Chapter Thirteen
June 22nd – 8:12 A.M.
“Why are we eating ice cream when it’s not even nine in the morning?” I glance up from my spoon full of strawberry to give Noah a strange look.
He shrugs innocently before shoving a mouthful of chocolate ice cream into his mouth. “What the real question you should be asking is what is an ice cream parlor doing open at this time? If it’s open, then why not eat it?”
I shake my head sadly. “How do you even know about this place? It’s far away from town.”
Thoughtfully, he looks at the shack that we got the ice cream. “My dad used to take me here. I don’t really know how he knew about it. I think my grandfather used to take him here.”
“Oh, that makes sense.” I swirl some of the ice cream around with my spoon.
“Yeah. Plus, ice cream is a comfort food and you looked like you needed comfort so…Bam! Genius idea just popped into my genius brain.” He smirks.
I roll my eyes. “I was doing just fine where I was.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you were just fine shivering on the beach after dashing into the ocean with all your clothes on with your arms flailing.”
Narrowing my eyes, I contemplate chucking my spoon full of ice cream at him, but then decide that I won’t waste yummy goodness on him. “There wasn’t any flailing involved.”
He tilts his head to the side, causing his bangs to slide right into his eyes. They never fail to do that. “Drat. That would have made the scene just comedic epicness.”
I’m really starting to rethink chucking ice cream at him. “Ha ha ha, you’re so funny.
We go silent for a few minutes, before Noah decides to break it, and I desperately wish he hadn’t. “Are you and Logan, like, together now?”
I choke on the magical ice cream yet again. “Um, say what?”
“I mean…you hooked up the other day, so are you two dating now?” He bites his lip.
Fervently, I shake my head. “Um, no. That’s a major negative.”
“Oh. Huh.” His eyebrows knit together.
Logan and I are definitely not together. Isn’t that what I wanted just a few days ago, though? I think it’s just better to move on and find a new summer fling. Although, time’s dwindling away, and the only person I’ve really connected with is Noah. I wonder if there are actually any other teens in town apart from the “gang.” My stepmother seems to think there are, and Elena did mention something about some Lindsay chick. Huh. Maybe I should ask Noah.
“Noah, do you know a girl named Lindsay?”
As he bolts up in his seat, he pulls a Lila move and chokes on his ice cream. Huh. Who knew ice cream was so dangerous? They should really put a warning label on these things! “Lindsay? How do you know about Lindsay?”
“Elena mentioned her the other day. I was just wondering if there were any other teens in town.”
I’m expecting a joke like “What? Trying to get rid of our group or something?” and a smile, but instead, all Noah does is stare at the ice cream in front of him and go, “Uh…”
My lips purse. “What? Did I say something wrong?”
“No, no, Lindsay’s just…She’s not around anymore.” He rubs the back of his neck rather roughly.
“Oh.” Taking in his paled complexion and the growing unease across his face, I’m guessing Lindsay’s story isn’t a good one. Maybe she broke his heart or something? He seemed genuinely surprised when I brought her up.
Which brings me back to my argument with my stepmother this morning. I don’t get why she thinks I shouldn’t hang out with Noah. It’s totally understandable with Logan—and I slightly agree with her about him, but was just fighting about it on the principle of not being able to do what I wanted or some crap like that—but why Noah? He’s totally…totally something, and I kind of like that.
I know I need to apologize to my stepmother, but I won’t stay away from Noah. I might stay away from Logan, since I’m not too crazy about him at the moment—or really ever since he decided to ink me up which I haven’t properly gotten back at him yet for. Noah and I are besties, and even though we haven’t been them for long, I’m not about to break it off just because my stepmom wants me to.
The words tumble out of my mouth before I can even think about it. “I had a fight with stepmom.”
This causes Noah’s head to whip up from staring at the incoming spoonful of ice cream to his mouth to look at me. “Um, what?”
“The reason I went arms flailing into the water? I had a fight with my stepmother. I mean, it wasn’t as bad as the other one we had, like, a week ago, but it was still pretty bad. I keep messing up a lot lately, and random bouts of anger have been coming at the most inopportune times. Although, what really is an opportune time for random bouts of anger? I…” I bite down on my lip from rambling anymore and possibly giving out any of my secrets. I can’t let Noah know any of them or he’ll pull a Lila move and go flailing off into the sunset with his ice cream.
