The Infinite Moment of Us (30 page)

Then he fell in love with Wren, and he wondered if

maybe there
was
a God.

Maybe.

But if so, He was cruel.

Wren hadn’t spoken to him since the night Starrla

showed up at Tessa’s. When he called, she didn’t pick up.

When he went to her house, she wouldn’t come to the

door. Did she view him differently now because of what

Starrla said? Did she not want him anymore? Was she

repulsed by him, see him as trash? Charlie was sick from

missing her. From worrying what she was thinking about

him. Aching for her voice, aching for her touch. Frantic to

make things better, but not knowing how.

She was getting on a plane in four hours, and Charlie

was beside himself with longing for her. He paced back

and forth. Should he go to her? Try to catch her before her

flight?

What more could he say?

Would she listen?

He knew from experience that when Wren fell into

a funk, she fell hard. Given her refusal to talk to him, it

seemed she’d decided to cross him out of her life. End of

story.

Charlie couldn’t accept that. Wren wasn’t Starrla. She

wasn’t shutting him out to hurt him or make him feel

ashamed. He couldn’t believe that of her. But it seemed

Wren no longer believed in
them
. He could help her believe again, but he didn’t know how to get to her. Dammit. He

didn’t know what to do.

Dev butted the door to Charlie’s room, ramming his

wheelchair into it repeatedly until Charlie crossed the

worn carpet and yanked it open.

“Dude,” Charlie said.

“Dude yourself,” Dev said. He wheeled past Charlie and

circled around behind him. He butted the backs of Char-

lie’s knees, saying, “Move your butt. Family conference.

Walk.”

“What? No. I’m busy.” He dragged his hand down his

face. “What?”

“Mom and Dad want to talk to us in the kitchen.”

“They do? Is something wrong?”

“Less talking, more walking,” Dev said. “Move your

butt.”

“Hey.
Ouch
. Okay, but—”

“Nope,” Dev said, blocking Charlie from getting to his

desk. “You don’t need your phone. You’ve been checking

that damn thing like it’s going out of style, but you can

live without it for ten minutes.” He reversed and rammed

Charlie again. “Go, fool.”

Charlie went to the kitchen, nerves jangling, and found

Pamela and Chris waiting for him at the table. Dev joined

them and jerked his chin at Charlie’s chair.

“Sit, my brother,” he said.

Charlie sat. Pamela and Chris wore matching expres-

sions, and their concern alarmed him. What was going

on—and could it wait? Wren’s flight. Four hours. Less

than. His brain hurt.

“What’s going on?” he said.

Chris flipped something over to him. His passport.

Charlie felt the blood drain from his face.

“Going somewhere, Chahlie?” Chris said. “Anything, ya

know, ya want to tell us?”

Charlie glanced at Pamela, whose blue eyes were big

and round.

He looked at Dev, who said, “I found the letter from that

program. The one in Guatemala.”

Charlie struggled for words. “Uh . . . I, ah . . .”

“Project Unity,” Pamela said. “You got accepted. That’s

great, Charlie.”

“It is?”

“I wish you would have told us, but yes. They’re lucky

to have you.”

“If you’re going,” Dev said. “Are you?”

“No,” Charlie said sharply.

“Hey,” Pamela said. “Charlie.”

He wondered if he was going to be reprimanded.

“What?”

She found his hand. “Do you remember when you were

a little older than Dev, and you found me crying in the

kitchen?”

“Um. Yeah . . . ?”

“You were my age once?” Dev said to Charlie. “Ha.” He

turned to Pamela. “Mom, why were you crying?”

“I don’t remember,” Pamela said. “What I do remember

was how worried your brother was.” She turned from Dev

to Charlie. “I always wondered if maybe that was the first

time you realized I was just a person, with problems of my

own. Do you think?”

Charlie remembered being scared that he’d done some-

thing to make her unhappy. When Pamela assured him he

wasn’t responsible, he wanted to find out what was and

make it go away.

