We drove on for a while, Meg dictating the turns, me having no clue where she could be taking us.
“Okay, now slow down,” she said when we got to an isolated one-lane road surrounded by woods. It was still light out, but everything got really dim as we continued driving under the leafy branches. “There’s a turn soon, but I can never remember exactly where it is.”
“A turnoff here?” I asked. “That leads to what? There’s nothing here but trees.”
“Ah, ye of little faith. Oh, there it is! Right past that weird branch that’s sticking out. Turn right.”
Sure enough, there was a tiny dirt road just wide enough for my car. I maneuvered us onto the path and inched the car forward at about three miles per hour. The road, if you could call it that, was really curvy and rocky. I had to lean forward over the steering wheel as we crept along, being extra careful not to drive over any tire-puncturing rocks or cute, furry forest creatures. The Sable wasn’t exactly made for off-roading. Low hanging tree limbs and rogue, leaf-covered branches snapped against the windows—I felt like I was going through some sort of prehistoric car wash.
And then Meg was telling me to park and we were out of the car and walking through the woods.
“Are you taking me somewhere to murder me?” I asked. “Whatever I did to piss you off, I’m sorry.”
Meg rolled her eyes. “Where’s your sense of adventure, Ryden Brooks?”
The thick of trees opened onto a tiny, secluded beach, complete with sand and a shore. It was amazing. No one would ever find us here.
“How did you find this place?” I asked.
“I came here with Alan’s family a long time ago. His dad knew about it somehow. I was, like, eight or nine at the time, but I loved it so much that I remembered where it was, and I started coming back when I was old enough to drive.”
Meg pulled a sheet from her bag, spread it on the sand, and grabbed my hand, pulling me down with her.
“Have you decided what author you’re going to do?” I asked after a minute of our joined hands being the only thing my brain seemed capable of focusing on. Mr. Wheeler had given us this assignment to pick an American author to give a presentation on before the end of the year, and it seemed like as good a thing to talk about as any.
“I think I’m doing Harper Lee,” she said. “You?”
“Toni Morrison.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, why? She’s great.”
“I know she is. I just…” She shook her head. “You’re full of surprises, Ryden Brooks.”
“Why do you always call me that?”
“Why do I always call you what?” she asked.
“Ryden Brooks. My whole name. You do that a lot.”
“I do? Oh. Um…if I tell you, do you promise not to laugh at me?”
“Uh, yeah?”
“Okay, well…you know how when you talk about movie stars, you always say their first and last names? Like, it’s always ‘Matt Damon’ and never just ‘Matt’?”
“I guess…”
“Well, you’re kind of like that, a celebrity in our school. You’re the guy who’s so perfect and untouchable that it feels weird to only call you by your first name.”
I shook my head. “I’m not a celebrity. Jesus. I’m just Ryden. And you’re Meg. And I like you.”
She nodded, her cheeks coloring. Her hair fell in her face, and I reached forward and brushed it back.
“And…you like me too?” I asked.
She laughed. “You could say that.”
And then I pulled our still-clasped hands toward me so that she fell against me, and I crushed my mouth to hers.
June 13…
We’d been together only a few weeks, but already it seemed like we’d known each other forever. We’d hung out with Alan a bunch of times, both in and out of school, and my mom had had Meg and Mabel over for dinner twice so far. But mostly we spent time at the beach. School was almost out—we just had to get through finals—and it felt like the days were endless. Sometimes Meg would write in her journals while I read a book or went swimming, or we’d study for exams together, or we would lie on our backs and talk. Our family shit, what it was like growing up with money (her) versus without (me), what was better: sweet (me) or salty (her).
And we made out a lot.
She acted a lot older than sixteen, and you could almost see her mind thinking, but she was also fun and laidback and nonjudgy. Meg was the only person I could just be with. I never felt antsy on those quiet afternoons together, like we had to be doing something to fill the space. She made me feel real.
“I have to tell you something,” she said as soon as we spread the blanket on the sand that afternoon.
“What’s up?” I asked, cracking open a Sprite and handing it to her so she could have the first sip.
She shook her head at the Sprite. “Actually, I have to tell you a few somethings.”
I grinned at her, the idiot that I am, still not picking up that anything was wrong. “I have to tell you something too. Can I go first?”
She lowered her eyes and nodded. “Sure, go ahead.”