The Way Back to You (18 page)

Cloudy giggles. “And they put on South’un accents when talkin’ ’bout ball playin’?”

“Ye-eah, they do.”

We approach the outdoor commons, which is made up of budding trees, red sand, and a dozen or so backless benches arranged in a circle. She drops onto a bench and I sit beside her.

“Why did you even bother with it?” she asks. “I mean, everyone knows football and basketball are more exciting.”

“That’s a bold statement.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “Am I wrong? Why do people care about baseball? Give me reasons.”

Cloudy knows exactly what it’s like when people dismiss her sport, so I never would have thought she’d do the same to mine. “Because . . . it
is
exciting. Take the scheduling for the pro season. It’s intense. Football fans can tune in to their favorite team once a week, right? And each basketball team plays two or three times a week. But a pro baseball team has games virtually every day. For over half the year, baseball is happening, and the more you follow it, the more you get addicted. And with the complexity of the rules and scoring, it turns into a puzzle. Plus, there’s so much history. People grow up with it and teach their kids and
grandkids to play. It’s been trickling down like that for over a hundred and fifty years.”

“Did you start playing because of family tradition?”

“Actually, no. My dad doesn’t do sports. I got into it because Will’s dad coached Little League. From when I was a kid, he said I was a natural. A true utility player.”

“So you liked it because it was easy?”

I’m not sure where she’s going with this, but the fact that she’s smiling makes a tiny bit of my defensiveness fade. “At first. And there was the fun stuff. Getting a new glove and breaking it in, going to pizza parties, having my dad come to my games. There’s also satisfaction in getting to hit this little round ball with a heavy bat. With solid contact and a sweet, long swing, you feel it through your whole body.”

Cloudy nods:
Go on.

“When I got older and playing became more competitive, that’s when I really got hooked. I worked my way around the infield: first base, then third, then second. But shortstop was
it
for me. Because when you’re in that position, the ball is constantly coming at you. You watch it leave the pitcher’s hand, it hits the bat, you make the grab, you throw. It happens so fast. All these pops, like a string of firecrackers. When you’re quick enough, when your body’s positioned right, your weight’s distributed, you have a good grip on the ball, your team gets the out, and there’s nothing like it. You want to do it again and again. It feels so fluid and so right to be able to create perfection in this series of split-second catches and throws.”

“I see.”

“You’re still thinking ‘Why baseball?’ Because every sport is about making those moments happen, right?”

“No, K.O. I’m thinking, I
totally
get why you don’t want to be on the team this year. Clearly, trying to make more of those perfect six-four-three double plays than last year would mean nothing to a non-perfection-seeker like you.”

She’s watching me closely, like she wanted to catch the exact millisecond when I processed that she dropped position numbers into our conversation. “Six-four-three, huh?”

“Did I not mention my grandparents are big-time into baseball? And my mom went to college on a softball scholarship? And our family sometimes caravans for two and a half hours for the Eugene Emeralds on weekends?” She shrugs like she’s trying to be casual, but a huge grin spreads across her face. “It trickles down like that sometimes, you know?”

“You were messing with me.” I try to sound stern, but I’m grinning now, too.

She holds her finger and thumb a couple of inches apart. “Little bit.”

“It wasn’t nice.”

“I’m a mean, mean girl. You took it well, though. Only three veins popped out of your neck. And one more. Right. Here.”

She leans close and playfully pokes at my temple. I try to catch her hand, but she’s too quick. She hops up and takes off running, and I go after her.

I’m within five feet of catching Cloudy when someone calls my name. At the edge of the nearly empty student parking lot ahead, Hannah is easy to spot—she’s the one dressed like she
belongs in the same era as the ancient Volkswagen bus she’s standing near. Cloudy and I end our game of chase and Hannah’s patchwork skirt brushes the concrete with every step she takes toward us. “Look at you, Kyle! You’ve gotten so tall. And buff. And
cute
.”

“Um.”

Hannah smiles. “But still shy, I see.”

“Uh. Happy birthday.” I bend to give her a hug, and she holds on tightly for maybe four seconds too many. As I’m pulling away, she plants a kiss on my cheek.

