"I think I want to ride with Jorie," I reply.
The wind picks up, this time carrying Beau's final words. "Are you mad?"
Disappointed, maybe.
"No. I just want to see my friend."
Jorie will have advice for me. I'm not ready to talk it out with Beau yet.
16
Beau
It's been days since Charlotte invited the group to our house.
"You miss her, don't you?" Charlotte asks, knowing full well.
"A little," I admit.
I scan the school hallway for Willow. She's been riding the bus with Jorie. Something tells me she got the wrong impression about the pool girl and me.
My sister sighs heavily and leans against a corner by the water fountain, watching me warily. Her looks of disappointment at my inevitable attachment to the next-door neighbor are many. I am half surprised she's managed to bite her tongue.
"What can I do to help?"
I nearly choke on the gum I'm chewing. Charlotte is offering to help? That's unlike her.
"You want to help?" I ask cautiously.
"Sure." She shrugs. "I invited the pool girl and her friends to our house thinking that it was a step in the right direction, but then you went and just talked to her. Nothing more. I thought you were trying to get over Willow. A little advice: you're doing it wrong."
It seems like Charlotte means to say that I'll get over Willow if I start something romantic with another girl.
"Who said I needed to get over Willow?"
She laughs. "Please, let's pretend for one minute that I'm not offended by your assumption that I don't see what's happening here. You're falling for her, but I'll act as though this conversation never happened if it makes you feel better."
"You are terrible at advice," I grumble.
Students pass us, but Charlotte is an expert at not being heard when she doesn't want to be. Her voice is low enough for only my ears.
"Let's try again," she says. "How can I help? You need a different distraction, since you're too hung up on Willow, even though we're pretending you aren't. Join a sport or something. Maybe check out some after-school clubs and activities."
I frown. "None of that sounds like me."
Charlotte taps her nails against the fountain. "And this isn't you, either."
"I think I'll try to figure it out on my own."
"So you're saying you don't want my help?"
Though I'm exasperated, I feel the beginnings of a smile. "Charlotte, you make no sense, but thank you for trying."
She eyes a guy walking by like a cat eyes a mouse.
"No problem. I'm here for you anytime."
There it is, the thing that I think she means for me to see above all.
She's got my back.
Odd as Charlotte sometimes is, she is still my sister, and she cares.
I have the urge to say something more to my twin, like how at the moment she reminds me of Mom. She looks too much like her, but that's not really what I mean. More than anything, Charlotte's acting like Mom. Compassionate. Trying to dole out advice and comfort.
I catch sight of Willow. Electricity zaps my bones. Natural rays of light shine in on her from the large window she stands beside, and she looks as though she's been draped in gold.
More faces blur past, but only one, aside from Willow, catches my attention. I spot my best friend, a head taller than the rest of them. He shoulders his way through until making it to my side.
"Willow still won't talk to you, huh?" Pax steps next to me and nudges my shoulder. To my sister, he offers a small smile. "Have you tried making it up to her?"
Pax and Grant witnessed the advances of the pool girl firsthand that day.
"She won't let me within ten feet. Every time I try, she is suddenly busy hurrying to class or racing back to her own front door. I'm pretty sure she has the wrong impression about what happened."
"Maybe she needs time."
"Maybe I need to hear her voice because I miss it too much." I don't mean to say the words aloud.
Pax shifts uncomfortably. My sister inhales sharply. This is not a topic we broach so openly. We joke. We have fun. We don't free-fall off a cliff of emotions.
"Sorry." I try to grin but have a feeling it comes out more like a grimace. "I haven't slept much. I think the swamp murders are getting to me."
"It's okay." Pax's voice is forcibly light. "On both counts. It's okay if you-" He looks around to make sure no one else hears, Charlotte being the exception. Down the hall, Grant makes his way to us. "If you actually care. You're allowed to do that, you know. Like the law of gravity or something. Jump enough and eventually you'll fall. It's inevitable."
"What's inevitable?" Grant asks, offering a friendly fist bump. He notices Charlotte and pauses. I wonder if he's remembering their run-in last time, when Charlotte insulted him. She must feel bad because she actually speaks to him nicely.
"Hi, Grant," she says.
He's too stunned to respond.
"Your terrible taste in shirts is what's inevitable," Pax jokes, easing the tension.
I watch Willow. Her eyes skate to me record-fast, like she knows I'm looking. She glances back down at the textbook she's thumbing through to pass the time. Her eyes find me again. I can't decide if they're more full of anger or want. I hold her stare for several heartbeats, each one quickening the longer she maintains contact. We are in a staring contest, seeing who will break first.
"What's wrong with this shirt?" Grant pinches the unfortunate fabric between his fingertips. It seems to be a mash-up of street graphics-a graffiti wall in the background, a record table in the forefront with a cat spinning music.
"What's not wrong with it?" Charlotte says jokingly.
Grant appears flustered to have Charlotte speaking directly to him. His cheeks grow bright, and he shifts from foot to foot. I notice because he's in front of me, like a sharpened image, Willow in the background, a bit blurry around the edges.
I tune out the conversation and focus instead on Willow's gaze. I imagine touching the rope that ties the two of us together. I can't stand another day of this, being shut out by her.
I take one step toward her. She takes one step back. Grant moves out of my way. The crowd parts for me now that I am more visible, out from behind my friends. People whisper as though they think I can't hear them. It's not hard to figure out what they're doing, labeling me as a suspect even though I've been cleared.
"Willow," I say.
For one moment, I think she'll respond to me.
But no. She walks in the other direction, as far away as possible.
…
I don't see Willow again for another week, except in school, where she breezes past. I hope that she will give me a chance to make things right and to explain what happened, or more that nothing did happen. Charlotte's right. I never did anything with the pool girl. I couldn't, not while knowing how I feel about Willow.
Tonight, she swings on her porch, oblivious to me exiting my cabin. I don't stop until I'm nearly at Willow's porch. She looks up and startles.
"What are you doing here?" she asks.
"I miss you."
"Why would you do that?" She stops swinging. "There's obviously nothing going on with you and me."
My breath hitches. "Do you want there to be something between us?"
The rickety screen door bumps against the frame.
"I don't know. The answer to that depends on a lot. You had a group over to your house, including a girl who seemed to be into you."
"Doesn't mean I was into her."
I probably should have made that clear from the beginning.
She searches my eyes. "Do you like her? Is that why she was there?"
She doesn't know that Charlotte invited the girl, not me.
"It was my sister's idea to have everyone over, not mine. I didn't want the girl there. Not when I feel the way I do about you. That's what I wanted to tell you before."
Willow seems to exhale the tension in her shoulders.
"I didn't realize," she says.
She thought I liked another girl.
"I only want you, Willow." The truth comes out. It's time she heard it anyhow. "Will you ride with me tomorrow?"
Driving to school with Willow beside me has become my norm, and I miss her there, changing the radio station, chatting about little things, hair blowing in the wind.
"Maybe." She takes a step toward the door.
I wait for more, but what I get is one last glance, and a tiny smile, before she slips inside, leaving me alone with only the bog for company.
Hopefully tomorrow morning, she'll be waiting at my truck.
17
Willow
I decided to ride to school with Beau again today.
"Willow," he says as I enter his truck. "I want you to know how sorry I am about the pool situation. I know I explained it to you, but this is the first time you're riding with me again, and, well … I'm really happy about that. I apologize that the situation looked like more than it was."