He’s quiet for a few minutes, appearing to process this. “If it makes you feel any better, everyone has issues with their stepparents. I have major problems with my stepdad, but then again, he’s a total jerk and other unmentionables. Seriously, though, it’s perfectly normal to have issues with them. It’s just how you go about handling them.”
I nibble on my lip uneasily. “That does make some sense.”
“Does it really? I mean really? If you haven’t noticed, I really suck at conversations like this. Just the whole, giving advice thing and the…whole not debating thing. When we go back and forth like this, it’s so easy for me since I’m beast at debating, but carrying on normal conversation is a bit of a struggle.”
Slowly, I nod my head. “That makes sense.” Is that my new catchphrase?
“Do you want to talk about it or…?”
“No, I think I’m good.” And I think I sort of am. Even though it wasn’t much, it still felt good to share that little bit with him, to get something off my chest. I wasn’t expecting that advice he gave me, but it did help to know that even he has problems with his own stepfather. I feel like I should dig a little more, but I feel like that’s a touchy subject for him like my stepmother is for me. I’ll try dealing with that later.
“You sure?” He looks down at his spoonful of ice cream to me back down to his spoon.
“Yeah, I’m sure. Go eat your ice cream. I’ll try not to have a mental breakdown when you’re not looking.”
He smiles. “That sounds like a delightful plan. Although, it would add a little more excitement if you did have one.”
As I roll my eyes, I smile. “Sorry, but you’re going to have to deal with being bored.”
As his grin broadens, he looks back down at his ice cream. “With you, I’m never bored.”
<><><>
9:34 P.M.
After leaving yet another message for Tori, I head down the random stairs and skip into the kitchen. Surprisingly, I’m feeling pretty okay after what happened just earlier this morning. I think this semi-happy feeling is from about five scoops of ice cream and a hilarious Noah. I search for a few minutes for a piece of paper and after coming up with nothing, I just grab a napkin. I dig out a pen out of one of the drawers and scribble down a quick apology to my stepmother. This is one of the few ways I can communicate with her when I don’t scream at her near the bananas in the morning. At least this will ensure that I won’t have a random bout of anger directed toward her.
I gently place the napkin on the table where she can see it and scramble back up to my room. For once, I find myself in a content place. Not freaking out or anything. I think the dairy did it.
<><><>
June 24th - 2:45 A.M.
I can’t move. My whole feels frozen, ice spiders crawling all over my skin. The pit in my stomach grows by the second, and I know I’m going to puke—it’s just a matter of time and where is the question. My hands start trembling, and all I can do is stare at the car blankly. I did this. I caused all this damage.
“Lila! Seriously, what’s wrong with you? Help Tori! Why aren’t you doing anything? Don’t just stand there and do nothing! You have to do something.”
This is all my fault. I brought this on myself and took my best friend down with me. What kind of friend—person—was I for that?
I bolt up in my head, breathing hard just like I had run a marathon. The fan is running, but I’m sweating like I’m outside in the steamy heat. I quickly throw off my covers and grab the magazine on my desk to fan myself with. I take a few uneasy breaths and try to still my beating heart. I shouldn’t have eaten that ice cream before bed. I knew it would get me into trouble.
I close my eyes, willing myself not to cry at the memory. At least I didn’t wake up screaming. I call that progress. Dreaming about that night never leads to anything good. The last time I dreamt about the accident, I ended up in a terrible fight with my stepmother. I can’t let that happen again. I finally got back on better terms with her. I can’t have it go down the crapper yet again.
I swing my legs over my bed and try to figure out what to do now. I can’t fall back asleep now. It’s just not possible. Not when dreams about Tori and the accident are taunting me, threatening to drag me down.
Taking a deep breath, I stand up and shuffle my way over to my computer. I boot it up and shove some strands of hair behind my ear as I wait. My fingers tap impatiently as I wait for my computer to load. Finally, it finishes, and I start up a search engine. As I stare at the screen, the unwavering line blinks at me, urging me to type something in. My fingers itch to type in the words Tori Walburg.
I close my eyes and can picture the news article that’ll pop first all too well. The article talked about the car crash in-depth. I’m not even sure where they got half their facts. My throat becomes dry and I desperately need water all of a sudden. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I can’t do it; I can’t type in Tori’s name and read that article again. It’s like a new form of torture.
