The End of the World (24 page)

“Stop it!” My voice sounds like a desperate gasp, but giggles have taken over and I can barely breathe.

“I’m just trying to be charming,” he says, bouncing me even higher. “Is it working? Huh, Shaye, is it working?” He jumps again, and I swear I just felt a rib give way as I slam into the vinyl somewhere between my hip and my shoulder, then do it all over again because apparently Cameron wants to make sure I really feel the pain. But even that doesn’t lessen my laughter. My mood is a thousand times lighter. My chest is a hundred times less constricted.

“Yes, it’s working!” I say between breaths. “Now stop!”

He does, and I’m left scrambling for air, looking up at him with my knees tucked to my chest, wondering if he’s finished bouncing for real or if this is a false move on his part…a waiting for me to let my guard down before he starts up again. I’m not left wondering for long.

With a grin, Cameron holds his hands out. “Now I’ll help you up. But hurry up and close the store. I’m ready to get out of this place.”

This time, for some reason I can’t explain, his words don’t make me feel sad.

At this point, I’m not sure much can.

*

Cameron

I had the
idea an hour ago, but I wasn’t sure how she would take it. After all, it isn’t like you can just casually ask a girl to go skinny dipping without a decent chance of severe repercussions. And when Shaye’s involved, the repercussions usually come in the form of a fist to the nose or a week of cooking whatever she wants for dinner and listening to her complain about every freaking thing you choose.

And that’s why I leave out the skinny dipping part and stick with something safe.

“Do you need to get home now, or would you rather stay out a little longer?”

She eyes me over the roof of her car. I’m parked next to her, one foot on the floor board and one arm perched on the door. The best approach is to act like, as I was ready to climb inside and drive away, I was struck with the inspirational idea to adventure a bit more. Stay out a little later. Shaye doesn’t need to know I’ve planned this night to the most insignificant detail, hoping to stretch it to sunrise and beyond.

She also doesn’t need to know that I consider any time spent with her anything but insignificant.

She’s still frowning at me. “What do you have in mind?”

I look toward the parking lot, trying not to appear nervous while at the same time wondering why the heck I
am
nervous. This is Shaye. My best friend in the world. And suddenly I’m terrified she’s going to say no thanks and leave me standing miserably alone outside a store designed to make people happy. But maybe she’s tired. Or worse, she’s not tired and just wants some time to herself.

I take a steadying breath. “I have a couple of ideas. One I think you might like.”

Her frown turns suspicious. “And the other?”

“That remains to be seen.”

She’s silent for so long that I’m contemplating making my escape before she can answer. But then just as my leg twitches toward the car and my arm begins to flinch toward the safety of the steering wheel, she slams her door and walks around the back of the car, stopping at the passenger side of mine.

“Fine, but this better be good.” She sighs, but I see a flicker of a genuine smile before she quickly tucks it away again. It’s enough to make me feel like I’m king of our little world, to quote what might be the cheesiest movie line in cinematic history. “And you’re driving to this mystery destination because I’m tired and I’m almost out of gas. Got it?” She flicks her hair over one shoulder and climbs inside the car, all defiance and bravado and trying so hard to put me in my place.

I smile and climb in beside her, thinking that next to Shaye, my place is actually quite comfortable.

Cameron

“H
ow did you
find this place?”

Her voice hasn’t lost any of the reverent sound of awe in the ten minutes we’ve been here. I had the same reaction when I accidently stumbled upon it last week during the afternoon jog I rarely take but needed desperately that day. I’d had another fight with Kara; she wants me to move out of my apartment and in with her, citing semi-valid reasons like saving money and being in love and looking toward the future and all that. I didn’t point out that I love her but I’m not ready to take that step. And I certainly didn’t point out that no part of the future I supposedly never think about includes moving further away from Shaye.

I might be twenty, but I know what I want.

Someone has to protect her, and that someone will always be me.

End of story.

Something tells me Kara won’t appreciate my rigidity on the matter, but maybe I’m just naïve.

“I went for a jog last week, and—”

I close my mouth at the incredulous look Shaye shoots me. There’s such a thing as going along with your first instinct, and mine was to make up a better story. A more believable one.

She breathes a laugh. “You were jogging?”

A more believable one like,
I was looking for the endangered animals of Tulsa and just happened to find a few here
, or
I was flying by while dressed in my red spider suit on my way to save a drowning victim when I was struck with the similarities
, or
I entered a fishing tournament and caught a world-record-sized bass when I was suddenly overcome with memories
. Something along those lines.

“I jog.”

“You don’t jog.”

“You act like I do nothing but sit on a sofa all day.”

“Because all you do is sit on my sofa all day. In between classes you never study for.”

“I do an occasional push up.”

“Maybe once a week?”

“Well, at least I’m going to school.”

She raises one eyebrow. “Is that supposed to be an insult? I have a job, and I can’t afford school right now. And frankly, I don’t have my mother’s trust fund to pay for it.”

With those words, everything goes silent and uncomfortable and tense, so tense it would take a chainsaw to slice through the layers. Because she’s right. After Carl stole what I thought was all of my money, my mother’s attorney came forward and explained that the bulk of what she left me was still in savings until my eighteenth birthday. This news was funneled to me through my social worker. The money was deposited into my account over a year ago; there’s more than enough to pay the bills and go to school. A good thing since I’m trying to earn my diploma in three years instead of four so that I can enter the work force earlier than the rest of my classmates. Things like education and term papers are mere formalities for me. Maybe it’s the lonely foster kid deeply ingrained in psyche, but the only thing I’ve ever wanted was to fast-forward to an adult life I can only hope and pray comes with stability. I’ll do whatever it takes to achieve it.

