What If (7 page)

“Then… next weekend, go to a party with me and my friends?” I suggest. I’m hoping that if it sounds less like a date, she’ll show up. I’ve been trying to figure out how to make sure Rae gets to meet her anyway.

“Where?”

“Not sure yet.
This
weekend is still happening, so I’ll tell you when I see you at Bean Buzz on Thursday.” This is my way of guaranteeing I see her again this week.

“Um… okay.”

I return my focus back to the sky with a smile on my face.

We’re quiet again. I can hear the water lapping against the dock. It’s sedating. Waiting eventually makes my lids heavy.

“There’s one!”

I open my eyes. Nyelle’s arm is extended, a finger pointing. But I’ve missed it.

“We’re only going to see the brightest ones because of the full moon.”

We don’t see another one for five minutes. I watch it move across the sky like a single headlight traveling down a highway. I want to call out, “Padiddle!” But that would sound stupid. It just accounts for how tired I am.

“I love looking at the stars.” Her voice is quiet and distant, like a memory. “They can take away your pain if you let them. And when the sun comes up, all that sorrow disappears.”

When I take in all the stars in the sky, I can’t help but think that’s a lot of hurt. “What about the shooting stars?”

Nyelle turns her head with a jerk at the sound of my voice like she forgot I was beside her. “You wish on them, for another chance to get it right.”

“Do you believe you can do that? Just start again?”

“Every day,” she says in a whisper, staring at the stars.

Two bright streaks rush across the night sky, crossing each other directly above us.

“Now we each get a second chance,” I say.

“Do you know what you want to do differently, now that you get a do-over?”

“I need to think about it,” I lie, not ready to be that honest. “Do you?”

“Yeah, I do,” she answers. When I look at her, her eyes are closed and her chest rises with a deep inhale, like she’s wishing it this very second. A slow smile emerges on her lips right before she opens her eyes. She angles her head toward me, still smiling.

I can’t look away from the light caught in her eyes. I search them for whatever it is she’s not saying. I want to ask her what she wished for, but when she redirects her attention back to the stars, I lose my nerve.

I turn away and stare into space. It occurs to me, as I watch another meteor gliding along the tree line, that tonight the sky is full of second chances. Nyelle continues to call out each sighting. But after a while I give in to the weight of my lids and everything fades to black.

“Want to have sex?”

“What?” My eyes flip open. I blink quickly, trying to appear alert. “What did you say?”

“I knew that would wake you up.” She starts laughing that giggly laugh that I love. I’ve missed hearing it. It’s real—and full of life. I smile back at her.

I prop myself up on my elbows and look around. The horizon is lightening behind the trees. “Sorry. I didn’t know there would be so much waiting.”

“Yeah, they’re not exactly celestial fireworks.”

“I don’t get why they call it a meteor
shower
then.” I yawn, sitting up to stretch my arms over my head.

I can hear birds chirping and the rustling of early morning.

“Want to go canoeing?”

I start to ask if she’s serious. But then she stands up and starts toward the lodge, where a green canoe is leaning against the side of a small hut, hidden under leaves and pine needles. Of course she’s serious.

“Let’s do this,” I exhale, slowly standing. My body is stiff from lying on the dock in the cold for—I check my phone—the past hour.

Nyelle is already pulling the boat toward the icy shore when I reach her.

“I’ve got it,” I tell her. “Why don’t you want to look for an oar?”

I tip the boat upright and drag it to the shoreline. Scooping some of the leaves out of the bottom of the canoe, I try to assess what kind of condition it’s in. It’s old and sun-worn. But I can’t find anything wrong with it. Then again, it’s difficult to really check it out with years of leaves plastered to the bottom.

“I found this.” Nyelle holds up half of a wooden oar. “And this.” In her other hand is a child-sized faded orange life jacket. The kind that feels like it’s choking you, not saving your life.

“You really want to do this?”

Nyelle pulls the life jacket over her head and tosses me the oar. I catch it with a laugh. She looks ridiculous, but undeniably cute at the same time.

