The Season of You & Me (20 page)

“Bryan—”

“I’m going to be late, I’ll just . . . see you later. Bet you can get a ride from someone else.”

Ouch.

I didn’t know what to say to that. He closed the door and gunned the engine but didn’t move until I stepped onto the sidewalk. Introducing him as “my ride” was shitty, but I’d been caught off guard. I’d felt protective of him and of whatever was happening between us. That was ours, separate from
Gavin. How was I supposed to introduce him?

“Everything okay?”

I spun around. Gavin was there, smirk on his face, holding the cookies. Leslie and Hunter were walking in the other direction toward the SUV. My father came toward us, mouth pressed in a thin line. He looked between Gavin and me.

“Are you coming with us, Cassidy?” he asked.

I didn’t owe Gavin anything, but he was there and I got the feeling he was not going anywhere, even if I did take a ride with my family. I didn’t want him to step foot in the rec center, but until I talked to him, I knew he’d probably stick around.

“I’ll be over there in a bit.”

My father nodded. “Okay, then. See you there. Don’t miss Hunter’s song.”

“I won’t,” I said, turning to Gavin.

“Thank you,” he said.

“For what?”

“Letting me stay,” he said.

“You can’t stay, Gavin.”

“You’re really going to send me home after I drove three hours to see you?”

“You said you were going to Ship Bottom—don’t act like this was some special trip just to see me.”

“Cass . . . I’d just like to talk to you. Please, there are things I need to say.”

“This better be good.”

The rec center parking lot was full. Gavin found a spot on a side street one block away. I looked at my phone. The show started at seven fifteen. It was already six thirty. If I wanted to talk to Bryan I needed to get inside and find him. Gavin, for all his
there are things I need to say,
had not said one word since Ocean Whispers.

He cut the engine. “What’s with the guy in the wheelchair? I had the feeling he thought he was more than your ride.”

“He’s a friend. One of the counselors.”
I’ve been kissing him silly
.
Silly, silly, silly
. Nan would be proud.

He nodded. “I think someone has a little crush.”

“Don’t talk like that. You don’t know him.”

He chuckled, but it wasn’t happy. More like an aggravated
hmmph.

“Who said I was talking about him?” He turned his head and eyed me. “Have you, like, lost your mind?”

“You need to leave, Gavin,” I said, getting out of the Jeep.

I slammed the door and didn’t look back, racing toward the side entrance of the rec center, where more families were pouring in. As politely as I could, I weaved through the crowd to get to the test kitchen. Tori was there pacing around, her expression stern at first, but when she saw me, her brow creased in worry.

“What’s the matter?”

“I need to find Bryan.”

“Did you bring the cookies?”

Fuck
. I’d left them with Gavin. There was no time.

“I have them, yes, but . . . I need to find Bryan, I’ll be back, okay?” I whirled out of the classroom.

“Cass—”

I ran down the hallway to the multipurpose room and poked my head in. Half of the chairs were filled already, with more people piling in. I scanned the room. The back rows were reserved for the campers, so the parents could have seats up front to watch the show. I spotted Bryan with Wade and his group and walked over. Wade saw me first and waved. Bryan’s back was to me, but when he saw Wade look beyond him, he turned his head, saw me, then turned back around.

“Bryan,” I said, his name getting swallowed up in the cacophony of voices in the multipurpose room. I walked around to face him. “Please, can we talk?” I motioned out to the hallway, where I hoped we could find a quiet corner.

“Do you mind?” Bryan asked Wade.

“No worries, I have the minions under control,” he said. The group of boys cheered. Bryan and I wandered out into the hallway and ducked around the corner for more privacy. Neither of us said anything at first. I wasn’t entirely sure where to start.

“I’m sorry, Bryan.”

“So that was Gavin.”

I nodded. “He just showed up, Bryan. No warning. Ems tried—”

“Cass, whatever. I’m your
ride
? Do you know how humiliated I felt back there? The one thing you’ve never done is make
me feel lesser than. Even on that first day, you joked with me, looked at me, leaned in to speak to me. You know how rare that is? It’s like you didn’t treat me differently because of my chair. You saw me. Until tonight.”

