Sometimes It Happens (27 page)

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“Honestly?” I say. “I really, really loved it.”

“Of course you did,” he says, looking straight ahead with a wry smile. At first I think he’s pretending to be arrogant in that fake-macho way guys do, but then I realize he thinks I’m saying I like it just because we’re friends. But I’m not just saying it. I really did love it. So to prove it, I pull the script out of my bag.

“What’s that?” he asks.

“The copy of your script I printed out and made notes on,” I say. Suddenly, I feel like kind of a dork.
The copy of your script I printed out and made notes on?
I mean, that’s kind of pathetic. “Not a lot of notes,” I rush on. “I mean, I didn’t read it a ton of times or anything, it was just some, you know, overall thoughts.” I’ve read it three times and given it a thorough line edit, but Noah doesn’t need to know that.

“So you really did like it,” he says, looking over at me and grinning.

“I really did,” I say, flushing at the thought that me reading his script could make him so happy. “But, um, I, ah, had some ideas on how you could make it better.”

“You did?” He sounds interested, so I forge ahead.

“Yeah,” I say. “Mostly with the girl’s dialogue. Girls don’t usually say things like ‘homes’ and ‘tricked out’.”

He laughs. “Point taken.”

“Also, the . . . the romance. I didn’t really buy that he’s so in love with her that he would give everything up throughout the movie. His family, school . . . He busted his ass for that.”

“I didn’t know girls said things like ‘busted his ass’,” he says, but he’s teasing, so I say, “This girl does.”

“So you didn’t think the ending paid off?”

“No, it . . . I mean, I got that he liked her a lot, but he just let her leave at the end, after he’d risked everything. I felt like if he loved her, if he really wanted her, he would have fought for her. At least, that’s what I would do if I really loved someone.”

“That’s true,” he says. “I guess it’s hard to write when you’ve never really felt that way about someone, you know?”

“Oh,” I say, flipping through the pages of the script and suddenly feeling uncomfortable. “You don’t . . . I mean, what about Ava?”

“Oh, of course I love Ava. I’m just talking about the kind of love that’s in that screenplay. You know, like, an epic love story.”

“You and Ava aren’t an epic-love-story love?”

“Ava is amazing, don’t get me wrong,” he says. “She’s funny and smart and when I came to school, she really went out of her way to be nice to me.”
So did I,
I want to say, but don’t. “But I’m only seventeen. I’m not sure that’s old enough for epic-love-story love.” He laughs, and then turns the conversation back to me. “How about you?” he asks. “Is Sebastian your epic love?”

“No,” I say.

“Did you think he was?”

I consider the question. “I guess not,” I say. “Maybe for, like, a second. But I don’t think that seventeen is too young for epic love. And you shouldn’t either. I mean, the characters in your screenplay are seventeen.”

“Yeah, but that’s a screenplay.”

“Right.” I hesitate, and then I say, “But don’t you kind of want that?”

“Epic-love-story love?”

“Yeah,” I say.

He looks at me out of the corner of his eye, and I hold my breath, wondering what he’s going to say next. “Of course,” he says. “I’m just not sure I’m ready for everything that comes along with it.”

Ava comes flying out of the dining hall after we pull into the parking lot. She got extensions in her hair, and it’s halfway down her back, all straight and smooth and gorgeous. Her legs are tan from spending so much time outside, and she actually has muscles. She’s wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a navy blue tank. I jump out of the car and she throws her arms around me before she even looks at Noah.

“Hans!” she yells.

“Avs!” I say. I am so, so happy to see her, my stomach is all excited and it hits me how much I missed her. It’s almost enough to get me all teared up. “I missed you!” I pull back and look at her. “Look at your hair, it’s amazing!”

“They’re clip-ins,” she says, reaching up and smoothing them down. “There’s a beauty supply store a couple of miles away, and since it’s one of the only places there is to go around here . . .” She smiles and then looks at Noah, who’s still sitting in the car. Their eyes meet and her smile gets wider, and then Noah’s out of the car, hugging her.

She grabs onto him for a long time, and when she finally pulls back, she says, “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” he says. I look down at the ground and drag my toe across the sand and gravel, feeling like an
outsider. Which is weird, since I know Noah way more now than I did before the summer, and I never used to feel that way when Noah and I would hang out with Ava before. Or when Ava and I would hang out with Noah, I mean.

