How My Summer Went Up in Flames (12 page)

Logan answers Spencer with a shrug that confirms he did and remains quiet, but Spencer keeps talking. “Yeah, our dad doesn’t know when to say when.”

Why didn’t Logan tell me? He could have mentioned this during our heart-to-heart in Arkansas. Even though it’s not her fault, I don’t like Avery knowing something I don’t. These are my guys.

A few awkward moments pass before Avery speaks. “Well, I’m the spawn of a renowned cardiologist.” She grabs
a bottle of white wine and begins to open it with a corkscrew. “And she approves of drinking one glass of wine a day.”

“Isn’t red wine the one with all the antioxidants?” Spencer asks. No one acknowledges him.

“Does she approve of
you
drinking one glass of wine a day?” Matty asks.

“I don’t know. She’s not home enough to tell me what she thinks.” She doesn’t hide her bitterness. “And as long as no one is driving, my dad won’t say anything. He knows after I leave for college next month, I can drink whenever I want.”

My brain is still running in circles about Logan and Spencer’s father. How mean is mean? I wonder. Did that play into Logan’s decision to go to college two thousand miles from home? Wanderlust, bullshit. Surely Arizona State isn’t the only college in the country to offer a sustainability major. I watch Avery pour herself a glass of wine.

“Can I have one too?” I ask, suddenly wanting to appear more like Avery.

“Of course,” says Avery. She hands me the glass and pours herself another. “Matty?”

“I think I’ll stick with a beer,” Matty says. I promptly shoot him a look. When Avery bends down to look in the
mini-fridge, I mouth: “Only one.” Matty may think he’s in charge of me during this road trip, but I’m still older. Matty never drinks, and I don’t want him getting carried away. But at the same time, I don’t want to embarrass him in front of a cute girl.

“So, your mom’s a cardiologist?” Matty asks. “Do you want to become a doctor too?”

Polite conversation or flirting? It’s hard to tell with Matty.

“Me? No. I want to help people in some way, though. My dad is a social worker. I thought about that for a while, but I’m more interested in the big picture. That’s what drew me to the sustainability major at ASU. I’ve also been looking into the Peace Corps for after college. This summer, I’m going to work for Habitat for Humanity.”

The Peace Corps? Habitat for Humanity? “Wow,” I say. No wonder Logan likes her. They’ve got a lot in common. I’m slightly envious that Avery knows what she wants to do with her life. I’m slightly envious of Avery, period. I’m starting to feel silly that I never once considered leaving New Jersey, especially not for some underdeveloped country. Painful shots, giant insects—not my thing. But what have I done for mankind lately beyond contributing a gift to the Toys for Tots booth at the mall every Christmas?

“What about you?” Avery asks me. I’ve been quiet, and I can tell she’s being nice and trying to bring me into the conversation. “Any ideas about what you wanna be when you grow up?”

Uh, Joey’s wife. That would have been my answer a few weeks ago. What do I say here? To be honest, I’ve thought about applying to the Fashion Institute of Technology in the city. But I haven’t told a soul, and I don’t want anyone laughing at my dream of designing wedding gowns right now. “I’m not sure,” I say.

I sound stupid and immature, and not at all like the kind of girl whom Logan would confide in or drive hundreds of miles out of his way to visit. I’m recognizing how much I want Logan to see me as more than just this impulsive, pain-in-the-ass, emotional overeater. I’m not giving him much to work with, am I? I’d pick Avery too. Suddenly, I feel drained. If I close my eyes, I think I might fall asleep on this bar stool. I push my unfinished wine away. Avery finishes her drink and turns to me. “You ’bout ready for bed? Y’all must be tired.”

“Exhausted,” I reply.

“Not so much,” Matty says.

“Mind if we check out those video games?” Spencer asks.

“Make yourself at home. The pool house is all yours. Me and Rosie will see you at breakfast. Anyone want to go for a morning run?”

She puts her hand on Logan’s shoulder as if she already knows his answer.

“Sure,” Logan says. Spencer nods.

“Maybe,” Matty says. Maybe? That boy doesn’t run unless the basketball coach makes him do wind sprints. Is Matty trying to make a move on a girl Logan’s into, a girl who also happens to be two years older than him?

“Okay, I’ll come by for y’all around seven.”

Seven? Ha! That seals the deal. Matty will still be drooling on his pillow.

“What about you, Rosie?”