“It was a shitty way to introduce you. I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to say.”

“How about friend? You could have called me
friend
, that would have worked.”

He was right. On all counts. I didn’t want to see him through Gavin’s eyes. Didn’t want him to be under his scrutiny. He could have handled it, though. He handled it every day. Why hadn’t I just said
friend
?

“So are you getting back with him?”

“No.”

“Then why is he even here?” he asked.

“I don’t know, Bryan, he wants to talk. I left him out in the car.”

“Isn’t this what you wanted though? Why else would you post those pictures? It’s all a game to you.”

“Bryan, no. It’s not.”

“Just fucking go, Cassidy. Talk to him. Make up with him. We both know where this is headed. You’re leaving soon. So, now or later, it doesn’t matter, does it?”

His words pierced me. “How can you say that? You do matter to me—”

“Don’t you get it? I can’t feel like this, I can’t fill my head
with all this bullshit, when none of it is real. It’s only summer. A season. And you’re gone.”

Someone cleared their throat. We turned.

Wade.

He came over to us slowly, as if he were approaching a bomb about to detonate. “Hey, Bry, I don’t mean to interrupt, but we need to get the little dudes lined up.”

“I’ll be right there,” he said. Wade went back.

“Can we hang out later, Bryan, please?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry,” I said again, but it felt small and silly, too-little words for too big a feeling.

He nodded, and pushed away toward the multipurpose room.

I went back to the test kitchen to face the fallout for spacing out about the sugar cookies. I cursed myself for not grabbing them before I huffed off. It was easier to be angry, to think about those things than Bryan’s words. Did he really mean what he’d said? That we were only going to last a season? I’d deluded myself that we had some sort of future, that I was more than a summer girl, but what he’d said was true. When camp was over, I’d be gone.

Tori was setting up a platter of cookies on the front island. She pushed a serving plate with a doily my way.

“Here, it’ll go quicker if we both do it,” she said. “What in the world happened to you tonight?”

“Nothing, just—”

A knock caused us both to look toward the doorway. My breath caught in my throat.

“Can I help you?” Tori asked, smiling.

“You forgot these,” Gavin said, holding up the containers of cookies.

Tori looked at me, eyes wide. I introduced her to Gavin. She grabbed a dish towel and wiped her hands.

“Do you think you guys can finish setting these up? I have to head down to the multipurpose room. Don’t want to miss the show. You’ll be there, right?”

Tori’s voice was all business. She smiled at Gavin, then widened her eyes at me once she was behind him. “Are you okay?” she mouthed.

I nodded. She left us alone.

I opened up one of the Tupperware containers and started arranging the sugar cookies on a plate. Gavin helped, the tension between us so thick it was like a third person was in the room. When we were finished, I snapped the lid back on the container.

“So this is Camp Manatee,” he said.

“Why are you really here? Just to stir up shit again? Because I’m over you, you know.”

“Cass, please.”

The anger I’d pushed aside, the hurt at being rejected, the reason I came to Crest Haven in the first place, fueled me.

“You broke my heart, Gavin. You made me feel like there was something wrong with me. That I wasn’t enough. You kissed someone else. Maybe more. And now I’m supposed to drop everything because you’re here for me? I—”

“I’m not going to Penn, Cassidy.”

It wasn’t what I expected to hear. That took all the fight out of me. He kept his eyes on mine. I stepped back.
Not going to Penn?

“Wait, what?”

“My father and his partners were brought up on charges of tax fraud. They were accused of laundering money for a few of their clients. I knew things weren’t good, but I didn’t know how bad they were. It still feels unreal saying it, like I’m on an episode of
Law & Order
or something,” he said, laughing a bit. I didn’t know what to say. Was it real? I didn’t think he’d lie about that, and there was something in his eyes, something I’d never really seen . . . defeat, resignation.

“He’s been liquidating assets—his car, I lost my phone, and I’m out of town per my mother’s orders, so they don’t repo the Jeep. She’s fighting to keep the Ship Bottom place. Did I mention they’re splitting up too? It’s a fucking mess, Cass. My old man can be an asshole, but I never knew he was this level of asshole. We were all kind of blindsided. We still have the two weeks she’d blocked out for us at Ship Bottom, and she told me to go.”