“So let me give you guys the grand tour,” Ava says. “I signed out the guest cabin for us, so we’ll all be able to stay in there together, although I think Brooke Wilkins is having friends up, so they’ll probably be in there, too.” She wrinkles up her nose.

“Brooke Wilkins?” I ask as Noah walks around to the back of the car and hefts our bags out of the trunk.

“Oh, right,” she says. “I never told you about her. She’s this really annoying girl from Cali who, like, constantly talks about all the girls she’s hooked up with. It’s just so freshman year, you know?”

“What is?”

“Bragging about how you’ve hooked up with girls.”

“We never did that.”

“No, but everyone else did. Remember Sonya Fullmer?”

“Oh, right,” I say. “She was always kissing girls to get guys interested in her.”

“I remember her,” Noah says, grinning.

“Figures,” Ava says, grabbing his arm. But he has both our suitcases in his hands, and they’re banging against Ava’s leg so she lets go of him, and it makes me happy to think that Noah wouldn’t have picked up both our suitcases if he was thinking about holding Ava’s hand.

“So here’s my cabin!” Ava says a few minutes later, opening the door. It’s small, with six bunk beds pushed up against the walls. “No one’s here right now, obviously. The girls are at their swimming lesson.”

“Who’s watching them?” I ask.

“No one’s watching them, Hannah, they’re not here to get babysat.” Ava rolls her eyes. “They’re being supervised and taught by the swimming instructor and Carrie, my co-counselor.”

“Cool,” I say, deciding to let her snarky remark go.

We drop our bags off in the guest cabin, and then Ava shows us the lake and the dining hall before we head back to Noah’s car so we can drive into town and get something to eat. I stop at the passenger side, and almost climb in before I remember that Ava will sit in front. She holds open the door and I reach down to push the car seat forward, then slide into the back behind her.

We have lunch at a place called The Seaman, which Noah decides is the best name for a restaurant he’s ever heard. Once we’re inside, I suddenly wish that I’d changed my clothes, since everyone here is kind of dressed up. Well, not really dressed up, they’re just more, like . . . preppy. Ava fits right in with her tan skin and her long blond hair and her crisp khaki shorts, but I’m still wearing the same clothes I wore on the drive, jean shorts and a tank top.

“I thought you said this place was casual,” I say as I slide
into the booth across from her and Noah. The waitress gives us menus, and I glance down at the specials. All seafood and steak. Which means expensive. Oh, well. After working so hard all summer, this is like my vacation. And on vacation, you should be able to treat yourself. Plus, last night I checked my bank balance, did some googling, and found this super-cute red Honda that I can actually afford. I emailed the guy who’s selling it, and as soon as I get back, I’m going to take it for a test-drive.

“Did I say it was casual?” Ava says, looking confused. “It’s not, really. They get more of a wealthy crowd here, the vacationers who come up on their boats to spend time in their summer homes.” She
knows
that she said the place was casual, and I look at Noah, waiting for him to back me up. But he just keeps his eyes on his menu, which makes me annoyed at both of them.

“Now,” Ava says. “I want you guys to order whatever you want. My treat.”

“Your treat?”

“Yes,” she says. “I get a big bonus at the end of the summer. And besides, we’re celebrating. Me, you, and my boyfriend.” She kisses Noah on the cheek, and he smiles.
Me, you, and my boyfriend
. God, that really sums up my life. Only I’m the “you.”
Me, you, and my boyfriend.
That sounds like the title of a really horrible, heartbreaking movie. Or a really bad porno.

When the waitress comes over, we order steamers to start.

“You like steamers, right?” Ava asks.

I shrug. “I dunno,” I say. “I’ve never had steamers.” Steamers seem like the kind of thing you don’t just all of a sudden start ordering. They’re steamed clams and you dip them in butter and the whole thing just seems super complicated.

“You’ve never had steamers?” Noah says. He looks at me incredulously.

“Really?” Ava says, laughing. “Well, you’re going to love them.”