I push the boat on top of the ice that’s already starting to form around the lake. As soon as she gets in, the boat cracks the surface and floats on the water. I push it in a little farther before jumping in. I bend over the side and shove us off the thin ice.

“Which way?” I ask, practically falling out of the boat in order to row.

Nyelle points toward the sunrise. We clear the ice and glide alongside the dock, slowly veering toward the golden hues.

We’re about fifty feet from the end of the dock when icy water begins soaking into my boots. I pick up my foot and look down at the saturated leaves. The water continues to rise above the leaf line.

“We’re leaking,” Nyelle says matter-of-factly, lifting her feet out of the water and setting them on the crossbar.

“No,” I correct her. “We’re
sinking
.”

I try to whip us around in the direction of the dock. But I might as well be using my hands. If only I could paddle as fast as my heart’s pounding.

In less than a minute, my feet are completely covered in freezing water. The more that seeps into the boat, the slower we go and the faster we sink.

“We’re going to have to swim for it. We’ll be underwater before we get there.”

“Bet you’re wishing you had one of these awesome life vests right about now, aren’t you?” Nyelle laughs.

How could she possibly think this is funny? But she does. When I look across at her, she appears completely amused.

I ignore her and paddle faster. The bath of ice water is beginning to make the muscles in my calves cramp. I press my lips together to keep them from trembling.

Nyelle’s smile falls when she notices. “Cal, you’re freezing, aren’t you? And here I am thinking this is the funniest thing ever. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I assure her. “It’ll be funny
after
it’s over. Right now, it just sucks.” I try to conjure a reassuring smile, but my teeth end up chattering instead.

Nyelle starts unlacing her boots.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking off my boots. They’ll be like cement if I try to swim in them.”

She has a point. I abandon the oar, pull off my gloves and struggle to untie my cold, wet laces.

Nyelle fastens her boots together, removes the child’s life vest from around her neck, and replaces it with the boots. She sinks her feet in the water and gasps. “Holy shit. How are we not skating on this lake right now?”

“Give it another week and we will be,” I say between chatters.

We both eye the twenty feet we have to swim to the dock.

“This is going to suck,” I say in a breath.

“No doubt.”

Nyelle wraps the vest under her arms, leans over the side of the canoe, and glides into the water. There isn’t much of the canoe left above water at this point. Trying not to submerse my head beneath the icy water, I do the same—minus the life vest.

The air is sucked from my lungs upon contact, and my muscles tighten into knots. I kick and swing my arms overhead in a crawl. I don’t feel like I’m making progress, probably because I can’t
feel
anything. I focus on Nyelle to make sure she doesn’t go under.

Her hand reaches out in front of her, stretching for the ladder at the end of the dock. I give her the last push she needs to grab it, and she pulls herself up. I hold on to the side of the ladder as she struggles up onto the dock. Her entire body is shaking uncontrollably.

I climb up after her and blink hard when she peels her drenched jeans down, exposing white lace underwear. I understand what she’s doing, but I’m still not prepared for it.

I run, or pretty much stumble, to the truck. Nyelle, thankfully, left the keys in the ignition. I hop in and start it up, cranking the heat on full blast, giving it time to warm up.

When I return to Nyelle, her clothes are in a sopping heap on the wooden boards, and she’s curled up in a ball inside her sleeping bag, shivering so bad I can hear her teeth colliding.

I don’t bother to ask when I bend down and scoop her up, sleeping bag and all. I carry her as quickly as I can to the truck and set her in the passenger side. She doesn’t make a sound other than a low hum through her chattering teeth.

My entire body is painfully numb and stiff when I rush back out onto the dock to get her clothes and my sleeping bag. I feel like I’m outside of myself and the only thing keeping me moving is staying focused on what I need to do to get out of here.

I toss her clothes in the bed of the truck and shed mine down to my boxers. I actually feel warmer being practically naked in the winter air than I did with the wet clothes on. Wrapping my sleeping bag around me, I climb into the truck.

Nyelle is buried deep within her sleeping bag. I can’t see her face, but I can still hear her shivering.

