Read The Way Back to You Online
Authors: Michelle Andreani
The Way Back to You (28 page)
A minute after hitting send, my phone buzzes. There’s an edgy tremble in my fingers as I read her reply.
Anytime. Whenever you want. xo.
Smiling, I answer back. And I remember something I thought about in Bedrock City. How fortunate Kyle is to have two people—Matty and Will—who live such separate lives, but care about him so much. I’m feeling pretty lucky tonight, too.
I pad over to the queen-sized bed and carefully slip under the covers. Zoë doesn’t stir as I sit up against the headboard. I reach over to dim the lamp, then pause. There
is
one more thing I want to do before today ends.
So I open the internet browser on my phone and pull up
Cheer Insider
’s website. After keying the correct information into a tiny search box, the result I’m looking for shows up first thing. I press my thumb to her name, wait the three seconds it takes to load, and hold my breath as Ashlyn’s essay appears on the screen.
It shouldn’t have taken me this long. But I’m ready now.
Mostly.
Her words are waiting patiently, as ever, for me. Right there in my hands.
It’s time to go through this.
My eyes sting as soon as I begin. Ashlyn starts by introducing herself, explaining where she lives and what team she cheers for. She describes moving to Bend when she was eight years old, and meeting me in school. That summer after, when we joined a cheerleading program at the Juniper Swim and Fitness Center.
The first time I stepped onto the mat, I was so nervous. I looked over at Cloudy, and her little face was determined and focused. She must have noticed how scared I was, because she nodded at me, as if saying, “You can do this.” And I did do it, kind of. I still tripped over the words in V-I-C-T-O-R-Y for that entire practice, but with Cloudy shooting goofy smiles at me, I knew I’d get better. Not to brag, but I did, and only because Cloudy was there with me the whole time. Now, whenever I’m edgy before a game or competition, I do the same thing. I look over at my best friend. With her at my side, I feel like I can do anything.
I guess that sounds dramatic, but I think that’s what cheering with your best friend is all about. You complement each other so perfectly outside of the gym that when you’re inside, you feel complete and invincible.
More than anything, though, I’ve learned that, just like in cheer, life is all about support. Being capable on your own is important, but big or small, having the right team makes all the difference. Cloudy’s my team. My support. My family. She gives everything one hundred percent; she never backs down from a challenge; and she’s always there to motivate me. Because of her, I’m strong enough to get through things on my own. But also because of her, I don’t have to.
Cloudy will always mean more to me than cheer. Our friendship is bigger than all of it. And she’s shown me that no matter what I do, I have to give it my all.
Persistence and commitment will get me everywhere. And I definitely want to go everywhere, especially if my best friend is right there next to me.
I wipe at my cheeks.
Kyle was right. She could have been reciting the words in my ear, or sitting at the foot of the bed.
This is what it can be like now: I can make it through the day, even when it sucks.
Especially
when it sucks. Just like Sonia and the others, I’ll fight for this new kind of life. And I’ll face what’s up ahead because Ashlyn is on my team, too—my support. My best friend. Knowing her gave me everything I need. And wherever I do end up, I’ll take her with me. Love like that doesn’t get left behind. Maybe it’s not the future we imagined for ourselves, but it’s a plan. Something to hold on to and look forward to.
Before I read her essay again, I lower my phone onto my knee. I breathe in quietly. “So that Snow White play,” I whisper to Ashlyn. “It’s not as boring as I remembered.”
“
D
on’t get your hopes up.” Zoë sets her phone on the table between us. “But we might have a lead.”
“We
might
?” I ask.
“Well, unlike all the other animal shelters we’ve called, this one can’t tell me they
don’t
have a shorthaired female black kitten with green eyes that’s arrived in the last two days. So we need to go see for ourselves.”
“Are there more places to call?” Cloudy asks.
Zoë shakes her head. “That was the last one.”
“We should do this, then,” Cloudy says, throwing her duffel over her shoulder.