“And you’re not going to Penn?”

“I’ve deferred, but I doubt I’ll even go to Penn in the spring. I never filled out a FAFSA or whatever the fuck it was I was supposed to fill out, and I could probably kiss loans good-bye with my father’s record now. It’s embarrassing as hell and I just want to disappear, with you, like we always talked about. Forget it for a few days. I’ve missed you. So much.”

His hands were on my waist but I kept my arms folded. A barrier. I could feel myself softening at his explanation.
He wasn’t going to Penn.

Bryan’s voice echoed in my head.
Just fucking go. It’s only a season.

Music trailed down the hall. The showcase had started. Hunter’s group was going on fourth. I needed to be there.

“I can’t go to Ship Bottom,” I said.

“Can’t or won’t?” he whispered.

I let my hands snake around his waist. He was so warm. He sighed, drawing me closer. My cheek pressed against his chest. His heart hammered like crazy. He was nervous. He did care, didn’t he? There was always one thing I’d carried away from that first night at Meadowbrooke—the silly thing he’d said about horror movies, about us being the couple who made it out alive. I knew he was goofing at the time, but I liked to think there was weight behind those words. Maybe, even after all of this, we would.

“I want to go,” I whispered.
But I can’t.

“Cassidy, I need you.”

Before I knew it, Gavin’s lips were on mine. I opened to him as if the summer had been a spell his kiss woke me up from.

Just fucking go.

Gavin wasn’t going to Penn.

“So you’ll come with me?” he asked.

“Yes.”

THE MULTIPURPOSE ROOM WAS AN OVEN. PARENTS
used their programs to fan themselves, the kids wanted water every two minutes, and all I wanted to do was go home and throw myself into
Realm Wars
. Screw it all.

Just. Fucking. Go.

That’s what I’d told her. And her eyes, damn. It had been a precision hit just as I’d intended, but seeing her deflate felt almost as shitty as seeing that able-bodied asshat put his hand on her waist. And I’d meant it. It had felt great to say it. At least in that moment. I couldn’t hold on to the mirage that was Cassidy Emmerich any longer. It didn’t matter what we whispered to each other in the night. How I felt when her hair brushed across my face, or my hands ran along her body, or my lips touched her warm skin.

She was a summer girl and the end was inevitable.

Sure, we’d stay in touch, maybe even a lot in the beginning, but somewhere around Halloween, we’d both suddenly get too busy, we’d get caught up in school, in life—or maybe only one of us would, leaving the other hanging. And I knew which person I’d be in that scenario.

“Bry, you okay?” Wade whispered.

“Yeah, fine,” I said, putting a finger to my lips and motioning to the stage, where a group of tween girls was doing a routine to “California Girls,” only they’d changed it to “Crest Haven Girls” and were in a very uncoordinated but comical kick line at the moment. Wade almost looked annoyed at being shut down, but what did he want me to say? I wasn’t fucking okay, but I had to man up, or at least keep it together until the night was over.

The door to the multipurpose room opened. Tori crept in, alone, holding the door until it finally shut behind her. She moved over to the wall, arms folded. Our eyes met.

“Cass?” I mouthed.

She shook her head and shrugged. What if she’d listened to me? Was she somewhere talking to that guy? Were they making up? If Tori knew, she wasn’t letting on. I was about to go over to her when I felt a hand on my arm. Colby.

He cupped his hand around my ear and whispered, “I don’t want to sing.”

“Dude, you have to,” I said, not in my most sympathetic
inside voice. Even Wade noticed. Colby blinked hard, sucked in his bottom lip.
Nice, Bry
.

I motioned for him to follow me, pulled him over to the side. As the guy who’d become the one to talk him off the ledge, I had to be cool in his hour of need. These were big stakes to the little man.

“Sorry, that was harsh. Why don’t you want to sing?”

“There’s too many people, my heart feels like it might explode.”

“First off—your heart won’t explode. That would be really gross. Second—your mom and dad are here, right?”

