“Can we talk?” I asked. She frowned slightly and moved to let some of the others who’d been on the patio go past her. She pulled up a lawn chair next to me.
“Why so serious?”
“Why did you tell Cassidy that I’m seeing Liv?”
She looked down, inspected her fingernails. “I don’t know, it just came out. I saw the way you were looking at her on the first day of camp. And . . . just, no.”
“No? Since when do you care who I . . . wait, what do you mean, the way I was looking at her?”
“Let’s just say, if you were a cartoon character, your eyes would be stars, maybe hearts at this point.”
“C’mon.”
“That’s what I saw. That’s what I always see this time of the year. All of you get a little stupid over the summer girls.”
“Cassidy isn’t a summer girl. It’s different. We’re just friends anyway.”
“Then why do you care so much if I tell her you’re seeing Liv?”
“Because I’m not seeing Liv.”
“You could be. Benny Barbie is going to be gone at the end of the summer and Liv will be back and she actually lives here and cares about you.”
I thought about the last time I’d seen Liv, what she’d said.
“No, Tori, she doesn’t.”
“Yes she does. Look, I know what happened.”
“What?”
“I know she told you she couldn’t handle it.”
The blood left my face. I knew Tori and Liv were tight, but I didn’t want to think about what else she’d told her. About what had happened in her basement that night. In the beginning, after my fall, I had no choice but to have people talk about me as if I were an object, touching me, prodding me, speculating about my ability to take a piss or get a hard-on as if I wasn’t even in the room. Part of me learned to laugh about it, but this was different. Personal. I didn’t need Tori or anyone else trying to fix my life anymore. Her stare was a white-hot spotlight on my face. I made a conscious effort not to physically react to what she said.
“I wish she hadn’t talked to you about that.”
Her expression softened. “She didn’t tell me specifics, Bryan, just that you left and you haven’t talked since. She’s felt bad about it.”
“She’s had time to talk to me about it. She never did,” I said.
“You never really let her, did you?”
“Tori, she told me the truth that night, and it’s fine, because maybe I couldn’t handle being with her either.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that even if that didn’t happen, we probably wouldn’t be together. I think we had other problems besides me being in this chair.”
“Like what? You guys were pretty perfect together.”
“I don’t like her like that, okay? Never did. I tried and I think she’s great. I just don’t want to be with her, so stop trying to fix it. Why are you all over me when you don’t even have the balls to tell Wade how you feel?”
My words stung. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again, looked away. “How do you even know that?”
“You, um, have some stars too,” I said.
She put a hand to her forehead. “Oh, God, it’s that obvious.”
“To me; maybe not to him.”
She sat back in the lawn chair, crossed her legs. “Of course, it’s summer, I’m invisible.”
“I think you’re exaggerating.”
“Really? Because it’s all I hear him talk about. Benny chicks, summer girls, tourist babes—I can’t compete with new and no strings attached.”
“You should just tell him.”
“That’s asking for disaster.”
Wade came back with a plate piled high with food, balanced on a red party cup, and sat down across from us. He looked at Tori, then me as he put the cup on the ground next to his feet. “What’d I miss?”
“Everything, as usual,” Tori said, standing up. “Want anything, Bry?”
“Nah, I’ll go over there in a minute.”
She shot Wade a look before walking away. Definitely one with no stars.
“What’s her problem?” he said, practically inhaling his chili dog.
“She likes you.”
He puzzled while chewing. “Well, duh, it’s Tori.”
“No, dude, think about what I just said.”
He flinched, looked over toward her, then back at me. A series of expressions—disbelief, wonder, shock—lit up his face before he finally picked up his chili dog again. He stopped midbite and put it down. “Nah . . . really?”
“Yes, really. Now you know, so do something about it. Or not,” I said.
I scoped the yard for Cass. She was headed our way with Jena and Nick.
“Cass!” I called. She said something to them, then broke away and came over.
“Hey.”
“Do you think you could help me over at the food table?” I asked.
Wade looked up from his food and grinned. He knew this was something I’d never do normally, but acting helpless was such a helpful #wheelchairperk, especially when flirting. And that’s what I was doing. Taking my own advice. Going for it. She smiled.
“Okay, sure. I’m starving.”
Later, when the sun finally set, we gathered out front to watch the fireworks display that my dad and Owen put on every year. It wasn’t as big as the ones near the beach, but they did have enough artillery shells and repeaters to make it impressive. Cass was busy helping Hunter catch fireflies, a huge grin on her face as she closed her palms around one. She opened her hands to let Hunter take a peek.
I knew Cassidy Emmerich was a summer girl. Tori was right—she’d be gone at the end of the tourist season, but as I sat there watching her, I didn’t care. I liked her. I did. There was something about Cass when she didn’t realize anyone was watching her. She was sincere. That’s the best way I could describe it. I saw it when she helped the kids in camp, when she laughed with Jena at the pool in the morning, and now with Hunter. And in that moment, as she held out her hand to let the firefly loose, I realized that I didn’t care whether she was in Crest Haven for four minutes, four hours, four days, or four weeks. I wanted to be in Cassidy’s life, to know her, and whatever time we had, it would have to be enough.