Matty already took a couple of loads out earlier and sent a text five minutes ago that he officially checked us out with the front desk and is waiting at the car. I grab the shopping bags with my clothes and things stuffed inside while Zoë does one last walk-through to make sure no one’s forgotten anything.
Whatever we learn at the animal shelter, we have to leave Las Vegas today. The drive home will be over thirteen hours, and the plan is to do it with as few stops as possible so we’ll for sure
beat Cloudy’s parents home. I’m trying to stay positive like my cousin is, but the thought that we might have to leave without Arm has my stomach in knots. (Although one thing my dad pointed out on the phone last night does help a tiny bit: Arm survived the coldest time of year in Bend on her own, so she could be all right in Nevada.)
As we’re about to walk out, Zoë’s phone (which she was ignoring while making calls) goes off once again.
“It never ends, does it?” Cloudy says with a laugh. “What’s the scoop today, Team Manager?”
“Let’s see. Jenna’s oversharing about what she did last night after WinterFest.” Zoë pauses to read more. “Also, Lita says Jacob was just talking trash about a couple of baseball players with the last name ‘Ocie,’ and she told him to shut his mouth. More importantly, she can’t decide how to style her hair for the
Cheer Insider
photo shoot next week, and she wants opinions.”
I chuckle. “Tell Lita thanks for having our backs. And I say, go for the ponytail. It’s classic.”
“Will do.” Zoë opens the front door and steps outside. “Cloudy, on a scale of one to ten, how much trouble do you think we’re going to be in when Mom and Dad get home?”
“For you? Probably a four.” Cloudy goes after her. “But for the irresponsible older sister? At least a nine. It was worth it, though.”
“Totally worth it,” Zoë agrees.
As the last one out, I pull the door shut behind me. I follow the girls through the breezeway and down the stairs to the parking lot. When we’re about twelve feet from my vehicle, Matty comes rushing over with his hands up, motioning for us to wait.
“Quick question, Kyle. You said yesterday you
wanted
to believe your cat was Ashlyn reincarnated, but deep down, you don’t. I’m wondering, though, do you think you’d be able to accept that she was an angel, sent to help you?”
I stare at him. “An angel?”
“Yeah. And maybe the reason she disappeared is because things are better, you’re ready for ball season, and her work with you was finished?”
Cloudy and Zoë are exchanging glances like
Has Matty lost it?
,
which is exactly what I’m wondering.
“Um, no. I didn’t suddenly start believing in . . . cat angels.”
“Okay, just checking!” He sets my bags in the back of the Xterra, and then grabs ahold of my wrist. “Now, I need to show you something.”
I let him drag me away, shooting a confused glance at Cloudy as I’m pulled along the white line between my vehicle and the truck beside it. We reach the front, and he throws out his arm magician style. “Ta-da!”
There on my hood, the kitten I’ve been worrying about for the past thirty-six hours is curled up asleep on her panda Pillow Pet with half-empty dishes of food and water beside her.
“What did I tell you?” Matty’s grin is triumphant. “Cat Whisperer, right?”
“I can’t believe it!”
Zoë and Cloudy catch up. “Oh my God,” Cloudy says, putting her hand to her chest.
“You lured her out of hiding,” Zoë says. “Pretty smart.”
“Danielle told me she likes warm hoods,” Matty says. “So I
ran the engine for a while this morning. Not sure if it was that or the food that got her to jump up here, but I’m guessing the comfy pillow is what made her stay. She must have been touring Vegas on her own in the meantime, or at least the courtyard.”
I reach out slowly, cautiously. As my fingertips touch her fur, her eyes open. “Hi, Arm. We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Are you okay?”
She responds by stretching and letting out a low, scratchy, “Mro
www.”
“Whoa,” Matty says. “That voice. So I
think
what she said is, ‘I’m fine, dickhead. But I’m not coming home with you unless you give me a new name.’”
While Matty and Zoë get us situated for the trip, I carefully scoop Arm up and take my seat in the front beside Cloudy, who’s volunteered to drive first.
