What Happens Now Page 10

  “It looks really slippery.”

  “It is. But I know the good footholds.”

  I took off my boots and slipped my dress over my head, thinking of how carefully I’d chosen my bathing suit that morning, and draped it on the branch next to Camden’s shirt.

  I took a step down from the bank and into the water, which gathered so cold and frenetically around my ankles. Then I reached and on the other side of that reach was Camden’s waiting hand. I grabbed it, felt a jolt of warmth. Then I stepped up close to him.

  “I knew you’d get it,” he said. “I love that episode.”

  “For years, I talked to rocks,” I admitted. “Until my mother made me stop.”

  “I was thinking we could do a cosplay photo shoot here someday.”

  “But you guys only have the reboot costumes.”

  “Maybe we’ll make new ones,” he said, something suddenly ablaze in his eyes. “I have one more thing to show you, but we have to get over there to be able to see it.” Then he pointed downhill, toward a pool of water where the creek flattened out about thirty feet away.

  “And we do that how?”

  “We slide. I’ll show you.”

  He took one careful step, then another, then lowered himself so he was sitting on the rock. He flashed me a devastating smile, then pushed off with both hands. The flow of water caught him and pulled him down the creek, away from me, faster and faster. He let out a whoop as he landed in the pool.

  “So easy!” he shouted as he climbed up onto a rock. “So fun!”

  “You’ve never gotten, like, a concussion doing that?” I shouted back.

  “No.” He scratched his head. “Well, not a bad one. You gonna try it?”

  I didn’t really want to try it. But also, I did. Badly.

  “If you feel like you’re going to tip backward and crack open your skull, clasp your hands behind your head. That’s what Eliza does.”

  “Thanks for the tip.”

  I stood there. Afraid to take even a step, because it didn’t seem possible that my foot could find steady purchase on the rock face.

  “I’ll catch you when you get here,” yelled Camden.

  I flashed him a thumbs-up, then took a step onto the spot Camden had pushed off from. Sat down on the rock, the moss soft as fuzz. Why was I doing this? To save face, to look like a good sport, to please a boy? Because I’d probably regret it if I didn’t? That was all part of it. But I thought of Satina and how this kind of thing was nothing to her. She felt present here.

  I pushed, and started moving, and continued moving. It was like the water was playing with me, tugging and nudging, tipping me off balance. I kept my hands firmly planted on the rock, felt its bumps and ridges painfully under my palms as I slid. Before I knew it, I was going feetfirst into the pool, closing my eyes just before I went under. When I came back up, the first thing I saw was Camden’s face.

  “That was spectacular,” he said.

  I swam to where he sat on the rock and he helped me up. The rock was barely big enough for him to leave a sliver of space between his body and mine.

  We were silent as I took a few seconds to catch my breath. I remembered a scene with Atticus and Satina in the “Do No Good” episode. How Atticus had stumbled on his way across the river, and how Satina had caught him (and how my mother used to shout at the TV, “You go, Satina! Sometimes the men need saving, too!”). How, after Satina had grabbed his arm and pulled him close, they’d had one of those Almost-Something Moments.

  Were Camden and I having this kind of moment? I felt like if I turned to look at him, I’d know.

  Go ahead, you idiot. Turn to him. Know.

  But then Camden pointed with his chin and said, “Look over there.”

  We were sitting where the creek was about to make a hairpin turn to the right, and beyond that curve was an open expanse of water.

  It was a lake.

  Oh. Our lake.

  In the distance, I could see the dock and the diving board, the red-and-white dots of the buoys. The beach and the colorful smudges of people on it.

  We were looking at it all from the far side of the lake. I felt a strange rush of intimacy with it, a new understanding of its many dimensions.

  “You’re in that forbidden zone beyond the rope,” said Camden.

  I dared to turn to him now. “You remember that?”

  “Yes.”

  His eyes searched my face and there was no denying it. The Moment-ness of this moment.