And now I’ve insulted Shaye during what was supposed to be the fun part of the night, once again proving my judgment is about as lacking as my parental units.

The only sound is the swish of our legs swinging back and forth over the water. She’s thinking and I’m thinking and neither one of us is speaking because both of us are stubborn. One more so than the other. I pull in a deep breath, one I’m going to need to give me the strength to grovel.

“I’m sorry about the college comment.”

“I’m sorry about the lazy comment, even though it’s true.”

As usual Shaye’s apologies are less than stellar, but they always get me to smile.

“You’re a brat.” I bump her knee with my own. “But in fact I did find this place when I was jogging last week. As soon as I saw it, I knew I needed to bring you here.”

This place looks so much like the end of the world—our old end of the world—that it’s like someone made an exact replica and dropped it precisely where they knew I would find it one random day. The horizon stretches until it drops off into nothingness, like a mirage that tricks a weary desert traveler into bending down to sip a patch of dry dirt. I know there’s an edge. I know the water doesn’t just disappear, but it sure looks that way. Even the dock we’re sitting on looks the same, with inch-wide gaps between planks of weathered wood and nails loosened precariously in parts—ready to gash a bare foot if the person walking on top of it isn’t careful.

It’s like we’re back in that place. Back in that time. And I can tell Shaye feels it just as strongly as I do as she stares unseeing into the depths like she’s reliving a specific day, lost inside a particular memory. I just hope the memory is a good one and not one of the awful ones stacked like moldy, wet paperbacks so high inside her mind that it’s sometimes hard to find clear space to breathe. And I want Shaye to breathe. More than anything, I want her to breathe. It’s the only way she’ll ever be able to truly live.

I’m so caught up in worrying about her that I don’t notice her sudden change in mood.

“So do you want to swim? We’re here, and it’s the one thing we never did back then.” She looks over at me and smiles, and something about that smile seems flirty. Bolder than usual. “Want to do it now?”

My pulse trips over itself. “It might be cold.” It’s all I can think to say.

She shrugs. “I don’t mind cold. You up for it?”

“Sure.” I blink, then blink again, silently commanding my pulse to settle to more normal rhythm. This girl doesn’t intimidate me, and I can’t have her thinking otherwise. “But we don’t have swimsuits.”

At that her eyes narrow. “Don’t be getting any ideas, Cam.”

I laugh, finally stop all that blinking, and shake my head. But before I can develop any coherent thoughts, Shaye reaches up and pulls off her shirt.

I stare.

I can’t blink at all.

My eyes go dry.

My mouth feels like cotton.

My brain goes dead.

I think I remember being in my car. I think I remember imagining us skinny-dipping. I think I remember bouncy houses and cranky customers. But right now…at the sight of Shaye…

I’m way too stunned to recall any of it.

*

Shaye

I’m wearing a
bra, a tank top, and boy shorts, but you’d think I was naked the way Cameron keeps looking at me. Yanking off my sweater was supposed to be a joke, but just as it came over my head I knew the move meant a lot more. At least to me.

But the way he’s looking at me… I think it meant more to both of us, and my heart is pounding so hard I can feel the pressure in my neck. With Cameron, there is no right or wrong. There’s just us. Just Cameron and me, and as long as that combination doesn’t change, there’s never any reason to analyze it.

That’s why my pants came off around the same time his shirt and jeans landed in a heap at his feet, neither of us thinking much of it. Or at least pretending not to for the last twenty minutes we’ve been swimming around.

I was right; the water is cold. But not even chilly temperatures can cut into the good mood I’m in right now.

The moon is a slivered almond overhead, shining a miniscule amount of light that somehow manages to dance over the water like a million fireflies, creating an illusion of grandeur it doesn’t actually deserve. Still, it pulls off a beautiful display. One I’m not ready to leave anytime soon.

Right now we’re facing each other, standing in neck deep water as we argue the health benefits of regular deodorant versus antiperspirant. I have no idea how we got here, but it’s better than our previous conversation about the bathroom habits of men versus women. Some things you just can’t unhear, no matter how desperately you might want to.

“You have to wear antiperspirant because plain deodorant makes your armpits stink, that’s why,” I say. “What’s the point in wearing it if you’re just going to sweat anyway?”

“It’s isn’t the sweat that’s bad,” he tries to explain, but I quit listening two minutes ago because he’s dumb and I’m right. “It’s the smell. And plain deodorant covers it up well enough.”

“So you think. But then you’re not the one who has to smell yourself, are you?”

“Are you saying I stink?”

“I’m saying you should switch back to antiperspirant. Like, tomorrow.”

I don’t see it coming when his arms sail over my head and shove me under the water, sending half the lake gushing down my throat and up my nose. I’m under maybe three…maybe four seconds, but it’s enough to make me crazy. When I finally find my footing and re-emerge, I’m sputtering and coughing and water is dripping out of my eyes and ears and nose like I’m a human sprinkler intent on soaking everything around me, especially myself. Funny thing: lake water burns when it’s coming out your orifices from deep inside your brain.