“I never thought that.”
“You’re living with your sister and your niece, probably because of the mess Shay started. I don’t know why I feel like I should apologize for her, but I do.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Maybe it is. Maybe if I’d been here, or been more present—oh, I hate that word—this wouldn’t have happened. None of it.”
“You’re being a little hard on yourself, don’t you think? Or maybe overestimating the impact you could’ve had on her?”
“That’s not all. But you can’t repeat this. Promise?”
“I promise.”
“Shay has this crazy idea that I should marry Miles.”
“She told you this?”
“No, Beck did. And I have to figure out what to say to her.” My thoughts tumbled like socks in a dryer. If I were around more—if I were here—if I hadn’t stayed away—that never would have entered her mind. “I have to talk to her about it before Sunday … I think not having a mother, and Miles getting remarried, it’s too much for her. I’m not making excuses…”
“But you are.”
“I guess I am. Wouldn’t you? If it were Morgan?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I would. Anything to what Shay says about you and Miles?”
“Me and Miles? Are you kidding? No, absolutely not! Miles was my best friend’s first love. He’s like a cousin to me. We’re not close anymore but I’ll always care about him. So, no. And eww.”
Cameron shook his head and smiled. “Very mature, Teddi.”
“You said I was the same as when I was ten. Guess you were right.”
Cameron and I sat on the stony ground, which made it easy for me to scoop a scant handful of pebbles and let them trickle through my fingers.
“Hey, watch this.” Cameron positioned himself into a batter’s stance, drew back his arm, and flung a stone into the water, but away from the paddle and paper boat platoons. The stone skipped twice.
“Not bad,” I said.
“I can teach you how to do it.”
I stood and then removed three stones from my pocket, and replaced two. I blew on the remaining stone and rolled it in my hands as if I were holding lucky dice. I walked back about three paces and bounded forward with a skip and flicked the stone. Six skips.
“You’re a stone-skipping savant!”
“That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said about me. Especially in the past two days. Hell, in the past two months.”
I laughed. Then Cameron laughed. Then I laughed again. The laughing was contagious and cathartic. We ended up holding our sides, wheezing, and gasping for breath. I lost my footing for a second and stumbled. He caught me before I made a fool of myself by landing on the ground, but not before he wrapped me in a momentary bear hug, then set me upright.
“I needed that,” I said. “The laugh. I really needed that laugh.”
“Should we get away from the pond before someone reports us to Park Patrol for reckless endangerment of rocks and photographers?”
We sat on the swings but didn’t swing. I held the steel chains and my heart still pounded from the laughter—a release that felt more like a cleanse. I didn’t remember the last time I’d laughed so hard my cheeks hurt.
I rose from the swing and lifted my camera to my face, then swung around and snapped a picture of the pond, rimmed by the clouds, touched in the corners by passersby on the trail. Then I took a picture of Cameron’s hand wrapped around the chain of the swing. The tips of my Keds surrounded by sand. An empty picnic bench. Stalks of sunshine landing in the parking lot, the gravel shimmering like diamonds. I walked to the path and around the pond alone. I stepped on the heel of my right shoe and pulled out my foot. Then I repeated with the left. The grass and the stones were cool, the water and the sun were warm. I skipped another stone into the pond. I’d visited many beautiful places but none of them rippled to my heart like this one.
I walked back to Cameron. “Thank you,” I said. “I love it here. I’d forgotten how much.”
“I’m glad. Maybe we could come back.”
“Do we have to leave?”
Chapter 16
PERK WAS ALMOST EMPTY when I arrived in the middle of what I assumed was the midday slump.
“Two large peach iced teas.”
I carried the cups to a table in the corner. Shay would arrive soon, just in time for a short visit before dinner. That’s when I’d mention Simon. I’d never have to tell her I wasn’t interested in Miles, because I’d tell her I was already involved. A couple. Spoken for. Committed.
Simon and I had never used any of those words.
I picked up the same Chance Gazette I’d read once before and feigned nonchalance, as if my leg wasn’t bouncing sixty miles an hour under the table. I stomped it as the off switch. I skimmed “Chancelist” on the back page, my small town’s version of Craigslist, offering babysitting, lawn mowing, hauling, and tutoring.
Cameron would be a great history tutor, pencil tucked behind his ear, notebook in hand. He had the patience of a saint, if saints were inclined to wear khaki shorts and T-shirts. He’d sat on that swing for nearly an hour. He hadn’t questioned me or rushed me.
He left me alone, which left me feeling connected.
I shook my head to scramble the thought and texted Annie.
Me: Did you ship my clothes?
Annie: It’s under control.
Me: Thanks.
My phone buzzed with a new text.
Shay: I’m going to hang out with Rebecca and Chloe. CYA l8r?
Me: Did you ask your dad?
Chloe’s mother had been scheduled to drop Shay off at home.
Shay: Vi drove me to Rebecca’s house. She has a pool. And a dog.
Me: Ok! Have fun!
I wanted to see Shay. I wanted to show her my pictures from Jasper Pond and tell her I was entering the contest. I didn’t want to tell her about Simon, but I would. This, though—a change of plans to be with her friends—this is what should have been happening. A girl on the cusp of adolescence should have wanted to hang out with her friends, not sip iced tea with her “aunt.” I was leaving in a few days, but this was what I wanted for Shay—the age-appropriate bond of friendship. Maybe she’d burst into seventh grade with two BFFs and without the need to bully anyone. Maybe realizing she could make friends would help her ease into a new family dynamic.
I tapped my fingers on the table and glanced out the window toward Chance Square and its midday lull void of miniature baseball players.