I’d get winded before I made it to the end of the driveway. “Uh, I don’t even own running shoes. But breakfast, I’m there.”

“We can get mani-pedis afterward.”

“Now you’re speaking my language,” I say. I give the boys a half wave and feel a pang of separation anxiety. Why? I’m not exactly sure. I should be thrilled to get away from them for a night. I shake it off and follow Avery into the house and up to her room, where, after a shower in her
private bathroom, I collapse on the pull-out bed. I’m in that weird state between dreamland and consciousness when Avery’s voice pipes up in the darkness.

“We hooked up, ya know.”

“Waa?” I mumble. I meant “who,” but it didn’t come out that way.

“Logan and I. We hooked up.”

“Tonight?”

“Back in May. At prefreshman orientation. I let things go a bit too far. I feel kinda bad about it.”

Her words blow through my brain like a cold front clearing away heavy humidity. How far is too far?
None of your damned business, Rosie,
says the part of me that wants to be a polite houseguest.

“Anyway, I thought you should know. I see the way he looks at you. Don’t get me wrong, I like having Logan as a friend. We’re into the same things, he’s fun to talk to and text and all that, but like I said, I don’t want to start college as someone’s girlfriend.”

“I don’t blame you,” I say.

“For hooking up with Logan or wanting to stay single?”

“Both.” I appreciate her honesty and want to return the favor.

We’re silent for a couple of seconds before I ask, “How does Logan look at me?”

“The same way you look at him, silly,” she says. I can hear the smile in her voice. “Night, Rosie.”

“Night, Avery.” I hope she hears me smiling back.

“Joey called.”

I open my eyes slowly. I’m not sure where I am and if I’m hearing properly. A girl’s knees come into focus. Avery. Now I remember. I rode into Texas yesterday in a Ford Taurus with Matty, Logan, Spencer, and one guitar.

“What?” I sit up, trying to shake the sleep off.

“Matty told me. Joey called. Mister Blue Eyes. That’s him, right?”

My heads swims with a mixture of curiosity and anxiety. “Yes. When? What did he say? Did Matty talk to him? Did Joey leave a voice mail?”

“I don’t know the specifics. After our run, Matty was going to tell you himself, but I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about him barging in here first thing in the morning. I told him I’d give you the message.”

“Thanks, but I’m okay with Matty barging in. That’s normal at my house.”

I throw off the covers and get out of bed.

“Y’all are pretty close, huh?”

I don’t feel like talking about Matty right now. I feel like running downstairs and finding out what the deal is, but I pause for a second and try to be polite. “Close? I guess. Like siblings that don’t always get along.”

“But you’re not siblings. And you don’t always fight,” Avery says with a knowing smile that I choose to ignore. Is she stalling? Is this about Matty or is this about her not wanting me to find out what the hell Joey said? I’m getting agitated. Who am I kidding? I am agitated. Lately, I’m always agitated.

“Uh, where’s Matty?”

“In the kitchen with the boys helping my dad cook breakfast.”

“Cool.” I’m about to go downstairs, bed head and all, when Avery steps between me and the door. My chest tightens and I’m finding it difficult to take deep breaths.

“Ah, ah, ah,” she says. “Hold on. You don’t want those
three to think you’re dying to talk to Joey, do you?”

“But I am. Matty knows that.”

I’m resisting the urge to fling her ninety-pound body out of my way and run to the kitchen to find out what Joey said—and call him back.
Breathe, Rosie, breathe.

“This is the guy that cheated on you and called the police, remember? Before you do anything crazy, think about why he’s calling you. Does he want to get you in more trouble?”

Why does she care? Would I care what Avery did if the situation were reversed? I look at her face all cute and serious, and still a bit sweaty from that run, I might add. Now I feel guilty, especially for wanting to fling her tiny body across the room.

“Maybe I’ll shower first. My hair’s a mess.”

“Good girl. You can shower in here.”

“And shave my legs. That’s what I’ll do.”

“Now you’re talkin’. I’ll use my parents’ bathroom. We’ll head down to breakfast together.”