  I turned away quickly, all instinct, stared out at the scene before us, and asked, “What do you love about Silver Arrow?”

  Camden took in a long, slow breath. “I like the idea of being on a ship, part of a crew. Part of a whole. Belonging to something.” He stopped abruptly and shook his head, as if trying to reset whatever his next thought was. “What about you, Ari? Why are you such a fan?”

  He said my name. His mouth wrapped around the same vowel-consonant-vowel progression I’d heard ten thousand times before, but it had never shaken me like this.

  “I’ve never really thought about it.”

  “Think about it now.”

  I glanced at him, his expression all serious and earnest. He made everything sound so simple.

  “It’s the thing I shared with my mom,” I finally said.

  Camden looked surprised. “You’re using the past tense. Why?”

  It unhinged me a bit, that he wanted to hear the story. Where would I even start with the telling?

  “We don’t share it anymore.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” He paused. “You can share it with me, now. I mean. All of us.”

  Now I imagined Camden reaching out to put his hand on the back of my head and drawing my face to his. I even strategized how that would work, without one or both of us falling off the rock and hitting our head. Why was I so obsessed with the thought of somebody hitting their head?

  I remembered how scared I’d been at his party. I didn’t feel any of that now. Even when thunder suddenly cracked above us.

  The sky had quickly darkened in the way that only happens in summer.

  “We should probably go,” he said. From where we were at the edge of the pool, it was only three big steps across three large rocks to the bank. I stood up and went first. It seemed important that I go first.

  When my feet landed on solid ground again, I turned and waited for Camden. He launched himself off the last rock but his foot hit a root half-hidden in the dirt, and he lost his balance. I reached out on instinct and steadied him.

  “Thanks,” he said, embarrassed.

  “Anytime.”

  He stood up straight now and looked hard at me.

  “Shit,” he said.

  I frowned. “Why shit?”

  Camden shook his head. “I really wanted to kiss you.”

  I drew a breath, but only a tiny one. “You can still do that.”

  Camden shook his head. “I wanted to do it there, on the rock. So, so bad. But I chickened out.”

  “You can still do that,” I said again, and swallowed hard.

  Camden smiled and took my hand, moving quickly in the direction of the place we had just been. Then somehow we were back on that first rock.

  And then, lips.

  I wasn’t sure who touched the other person’s first. It honestly could have been me.

  The taste of new and different, but not completely unfamiliar. Like something I’d known a long time ago but had forgotten and now it was here again.

  It was only two seconds of warm soft wet, maybe three, when we heard Max’s voice calling. Camden broke away first.

  “Cam? Ari? You guys out on the rocks?”

  “Yes, over here!” yelled Camden.

  Max appeared on the trail and pointed up. “We should go. Sky’s looking mean.”

  “You guys start,” said Camden. “We’ll catch you.”

  Max smiled a smile that seemed to have extra meaning, then turned and disappeared.

&n
bsp; Silently Camden led me back across the rocks, his hand gripping mine extra tight, like they were having their own conversation.

  When we got back to our clothes, Camden tugged his shirt back on and I pulled my dress over my head, feeling it stick to the back of my legs where I’d gotten wet. I was glad for those two seconds when my face was covered, and I didn’t have to worry about looking at him or not looking at him.

  When I finally did meet his glance again he asked, “Ready?” with that mouth I’d just kissed. Holy crap.

  I nodded. We walked with the drops hitting us plink plunk through the lattice of tree branches. We walked without talking or touching, everything between us quietly and monumentally changed.

  In the parking lot, Max already had his car running, the wipers swishing.

  Camden turned to me. “Can you come to the Barn tomorrow night?”

  “Yes,” I said, not sure that was true. I would make it true.

  “Good. Great. I’ll see you then.”

  He climbed into the backseat of Max’s car and I thought for a second about climbing in after him, about slamming the door and saying Wherever you guys are going, I want to come, too.

  It would have been an epically Satina Galt thing to do. I could have made it an Ari Logan thing to do, claimed it with a single step forward from the spot where I stood getting drenched.