Yeah, CIA, forget water boarding, just read a crappy new article about what the person did after seeing an imaginary deer while showing them gory pictures of the scene of the crime. You’ll have them on their knees, begging for mercy—well, at least the ones with hearts still.
I shake off my thoughts, and quickly exit out of the search engine. I let out a deep breath and try to figure out what to do now. It’s way too early to go running, and it’s not like normal people dance at this hour. What can I do, though? Again, I wish I had a better hobby. Maybe you should try your hand at Googling random things like Noah!
Huh. Maybe the annoying voice in my head’s onto something! Looking around my room dimly lit by the glow of my computer screen, I locate my cell-phone haphazardly thrown near my purse. I wheel over to grab it and flick it open. I scroll through my contacts and pause when I hit Noah. Did I really have the guts to text him?
Um, Lila, dear, he’s your bestie, remember? Why would you need guts to text him? Unless you were having other thoughts about him? Oh deary may, were you have naughty thoughts about him when I wasn’t looking? Then I get why you totes won’t have the guts to text him. That would just be awkward turtleness!
I roll my eyes at my inner voice thingy and tell it to shush as I open up a new message to send. What do I say? “Hey, I had a bad dream about a car crash that I caused and now I need someone to nurture my fragile ego, and you, my furry friend, are the perfect person to do so!” Something tells me that’s not going to fly.
I finally settle for a, Hey, are you up?
After a few minutes of impatient waiting, I get a response. I suck in a huge breath and hit open. Um, yeah, I’m up. You?
Well, obviously I am if I’m texting you.
I slide a strand of my hair behind my ear as I wait for him to text me back. I don’t have to wait as long as last time, since he texts me back in only two minutes this time.
Sorry, for trying to make polite conversation here, Miss Logic.
I bite back a smile and don’t even think twice before I text him back. What are you doing tomorrow?
Still trying to find a new toaster. Last time I went, I went with Logan and he ended up chucking paint swatches at me. I almost got a paper cut in the eye! You don’t understand pain until you get a paper cut in the face.
I shake my head sadly at him or really his text. Suddenly a brilliant idea pops into my head. Wanna run with me tomorrow?
There’s a pause between our texting flow, and I don’t let out a breath until I feel the phone vibrate again. What time?
My usual time. Meet me at my house at six?
Anxiously, I start to fidget. Okay, what’s up with the anxiety about whether or not he’s going to come and run with me tomorrow? It’s not like anything’s riding on this. We’re just two besties, and I invited him to do a bestie-related activity.
Admit it, girl! You’re falling for your supposed bestie. It’s totally his use of Google that’s seducing you, but you have to admit that you’ve got it bad. There’s most definitely something riding on whether or not he wants to run with you tomorrow. It’s, like, you’re letting him into a part of life that no one’s ever been to.
Wow, that was deep, voice thingy. You should really be a shrink. Oh, wait, you’re just the voice in my head and I would really like you to shut up now! Please and thank you.
Although, it might be onto something. I’ll admit that I may have a slight crush on Noah. He’s adorable—a girl can’t help it! That doesn’t mean that we’ll move past the platonic stage. We’ll just skip in fields of daisies and totally not hook up, especially in front of his cousin’s room. I mean…friendships like this stay friendships all the time! I have nothing to worry about. I won’t fall for him, right?
I scratch my head absently when nobody in my head answers. Apparently, nobody wants to add anything insightful here. Wonderful. I roll my eyes. Noah’s just your good friend. End of story—for now at least.
My phone vibrates finally, and I jump in my seat, startled by it. I quickly flip it open. Kay. I’ll be there, since I don’t really feel like being square. See you then. Now get some sleep, so you’re fully ready for my epicness and the fact that I shall totally beat you in running skillz.
I roll my eyes and flip my phone shut. Well, that settles it. I’m going running with Noah tomorrow. Should be…interesting to say the least. But a part of me can’t wait for it.
<><><>
6:02 A.M.
“What does a run entail?” Noah asks me, as he bounces anxiously on the heels of his feet.
I’ve just walked out of my house as quiet as can be, since I really don’t want another lecture from my stepmother about how I need to hang out with the other kiddies on the block instead of the actual cool one that’s standing in front of me, looking about ready to crawl of his skin. “Um, running? Does the word run mean something different to you than me, hopscotch?”
“Well, I didn’t know if you’re required to run and talk at the same time or something.” His face pinches up.
