous portion of scrambled eggs on it. They were light and fluffy and I could practically hear Dad’s instructions as the steam tickled my nose.
You want to take them off the heat when they’re not quite done. They still cook when you take them off, but they won’t overcook. If you overcook them, they get too stiff.
He made them with milk, not water, a pinch of salt, and a dash of black pepper. Maybe he didn’t always send my birthday cards on time, or get me Christmas presents that weren’t practical, but there, on that plate, he had the dad thing down to perfection.
“So do I really have a package?” I asked.
Dad wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Yes, from your mother. It’s in the office.”
“Can I help open it?” Hunter asked.
I smiled. “Of course.”
“After breakfast,” Leslie said, sitting down again.
“Any plans today? Hunter and I were going to fish at the pier if you’re interested,” Dad said.
“I think I actually might be doing something.”
“Oh?” Leslie and Dad looked at each other.
“Yeah, nothing definite; I have to call,” I said, realizing I didn’t even have Bryan’s number. I thought I remembered seeing a contacts sheet in the handouts from Mr. Beckett though.
“Cassidy, come on, we want details,” Leslie said.
“There’s this scavenger hunt. A camp thing. Bryan Lakewood is my partner.”
“Bryan?! Can I come?”
“You’d be bored, Hunter,” I said. I hated how disappointed he looked when I turned him down for something, but I craved a bit of me time.
A chime pinged. Leslie put down her tea cup and got up from the table.
“Early check-in this morning. Jeff, could you make sure those sweet rolls . . .”
“I’m on it,” Dad said. Leslie ran her fingers through Hunter’s hair as she went out to the registration podium in the front hall.
After breakfast, Hunter and I went into Dad’s office to open my care package. The desktop was spare, except for a stapler, a basket with Ocean Whispers brochures, a flat-screen monitor, and a stone coaster with some inspirational saying about walking confidently toward your dreams. I picked up the box and sat in Dad’s desk chair.
“Dad keeps the scissors in his top drawer,” Hunter said, sliding it open.
“Thanks.”
Hunter ripped off the brown paper. I used the scissors to slice through the packing tape that held the sides together. I’d barely finished cutting as Hunter pulled open the flaps, and we both rummaged through. His first find was a cellophane bag tied with a hot-pink ribbon.
“Boring,” he proclaimed, and put it aside.
“Boring? This stuff is the best!” I said, grabbing it. My favorite coconut body wash and a loofah. Hunter pulled out a bikini top and giggled. The box also contained a pretty sundress and a huge bottle of sunscreen, SPF a million. There was an envelope in the bottom of the box marked Cass. I ripped it open. Inside was a note and three twenties.
“Hunter, here—thanks for helping,” I said, giving him a twenty.
“Really?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Daaaaad!” He ran out of the room with the bill in his hand. I read the note.
Cass,
We miss you! Hope you enjoy your goodies.
Don’t forget to slather on the sunscreen!
Talk soon!
xoxo,
Mom
PS Go buy yourself some lipstick and kiss someone silly! xo Nan
Kiss someone silly? Did she forget a comma? I laughed.
My father came in with the twenty I’d given to Hunter in his hand. “Cass, did you give this to him?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Are you sure?”
Hunter was by Dad’s legs looking a bit pouty.
“Yes, Nan sent it for him,” I lied.
“See, told you.”
Dad smiled and handed him back the bill. “Go put it in your bank.”
Hunter raced upstairs, the house practically shaking.
“That was very generous of you, thanks.”
“Well, maybe we can use it at the arcade or something. I feel a little bad telling him no.”
“Cass, stop. H
e’s happy with any time you give him. You’re here to have fun too. I’m glad you might do something with Bryan this afternoon. You should be getting out.”
“Hey, Dad, do you know the Lakewoods?”
“Yes, I work with Bryan’s mom.”
“Would you happen to have their number?”
“I can do better than that,” he said, coming around to his monitor. He clicked the mouse a few times and the screen came to life. “Bryan helped me in the lab last year; I’m pretty sure I have his number here somewhere.”
“Thanks,” I said, collecting my stuff.
“Here it is,” he said. He grabbed a small pad from his top drawer and scribbled down the number. He ripped it off and handed it to me.
“Do you know what happened to him?”
“What do you mean?”
“How he got hurt.”
My father shut down whatever file he’d been looking at and stood up, hands in pockets. “I’m not entirely sure—I know it happened in the Crescent Beach parking lot; the kids skateboard there. He fell somehow.”
“That sucks.” Nothing that exciting, he’d said. A fall? Something as simple as that and his life was altered forever. No wonder he didn’t want to talk about it.
“He has a great support system though, integrated well in school. He’s a good kid.”
I thought of him speeding down that road with his brother the night he saw me at Crescent Beach. Good kid, ha, with a wild side. “Thanks for the number, Dad.”
Upstairs, I flopped down, package and all, onto my bed. I took the note from Mom and Nan and pinned it to my bulletin board, along with Bryan’s number. I reached for my phone. A message from Emma—Pictures, gurl!! This is war! Boobs, please! I laughed, tapped in Bryan’s number. The call went to voice mail, and his message was so polite and serious, I had to smile. Most guys I knew barely said, “Yo, leave a message!” Meanwhile he was all, “You’ve reached Bryan Lakewood. I can’t make it to the phone right now . . .” Cute. I cleared my throat. “Hey, Bryan Lakewood, it’s Cass. Cassidy. Emmerich. From camp. Thought we could hook up to search out that scavenger-hunt clue. I’m desperate to get out of this place, but . . . oh . . . wait . . . I mean that in a good way, not like I’m desperate, or you’re desperate or anything, I just think it would be cool to hang out. Call me.”
The Season of You & Me Page 9