Hannah and I were never kissing-on-the-cheek friends (I’ve never had a friend like that, ever), but this must be part of her “earthy phase” Will mentioned. Friendly cheek-kissing goes along with the braided band circling her head and the incense that’s saturated her clothes and curly brown hair, I suppose.

“I can’t begin to describe how excited I am that you’re here for my actual birthday.” Hannah rests her forehead against my upper arm. “Of all the days in the year when you could have come, you showed up
today
. It feels so, like, fate.”

We showed up yesterday, but I don’t point that out.

Cloudy and I follow Hannah to join the others who are gathered between the van and the nearest parked car. They seem like an odd mix, but maybe being inclusive is another facet of Hannah’s new personality.

Devynne and Natalie each give me a hug, and then I kind of nod at the rest of the group. “Hey, everyone. This is Cloudy.”

I’m about to introduce them to her one by one, but Hannah interrupts with “Cloudy! Is that your real name?”

“It’s actually Claudia,” she says.

“Then why would you go by
Cloudy
?”

“My grandma was born in Italy. So she has an accent and—”

“William!” Hannah yells, cutting Cloudy off. “It’s about time you finally got your bottom out here!”

Will meanders over. He never lets Hannah’s impatience get to him. “I left practice as soon as I could. I told you to go on without me. I’m riding with Kyle and Cloudy.”

“Well, we
didn’t
go without you. Yamka took three people with her and so did Mason.” Hannah does a quick head count. “There’s still ten here now, so we can fit perfectly in two cars. Natalie, you have room for one more?”

“Yup,” Natalie says. “Backseat only. Sergio called shotgun.”

Hannah nods. “Kyle and William, you’ll ride in my bus with Garrett, John, and me. Claudia, you can go with Natalie.”

Cloudy says, “Sounds good.”

She gives me a quick wave and starts toward the car before I’ve fully processed what’s happening.

“No, wait!” I say. “I’ll drive. We can take three cars. Then no one has to squish in, and Cloudy can come with me.”

“But she gets to see you all the
tiiiiiime
.” Hannah tugs on the hem of my sweatshirt. “We’ll be there in two hours or less. William and I
really
want to hang out with you.”

Hannah pushing Cloudy off onto strangers cancels out her friendliness toward me. “Then you two should ride with us.”

Cloudy raises her hand. “Kyle, it’s fine. Hannah’s plan makes sense. You go with your friends.” She puts on a big smile. “I’m sure you’re dying for a break from me, anyway.”

Hannah tosses her keys to Will. “Let’s go, then.”

While two engines start up and doors begin slamming, I stop at the Xterra and grab Cloudy’s coat and Hannah’s gift. As I’m setting the stuff inside the bus, I glance at Cloudy in Natalie’s backseat. “Hang on a sec,” I tell Hannah.

I hurry over and tap on Cloudy’s window.

Lowering it as far as it will go (about halfway), she pulls her eyebrows together. “What’s up?”

“To be clear,” I say, resting my hand on top of the glass, “I don’t actually want a break from you.”

“A
www,”
Natalie and Devynne say in unison.

Cloudy doesn’t acknowledge hearing them, but my face heats up anyway. “That’s the Stockholm syndrome talking,” she says.

I lean in closer so I can see her face better. So she can see mine. “It’s nothing like that. Not for me.”

“Come
on
, Kyle!” Hannah yells from her open side door.

“You’re holding up the caravan.” Cloudy uncurls my fingers from around her window, one at a time, looking into my eyes the whole time. “Go. I’ll see you in two hours, okay?”

“Or less.”

She smiles. “Or less.”

“
S
orry Hannah is so bossy,” Natalie tells me from the driver’s seat. “I’m sure you’d rather be with Kyle.”

I’m watching the bus, half expecting Kyle to climb out and come over again. Half disappointed when he doesn’t. My chest is warm from whatever’s just happened. It felt dangerously nice to have Kyle look at me like he did, as if he didn’t want to leave. “We’ve been apart for longer than this.”

“Still.” Natalie shrugs. She puts the Toyota in drive and follows the bus out of the parking lot. “Not that we mind having you. This is Sergio”—she jabs a thumb at the brown-haired guy in front of me in the passenger seat, then over her shoulder—“and that’s Devynne and Charlie.”