I need a minute, not sure I can actually drive shaking this bad, although sitting here isn’t warming me up any faster. When I’m finally able to function, I turn the truck around and drive us in the direction we came.

I take a guess which way to go when I reach the main road, since I was asleep when we turned into the camp. After a minute, I see a sign I recognize and veer down a road that leads back to my apartment.

The heater finally starts blasting hot air, and I slowly begin to defrost. At least my hands aren’t cramped around the steering wheel anymore. But the cold has seeped into my bones, and I can’t stop shivering.

I glance over at Nyelle, who has the sleeping bag wrapped around her head with big blue eyes peering out.

“I’m sorry I chose the
Titanic
to go across the arctic water,” she says quietly.

I can’t help smiling. “And I didn’t even get the chance to declare myself the king of the world. I kind of feel cheated.”

“Yeah, we missed
all
the fun stuff—posing nude, steamy sex in the back of your truck. Although we did get almost naked.” She glances at me out of the corner of her eye. I know she’s smiling underneath the sleeping bag. And yes, I’m very aware that she’s wearing just her bra and underwear. Not
all
of me is frozen.

“Go ahead. Keep messing with me. It’s going to come back to get you eventually,” I warn with a grin. “How are you doing? Any warmer?”

“I’m a Popsicle,” she says, making me laugh.

At this point, the sun is up, but it’s still before the rising hour of any sane college student on the weekend, unless they’re just getting home. The parking lot is deserted when we pull in.

“Can you walk?”

She nods.

“Okay. Ready?” I hand Nyelle the keys to my apartment, and she rushes to the door. Her bare feet poke out from under the black fabric of her sleeping bag as she runs the short distance to the entrance. I grab our clothes with one hand, cinch my sleeping bag around my chest with the other, and follow after her.

When I enter the apartment, I hear the shower running.

I toss our clothes in the stacked washer/dryer and dump some detergent in. Realizing Nyelle doesn’t have anything to change into, I find a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants for her to wear.

I knock and slowly open the door to the bathroom. “I’m putting some dry clothes for you on the counter. Okay?”

“Thanks,” she says from behind the curtain. I don’t linger. But it’s hard not to think about her behind that curtain, without the bra and underwear that are now lying on my bathroom floor. I shake off the thought of her naked before it can fully torture me.

I stay wrapped in the sleeping bag until she comes out with her damp hair twisted in a pile on top of her head. And… she’s wearing
my
clothes. I grin. They’re way too big, but she makes anything look good. I could get used to seeing her in my things.

“Your turn,” she says, crawling into my bed and pulling the covers up to her nose.

“Feel better?” I ask. But her eyes are already closed. I smile and head to the bathroom.

When I get out of the shower, she’s snoring lightly with just the top of her head visible.

I throw our clothes in the dryer, figuring I’ll take her back to her dorm when they’re done.

My entire body still aches. I don’t remember ever feeling this tired in my life. I slip under the covers on the other side of the bed.

A slow smile spreads across my face at the sight of her hidden under the comforter, breathing deeply. Rolling over and wrapping myself in the blanket, I’m very aware of the warmth of her body along my back, even though we don’t touch. As my eyes slide shut, I’m thinking about second chances, knowing that the one I wished for tonight is lying next to me.

July—Before Fifth Grade

“I think I should be the singer. Richelle, you sound like a dying cat,” Rae says from behind an old drum set that’s held together by duct tape.

I know she’s just trying to make me angry so I’ll give up being the lead singer. Never going to happen.

“Drummers don’t sing,” I argue, holding the hairbrush that is also my microphone.

Cal leans against the wall with his plastic guitar, waiting for us to stop arguing, or until he has to say something to make us stop.

“I brought new music today too,” I say, plugging my iPod into the radio.

“If it’s Britney Spears, I’m going to throw up,” Rae complains, making gagging noises. “And if I can’t sing, then I get to pick the music.”

“Your music doesn’t even make sense,” I tell her. “It’s just screaming.”