I feel even more annoyed with both of them, but something tells me I can’t afford to show it, that if I do show it, there’s going to be a lot of bad things that happen, a lot of horrible things that are going to come up. So I bite my tongue and hope that when I talk I won’t sound passive-aggressive, even though it’s how I feel.

“That’s me,” I say, giving them a smile. “Totally sheltered. And I’m sure I’ll love steamers.” And then I order the Surf ’n’ Turf, not because I love it that much, but because Ava’s paying.

After lunch, Ava insists that we hit the grocery store so she can stock up on some stuff to bring back to camp. “The food at the dining hall is so disgusting,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Like, even the pizza is inedible. And they used to have a salad bar but they shut it down when a couple of campers got food poisoning.” She rolls her eyes again, like the
thought of shutting down the salad bar is just way too horrible to comprehend.

I don’t understand the point of going to the grocery store now, when Noah and I are here (shouldn’t we be doing something a lot more fun than grocery shopping?) but I know better than to say anything. So I just follow Ava around the store, listening to her chatter away. Noah splits off from us and roams the aisles by himself, picking out snacks for us to eat later once we’re back in the cabin.

“I’m sooo glad you’re here,” Ava says as we look at the packages of cookies and candy. “Honestly, Hannah, the girls here are just so . . .” She wrinkles up her nose.

“What about Lulu?” I ask. I pick up some Junior Mints and add them to the basket, wishing we had a way to keep things cold. I could really go for some Butterfinger ice cream right about now. I wonder if there’s a good ice-cream stand around. You’d think that with all the summer vacationers, Maine would have excellent ice cream.

“Lulu’s cool,” she says. “But she’s not you.” My insides start to thaw out a little bit. “Oooh, Double Stuffs,” she says and drops them into the cart.

“And we have to get Bugles,” I tell her. Bugles are these really disgusting corn-chip-type things that are in the shape of, what else, bugles. Ava’s mom used to buy them constantly when we were younger, even though we hated them. We still eat them now sometimes, because they remind us of middle school.

“Oh, definitely Bugles,” she says. “I’m going to get the sour cream and onion kind.” She drops them into the basket she’s holding.

“Good idea,” I say, happy to be joking around. “And while we’re at it, why don’t we get some dip for them?”

“Better yet,” Ava says. “Let’s skip the Bugles and just eat dip.” We both collapse into giggles, doubled over in the chip aisle. But then, suddenly, Ava’s face changes completely. She stops laughing and straightens up, her mouth set in a tight line.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, turning around, expecting to maybe see her camp archnemesis, Brooke Wilkins. Not that I know what Brooke Wilkins looks like. I know her type, though, so I bet I could spot her. But instead of an annoying looking girl, there are just two guys, around our age, both wearing green T-shirts that say
CAMP IGOOANA
.

“Hey, Ava,” the taller one says, stopping in front of us. “What’s going on?” He’s cute, with a lean swimmer’s body and dark hair.

“Nothing,” she says, her voice strained. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Well, it’s a grocery store,” the shorter one says sarcastically. “So probably the same thing you are.” He peers into our basket, his eyes falling on the Bugles. “Although maybe not exactly.”

I stand there, waiting for Ava to introduce me. But she doesn’t. Awwwk-ward.

“Well,” Ava says, twirling a strand of her newly long blond hair around her finger. “Enjoy your day.”

“Will I see you tonight?” the taller one says. And something about the way he says it sounds very . . . cozy. It isn’t like,
oh, will I see you tonight at the student council meeting?
It’s more like
oh, will I see you tonight when I ravage your body and get you naked in my bunk?

“Uh, no,” Ava says. “I have a friend up.” I notice that she doesn’t say “friends” multiple, and since I’m obviously standing right there, it leads me to believe she doesn’t want them to know about Noah.

We all hover there for a second, still waiting for her to introduce us, and her still not doing it. I’m this close to introducing myself, but something tells me Ava really wouldn’t like that. So I just look down at the ground and after a few more seconds, the boys say goodbye and disappear down the aisle.

Ava and I just stand there, and then finally, I reach down and pick up the sour cream and onion bugles. “So,” I say. “Should we still get these? Or would you rather have barbeque?”

“Those,” she says, forcing a smile. But I can tell it’s not real.