How I Fall (21 page)

“Don’t talk like that.” He frowns. “I can’t believe you brought up the fact that she’s going home.”

“Did you not register that she’s from far away and across the ocean?”

“Yeah…I registered how cute that is. Like she’s a little mermaid!”

“NO! Did you really just say that? So creepy.”

He shrugs. “Fine. Okay…I take that back, but can you stop being such a fatalistic-buzz-kill on my future love? I’m in a strange kind of pain here about this girl. You’re supposed be there for me.”

“But you sound insane. Or like a stalker.”

“Please. Romeo and Juliet met and fell in love in seconds. What about that couple on the Titanic? Same deal. Edward Cullen went insane and almost ate Bella at first sight. What about that?”

I level my gaze onto his. “All stories from
fiction
that ended badly.”

“Whatever. Bella and Edward did get married.”

I fling my arms wide. “Hear the facts again. Laura London’s from another country, she’s going home in June and she’s got a
boyfriend
. The deck is stacked so high against you. Besides, don’t you feel bad about thinking what you are thinking? If you pursue this, then it means you will be trying to get her to cheat on her guy. You told me love is very serious to the Chippewa people. Is that not against your—you know—everything?”

“It is sacred.” He blinks calmly. “I don’t feel guilty because I’m about to be seriously in love with
her and she’s about to be seriously in love with me. My people would approve of my high intentions to be with her…forever.”

“Just promise to play fair. Back off if she’s serious about her Irish boyfriend.”

He doesn’t answer.

“I can see your wheels turning already, home wrecker. What about all the other girls you’ve been chasing around? They’ll be heartbroken.”

He clutches at his heart and whispers dramatically, “There are no other girls. Only her.”

“Oh, brother.”

“I said stop calling me your brother!”

As if we’ve conjured Laura by talking about her, we hear her before we see her.

“Oii!”

Her feet are slap-patter-slapping behind us as if she’s somehow galloping or—holy cow—she’s
skipping
in our direction!

“
Oi!
Wee-Ellen,” she calls out. “
Oi!
Wait up, would you? I think we must be neighbors because you just passed my front door!”

Slap-patter-slap. Slap-patter-slap.

I’m already smiling as I turn around, but Patrick’s got this panicked look on his face and he’s turning redder and redder.

He chokes out, “You’ve got to help me. Ellen. Serious.”

I’ve honestly never seen him like this. I do get why he’s totally fascinated though. Watching Laura’s approach, I’m right there with him. Not on a romantic level, of course, but this tiny girl has a presence so huge I swear it feels like I’ve been hit with sunbeams all over every time I look at her. I also can’t wait to hear her speak again. If Irish people all say ‘
oi
’ with accents that sound like cotton candy falling out of a waterfall, and if they act even a little bit like this girl acts, it’s got to be an amazing place. And, yeah…I have to go there.

As she reaches us with her arms going wide for a hug, I realize she’s shining all over with glitter again today. Despite the tiger beanie blocking the top of her head she’s somehow still shimmer-raining her micro-bits of gold glitter everywhere. I figure if we keep her jumping around most of it will fall off before we reach the bus stop so I reach out and let her hug me, making sure to bump my arms against the tips of her long hair.

I’m pleased that she’s got her outfit slightly more toned down today. She’s wearing normal looking jeans, tight in all the right places but not too tight, a white slightly see-through shirt with a very cute lace-edged tank visible underneath. Best of all, she’s sporting these amazing, black eighties style, old-school, lace up Doc Marten boots.

“I love those.
Love.
” I point at the shoes. “I want them. And this is Patrick. Best friend, practically my
brother
and therefore your instant new friend also?” I add, hoping it helps out Patrick a bit and makes him a little angry all at the same time.

“Thanks. And hullo to you, Patrick. I think I saw you yesterday in the hallway?”

He answers. “You did—you saw me?”

“As if he’s a hard one to miss, yeah? Doesn’t stand out at all, does he?” Laura winks over at me, and then darts a glance at Patrick. A glance that heads away from his face for a second just long enough to take in how broad his shoulders look in his black jacket then right back up at his face like she’s doing a double take.

One that’s turning into a bit of a stare!

“Oh…well…I saw you, too so…yeah.” Patrick’s nodding, smiling down at her, but then no other words come out of his mouth!