“Mom and Grams are here. My dad doesn’t live with us anymore.”

Oh, fuck. How did I not know that?
He said it so matter-of-factly. He wasn’t embarrassed, or even sad; maybe it bothered him sometimes, but in that moment it didn’t. He stared at me, wide-eyed, waiting for words of wisdom, or for me to tell him it was okay to bail. He trusted me.

“I bet Grams and Mom really want to see you sing. They’re sitting in this boiling room, all for the two minutes you’ll be up there.”

“What if I forget the words?”

“Just move your mouth. No one is going to know.”

“Really?”

“Yep, chill, you got this,” I said, making a shaka sign. He grinned and did the same thing. The audience applauded
for the Crest Haven Girls. Wade stood up, herding the kids together. Colby gave me one more freaked-out look but I nodded at him. He took his place behind H-bomb, and Wade led them up to the side of the stage to be announced.

“You’re good at this, you know,” Tori said, crouching next to me.

“Ah, it’s easy.”

“No, actually, it’s not, Bry. I don’t know how you spend so much time with the little ones. I’d lose it twenty times a day. You’re a rock star to these kids, anyone can see that,” she said.

I’d never thought being a counselor was rough. Maybe that’s how the best jobs were supposed to feel. We watched as Wade ushered the boys up the stairs to the stage and into position, along with the other groups of six-year-olds. My neck tensed—I was nervous for these little guys. Hunter put his hand over his eyes, looking over the audience. Was he searching for Cassidy? He would be bummed out if she missed it.

“Is Cassidy coming to this?” I asked.

“I left her in the classroom, she was putting out the cookies, but . . .”

“But what?”

Tori’s gaze dropped to the floor.

“I know about the dude who was with her, if that’s what you’re worried about telling me.”

“She seemed sort of upset after talking to you. What the heck happened?”

“I told her to leave,” I said. Tori’s eyes widened. “Actually, I said
just fucking go
. I meant it at the time, I didn’t think—”

“Shit, you said that to her?”

“I was pissed off.”

I reached into my backpack for my phone, hoping I’d find a message from her, but there was nothing. My heart sank. I pressed the video button on the phone and set it up to record.

“If she was here, she wouldn’t miss this,” I said, positioning the camera for a good view.

The music started. Wade hurried off the stage and leaned against the wall by the front. None of the kids could stand still. A few fidgeted. Some tried to do the hand motions that were supposed to go along with the song. Colby looked out at the audience and waved, I guessed at his mom and grams. The kids sang softly at first, with bursts of loudness. They were slightly off-key and had to strain at the high notes, which made a murmur of laughter roll across the audience, but our little dudes were killing it. Colby, who had been petrified moments earlier, was now up there, singing, laughing. Brave. Somewhere between the swims, and kickball, and whining, these kids had managed to get under my skin. Maybe I’d be a blip to them when all was said and done, but this was a summer I’d never forget. They were a part of that.

The audience went crazy after they were finished. I held up my hand to slap a row of high fives as they returned to their seats. Wade stopped and saw Tori.

“You clean up nice, Tori,” he said.

Tori played with a piece of her hair, twirling it around her finger. “Really, so what? Every other day I look like crap? Thanks, Wade,” she said, smiling and then walking off.

He groaned and slumped down in the seat at the end of the aisle next to me. “Did I not just tell her she looked pretty?”

“Um, no—you said she cleaned up nice. There’s a difference.”

“I don’t have any problem hitting on girls; why am I having a tough time with her?”

“So you’re hitting on her now?”

“No, you know what I mean. I like her, Bryan. Are you sure she really likes me, you know, that way?”

I laughed; it was nice to see Wade off his game. “Don’t try so hard, but, you know, try.”

After the last number Monty appeared and attempted to get the parents involved with a group dance. Some were game. Others looked uncomfortable. Lots were suddenly interested in their phones. One incredible #wheelchairperk—begging off awkward dance fun if I wanted. I wheeled over toward the side of the multipurpose room. Even though there were still two weeks to go in camp, showcase night was traditionally the night parents came to meet and tip the counselors. It wasn’t a given, or expected, but after the dance we corralled the kids and waited for their parents to pick them up so they could go check out the special electives together.

