Summer of Seventeen (18 page)

I brushed off a decade of spider webs then carried it into the house, tipping the bundle of papers onto the kitchen table and started sorting through them.

Julia had gone out with Ben—I don’t know where.

Things seemed better between them … better even than before. Maybe they were both trying harder. It made me wonder what would happen if they decided to be roomies or get married.

I guess it would be okay if Ben moved in; he practically lived here already. But if they got married, they wouldn’t want Julia’s little brother living with them. I didn’t know what that would mean for me, and the thought freaked me out.

I sifted through the contents of the box, not certain what I was looking for.

There were photographs from Julia’s high school graduation, old school reports, pictures of me with gap teeth grinning at the camera, old birthday cards, newspaper cuttings about Cocoa Beach and the year I won the Under-11s surf contest, and photos of Mom as a kid standing with people I guessed were her parents. They’d died before Julia was born, but that was all I knew. I wished now I’d asked Mom more about them. I didn’t even know their names.

Most of the time I liked my English teacher, Mrs. Lord, but that crap she’d spouted about time being a great teacher—what a load of horseshit. Time was a crappy teacher, because it just reminded you of all the things you should have done, but couldn’t do fuck all about now.

I almost missed the thin sheet of paper that had been folded into the size of a postcard.

So that was his name, Robert Croften. Or maybe he was known as Bob Croften or Rob Croften. Did this mean that he knew about me after all? I wasn’t sure.

It was the strangest feeling, seeing his name in black and white. I was part of some guy that I knew nothing about. Half of my DNA was his. Did I look like him? Did I act like him? Did we have any mannerisms that were the same? Maybe he surfed? Maybe I got my love of the ocean from him? Maybe I was left-handed because he was?

And maybe it didn’t matter because he didn’t give a fuck about me.

If Julia moved out, I’d be completely alone. What if she wanted me to move out? Where would I go?

Suddenly, all her irritating habits didn’t seem so bad.

I shoved the papers into a pile with the birth certificate on top.

I rested my head in my hands, trying not to think about Bob Croften who had a son that he’d never seen.

“Hi.”

My head shot up, wondering if I’d imagined her voice.

My jaw dropped open when I saw Yansi standing there, and my throat began to burn.

“What … what are you doing here?”

“I was walking over here to see you and … I bumped into Julia and Ben. She said you were in, so…” She hesitated. “But I can go…”

“No! Fuck, no! Please don’t go. Just ... stay, please.”

She nodded jerkily and fiddled with the strap of her purse, before pulling out one of the battered kitchen chairs and sitting down.

She stared at the table and I knew I should say something, but I couldn’t think of a single damn word.

“So,” she said at last. “You look … good.”

I blinked rapidly before managing to choke out a reply.

“Thanks. You, too.”

And she did, she really did. I hadn’t seen her for two-and-a-half weeks, so she could have worn a sack and she’d look hot to me. But she was wearing a pale pink tank-top and short jean skirt, and her hair was loose, falling in thick, silky strands that I wanted to wrap around my hands while I kissed her. But I couldn’t: I didn’t have that right. Not anymore.

But now I looked more closely, her eyes were tired, dark rings only partially hidden with makeup.

She bit her lip and glanced toward the door, as if she was thinking of leaving.

“Um,” I said, beginning to panic. “Can I get you a soda or a water or something?”

“Can I have a water, please?”

“Sure! Sure!”

I leapt to my feet, relieved to have something to do.

We couldn’t afford bottled water, so it had to be from the tap, and it wasn’t very cold. I handed her the glass and shoved my hands in my pockets.

She took a sip and put the glass down. I don’t think she really wanted a drink; she was probably just being polite.

One of the things I’d always loved about me and Yans was that we could talk about anything. But not now. It was awkward and embarrassing and I had no fucking clue what to do to make it any better.

She glanced up at me and smiled weakly.

“Are you going to sit down?” she asked, squinting at the chair I’d been sitting in.

I slid into it, cringing as the legs scraped across the floor tiles too loudly.

“So, this is … strange,” she whispered.

“Um, yeah,” I agreed, running my hands through my hair nervously.

“How’ve you been?”

Shit without you.
“Okay, I guess. You?”

She sighed. “I’ve been better.”

Me, too.

“I’m sorry,” I said helplessly. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”

She nodded as her lips twisted to the side. “I know.” Then she looked up. “Erin came to see me.”

I was so surprised, my eyebrows shot up and my mouth dropped open, but no words came out.

Yansi smiled faintly. “Yeah, that was about my reaction.”

“What … what did she want?”

My voice sounded high pitched and strangled, as if someone had squeezed my balls hard.

Yansi shrugged. “To apologize.”

“Really?” I croaked. “Wow.”

“Yeah, wow. She told me everything that happened at the party, that it was her fault, and that you … you were drunk and … you thought she was me?”

Her voice turned a corner at the end, becoming a question by accident.

“Is that true?”

I nodded slowly, my cheeks reddening with shame as the memory flooded behind my eyes.

“I was dreaming about you,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “I said your name, but then I realized it wasn’t you and … it was too late,” I finished lamely.

Yansi frowned, and two parallel lines appeared between her eyebrows. “That’s what Erin said.”

“God, I’m so sorry, Yans. I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” she said sadly. “I asked Papi how you were, but he wouldn’t tell me anything.”

“I guess he doesn’t know why we split up then,” I said quietly.

Yansi shook her head. “No.”

Well, that was something.

“Your mom?”

“Yeah, she knows.”

