The Winner's Game(89)

Ann takes another long breath. “These don’t smell like ordinary roses,” she says. “They smell more like…happiness.”

I expect the comment to earn a complaint from Bree, but instead she just smiles back and then skips ahead.

I stay with Ann at the back of the group. As we walk, she takes another long breath of the fragrance.

Amazing. To think that thirteen flowers can heal someone so quickly.

What a difference a few hours makes. Earlier, she was crying her eyes out, and now she’s on top of the world.

It suddenly feels like the perfect day. Ahead of us, our parents are walking side by side and talking—not yelling. Bree and I are getting along. The sun is setting nicely. The surf is pounding on the beach. And Ann has thirteen roses.

As though she just read my mind, Ann says, “This is the perfect day, Cade—your earlier comments notwithstanding. This is why we came to the beach this summer.” She pauses, and for the first time ever, she looks completely at peace. “I could literally die right now and be happy.” She sighs and then corrects herself. “No, wait. Tomorrow night would be better. One fantastic date, and then I’m good to go…”





              Chapter 34





Ann




FIRST DATES are important to every girl, but I tend to think this one is more important to me than most are to most other girls. Does that sound overly self-important? I hope not. I just mean…I don’t think most girls go out on their first date wondering if it might be their last. For me, that’s a real possibility, which is why I don’t mind spending four hours before it starts picking out clothes, doing my hair, and putting on makeup. As long as I have the opportunity to live a little, I might as well make the most of it.

I know Dad is trying to play it cool when Tanner arrives for our date, but he starts getting antsy as we head for the door. I can tell because he begins pelting Tanner with a bunch of questions he already asked at least once before.

“So you’ll be home by ten?”

“Probably more like nine thirty.”

“And, you’re a safe driver?”

“Uh-huh.”

“No tickets or accidents?”

“Not yet.”

“And you won’t let her lose her purse, right? It has her pager in it.”

“Of course. I’ll double-check everywhere we go.”

“And you’re definitely staying local, right?”

“Just to Astoria.”

“I thought you said Seaside before? Now you’re going all the way to Astoria? That’s another ten or fifteen miles.”

Thankfully, Mom steps in. “It’s been Astoria all along, dear. Just let them go.” She wraps an arm around his waist. “They’ll be fine.” I like seeing her arms around him. I haven’t seen them so touchy and nice to each other for a long time. I hope they keep it up.

Tanner doesn’t own a car, but his mom let him borrow her Accord for the night. As we drive up the coastal highway, I keep fishing for clues about where we’re going—and especially why we need the rubber gloves—but he doesn’t bite.

“You’ll see,” he keeps saying. “I want it to be a surprise.”

Our first stop is a restaurant on the promenade in Seaside, about halfway between Cannon Beach and Astoria. It’s a small restaurant, but it isn’t too crowded, which I love because we can talk without having to compete with a lot of noise.

After ordering our food, Tanner produces an envelope from his jeans pocket. It looks like a letter, but he says it’s a “get to know you” activity that his sister put together. Inside the envelope are a bunch of random questions. The idea is to take turns drawing a question to ask the other person.

After he explains it, I propose that we turn it into a game. “The first person to not answer their question loses.”

“OK, but you’re so going to lose,” he warns. “I’m very competitive.”

“Good to know. But I think you’ve met your match.”

A waitress comes to fill our cups with water and asks if everything is OK. I tell her it couldn’t be better, which is exactly how I feel about being out on a date with the guy sitting across from me.

When the woman is gone, Tanner opens the envelope and holds it open for me to take a paper. “‘Who is the most important superhero, and why?’” I ask, reading the question to him. “That’s so easy.”

“Easy? Measuring the relative value of humankind’s greatest allies is hardly ‘easy.’” He’s clearly joking, but he acts all serious anyway, as though he’s contemplating something hugely important. Finally he says, “It’s got to be Wonder Woman.”