“You don’t even know what real music is.”

I’m about to tell her that it wouldn’t be on the top forty if it weren’t good, but I notice what time it is and don’t bother.

“It’s time to get Nicole. I’ll be right back.”

“Why doesn’t she just come over? I don’t understand her weird rules.”

“You know her mom says she has to be invited first,” I say with a sigh. Rae can be so frustrating.

“What is she, a vampire?” Rae laughs.

“Rae,” Cal scolds. “Knock it off.”

This shuts Rae up. When Cal speaks up, it usually does. I run off down the street and press the Bentleys’ doorbell, out of breath. I ring the bell the same time every day, and every day Mrs. Bentley answers it like she doesn’t know why I’m here.

“Hi, Richelle. What can I do for you?”

I want to roll my eyes, but I don’t. I smile and say the same thing I said yesterday, and the day before yesterday—as far back as the first day Nicole moved into the neighborhood. “Hi, Mrs. Bentley. Can Nicole come out to play?” But today I add, “And can she sleep over at my house tonight?”

“Yes, Nicole can come out. But I will have to call your mother and check with Mr. Bentley about sleeping over.”

Nicole is standing behind her mom like she always does when I come to get her. As soon as she hears she can play, she lets me take her hand.

“Be home by five thirty, Nicole,” Mrs. Bentley says as we skip away. “I’ll have spoken to your father by then.”

I don’t know why she has to ask him if Nicole can sleep over. She’s done it every Friday this summer.

“Okay, Mom,” Nicole calls back.

We skip together all the way to Rae’s. Nicole still doesn’t run, but at least I got her to skip. It’s better than walking, even though it still feels too slow for me.

As we approach, Cal is walking across the yard to his house.

“Where are you going?” I ask.

“Rae had to go pick up Liam with her mom. And I have to get ready for baseball. I’ll see you guys later.”

Rae’s brother lives with his dad. And he comes over every other weekend, except we never really see him or Rae when he does because her mom wants them to have family time. And Cal plays on a baseball team Tuesday and Friday nights with Craig and Brady.

“Oh,” I answer, disappointed. “Well, I guess we can go to my house.”

We play fashion models in my backyard with an old camera my dad doesn’t want anymore. Nicole is allowed to sleep over, just like I thought. We eat pizza and watch a movie before we’re supposed to go to my room to sleep. But we don’t sleep. We’re too hyper, which makes us laugh a lot.

“Can I tell you a secret that you have to promise not to tell anyone ever?” I whisper in the dark.

Nicole is on the bottom bunk. My sister, Kara, and I used to share a room. But when she started middle school last year, my mom and dad let her have my mom’s old office. She even gets her own TV. I don’t care because I got to keep the bunk bed.

I hang my head over the side, holding on to the edge so I don’t fall.

“I promise not to tell anyone, ever,” Nicole whispers.

I smile before I say, “I’m going to make Cal my boyfriend this year.”

“Really?” Nicole asks with a giggle. “Are you going to
marry
him too?”

I know she says it to be funny. But I mean it when I say, “Yup. When we grow up, we’re going to get married and live in a big white house. I’m going to drive a Mercedes and he’s going to drive a BMW. I’m going to sell houses, and he’s going to be a rock star.”

Nicole giggles. “Well, I’m going to go to college at Harvard and be someone respectable like my daddy wants me to be.”

“Why do you want to go to Harvard?”

“Because my mom and daddy want me to. They’ve been putting money in the bank since I was a baby so that I can go there. It’s where important people go, and my daddy wants me to be important. He says I have to be the best in school before I can go there. And I have to be a good person that everyone will like and listen to.”

“But you don’t ever say anything in school,” I say, confused.

“I guess I haven’t found anything really important to say yet.”

“My mom and dad tell me they want me to be happy. Besides, college is so far away. I can’t think about that.”

“But don’t you get married
after
college?” Nicole points out.

“Yeah, but that’s just pretend,” I defend, feeling light-headed from hanging upside down for so long. “Except I
am
going to make Cal my boyfriend this year.”