By seven thirty, Frank and I were ready to head out. I’d showered and borrowed one of Sloane’s dresses—she’d admitted she owed me after taking the Bug Juice T-shirt. As I came outside with my purse, Frank and Sloane were talking, and they stopped as I approached. This worried me slightly, especially coupled with the fact that when I raised my eyebrows at her, Sloane shot me a tiny wink.
Frank was wearing a Hilton Head Golf Tournament T-shirt that confused me until I realized that Sloane had probably taken it from Anderson and given it to him. Frank said good-bye to Sloane, and then he headed over to the truck, and I knew that he was giving Sloane and me a chance to say our farewells alone.
“So,” Sloane said as we stood together by the front steps. “We’ll talk tonight?”
I nodded. It was one of the things we’d discussed last night in the dark—we would talk twice a week at least, without fail. She wasn’t allowed to disappear on me, nor I on her. “I’ll call you as soon as I’m back,” I promised.
Sloane looked at me and shook her head. “I can’t believe you came here,” she said. She let out a shaky breath, and her lower lip was trembling, just like I could feel mine was. “I just . . . ,” she started.
I nodded. “Me too,” I said. She hugged me tight, and I hugged her back. I was going to miss her—I knew it. But somehow, I had the feeling that we were going to be okay. I didn’t know what would happen with us. Maybe we’d find a way to attend the same college and be roommates and have the most amazingly decorated dorm room ever. Maybe we’d end up being pen pals, sending lists back and forth. Or we’d just stick to talking twice a week, or we’d video chat, or else just spend all our money traveling to hang out with each other on weekends. I somehow knew that the particulars didn’t matter. She was my heart, she was half of me, and nothing, certainly not a few measly hundred miles, was ever going to change that.
We broke apart and Sloane wiped under her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
I gave her a trembly smile back. “It’s okay,” I said.
“We’ll talk tonight,” she said. It wasn’t a question. It was the plan, and I nodded.
“Tonight,” I said. We just looked at each other for a moment longer. There was nothing to do now but leave, and we both knew it. I made myself turn and walk away from her, back toward the truck, and Sloane stayed where she was, by the steps.
I got into the passenger seat, and looked across at Frank. “You okay?” he asked, as I buckled myself in and rolled down my window while he started the engine.
I looked back at Sloane, who was still standing by the steps, not making any move to go inside. “Yeah,” I said. “I am.”
Frank pulled the truck down the driveway, and I turned in my seat to look back. Sloane was walking behind us, holding one hand up in a wave. I waved back, and she followed behind us until we turned onto the main road. I leaned half out the window to wave back at her, and I saw her see this and smile. And she kept following the truck, like we were a very small parade, waving and waving, until Frank took the curve in the road and then she was gone.
18
TAKE A CHANCE
We didn’t have the radio on this time, but I didn’t want it. Both our windows were unrolled and the warm air was blowing through the truck ruffling Frank’s hair, which had dried funny, with pieces sticking up here and there. It was all I could do not to reach over and run my hands through it.
He took his eyes off the road and looked over at me, and I didn’t blush or look away. I just looked right back at him. There was tension between us again, but it wasn’t the simmering, angry kind that had been there the day before. This felt like the way you get nervous right before something exciting happens—the moment when you’re balanced on the top of the roller coaster, the hush before the surprise party, the second after the diving board but before the water, when you can close your eyes and imagine, for just a second, that you’re flying. The feeling that good things were coming, almost here, any moment now.
Frank was driving with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the seat between us. Without knowing I was going to, without thinking about it first, I slid as close to him as my seat belt would allow and rested my hand on his.
He smiled without taking his eyes off the road, turned his palm up, and threaded his fingers through mine. My heart started beating double-time, but it only lasted a moment, as Frank took his hand back, put on his turn signal, and took the next exit off the highway.
I glanced over at him, surprised. “Where are we going?”
He smiled at me. “You’ll see.”
I leaned forward to try and see where he was headed, but we were only off the highway for a few minutes before he turned down a narrow, unmarked dirt path. “How did you even know about this?” The sun hadn’t yet totally risen, but the path was so dense with trees that it almost looked like we were going into night again as he drove through them.
“Sloane may have mentioned something about one of her favorite spots,” he said, making another turn.
The dense trees opened up and there was a clearing that he pulled the truck into. He put it in park and turned off the engine and, like we’d discussed it beforehand, we both got out. The clearing provided a scenic viewpoint of its own, though this one wasn’t marked for tourists, and we were the only ones seeing it. All around us was the view of a gorgeous valley, slowly being lit up by the rising sun.
Frank turned to look down at me, and he was right there, so close. “Hi,” he said.
I looked up at him. Now that the moment was here, it didn’t feel scary. What would happen would happen, and I couldn’t know or control it. But I was ready for it to begin. “Hey,” I said.
“In a well-ordered universe,” he said, and I could hear how nervous he was, “I’d be able to do this.” He leaned his head down and kissed me softly, then pulled back, making sure this was okay.
I smiled at him. “Then we must be in one,” I said. And as the sun rose behind us and he bent his head down to kiss me again, I leaned forward.
Toward him, and to whatever came next.
© Meredith Zinner
Morgan Matson received her MFA in writing for children from the New School. She was named a Publishers Weekly Flying Start author for her first book, Amy & Roger’s Epic Detour, which was an ALA Top Ten Best Book for Young Adults. Her second book, Second Chance Summer, was the winner of the California State Book Award. She lives in Los Angeles. Visit her at morganmatson.com.
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Also by Morgan Matson
Amy & Roger’s Epic Detour
Second Chance Summer
An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2014 by Morgan Matson
Jacket design by Lucy Ruth Cummins
Jacket photography copyright © 2014 by Meredith Jenks
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Book design by Lucy Ruth Cummins
The text for this book is set in Bembo.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Matson, Morgan.
Since you’ve been gone / Morgan Matson.
pages cm
Summary: Quiet Emily’s sociable and daring best friend, Sloane, has disappeared, leaving nothing but a random list of bizarre tasks for her to complete, but with unexpected help from popular classmate Frank Porter, Emily gives them a try.
ISBN 978-1-4424-3500-1 (hardback)
ISBN 978-1-4424-3502-5 (eBook)
[1. Self-reliance—Fiction. 2. Best friends—Fiction. 3. Friendship—Fiction. 4. Dating (Social customs)—Fiction. 5. Family life—Connecticut—Fiction. 6. Connecticut—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.M43151Sin 2014
[Fic]—dc23
2013041617
Contents
Epigraph
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1: The List
Chapter 2: Apple Picking at Night
Chapter 3: 55 S. Ave. Ask for Mona
Chapter 4: Hug a Jamie
Chapter 5: Share Some Secrets in the Dark
Chapter 6: Kiss a Stranger
Chapter 7: Sleep Under the Stars
Chapter 8: Penelope
Chapter 9: Break Something
Chapter 10: Ride a Dern Horse, Ya Cowpoke
Chapter 11: Dance Until Dawn
Chapter 12: Go Skinny-Dipping
Chapter 13: The Backless Dress. And Somewhere to Wear It
Chapter 14: Steal Something
Chapter 15
Chapter 16: Take a Road Trip
Chapter 17: Find What’s Lost
Chapter 18: Take a Chance
About Morgan Matson
Since You've Been Gone Page 35