Crap.

“She was there when Erin came over, so I had to explain. I didn’t tell her everything, but I think she probably guessed the rest…”

“So she hates me, too,” I sighed, wearily.

“I don’t hate you.”

Yansi’s voice was quiet, but I felt a flutter of hope as I looked up into her beautiful dark eyes.

“You don’t?”

“I wanted to,” she admitted. “I tried to, but I just couldn’t.”

My mouth was dry as I tried to swallow.

“God, if I could take it back, I would. I wish I’d never gone to that stupid party. I was just so angry after what Julia said and…”

Yansi’s head snapped up. “What did Julia say?”

“Oh. Well, nothing really.”

I didn’t like remembering that night
.

“It can’t be nothing!” Yansi insisted.

I sighed again and lowered my eyes to the table, mindlessly peeling the label from a bottle of ketchup.

“The usual, you know. Going on about me being a fuckin’ waste of space. I guess she was right.”

Yansi shook her head briskly.

“That’s not true. You can be a real idiot sometimes…”

“I’m sorry.”

I didn’t know how many times I could keep on saying that. Maybe as many as it took for Yansi to forgive me?

She sighed and stared out of the window.

“You know that me and Erin…” I took a deep breath. “You know that I don’t like her that way?”

Yansi pulled a face and looked down at the glass of water.

“Yeah, I guess. She told me what you said to her.”

I winced. “I was angry.”

Yansi smiled, a sad lopsided smile. “Yeah, she said that, too.”

“Um, I don’t really get why she came to see you. You said she wanted to … apologize?”

Yansi frowned. “She really cares about you.”

I shook my head. “I don’t care about her.”

“She’s not all bad.”

“Why are you defending her, Yans? She got what she wanted,” I said bitterly.

“No, she didn’t,” Yansi said briskly. “She thought … she thought that if you had sex with her you’d want to start dating her. I think she was pretty shocked when you blew her off. She said you’d always been nice to her, so she … she blamed me for taking you away from her, I guess.”

“She didn’t take me away from you,” I said impatiently. “I never wanted her. We went out one lousy time, and that was only because you weren’t allowed to date until you were 17. I couldn’t wait to get rid of her.”

“She was really upset.”

“I don’t care!” I shouted, and Yansi flinched. “She fucked things up for us. What she did, it wasn’t an accident! I want
you
, and now it’s all ruined.”

I swept my hand across the table, sending the pile of papers flying. Yansi stared at me, shocked. I didn’t usually lose my temper around her, but I was having a really bad day.

“Sorry,” I mumbled after a moment, then knelt down to start picking up the papers.

Yansi was quiet, and then she bent down beside me and began shuffling everything into a neat pile.

“What is all this?” she asked.

“Mom’s stuff.”

“Oh,” she said quietly, stacking it back onto the table in a neat pile.

Then she pulled out a photo of me as a kid, flattening it on the table because it was curled with age.

“Aw, look at you. You’re so cute.”

I glanced across.

“That was my first boogie board. I was maybe five or six.”

She smiled, then carefully pushed the photo back into the pile.

“I found my birth certificate,” I said.

She paused, looking at me intently, but I couldn’t hold her gaze. She saw too much—she always had.

“Did it tell you … anything?”

“Yeah, it did.” I took a deep breath. “My dad is some guy named ‘Robert Alan Croften’. It’s weird, seeing it written down like that. Makes it real, you know?”

“Are you going to try and find him?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it. I mean, what’s the point? His name is on the birth certificate so I guess that means he knows I exist, but the dude hasn’t wanted anything to do with me in 17 years—why would he change now? Anyway, I don’t think Mom wanted me to know him, or she would have said something, wouldn’t she?”

Yansi looked doubtful. “Maybe. She obviously had her issues with him…”

I started shoving the papers back in the box, feeling confused and miserable.

“Why are you here, Yans?” I muttered without looking up.

“I want us to try again.”

My hands stilled and the flare of hope was painful. When I dared to meet her eyes, she was watching me, a tiny smile on her face.

“Really?”

“Yes. Really.”

I stared at her stunned. “You mean it?”

“Yes, you idiot!” she half laughed, half shouted.

She launched herself at me, and I could have cried with relief at the way her soft body molded against mine. I wrapped my arms around her, burying my face in her hair, breathing in the scent of warmth and spice.

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” she whispered.

“I won’t. I promise,” my voice stuttered. “Oh God, I promise.”

“No more getting wasted at parties?” she asked carefully.

I hesitated, not wanting to lie to her. “I promise I’ll try.”

She sighed and shook her head slightly. “Good enough, I guess. At least you’re honest.”

“I’d never lie to you, Yans.”

She frowned. “No, you’d rather not tell me the truth.”

I felt ashamed, because she was right.

“I’d rather know,” she said softly. “I’d rather hear it from you. It hurt so badly when Megan told me. I didn’t want to believe her.”

“I’m sorry,” I said again. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Me, too. I’m sorry I didn’t give you a chance to explain. Although I’m not sure I would have listened there and then.”

I winced at the memory. “Probably not.”

“But I missed you so much. When Erin came around, I was desperate to hear what she had to say. She felt bad for what happened, especially when she saw that you were never going to go out with her and that you were really miserable.”

“I don’t want to talk about Erin ever again,” I said coldly.

Yansi paused. “Okay. We won’t. Well, just one thing: at least now I know what I can’t live without,” and she pressed her soft lips against mine.

My girl always had to have the last word.

My girl.