She caught me looking and smiled.
“Is your father really setting off fireworks? Can he do that?” She came over and crouched down next to me.
“He does the mayor’s lawn.”
“Ah, so he has an in.”
“Well, that and the cops wouldn’t know where to look; once it gets dark it sounds like a war zone around here. As long as no one gets hurt, everyone’s cool.”
“That’s good. Wouldn’t be the Fourth without fireworks.”
“About that—did you read the latest clue on the scavenger hunt?”
“Yep. How did it go . . . ?”
“Look up at the sky on this holiday night, rain will come down, burning so bright.”
“I think I know what it means. How about you?”
Her eyes held mine. God, could she see the stars Tori teased me about? I could look at her all night.
“Fireworks,” we both said.
“Seems too easy,” she said.
“I don’t think they’re all supposed to be hard. We have to put them together; that’ll be a challenge.”
“I think we’re going to kick ass,” she said.
The first firework went off, a bright-red artillery shell that caused a couple of the kids hunting for fireflies to stop and look up. Someone said Wow. Another went off, then another. Cass pulled out her phone and snapped a few pics. I wondered if they were just for her, or if she was going to post them to bother her ex.
“Cass, we have to head out after the last one goes off,” Mr. Emmerich said, walking up behind us.
“Nooooo,” Hunter said. “Why do we always have to leave in the middle of everything?”
Cass pulled him over to her a
nd wrapped her arms around him in a playful hug. “Dad said we’re leaving when it’s over, bud. It’s still happening. Enjoy it now.”
“I hate when things end,” he said.
Wise words for a little dude. I couldn’t have agreed with him more.
Monday, Cass was a no-show for swimming. I tried to focus, put in a good workout—that was what I was there for: to swim, to get stronger, prepping to go back into the ocean. Stroke, breathe, stroke, breathe, blue bikini. Gah. I swam until my arms stung, then got the noodles to do my blissed-out floaty thing, as Jena and Cass called it. While I tried to breathe, just let go and imagine I was in the ocean, I got the feeling I was being watched.
I opened my eyes.
Wade. He leaned against Jena’s lifeguard perch, which she didn’t mind at all. She twirled the cord of her whistle around her forefinger while beaming at him.
“Hey, who knew you could get up this early,” I said.
“Ha, funny. Like I’ve been able to sleep at all after what you told me.”
“Huh?”
“I’ll meet you at the other end,” he said, pointing to where I kept my wheelchair. I wasn’t quite ready to finish; there was still some time and I was holding out for Cass to arrive, but an up-early Wade was a Wade with something on his mind. I put the noodles back by the lifeguard stand, thanked Jen, and swam to the end of the pool where he was waiting.
“You’re looking really strong, Bry. Think you’ll be ready to swim on field day?”
“Field day? Nah, too much to pay attention to with the kids, but you know . . . soon. Hey, have you been surfing with Matt and those guys?” I pulled myself up, spun, and sat, unhooking the clips on my pull buoy.
Wade tossed me a towel and sat down, hands clasped around his knees.
“Dude, you can tell me if you go, I don’t care,” I said.
“Ah, yeah, only once or twice. I am trying to hold out until you’re ready, and you look pretty ready, dude.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to do that.”
“Have you seen Matty with my fish?”
“Your red board? Nah. Just the longboard. Why?”
“He just . . . he used it and he hasn’t returned it. I know I’m not using it, but—I think he wrecked it and he’s afraid to tell me,” I said.
“I haven’t seen him with it, but I’ve only been out with them a couple of times. I don’t think he’d wreck it.”
I wanted to believe it. I’d been doing some online research on how to adapt a surfboard. I wasn’t sure if I was going to do it, but it was nice to think about being on the fish again. I ran the towel across my head.
“So why haven’t you been able to sleep?”
“Check this . . . so the other night, this hot tourist chick comes into the restaurant and we just hit it off. She’s with her parents but at the end of the meal she gives me her number. Do you want to know what I did with it?”
“Do I have to ask?”
“Nothing. Nada. Niente.”
“Really?”
He leaned back on his hands. “You and your so do something about it. Like what, Bry? Tori’s Tori. I can’t say I’ve never thought about her that way, because I have . . . a lot . . . but it scares the hell out of me. It’s too real.”
“I get it—and then what happens when it all goes bad? Can you really be friends?”
“I’m not worried about it going bad, I’m worried about it going good.”
I thought he was kidding, but he didn’t flinch or crack a smile.
“That’s . . . wow, totally not what I was expecting.”
“It takes constant maintenance when it’s going good. And I don’t mean like Tori’s hard to impress or not worth it, it’s just work. I’ve seen the poor schmucks my sisters date and they’re like sheep, man. We’re going to be seniors. I don’t want to worry about anyone’s happiness but my own. I know how that sounds, but screw it.”
The women’s locker room door burst open and Cass came out, wheeling the towel bin. Her face was flushed. She smiled when she saw me and Wade.
“I totally overslept this morning; really could have used a swim too,” she said, pushing the bin past us and going to fill up the rack behind us.
“So, Cass is here, like, every day?”