  But before I had a chance to make that happen, thunder rumbled again, and the car started driving away.

  “Ah,” said Mom when I walked in the door. “I had a feeling you’d be home earlier than planned, with the rain and all. You were at the lake?”

  “Yes,” I said. The house was cool and dark, the shades drawn. I could hear the TV in the family room. I slipped off my wet boots, noticed a single green leaf stuck to one of them and didn’t take it off. Thought maybe I would never, ever, ever take it off.

  “Don’t worry,” added Mom without even looking up from her computer, pointing a thumb toward the family room. “I’m listening to what she’s watching.”

  “Okay,” I said, when I really meant Good for you, but that still doesn’t count as spending time with her.

  I walked to the fridge, opened the door. “What are we doing about dinner?”

  “Richard’s bringing home a pizza. Who were you at the lake with?”

  “Some friends,” I said. “I can cut up some carrots.”

  “No, I’ll make a salad. With actual green things in it.” Mom turned from her computer to look at me now. “Which friends?”

  I closed the fridge quickly, as if everything I wanted to tell my mother about Camden and Eliza and Max and the creek were about to burst out of it before I was ready.

  “Some friends from school,” I lied. Then, without really thinking about what it might lead to, I asked, “Hey, Mom, do you remember the Silver Arrow episode called ‘Do No Good’?”

  Mom’s expression changed. Something sparked in her eyes and a few of her lines disappeared for a second.

  “Of course,” she said softly. “Why do you ask?”

  Dani rushed into the kitchen just then. “Ari!” she cried, and wrapped her arms around my waist as if I’d been gone a week. It sort of felt like I’d been gone a week.

  Mom stared at us for a moment, then shut her laptop like she was slamming a door. “I’m going to go fold some laundry,” she said, then went downstairs.

  “Did you have fun with Mom?” I asked Dani.

  “I had to go with her to her stupid gy-con-ologist appointment. I have more fun with you.”

  “Gynecologist,” I corrected her.

  I watched TV with Dani while the rain beat down against the windows, playing the half kiss over and over in my head. Looking at it from every possible angle, revisiting myself the moment we put our lips on each other. Wondering how something can be so wanted, then take you by dazzling surprise.

  Later, when Richard came home with the pizza, Mom chirped, “Let’s all eat together at the table!”

  Mom rarely chirped. We rarely ate together at the table. Which meant something bad was about to happen; I could feel it.

  If Richard sensed it, too, he didn’t let on. I watched him and Mom, maneuvering around each other in the kitchen, grabbing forks and plates and cans of club soda. At one point, they bumped into each other and Richard said, “Oops! Excuse me,” as if they were two strangers at a buffet.

  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen them touch. How pathetic was that?

  Once we were all sitting down and eating, Mom said, “I have some news.”

  “Good or bad?” asked Dani.

  “All good. Really good.”

  “I could use some really good today,” said Richard.

  Mom took a deep breath and beamed at us. “I got offered a new job. I didn’t plan to apply for anything, but this opportunity came up. It’s a day shift and it pays more, and I start in two weeks.”

  “Honey!” exclaimed Richard. “That’s fantastic!”

  “And it’s in White Plains,” added Mom.

  “What?” he said, dropping his pizza slice so it landed half on, half off the plate.

  It was quiet for a moment. Dani looked back and forth between all of us, trying to figure out why this was a pizza-dropping detail.

  “Mom,” I said, “that’s like, ninety minutes away.”

  “I know.”

  “How can you—”

  She held out her hand in that way I hated, hated, hated. “It’s not ideal. But it’s a better job and a promotion, and we need the money.”

  “Not ideal?” spit Richard. “You’d be spending three hours in the car every day!”

  “It’s a better job, and we need the money,” Mom repeated like a mantra. Then she leveled her gaze at Richard. “It’s really slow at Millie’s. We can’t ignore that fact.”