Beside me, Devynne and Charlie wave in unison.

“Thanks for letting me squeeze in.” I turn, microscopically, to Charlie, whose bony arm is pressed up against mine. “I can sit in the middle if you’re uncomfortable.”

“Don’t bother,” Devynne says, shaking her head. “He always volunteers for the middle.”

“It’s the safest seat in the car.” Charlie’s voice is somehow
equally gruff and squeaky. “If we get T-boned, I’m golden.”

Sergio snorts. “Your scrawny ass would hit the roof if we rolled over a quarter.”

“And we are not getting T-boned,” Natalie says, giving me a swift, panicked look. “We’re not getting T-boned.”

Charlie plants a foot on either side of the hump dividing the footwell. “Repeat it all you want, that doesn’t make it true.”

“Well,” Sergio grumbles, “I’d rather get T-boned than be going to Bedrock City right now.”

Devynne puts a hand up. “Can we stop saying ‘T-boned’?”

“Sergio, what are you talking about?” Natalie lowers the radio, keeping one hand on the wheel. “Bedrock City is a quirky pit-stop classic. It’s retro Americana.” She says it like Hannah would, with a fake sincerity that makes Devynne snicker.

But Sergio grumbles again. “It’s yabba dabba dorky.”

Devynne leans around Charlie, straining against her seat belt, to smile at me. “So are you and Kyle here for a few days?”

“Just today, really,” I say, but I don’t want it to be true. The closer we get to Sonia’s wedding, the farther away I want to be. “I’d like to stay longer, though. It’s so beautiful here.”

Natalie bites her thumbnail. “You get used to it.”

Charlie, who’s been tapping on his knee for the past minute, whips his head around to Devynne. “Didn’t you make out with Kyle at Bedrock City?”

Up front, Natalie groans and Sergio laughs.

“No!” Devynne yelps. “No. Oh my God, no. We were, like, thirteen. And it wasn’t even at Bedrock City,
Charlie
.” She punctuates her sentence by smacking his bicep.

The car has gone silent. Maybe they’re all waiting for me to go full-on wildcat and tear Devynne’s hair out because she kissed Kyle years before he was ever my not-boyfriend. It’s tempting. She’s all heart-shaped face and batty eyelashes and hazel eyes. Of course Kyle would want to kiss her.

But that’s not her fault.

I feel myself smiling. “Then where did
you make out with Kyle?”

Devynne has this delicate prettiness to her, a little like Ashlyn, where the points of her nose and chin seem like they could chip if she sneezed too hard. All this time I’ve never thought of Kyle as having a Type, but I guess I didn’t have other girls to compare to.

“It wasn’t even making out.” Devynne sighs like she’d rather not go there, then covers her eyes. “I kissed him on the bus during a school trip to Tombstone.”

“With tongue?”

“CHARLIE!” Natalie’s glare practically melts the rearview mirror.

Devynne palms Charlie’s face and presses his head into the back of the seat. “
Anyway
, you and Kyle are so cute together.”

She’s changing the subject with a compliment. There was totally tongue.

“Oh,” I say, “we’re not—”

“Eh,” Charlie says, tilting his head to look at me. “I don’t know. You’re both blond.”

I level a look at him.

“It’s a little freakish,” he continues. “Not creepy, like two
redheads dating. But it’s unsettling. Like
Children of the Corn
.”

Sergio finally moves. He turns in his seat to punch Charlie on the leg. “
You’re
unsettling.”

They all laugh, like
Isn’t it hilarious how unhinged Charlie is, but that’s Charlie; what can you do?
The easy way they tease one another pinballs in my gut. It makes me miss home more than I thought I would.

Outside, road signs direct us to Slide Rock State Park. I realize we’re doubling back on 89A, the same route Kyle and I took only a few hours ago. The familiar scenery passes by as I finger-comb my hair. It’s finally dry after I jumped into the frigid water with Kyle.