There were lots of “great job,” “he loved it,” “already talking about next summer.” It felt good, especially knowing that some parents had had reservations about me in the beginning of camp. Colby ran out to meet his mom and pulled her over to us.

“Bryan?” she asked, looking between Wade and me. I waved.

“That’s me,” I said. An older woman came up behind them.

“This is Bryan, Gram,” Colby said, grinning.

“So
this
is Bryan. It’s always, Bryan said this, or Bryan did that,” she said.

His mom smiled. “You should know you’ve made quite the impression on him this summer. It’s been nice seeing him come out of his shell. He keeps mentioning something about you owing him a slush.”

I laughed. “Oh yeah, I do—it was sort of a swimming bet. I’ll make good on it, buddy.”

“We have you to thank for that too. He’s always been a little skittish in the water and now he’s doing great. Thank you,” she said, handing each of us an envelope. “Take care; say good night, Cobes.”

“Thank you,” I said. “See you Monday.”

Colby made a shaka sign. Wade laughed. “Little dude.”

Mr. and Mrs. Emmerich came up to us next, thanking us for a job well done.

“He wants me to call him by his nickname, H-bomb; have
to say it suits him,” Mrs. Emmerich said, tousling Hunter’s hair.

“Have you seen Cassidy?” Mr. E. asked.

“She’s probably with Tori in the test kitchen,” Wade said. Mr. Emmerich looked at me. For all I knew Cass was with Tori, helping out like she should have been. Hopefully she was there. What if she had made up with that guy after all?

“Great, we’ll head over there now. Keep up the good work, guys, only a few more weeks until school starts,” Mr. E. said.

“Thanks for the buzzkill, Mr. E.,” Wade said. The multi-purpose room emptied out. Wade and I hung back, fooling around with the other counselors while we stacked the folding chairs. Nick took his Monty head off. His hair was matted down with sweat. One of the group leaders poured a bottle of water over his head, and Nick tried to chase after him, tripping and ending up on the floor, a hysterical headless manatee.

“C’mon, let’s go see if Tori’s got any cookies left,” Wade said.

There were still a few straggler parents and kids in the test kitchen, so Wade and I sat at a table near the back. He went up, sheepishly grabbed a few cookies off a platter, then sat across from me and opened his envelopes. He handed me a sugar cookie.
Cass.
I put it to the side.

“Don’t you want to count your tips?” he asked.

No—I wanted to see Cass. The fact that she wasn’t there made me edgy.

“There’s still parents here,” I said.

“C’mon, they’re not even paying attention to us,” he said.

The envelope from Colby felt thick. I carefully opened it, trying not to rip it. Along with a twenty-dollar bill, there was a clumsily folded piece of paper, which I undid slowly. I smiled. Colby had drawn a picture of the two of us: me in my chair, well, me as a stick figure in a wheelchair, and him as a stick figure next to me. We were holding hands and raising what looked like slushes high in the air. I showed Wade.

“Wow, he drew you like a terminator—look at the picture he made for me. My shades are the biggest part.”

“Kid knows what he’s doing,” I said.

Tori pulled a chair over and sat down, put her face in her hands, and sighed.

“Tough night?” I asked.

“Nope, it went pretty well. I wish Cassidy hadn’t bailed on me. Does that mean I can keep her tips?” she said.

“What do you mean, Cass bailed?” Wade asked.

Tori and I looked at each other.

“You explain it to him,” I said.

“Cass’s ex showed up. I think they went somewhere to talk. I texted her before but I haven’t heard from her. I can’t believe she’d ditch you like that, even if you did tell her to
just fucking go
.”

“You said that to her?” Wade said.

There was a knock on the doorframe. We turned. Mr. E.
came into the classroom. He had his hands in his pockets, a grim look on his face.

“Hey, Mr. E.,” Tori said.

“I didn’t want to say anything in front of Hunter, Tori, but can you tell me when the last time you saw Cass was?”

We didn’t need to ask any more questions.

We could all see the truth in his eyes.

Cass was gone.