up!” Just like that, he’s gone. I sink down to the porch stairs, knowing everything he just said is right, but it’s the first time he’s actually said it to me.
I feel like hitting something. Slamming my fist into something as hard as the guilt pummels me. I screwed up getting Chrissy to meet Adam. I pushed her to tell when she didn’t want to and then I screwed up my family’s life, too.
“Hey.” Charlotte steps around the side of the house.
I’m looking at the ground, trying to calm down. “Hey.”
“So…your brother just totally lost it.”
I almost laugh and I’m pretty sure that’s what she wants me to do.
Charlotte stands in front of me for what feels like forever before she asks, “Wanna go for a hike?”
I risk looking up at her. She has this soft sort of smile on her face like she’s unsure of herself. I don’t know what she thinks there is to be unsure of. She knows I’ll go with her. I’m always down to do anything with her.
“Don’t you have to work?”
“It’s under control.”
I stand up and step closer to her. She’s not as tanned as I remember from last year, but that’s probably because it’s so early in the summer. She’s wearing another pink tank top, only this one is darker, and it makes me want to smile because I don’t think I saw her in anything pink before. She used to make fun of Sadie for wearing it.
I also notice her neck is bare, not that I can blame her. Why would she want to wear the necklace I gave her when I was such a prick for six months?
“Sure. Want me to grab us something for lunch?” Just looking at her makes me a little out of breath and then that makes me feel like a douchebag.
“I’ll take care of it.”
Charlotte jogs off, around the back of her house and heads in the side door, staying far away from the store up front where her mom and sister work so often. It takes her less than five minutes to come back out with a backpack on and her hair tied up in a knot.
“Come on,” she says, moving briskly. We head up the trail between her house and the cabins.
We walk through the field where everyone played night games a summer ago and hang a left up a path winding up the mountain. It isn't too steep, and the trail is worn from the feet of many others who have taken this same route.
“I feel like a pussy.”
“Ugh! I hate that word. Why do guys use it like that?”
I shrug. “Sorry. I feel like a wuss. Like you’re riding to my rescue or something.”
We’re walking side by side and she slows down a little. “Girls can’t ride to a guy’s rescue?”
“No, no. They can. It just makes us feel like pu—I mean, wusses.”
“You’re different. Than you were, I mean,” she blurts out before speeding up again. I think she’s trying to get away from me because of what she said.
Those words percolate around inside of me for a minute. I am different. I know it, but I don’t want to seem different to her. For better or for worse, I actually liked the way she seemed to need me last summer. Like I gave her something that no one else did, but now I'm the one who needs her. The thought makes my muscles tighten.
“I don’t want to be different. Not with you at least.”
She stumbles a little at my words. I grab her hand to steady her. I think about what it was like to hold her last night and I’m not sure I want to let go. Still, my hand pulls back. I’m not sure I have the right to hold her for no reason like that.
“Tell me how I’ve changed.” It’s not like I don’t know, but it’s different hearing it from her.
“You curse more,” she says. “And you’re quieter.” She pauses and continues onward, and I know she’s working through whatever she has to say. She did that summer. I always wondered if it was because everyone just assumed everything about her instead of asking her opinion and listening to what she had to say.
Finally she continues, “Last year when we were quiet…it felt okay. Like it wasn’t a
I feel like hitting something. Slamming my fist into something as hard as the guilt pummels me. I screwed up getting Chrissy to meet Adam. I pushed her to tell when she didn’t want to and then I screwed up my family’s life, too.
“Hey.” Charlotte steps around the side of the house.
I’m looking at the ground, trying to calm down. “Hey.”
“So…your brother just totally lost it.”
I almost laugh and I’m pretty sure that’s what she wants me to do.
Charlotte stands in front of me for what feels like forever before she asks, “Wanna go for a hike?”
I risk looking up at her. She has this soft sort of smile on her face like she’s unsure of herself. I don’t know what she thinks there is to be unsure of. She knows I’ll go with her. I’m always down to do anything with her.
“Don’t you have to work?”
“It’s under control.”
I stand up and step closer to her. She’s not as tanned as I remember from last year, but that’s probably because it’s so early in the summer. She’s wearing another pink tank top, only this one is darker, and it makes me want to smile because I don’t think I saw her in anything pink before. She used to make fun of Sadie for wearing it.
I also notice her neck is bare, not that I can blame her. Why would she want to wear the necklace I gave her when I was such a prick for six months?
“Sure. Want me to grab us something for lunch?” Just looking at her makes me a little out of breath and then that makes me feel like a douchebag.
“I’ll take care of it.”
Charlotte jogs off, around the back of her house and heads in the side door, staying far away from the store up front where her mom and sister work so often. It takes her less than five minutes to come back out with a backpack on and her hair tied up in a knot.
“Come on,” she says, moving briskly. We head up the trail between her house and the cabins.
We walk through the field where everyone played night games a summer ago and hang a left up a path winding up the mountain. It isn't too steep, and the trail is worn from the feet of many others who have taken this same route.
“I feel like a pussy.”
“Ugh! I hate that word. Why do guys use it like that?”
I shrug. “Sorry. I feel like a wuss. Like you’re riding to my rescue or something.”
We’re walking side by side and she slows down a little. “Girls can’t ride to a guy’s rescue?”
“No, no. They can. It just makes us feel like pu—I mean, wusses.”
“You’re different. Than you were, I mean,” she blurts out before speeding up again. I think she’s trying to get away from me because of what she said.
Those words percolate around inside of me for a minute. I am different. I know it, but I don’t want to seem different to her. For better or for worse, I actually liked the way she seemed to need me last summer. Like I gave her something that no one else did, but now I'm the one who needs her. The thought makes my muscles tighten.
“I don’t want to be different. Not with you at least.”
She stumbles a little at my words. I grab her hand to steady her. I think about what it was like to hold her last night and I’m not sure I want to let go. Still, my hand pulls back. I’m not sure I have the right to hold her for no reason like that.
“Tell me how I’ve changed.” It’s not like I don’t know, but it’s different hearing it from her.
“You curse more,” she says. “And you’re quieter.” She pauses and continues onward, and I know she’s working through whatever she has to say. She did that summer. I always wondered if it was because everyone just assumed everything about her instead of asking her opinion and listening to what she had to say.
Finally she continues, “Last year when we were quiet…it felt okay. Like it wasn’t a
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