  Richard looked up and away, at something on the wall maybe. His jaw squared, which meant he was gritting his teeth. It was so obvious because he did it so seldomly.

  “I’m not trying to hurt your feelings, honey,” said Mom. “I’m just laying it straight out.”

  “That’s straight all right,” he said.

  Mom looked at him guiltily. “I can’t work the night shift anymore,” she said, more softly now. “It’s killing me.”

  Richard met her glance and something in him softened, too, but also guiltily. Sometimes it seemed like guilt was the only thread that connected them anymore. Guilt, and its incredibly unromantic relatives: obligation, habit, and regret.

  “I understand that, Kate, but honestly. Is this better?”

  My mother shrugged. “It has to be,” she said.

  “You’ll barely be around. At least now, you’re here in the afternoons. For Dani.” Richard caught my glance. “And Ari, too. This is the last year she’ll be home.”

  “Exactly,” said Mom. “There’s a college fund to worry about.”

  Ouch. I hadn’t realized how angry this news was making me until that second.

  “Great,” I said. “Make up your mind, Mom. Whose fault is it that you have to work so hard? Mine, or Richard’s? Or do we share the blame?”

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” offered Mom, putting her hand on my arm. “I’m not blaming you for planning to go to college. God, Ari. It’s the opposite! I want you to have your time for new ventures.” She looked at Richard now, her eyes pleading. “But this, right now? This year? Can’t this be my time? It’s not about the money . . .”

  Richard gave her a look.

  “Okay,” she said. “It’s a little bit about the money. But you know I’ve wanted to work in medicine my whole life. It took me so long to get back on track after things derailed.” Derailed. I knew that meant my father, and me. Maybe Richard and Danielle, too.

  “Please, honey,” she continued. “You have the store, and I helped you have that. Now, help me have this.”

  None of us spoke. The refrigerator hummed. The sound of cicadas and crickets swelled through the screen door to the back deck. Da
ni worked a hangnail off her thumb, sucking the blood, her eyes traveling from me to Mom to Richard and back again in the same way they did when she was zoned out in front of a cartoon.

  Finally Richard said, “We’ll need more time from Ari.”

  Mom looked at me and nodded, genuinely pained. “Just temporarily, until school starts again. You can handle that, can’t you, Ari? You’re already doing such a great job.”

  She was worried about me, I could tell, but maybe her own need was stronger than the worry.

  “It’s okay,” I heard myself saying. Not sure what it was.

  Richard sighed and put both hands firmly on the table. I thought maybe he was about to try to push the whole thing through the floor and into the basement. Then he took a deep breath and said in a resigned way, “All right, then. We’ll make this work.”

  “Thank you, my love!” Mom said with a catch in her voice, then gestured to the whole table. “All my loves.” I wondered if that included the pizza.

  Richard smiled weakly, then got up and went down the hall to the bedroom.

  Mom watched him. “There’s more laundry . . . ,” she said, and went almost eagerly downstairs. I couldn’t blame her. Laundry didn’t judge.

  Dani freed her hangnail at last, peeling with it a long strip of thumb skin that she flicked under her chair.

  I sat still, and instead of dealing with the reality of what had happened, what would now continue to happen, I found myself suddenly consumed with a painfully vivid memory of the two seconds my lips spent on Camden’s. I wanted to be back there. I wanted the thunderstorm to have passed us by, the afternoon to have unspooled differently. I wanted, period.

  10

  The next afternoon, I was out grocery shopping with Dani when my cell phone rang, the words Camden Armstrong lighting up the screen. When I’d saved his number in my phone, I didn’t feel right only entering “Camden.” I couldn’t yet claim him that way.

  “Hello?” I answered.

  “It’s me,” he said. These words, in his voice. In the frozen foods aisle. Worlds colliding.

  “It’s also me,” I said in a way that would never reveal the mostly sleepless night I’d spent thinking about him.

  Dani tugged on the back of my T-shirt. “Who is that?”