“We’re all just people,” Pamela said, squeezing his

fingers. Her manner was so mild that it took Charlie a

moment to realize she understood more than she’d first

revealed. “Okay, Charlie? We all have things we deal with,

but it’s all right. We always muddle through.”

“
Yeah
, Charlie,” Dev said.

“Yeah, Dev,” Charlie said. “You don’t even know what

she’s talking about.”

“I do so.”

“I don’t think so.”

“
Boys
,” Pamela said.

Chris put his fingers to his mouth and whistled.

Charlie and Dev stopped arguing.

“Charlie, isn’t Project Unity the program Wren applied

to?” Pamela asked.

“Yep,” Dev said.

Heat rushed to Charlie’s face. He’d told no one about

his application, not even Wren.

“We think you should go,” Pamela said gently.

“What?”

“Hell yeah, if you want to,” Chris said. “For once in your

stinkin’ life, we want you to do what
you
want to do.”

Charlie took a shal ow breath. He’d thought that Pamela

would be hurt and that Chris would be pissed. Pamela did

look concerned, but not hurt, and if Chris was pissed, it

wasn’t for the reason Charlie had assumed.

Why had Charlie thought they wouldn’t support him?

His biological mother, long ago, had treated him like gar-

bage to be disposed of. Other foster parents had pushed

him this way and that. But what had Chris and Pamela ever

done to make him feel anything other than loved?

“Mom and Dad said we can visit you,” Dev said. “There’s

an active volcano in Guatemala. Did you know that? I

totally want to see a volcano.”

“But I already told you. I said no to Project Unity.”

“Dude,” Dev said. “Why?”

“Because . . .” Charlie blinked. Was it because he was

scared his family would fall apart without him, or was he

scared that he’d fall apart without them?

“If you don’t know, then call them or whatever and tell

them yes,” Dev said. “Tell them you changed your mind.”

“What about Georgia Tech?” he said, feeling slow. “In a

week, I’m starting at Tech.”

“I called the dean of admissions,” Pamela said. “They’re

happy to let you defer.”

“But Wren said that Emory . . .” He stopped. Wren said

that Emory was happy to let her defer, too, just that they

couldn’t guarantee a spot. But since when did life offer

guarantees?

“Um, what about you?” Charlie said, his heart pounding.

“Who?” Chris said. He looked around, then held up

his palms. “Us? Me and Pammie and Dev here? What’d ya

think, Chahlie, that I was going to make you work at the

shop till you were sixty-five?”

“We would never want to hold you back,” Pamela said.

“We’ll miss you, but we’ll be fine.”

“Yeah,” Dev said. “Anyway, I can help Dad. I’ve got this.”

Chris slid a piece of paper in front of him, a document

of some sort. “Listen,” he said. “Do what ya want, but sign

this for me first, would ya?”

The words on the document blurred, but Charlie had

seen a version of a similar document once before. This one

was different mainly because of the word
adult
in front of some of the other words. Adult adoptee—that would be

Charlie. Adoptive parents? Chris and Pamela. The first time,

Charlie had said no, because he was afraid to get attached.

But who was he kidding? He already was attached.

Dev bounced in his wheelchair like he needed to pee.

“We want to adopt a bouncing baby eighteen-year-old!” he

said. He cracked up. “Meaning you! You’re the bouncing

baby!”

“Your brother is not a baby,” Pamela told Dev, “but yes.

It’s time. Don’t you think, Charlie?”

“It’s been time for a
long
time,” Dev said

“We shoulda brought it up earlier,” Chris said. “But

after that first time we asked, we didn’t want to pressure

you. Or, hell, maybe we were gun-shy. So shoot us.” Chris

laughed awkwardly and clapped Charlie’s shoulder. “Sign

the fucking paper, Chahlie. Do it for your mothah.”

Charlie’s throat tightened. He picked up the pen and

scribbled his name, and Dev thrust both arms into the air.

“Yes!” he crowed. “Welcome to the family, dumb-ass.”

“Dev,” Pamela scolded.