My body buzzes, and it’s definitely not frostbite. It’s everything that happened before the jump. I don’t know why I told Kyle about Ashlyn’s family-planning fantasy. One minute we’re discussing Matty, and the next, I’m remembering the dreamy expression on Ashlyn’s face whenever she talked about our combined futures. The story came tumbling from my lips before I realized. And even though I’d swat at Ashlyn whenever she brought it up—Ashlyn with a goal and a plan, as usual—the reality of it not being possible anymore is outrageously cruel.

Two hours and zero T-bonings later, Natalie steers us off the highway and under a welcome sign that reads Flintstone Prehistoric Park
.
The sun has already dropped, and I feel a pang of regret that we’re here, pulling into a narrow parking lot, instead of on top of a mountain.

The rest of the group is waiting for us, assembled by their cars. They’re nearer to the entrance—a squat, green building
with a Wilma Flintstone plywood cutout at the front door. That’s where Hannah is, chatting with a tall guy in an apron.

As soon as I step out, my gaze swings over to the bus, parked on the other side of a dirty black sedan. Kyle straightens when our eyes meet, and he
looks
at me, like he’s taking inventory of my face to make sure each part is where it should be. Was he that worried about being separated?

I give him a thumbs-up as I walk over, and Kyle returns the gesture with a small smile. Natalie and Devynne pass,
awwwww-
ing and giggling.

I come to a stop in front of him. “You know,” I say, smirking, “being in a car without a black kitten in it? Overrated.”

“So the ride was okay?”

“Charlie thinks we’re hell spawn.”

“Huh.”

Over his shoulder, I see Hannah trailing her taupe-colored sandals along the dusty ground. She’s playing with a square pendant hanging from her neck; it’s the birth-flower necklace Kyle and I bought for her. “I guess Hannah liked our gift.”

“We barely made it out of the school lot before she opened it—and everything else. And she made Will drive while I sat in back with her.”

I laugh. “So much for all
three
of you spending time together.”

“I’m not sure she knew the
two
of us were spending time together. All she did was talk about herself. But”—Kyle lifts his hand; in his palm sit two dark cookies bundled up in plastic wrap—“I did get snacks.”

“I thought we were eating here.”

“We are. But
we
”—he waggles a finger between us—“haven’t eaten since this morning. I thought you might want one. Garrett and John brought them, and Hannah has a cooler full of stuff for later.”

Garrett and John have perma-sleepy eyes and walk like they’re trapped in Jell-O.

Grabbing a cookie, I turn it over in my hands, examining it in the egg-yolk-y glow of the streetlights. Then I sniff it through the plastic. I have no idea what pot cookies smell like, aside from pot, which these don’t. “Minty.”

A grin stretches across his face. “
Chocolate
minty.”

“You are so predictable,” I tell him, then place the cookie back into his palm. “Keep mine for later?”

“GUYS!” Hannah shouts, and we flinch. She comes up behind Kyle and gives him a quick cuddle. “It’s time for my birthday dinner.”

BIRTHDAY DINNER IS at Fred’s Diner, a restaurant attached to the gift shop. The three-person staff—including Hannah’s tall guy in the apron—has already cooked up a bunch of burgers, fries, and other selections from the menu. Technically, Bedrock City closed thirty minutes ago, but Tall Apron Guy is doing Hannah a Birthday Favor. The tiger-print chairs and dinner specials like Betty’s Bowl of Chili should be a mismatch for Hannah’s Mother Earth–like sensibilities, but she doesn’t seem bothered.

“I think Hannah’s drunk on Birthday Power,” I whisper to Kyle while we’re eating, and he laughs with his mouth closed
because it’s full of a Bamm-Bamm Burrito. His expression pins me to my seat.

This is why I like you.

It snakes its way through my mind, in and out before I can trap it. I didn’t say it at Slide Rock, but Kyle is a magnet, too. He’s more careful about drawing people in, but he does, whether he knows it or not. And he doesn’t throw me off center, not in the bad ways. With him I’m stable, unshakeable, like everything is real but colored-in more vibrantly.

Nothing has uncoiled Kyle like being in Arizona. It’s been happening a little more every day since we’ve been on this trip, and now he’s so slack. Content. I’m better here, too—different from my murky jumble of emotions in California. And what if being here is how to keep us that way? What if seeing Sonia is just like seeing Freddie? Or makes me feel how I did that night after Ethan? What if it’s frustrating and discouraging and all the things Ashlyn would hate being associated with?