I looked down into the pool, trying my hardest not to grin, but I couldn’t help it.
Wade shook his head and smiled. “Lakewood, you dog.”
THIRTEEN
CASSIDY
I SAT ON MY WICKER CHAIR AND STARED OUT THE window at the big gray clouds that rolled across the sky. The ocean looked inky, even in the early-evening light. Choppy white caps dotted the surface. No magical sunsets for Crest Haven that evening.
The week so far had been rain, rain, and more rain. I was hiding out. Hunter had been going on and on about some new game at the arcade called Whack-a-Shark and I wasn’t in the mood. I hadn’t heard from Ems since the Fourth, and as much as I didn’t want to know what had happened at the Henleys’, I kind of did. She had liked my pictures on StalkMe, so I knew she saw. I just wondered what was up. Being ghosted by her was so not cool.
Someone tapped on my door.
“Come in.”
Hunter.
I’d been found.
“Hey,” I said.
“Wanna go get an ice? It’s not raining right now, and Dad said you can take me. It’s only a few blocks away.”
“Sip N’ Freeze? Sure.”
Outside, the air was still, like Crest Haven was holding its breath waiting for something to happen. I heard a rumbling in the distance, but couldn’t tell if it was thunder or a car. I held Hunter’s hand tighter.
“C’mon, I want to get back before it pours.”
“I brought my ’brella! Got us covered!” Hunter said, twirling it around his wrist.
We walked the three blocks to Sip N’ Freeze and I tried to keep up with Hunter’s constant chatter about the slush flavors. He liked root beer but they ran out of it a lot, and cherry was close behind, but not sour cherry because that made his tongue feel like pins were sticking in it. His absolute favorite was blue raspberry because it had the extra-special effect of being able to turn his tongue bright blue, which lasted even after he brushed his teeth. By the time we reached Sip N’ Freeze, I was sure I could win a slush trivia contest.
I’d thought the crappy weather would keep the crowds away, but Sip N’ Freeze was packed. A line stretched all the way to the sidewalk. The break in the rain must have made everyone want to get out. We stood at the end of the line.
“It’s gonna take forever.”
“It’ll be worth it,” I said, ignoring another low rumble in the distance.
My phone went off in my back pocket.
Ems. I picked up right away.
“Omigod, it’s about time you called me. How was the pig roast? A disaster, I hope.”
Silence.
“Emma?”
“It was a fucking disaster. Wanna know why?”
My stomach dropped.
It wasn’t Emma.
“Cassidy, please don’t hang up.”
Tears popped up, fucking tears, involuntarily. I’d thought I was finished crying over him, but the sound of his voice . . . I loved the sound of his voice. . . . There was always an edge to it, like the next thing he would say was going to be some wild revelation. Or lie—it could be a fucking lie, remember that?
I slowed my breathing. Hunter tugged on my shorts to step forward. I didn’t hang up, but I didn’t say anything either.
“Are you still there?”
“That was low,” I said.
“You wouldn’t pick up if you knew it was me.”
“Emma would never—”
“Emma doesn’t know, okay? They’re outside in the pool right now. I came in, and she’d left her phone on the counter.”
“She’d never do that.”
“Okay, I swiped it from her bag. Does it matter? I just . . . I wanted to hea
r your voice.”
“Well, you’ve heard it. Good-bye.”
I made no move to hang up.
“You asked about me. You thought I was Emma and you asked about me.”
“I asked about the pig roast, but I guess that’s the same thing, isn’t it?”
He chuckled. “Okay, I deserve that. I miss you, Cassidy.”
We moved up in line.
“What do you want?”
“You. Always you. Come home.”
“How can you even be serious right now?” A mom in front of us gave me a once-over and I realized I was talking loud. I leaned down to Hunter. “Do you think you could keep our place while I go over there and talk?”
He looked doubtful, even a little scared. “How about if I just move over here, like two feet away, and I keep moving up with you?”
“Mmmkay,” he said.
I stepped away until he gave me a thumbs-up. I turned my back.
“Who are you with?” Gavin asked.
“None of your business. I don’t even know why I’m still on the phone with you.”
“I think it’s because deep down, you miss me too. Cass.”
Did I? Hearing his voice stirred up something—feelings, not all bad but not all good. I couldn’t answer that. He continued.
“I miss you so much. I fucked up, I get it. I’m not . . . with that girl anymore. I never really was, Cass. Not like with us. Please stop punishing me.”
“Me being here is not about punishing you,” I said.
“It isn’t? Then why aren’t you answering my texts? Why are you suddenly posting all these pictures after two months of nothing?”
“Because I have a life that doesn’t revolve around you. I have something to post.”
“Tell me you didn’t post that blue bikini picture just to drive me a little crazy. Tell me, and I’ll hang up. I won’t bother you again.”
My mouth was open, the words right there, no, I didn’t post it for you. But I couldn’t say it. It was a fucking lie. Everything . . . fuck . . . everything was still for him.
He sighed. Heavy. Satisfied.
“It worked, Cassidy. You win, okay? I need you. There’s so much . . . shit, Emma’s coming. Call me. Please. Say you’ll at least think about it.”
The Season of You & Me Page 12
