The words unsettled me, because I wasn’t exactly sure what she meant. “What do you mean?”
She shrugged. “Sometimes relationships that develop so quickly aren’t really based on anything real.”
I wondered whether she was talking about me or about her dad and Leanne.
“But he seems to really like you,” she added hastily, as if she’d just realized what she’d said and how it had sounded. “I’m sure things are fine.”
? ? ?
The next afternoon was supposed to be our second group meeting. I’d been so caught up with thinking about Sam over the weekend that I hadn’t even sent out a reminder e-mail. I spent the whole day feeling guilty that I had dropped the ball. It was so unlike me.
I waited in the parking lot after school, near the fence around the football stadium, wondering who would show up for a ride. Sam had offered to drive everyone last week, and he had reminded me in sixth period today. Logan hadn’t said one way or the other whether he was coming, but I figured that if he did show up, he’d get a ride from Sydney. That left Mindy, Kelsi, and Cody.
Five minutes after the final bell, I saw Sam striding out, his Red Sox cap and leather jacket on, as usual. His bag was slung over his shoulder, and he was grinning as he approached.
“Hey you,” he said as he reached me. “You ready to go?”
I fell into step beside him. “We should probably wait and see if anyone else needs a ride.”
“Sure thing,” he said cheerfully as we reached his Jeep.
Sam started the engine, fiddled with the heat for a minute, and then pushed Play on his CD player. A song I recognized from my dad’s CD collection started playing.
“You like Jimmy Buffett?” I asked, surprised. I didn’t know anyone else our age who did. I’d always liked “Cheeseburger in Paradise” and some of his other songs. My dad used to make goofy faces when he sang along.
Sam seemed equally surprised. “Yeah,” he said. “You know Buffett?”
I nodded. “My dad really liked him.”
“Yeah?” he said. “My dad too.” He smiled a little. “He was actually a Parrothead. Official member of the Jimmy Buffett fan club.”
I laughed. “Same with my dad!”
“Did he go last time Jimmy played at Gillette Stadium?”
“Yep.”
“So did my dad,” Sam said. “Isn’t it weird to think that they sat in the same stadium at the same show? And we hadn’t even moved here yet?”
“Yeah,” I said. Actually, I thought, it seemed stranger to me that there existed a time, in the not-so-distant past, that my dad and Sam’s dad had been out enjoying a rock concert, maybe just rows away from each other, with no idea that their days were numbered. It made me feel so suddenly sad that my throat closed up. I glanced at Sam, and the smile had fallen from his face too. I wondered if he was thinking the same thing.
After a few minutes of waiting, the crowd of students flowing out from the school had slowed to a trickle, and the parking lot was nearly empty. Sam checked his watch. “Think everyone found a ride?”
I nodded and took a deep breath, which I exhaled in a nervous laugh. “Actually, I’m really worried that no one will show up at all.”
“Why?” Sam asked.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe everyone thought last week was really stupid. I mean, maybe they thought about it later and realized they didn’t want to hang out again with a bunch of sad people.”
Sam seemed to think about this for a minute. “No,” he said firmly. “I know it helped. And I know people felt good about it.”
“Are you sure?” I asked in a small voice.
“Yes,” Sam said. We waited another few minutes, the silence hanging over us, then Sam shifted into drive. “I guess we should go.”
I nodded, feeling discouraged. What if it was just me and Sam? I’d feel like such a failure. And I’d look like an idiot.
As we drove, I glanced at him a few times out of the corner of my eye when I knew he was paying attention to the road. I liked how angular his face was from the side. Sharp nose, sharp chin. But he didn’t seem sharp-featured when you looked straight at him. It was funny how different people could appear when you simply looked at them from different angles.
When Sam and I pulled into the Lucky Strikes parking lot it was almost totally empty. There was a beat-up, dusty pickup truck I didn’t recognize and a Cadillac with a dented front end. But I didn’t see Kelsi’s car. Or Sydney’s. Even her snob-mobile would have been a relief at this point.
“No one’s here,” I murmured.
Sam glanced over at me as he shifted his Jeep into park and cut the motor. “Lacey, it’s still early,” he said. “Don’t worry yet.”
“What if no one shows?” I asked.
“Then you and I will have a great time bowling together in really ugly shoes.”