Tonight would be the perfect time to ask him to stay. We could forget the wedding and spend the rest of midwinter break in Sedona.

Minutes later, Hannah stands up in her seat, waving her arms. “The next part of the night is about to start, and you don’t want to miss it. Let’s go, friends!”

She hops down, then slips past our table, tugging at Kyle’s shoulder. As she pulls him away, he grins at me. Our consensus is it’s better to humor Hannah than defy whatever Birthday Gods might be on her side today.

Outside, I finally get my first real view of Bedrock City.
It’s . . . certainly quirky. Natalie was right about that. On the way back down the Sugarloaf trail last night, Will and Kyle explained that the place was built in the early seventies as a roadside attraction between Phoenix and the Grand Canyon. There isn’t much upkeep within the grounds, but people still stop here for its offbeat charm. Now I can see why. It
is
sort of like walking into a whacked-out version of the Stone Age. On my right is a clearing of dirt and patchy grass, surrounded by trolley tracks and overlooked by an incredibly fake volcano—but at least the pterodactyl attached to the top looks securely bolted on. Some squat buildings, designed to resemble the ones out front, are to the left. Even with the few strategically placed spotlights, it’s too dark to catch the details from here, but I can tell they’re evenly spaced. Farther in the distance, I make out a large brontosaurus-shaped silhouette.

The group is following Hannah’s lead into the clearing. Once we reach the middle, I notice paper lanterns strewn on the ground. Someone’s already arranged them neatly in two rows. They’re pretty much like the kind people string up festively for parties and barbecues, except these are all cream-colored and more lightbulb-shaped than round.

As everyone gathers near Hannah, I sidle up to Kyle, who’s standing off to the side.

“I want to thank everyone for coming tonight,” Hannah begins. “I invited you all because birthdays are about celebrating the things that make your life special.” Her hands are clasped together, perfectly displaying the multiple rings stacked on her fingers. “Every year, the Taiwanese hold a festival where people
wish on lanterns and release them into the sky. I was so deeply inspired by that, and I thought, what better way to spend this magical day than by giving something back to
you
? So I’m sharing my birthday wishes.” She hops up and down, adding, “And I brought a wish lantern for everyone. Come and get yours!”

Slowly, people begin shuffling forward. Before one girl bends to pick up a lantern, she looks skeptically at her friend. “The Taiwanese?”

The friend smooths her dark hair. “Please. She for sure got this from watching
Tangled
.”

Out of nowhere, Hannah plants herself directly in front of Kyle and me. “I have some bummer info: I only brought one lantern for each guest I was expecting, and since you guys were last-minute additions, there aren’t enough. But here’s the lucky news! I packed two for me—one wish for now, one to grow on, naturally. And I’m more than happy to give my second lantern to Kyle.” She turns to me and pouts. “Unfortunately, there still won’t be one for you.”

Kyle shrugs with one shoulder. “That’s fine. Cloudy can have mine.”

“No. Kyle,” Hannah whines—
Ky-uuuhhll
. “You’re an old friend, and it’s important to me that you’re part of this. Claudia understands. She gets why I want this moment for those dearest to me. And she doesn’t have to feel totally left out. There are countless other ways for her to offer up a wish to the universe.”

She looks to me for confirmation, and I say, “I’ll rip out an eyelash.”

Hannah is satisfied with this, and although he’s reluctant to go, I nudge Kyle away to grab his inherited lantern. I stay
behind and watch as everyone picks their own, putting lighters to the small squares at the base. The flames catch easily, puffing air into the lanterns’ empty spaces, filling them up and out.

“You can take mine.”

It’s Will, holding out his unlit lantern. When I refuse it, he says, “You can’t just stand here; it’s not fair.”

“I’m not much of a wisher lately.”

His mouth bunches up to one side. “All the more reason for you to have it, don’t you think?”

I consider that. “Let’s share it, then?”

Will helps me straighten the lantern out and ignite the base, and once it’s inflated, it’s almost half my size. Finally, everyone is grasping one, the glow illuminating our faces and turning the darkened clearing to a flickering gold. Candlelit and ethereal.