 • • •

Forty minutes later, when I walk into the kitchen with Avery, whatever ridiculous conversation the boys are having while eating their pancakes stops so fast it’s like someone hit the mute button. Spencer, Matty, and Logan stare at us.
Were they talking about me instead of dissecting all six
Star Wars
episodes again? I walk toward an empty seat at the head of the table, facing the patio. Through the French door, I see Avery’s dad watering hanging baskets of petunias. I inhale slowly and look around the table at the boys. I know they must be waiting for me to ask about the Call, but I lock eyes with Avery and the two of us pull out our chairs and sit down. I’m having a
My Fair Lady
moment. I’m the crass Eliza Doolittle and Avery is the gentlemanly Professor Higgins, struggling to turn me into a proper lady with good manners.

Avery passes me a service plate heaped with food.

“Pancakes? Sausage?”

“Thank you,” I say, digging in.

“Can you pass that syrup?” Avery says.

“Sure.” The tension builds, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek so I don’t start laughing. Finally, Spencer breaks.

“Joey drunk dialed you last night!”

I pause. Calm Rosie is leaving the building.

“How would you know?” I’m talking to Spencer but glaring at Matty. “What did you tell them? This is private.”

“They overheard me telling your parents.”

“Telling my parents? What? Spill it, Matty.” I’m so angry, I’m losing my appetite.

“Your parents said if Joey contacted you, I should tell them first. Then I should tell you.”

I’m tired of feeling like I’m being handled, like I can’t be trusted. I stab a breakfast link with my fork and speak as evenly as possible through clenched teeth. I don’t need to make Avery’s dad think I’m a freak by throwing a scream fest.

“Matty, if we were home right now, I swear to God I would throw this sausage right at your head.” I wave the skewered meat to underscore my point.

A bug-eyed Logan reaches for my wrist and gently guides my fork-clutching hand back to the table.

“Give her the phone,” Logan tells Matty.

“She’s supposed to call her parents first.”

“Give. Her. The. Phone,” Logan repeats.

Matty’s cheeks flush deeper than usual. Slowly and deliberately, he pushes back his chair, walks toward me, slams the phone down on the table, and exits through the patio door. Avery glances at me sympathetically, then follows Matty. Spencer leaves too. I’m not sure if it’s because he’s afraid of me or feels bad for Matty. He takes his plate with him, though.

“Joey left you a voice mail,” Logan says. “It was three
o’clock in the morning New Jersey time. I think Spencer’s probably right about it being a drunken call. But Matty didn’t play the message for us. Swear.”

He’s holding up his right hand like he’s taking an oath. I nod and stare down at my food. I feel humiliated. Tears sneak out the corners of my eyes and trickle down my jawline. Logan hands me a napkin and I quickly wipe my cheeks. Tentatively, Logan rests his hand on top of mine. His touch calms me down.

“You’re lucky. You’re getting this over with now. You only fall in love for the first time once.”

“That’s very Taylor Swift of you,” I say. But Logan’s right, and I feel better knowing he’s trying to make me feel better.

Logan gives me a soft half smile and then he gets up from the table and walks outside. I watch him go and wonder when he first fell in love. Did his heart get broken or did he break some girl’s heart? I pick up my phone and dial my voice mail. I punch in my four-digit code: Joey’s birthday. How lame am I?

“Yo, Rosie . . .” There’s a long pause and I hear music and muffled speaking like he’s covering the mouthpiece. “Call me.” I play it two more times just to confirm he’s being as big of a dick as I thought he was the first time I
heard it. Yo, Rosie? I used to be “baby,” and what’s with the “yo”? So Joey thinks he’s all street now? Yeah, right. He’d last two seconds away from his mommy.

I don’t know what I was expecting from Joey, but it was definitely more. The thought of hearing Joey’s voice again was so much better than the reality of Joey. At least he didn’t mention Phoenix or the Fourth of July. Funny. He finally calls and I’ve got an excuse to talk to him, but somehow I know if I do, I’ll be more of a loser than I already am. I’ve got to stop messing up. I text Lilliana instead. I tell her about Joey’s call and ask if she’s heard anything about my skanky ex and his jailbait girlfriend. Then I call my mom. Matty will be proud.

I don’t even say hello when she picks up the phone. “He called,” I say, and then I start to cry. “He’s such a jerk.”

“Aw, honey. Don’t cry. He’s not worth it. You didn’t call him back, did you?” Mom says sympathetically.

“No. And I’m not going to, don’t worry.”

“I believe you. I think you should let the lawyer or his assistant know about this. I don’t want that boy getting you in any more trouble. Do you want me to call Steve Justice?”

“It’s okay. I’m supposed to talk to him today anyway.”