I narrow my eyes. “Running and talking doesn’t take a genius. I can even do it. Someone that was valedictorian or whatever of their fancy private school can probably do it as well.”
He bites on his bottom lip and raises his eyebrows. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”
I can’t help but laugh at the anxiety rolling off of him. He looks scared at the thought that actually might have to talk as he’s running with me. He did say that conversations were a bit of a problem with him. “I’ll give you a pass on this one, but the next one, we’re gabbing the whole time.”
“You’re laughing at my pain? How un-bestie like!” He shakes his head.
I shrug. “I know, I know, I’m a terrible bestie. Cry me a river, build a bridge, and get over it. Let’s start this run. You’ve made me late already!”
As we start to run, I sneak a quick glance over my shoulder and swear I see the drapes in my stepmother’s room move back into place, as if someone was watching through them and quickly left them. I take an uneasy gulp and really hope it was a trick of the eye. Even if I don’t care about what my stepmother thinks about Noah or whether I should hang out with him or not, I don’t want to get into another fight with her about the subject.
I shake off all the negative thoughts and focus on the positive ones—mainly the fact that I’ve managed to find myself a friend that I’m comfortable enough to run with. Noah actually keeps up with me for the most part, although a few times he did lag back, grumbling the whole time. About halfway through it, he requests a break. We plop down on a bench near the coffee place, and he takes quite a few deep breaths.
I lounge back on the bench and run a hand through my hair. “Okay, you have me perplexed, Train Guy. You have admitted to me that you’re a total nerd, and nerds aren’t exactly known for their athletic ability. I’ll give you that, but the main thing that’s confusing me is that you appear to be in shape. I have a sneaky suspicion you have a six pack under that t-shirt of yours. Guys that look like the way you do always have them.”
He turns his gaze from the ground, and his eyebrows knit together. “Is that a proven fact?”
I nod my head fervently. “Based on all the observations I’ve had, bestie, it’s a proven fact.”
His eyes widen, and he shakes his head sadly. “Okay then. That’s very interesting. I shall file that away in my wide array of knowledge.”
I poke him in the stomach. “So? Is it true? Were you a closet nerd back in high school and the captain of the football team on the outside world?”
He scoffs and frowns. “No, most definitely not. I totally showed my inner nerdness all the time. I was on the basketball team, though. Does that count for athletic ability? I thought it was look nice on my college application.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, because I’m sure you totally needed that on your college app when you have a near genius IQ.”
“I don’t have…” He pauses and his mouth quirks up in concentration. “Well, never mind.”
Now it’s my turn for my eyes to widen. “Omigosh, do you really have a near genius IQ? I was just spouting out nonsense.”
He just shrugs and smiles. “It’s a possibility.”
“Whatever.” I wave him off. “You’ve managed to distract me again. How do you stay in shape, bucko?”
“I definitely don’t run. This is pure torture! I don’t understand how you do this every day. I use a lot of those ab machines and crap like that. Nothing that requires leaving the house. An hour a day with weights really does miracles for my figure!” He gestures to his body.
I ignore the sarcasm on that last statement. “Wait, doesn’t basketball require a lot of running?”
“Not when you’re the school’s prized Mr. Smarty Pants that can’t risk getting injured, so they force you to stand on the sidelines, looking pretty.” He flips some imaginary hair off his shoulder.
“For real?” I tug on a loose string on my shorts.
He shakes his head. “Nah, I’m just messing with you. I never really ran during all my basketball days. I just rapidly jogged.”
I lightly shove him. “Just for that, let’s go. You’ve wasted too much time sitting on your booty. Soon it’s going to go flat! Imagine the horror.”
“Wait, what are you doing tomorrow?”
I stop midway through standing up. “Um, nothing?”
“Are you asking me or telling me?” He smiles.
I put my hand on my chin and pretend to mull it over for a minute.“Totally asking you.”
“I’m already figuring I’m going to be too pooped out from this run you forced me on, so I was wondering if you wanted to go toaster shopping with me tomorrow.”
I plop down on the bench next to him again and study his face. He appears serious about this. What’s weirder is that I’m pumped to go toaster shopping with a man that uses the word sassy on occasion.
Okay, as much as it pains me to admit it, I think the inner voice thingy might be onto something yet again. I think I may have developed a tiny crush on the boy that talks about having a gnome army. And that’s exactly the reason I agree to going toaster shopping with him.
Just what have I gotten myself into?