*Rose petals fall from the sky. White doves fly over, escorting winged cherubs holding heart-loaded bows. One whispers, “ready…aim…fire!”*

Laura tears her gaze back to me and points at her shoes. “So…yeah. Got them at a thrift store in Dublin. I was on a school trip.” She eyes my beanie and pats her own with one hand. “I do love that wee-little hat.” She winks. “Where
ever
did you find it?”

“Don’t even start.” I tap the giant wiggle eyes with two fingers. “We must be crazy to wear these at the same time.”

She falls into step beside me, eyeing Patrick again. He walks around to the other side of me but still hasn’t said a word! I toss him a glance and realize he’s hit max-awkward and isn’t coming back any time soon. It’s so bad I know I’ll need to cover for him until he gets things under control. I point behind us to take Laura’s eyes off Patrick and ask, “Which house is yours?”

Laura breaks away from us and runs to the far side of the sidewalk. “That adorable reddish one with the courtyard.” She’s pointing at a little red house with a covered porch and an amazing birch tree in its front yard. “I stay with my Aunt Judith. She’s me mum’s younger, much prettier and much cooler sister. My Uncle Yann’s actually French. He’s an ex-race car driver, too. Formula One. He washed up on these shores with a hand tremor that won’t let him race anymore. But he’s still rather French, meaning all stylish and broody for an old guy. You should see the Ferrari he’s got hiding in the garage. Tell me which houses are yours?”

I shoot Patrick a look that says he’s about to bomb this whole introduction because of this idiot-coma. It doesn’t help so I keep talking, “Patrick lives on the other side of the golf course.” I wave my hand in the air. “But I’m super close. One block back from here. Green trim, greenish bricks, a porch kind of like yours, but ours has a big wicker swing. Easy to find because it’s the one house that has a back yard that backs up to the golf course parking lot instead of the big brick wall.”

“Where I’m from, porch swings are only in movies. I’ll be coming’ over after school to check it out, take a few photos of me sitting on it,
yes
?” She darts a second, long glance at Patrick as we all fall into walking again.

“Yes. But you can only stay for a bit. I do physical therapy at the Golf Club workout room after five so I’ll have to leave.”

“Swings. I—love swings,” Patrick says. “I can…push. Her.”

I almost crack up because Patrick’s voice has come out all catchy and low like he’s strangling. 

“
What? Sorry?
” She crinkles her nose at Patrick. “Sometimes it’s near impossible to understand these Canada accents.”

“Patrick was saying that he’s a swing connoisseur.”

Patrick nods, now completely red in the face as he tries to join the conversation again. “I mean, have you ever done a tire swing? Or a rope swing?”

“Nope. I’m from the old world where swings are just made of wood bottoms and two chains going up so…” Laura’s blinking at us like we’re mental.

He goes on, “The tire spins so fast. And the rope swing goes over the lake if you’re brave enough to jump off.”

I add, “We’ll show you sometime okay? Because around here in  Brights Grove those swings are some of the biggest fun we’ve got.” I’m almost giggling because Patrick looks like he wants to die now. So much for his smooth player moves.

“Sounds good.” She beams up at Patrick, pulling off her glitter-infused beanie and hands it to Patrick. “If we’re to be friends, then you’ll be needing one of these so you can be in our wee-little tigers club.”

“Please don’t call it a club. We are not starting a club. Not even close.” I grimace.

Patrick’s slowly turning the beanie, examining the glitter lodged in the knit before saying, “And for the record, here in Canada, no matter how charming it sounds rolling off your Irish tongue, the word ‘wee’ actually means pee. So. Yeah. Um. No…just no?”

I laugh. “Please know Patrick’s the king of inappropriate.”

Laura laughs. “Well for the record, I’ll be sure to use that wee-little word more now. Just to-be-making you cringe. Now put the wee-beanie on your wee-head.” She giggles.

Patrick’s grinning at her now but still acting like he’s been slightly drugged. “I couldn’t take your hat. It looks so perfect on you. And no way is this going to fit…because my head’s anything but…
wee
.” Patrick tries to hand it back as she pulls another one out of her bag and shoves it on her head.

“Go on and at least try.” She blinks up at him. “I bought a few extra after school yesterday to send home to friends and I didn’t take them out of me bag last night.” She pulls her curling bangs down so they are peeking out the front of her new hat.

“Yes, Patrick. Go on. Put it on,” I taunt, wiggling my brows at him.

Patrick shoots me a look and stretches the beanie over his huge head. It takes him less than two seconds to start scratching at his forehead. It also looks so tight I think it could cut off the blood circulation to his brain—if he has any left since he fell in love—that is.