“How about ‘welcome to the family, dumb-shit’?” Dev

tried. “Can I call him dumb-shit?”

“You can call him Charlie,” Pamela said. “And he was

already part of the family. Now it’s just official.”

Chris pushed back his chair and gave Charlie a noogie.

“Welcome to the family, dumb-shit.”

After that, everyone moved fast. Pamela called the airline

and reserved a ticket for him, to be paid for and picked up

at the airport. Chris found a duffel bag and threw in clothes

and a toothbrush. Dev wheeled himself to their neighbor’s

house, who was a frequent traveler, and came back with a

stick of gum and a converter for his electronics.

“Ms. Sheldon said you could keep it,” Dev said. “She says

‘good luck’ and ‘have fun.’ And don’t eat street food.”

“Thanks,” Charlie said, humbled by all they’d done for

him.

At the airport, in the passenger drop-off lane, Chris

turned around from the front seat of the car and pressed

ten twenties into Charlie’s hand. That, plus the cash Charlie

had saved up, would just pay for his ticket and short-term

living expenses.

“Consider it a bonus for that big chair order ya did such

a bang-up job on,” he said gruffly. He dug again in his wal et and handed Charlie a prepaid phone card. “And listen. Call

us when you get there.”

Charlie, who was halfway out of the van, stopped and

said, “My phone. Crap.”

“You don’t have your phone?”

“I don’t have my phone.”

“Does Wren know you’re coming?” Pamela asked. “Have

you let her know?”

“No. I guess I’ll—” He looked at the airport. There were

so many people. Was Wren already through security? More

important, would she listen to what he had to say?

Well, he’d have the entire flight to get her back. He’d

either succeed or die trying.

“Charlie,” Dev said from the back of the van. He held up

Charlie’s battered Nokia and wiggled it. “See how smart I

am?” He grinned and tossed it to Charlie. “Told you, I’ve

got this.”

And then there was one more round of hugs and good-

byes, and when Chris finally drove off, it was 3:43. Wren’s

flight—
their
flight—left at six, which meant Charlie didn’t have any time to waste.

But before he mad-dashed through the crowd, he had to

talk to Wren. Or try. He needed to hear her voice, even if

all she said was, “Hi, this is Wren. Leave a message!”

He flipped open his phone. He tapped the power but-

ton, and the screen lit up. Across the top was an alert that

made his heart skip a beat.

wren gray

missed call

She’d called him?

He went to his phone’s home screen. She’d not only

called him, but left four messages and a string of texts as

well. His pulse raced, and all of his insecurities came flood-

ing back.

No, he told himself. Breathe. Find out what she has to

say and then decide what you want to do.

Except he couldn’t wait that long.

Instead of listening to her message, he hit return call

and raised the phone to his ear. Something good and certain

filled him up, because he knew, suddenly and absolutely,

that all would be well.

“Charlie?” Wren said, answering halfway through the

first ring.

“Wren,” he said, letting go.

It wasn’t the end of their story. It was the beginning.

a c k n o w l e d g m e n t s

a b o u t t h e a u t h o r

Lauren Myracle is the author of the New York

Times–
bestselling Internet Girls series (
ttyl
,
ttfn
,
and
l8r,
g8r
),
Shine
,
Rhymes with Witches
,
Bliss
, and the Flower Power series, among many other books for teens and young people. She lives with her family in Fort Collins, Colorado.

Visit her online at laurenmyracle.com.

This book was designed by Maria T. Middleton. The text is

set in 13-point Perpetua, a typeface created by the legend-

ary type designer Eric Gill for the Monotype Corporation.

Perpetua was comissioned as the first in a series of orig-

inally designed book faces, but due to several setbacks

took seven years to complete, living up to its name. After

multiple revisions and a hiatus in which Eric Gill designed

the classic sans-serif, Gill Sans, the Perpetua family was

released to the public in 1932. The display font is Linotype

Didot.

This book was printed and bound by Worzalla in Stevens

Point, Wisconsin. Its production was overseen by Rachel