I’m pretty sure I’ll never be a person who believes in reincarnation or heaven or mystical things. And that’s all right with me. Because, really, whether this cat is
just
a cat or not is beside the point. What matters is that she’s found the way back. Just like we’re all trying to do.
Cloudy starts the car, and as she turns onto Dean Martin Drive, Matty speaks from the backseat. “I’m serious about your cat’s name. If you want something to honor Ashlyn, why not call her ‘Ash’? Or ‘Lyn’? Or ‘Rose’? Or even ‘Montiel’? Those are actual
names
. Arm, leg, rib, ear. Those are body parts. See the difference?”
“This from someone who named his cat ‘Hercules,’” Cloudy says.
“That name is
legit
. And it isn’t an appendage.”
“‘Ashes’ is cute,” Zoë chimes in. “It would work better for a gray cat, though. Another option could be to name her after one of the places she visited. You could call her ‘Angeles’ for Los Angeles. Or ‘Monica’ for Santa Monica. Maybe ‘Vegas’?”
“I’ve got it!” Matty says. “‘Sedona.’ She spent a few days there, and it’s also where Kyle was born.” His tone is just daring one of us to challenge him. “‘Sedona’ is perfect.”
I force myself to keep a straight face. “I’d rather call her ‘Bend.’ Since that’s where
she
was born.”
Matty and Zoë groan in unison, but Cloudy laughs. She stops for a red light, and I ask, “What do you think her name should be?”
Tilting her head, Cloudy takes a moment to study the tiny black kitten on my lap. “I don’t know,” she says, aiming her smile my way. “She really just looks like an ‘Armadillo’ to me.”
We were first inspired to write
The Way Back to You
because of someone else’s story—many someone elses’, actually. Francisco “Paco” Rodriguez was a boxer who died in the ring, and whose wife, Sonia, corresponded with and met the recipients of his organs. Paco’s family, and the recipients and their families, participated in ESPN’s
E:60
and shared with the world how love and selflessness can bring hope after tragedy.
While working on this book, both of us lost significant loved ones, and what already felt personal became even more so. This story was sparked by people we’ve never met, but it was shaped and deepened by the people we knew and cared for. The people we still miss.
Endless gratitude to:
Our editor, Alex Arnold, whose vision, guidance, and passion
h
elped bring our book to life. We couldn’t have hoped for someone who lov
e
d Cloudy, Kyle, Ashlyn, and Arm as much as you do. xo
Our agent, Jim McCarthy, whose optimism, pe
r
sistence, and after-midnight “Fair enough!” emails always keep us going. You’re our shining star, and we appreciate you sticking with us through the y
e
ars.
Dwayne Scott, who faithfully read every version of every scene and (almost) never complained. These
c
haracters wouldn’t be who they are if we hadn’t had you to b
o
unce our ideas off of
24/7, and we’re so grateful.
Liesa Abrams, who connected with our writing—and connected us!—during that long-ago MediaBistro class. A
m
illion thank-yous for your friendship and for encouraging us to writ
e
this book together.
Everyone at HarperCollin
s
and Katherine Tegen Books for taking such good care of our book! Special thanks to Katherine Tegen, Kate Engbring, Stephanie Hoover, Risa Rodil, Kathryn Silsand, Jessica White, Alana Whitman, and Christine Cox.
Ruth Gallogly, Kari Olson, Laura Walker, and Gina Wimpey for your thoughtful cri
t
iques; Doris Berthiaume, Adrienne Fox, John W. S. Marvin, Josh Moon, Sarah Moon, Beth Scott, Julie Slawson, Katherine Smith, Jesse Stewart, Sedona Red Rock High School, and Google Maps for assisting with our researc
h
; the Sweet 16s and Sixteen to Read; and Bethany Larson, for talking about a certain docum
e
ntary on the drive to work one day.
And finally, thank you to our friend
s
and families—particularly our parents and siblings—for taking this jo
u
rney with us and accepting our writerly quirks. You talked us dow
n
and cheered us on, and we love you for it.