“It’s made for you!” I add, about to crack up. “And you look kind of cute with glitter on your cheeks.”

“Shut it,
Thumbelina,
” he says, taunting me back.

“Hey! She doesn’t like to be called that.”

We all look to see Cam striding up the sidewalk from the bus stop wearing the same beanie. And grinning. At me. My heart drops into my lungs.

“What are
you
doing here, Patrick?” Cam asks.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Patrick answers Cam over my head. “Ellen didn’t want to wear her fancy tiger hat to the bus stop all by herself so she called me along for moral support.”

“Would you look at the four of us being so adorable?” Laura grins between us all, clapping her hands.

Cam raises a brow at Patrick’s head. “Looks completely awful on you, dude.”

“About as good as yours?”

“I know, right? I’m hideous.” Cam turns his smile at me again like he’s really happy to see me, just like yesterday. I take in his long, gray skateboard shorts, tattered Cons, and a darker gray fleece hoodie and note that the tiger beanie looks perfect with this outfit and on him. Well, of course it does.

I work to hide my fan-girl sigh.

*Rose petals, doves, and the sinister cherubs make a big reappearance, shouting, “Ready. Aim. Fire.”*

Cam’s eyes are dancing between us as much as Laura’s are. “I also didn’t want to be down at the stop wearing this sucker all by myself so I came up here looking for…partners in crime.” His gaze skims softly over my face again. “You could have texted me to come up and walk with you.”

“I could have?” I blink, and then flip it around. “Oh. I mean, sure. I could have. But you could have texted me you were coming up also…so…”

“Oh, yeah, right. I should have. Next time.”

I nod.

“You two—
text
? Each other?” Patrick’s brows shoot up. “Since when?”

I don’t answer, and Cam shrugs, acting as if we text all the time.

Laura says, “Yesterday, probably. We all got assigned this huge group project together.”

“You did?” Patrick’s frown darkens.

My turn to shrug, mostly so I can avoid Patrick’s expression. The one that says he’s hurt that he has no idea why Camden Campbell is even standing next to us talking especially when we’d had the whole morning to talk about it.

The one that says his feelings are hurt that I didn’t tell him about this. Unaware there is tension in the air, Laura slings her arm into Patrick’s. “Perfect. This means daily handsome escorts for the two of us, Ellen. How chivalrous and lovely. Patrick, shall you
also
come to this stop every day?” She beams, eyes going all round and soft. “We’ll be the power of four!”

“How can I say no to you with that accent, Laura?” Patrick’s voice has gone softer than ever and his expression shifts to her hand on his arm.

Cam beams. “She’s so cute, isn’t she?”

“Beyond,” I say.

“Aww—you all are making me fall in love with Canada and I didn’t even want to like it here.”

My heart twists for Patrick’s befuddled expression and I wonder if Cam and I have the same expression on our faces when we look at Laura—like we just swallowed a whole field of daffodils.

I’m sure we do.

Does Laura’s boyfriend back in Ireland feel the same as we all seem to feel about her? I wonder if this feeling gets bigger if you’ve known her longer? If so, he must miss her terribly. Poor guy is probably a complete mess and messaging her on Facebook nonstop.

And poor Patrick. He’s doomed. Who could ever fall
out of love
with Laura London?

Patrick glances between me and Cam as though he’s just realized the two of us are still here. Then he glares as though he’s remembered he’s angry at me, but before he can say anything Laura drags him ahead. “Come on, then. Or we’ll be missing the bus.” Laura’s wide smile stretches across her face as she bathes us all in her happy light.

“Any photos today?” Cam asks.

I can only shake my head.

Patrick glances back as though he’s unsure if he should leave me walking alone with Cam but then as Laura speaks again, he’s gone.

Cam hits me with another glance and I respond by looking away fast.

He and I are acting worse than Patrick did when Laura arrived.

But what am I supposed to say? Why did it seem so easy last night to text amazing questions and topics to him? Yet today, with the sun shining overhead, I’ve got nothing.

*Wonders if it would be wrong or right to text him right now instead of ever speaking again?*

“Crush?” Cam clears his throat.

“W-what?” My eyes shoot to his face.

He flushes and shakes his head, pointing ahead, “Patrick. On Laura. It’s so obvious, right?”

“Oh. He’s got it bad.” I have no idea how I managed to speak without a waver in my voice. “I have to find out her boyfriend deal.”

“Yeah,” he says, never taking his eyes off mine. “It would be good to know the situation.”