Part 13 (1/2)
I geared up to tell him to f.u.c.k off, because that was some corny-a.s.s s.h.i.+t, but then I realized that he really kind of was. In that moment he was able to actually make me forget being me.
”Why didn't you bring Nez?” I had to ask. Fireworks? On a lake? What was more panty-dropping than that?
”I told you,” he said. ”I didn't want to bring Nez.”
At least he hadn't said, I wanted to bring you. Even if we both knew that was what he meant.
”But why?” I said, still not convinced. I felt sick that I was asking. Felt sick that Aaron made me doubt everything, even something this simple, this perfect.
”Stop asking so many questions,” Ben said, walking toward the lake again.
We reached the beach, the sky a tie-dyed s.h.i.+rt of colors, reflecting off the water.
”Did you bring me down here to remind me that you saved me or something?” I asked.
”I'm pretty sure I haven't totally saved you yet,” he said, sitting in an Adirondack chair.
I felt my breath catch in my throat. Speechless yet again, I sat next to him, wondering why he'd chosen me to save and keep saving. My chair smelled like suntan lotion and wet bathing suits. I put my cigarette out in the sand.
”A beach and fireworks usually bring up happy memories. There isn't much here that does that,” he said.
”I guess,” I said.
”So?” he asked.
”Now you want to know my memories. What's next, my Twitter pa.s.sword?”
He didn't speak, just watched me.
I looked out at the lake. ”It makes me think about my brother, Tim. When I was a kid, we'd light off sparklers on the Fourth of July. The only stuff we were allowed to use in New York. I was so stupid back then, I thought if we attached them to my b.u.t.t I could fly up in the sky. We tried it one year-I think I was eight and he was fifteen. I didn't end up in the sky; I ended up in the emergency room. I still have a scar.”
”That's not really a happy memory. Funny”-he smiled-”but not happy.”
”Compared to my others,” I said, ”it is.”
”I knew there was a reason I liked you,” he said. ”You're honest.”
”I hate lying,” I said. ”Hate that it's something we have to do,” I added, realizing I had done far too much of it to be allowed to just say that I hated it.
”You going to show me your scar?” He laughed.
”Only if you want to kiss my a.s.s,” I said.
”Amazing, huh, Ca.s.sie?” He whistled, looking up.
It was. It really was. It was magic: the fireworks reflecting off the lake, the sand under the chairs, the water lapping the sh.o.r.e.
I could let myself feel that.
But there was also the stuff I couldn't let myself feel. The heat that filled my skin when Ben got close, the s.h.i.+ver in my chest when he spoke to me, the way his touch made everything else vanish.
The way he could get me to talk about my brother, about me. The me I was before this place, before there was someone else inside me.
My hand went to my stomach. Why was I thinking about that now? Here?
”You should listen to me more often,” he said, handing me two more cigarettes.
”No offense, Ben, but I don't listen to boys anymore,” I replied, amazed that I'd said it to him.
”All boys, or just ones who make you nervous?” he asked.
”All boys,” I said, staring at the sky.
”But I do make you nervous,” he said.
He knew the answer, so I didn't bother responding. ”I had some things happen to me before I came here that have nothing to do with how I feel about you,” I said, even though that was a lie. What had happened with Aaron had everything to do with how I felt about Ben. Why I couldn't feel anything about him.
”How do you feel about me?” he asked.
”I'm not sure yet,” I said. I was surprised that I hadn't said I hated him. That I didn't feel like I had to say it.
”I would try to kiss you,” he said, ”but I'm afraid you'd kick me in the b.a.l.l.s.”
”I probably would.” I laughed, the sky filling with noisy color like paint launching from a giant popcorn popper. ”But like I said, it wouldn't be about you.”
”I guess I'll have to figure out how to make it about me,” he said, taking off his boots and socks and standing. ”Come on.”
”There is no way I am getting near that water again,” I said.
”I'll make sure nothing happens to you,” he said, holding his hand out to help me up.
I looked at his palm, open, waiting, just wanting to hold mine. For once, I didn't think about anything except that there was a cute, sweet, smart-a.s.s boy standing in front of me with his hand out.
I pulled off my boots and socks and took it.
We stood at the lakesh.o.r.e, our hands still clasped, the water licking our feet, fireworks decorating the sky.
I turned to him. He was looking up, his mouth open in wonder like he was trying to swallow the moment.
It was definitely one worth keeping.
f.u.c.king Halfway Through T he good news is today was a shower day, complete with new bars of white, white Ivory soap and fresh, clean towels. I should have known that could only be followed by bad news, and it came in the form of a three-mile run around the campgrounds.
Leave it to Rawe to finally let us get clean and then make us sweat like pigs.
I guess it made sense, though, since that was kind of what she was doing with our a.s.sessment Diaries. All day we were allowed to have our minds clear and clean, focusing completely on whatever task was right in front of us, and then at night she forced us to shovel out all the c.r.a.p we had hidden in there and run around in it.
Tonight the subject is the people in our lives before we came here. I'm not about to fall for Rawe's s.h.i.+t again and write about Aaron, so instead I picked Lila and Amy.
Lila would f.u.c.king die in this place; my guess is Amy would, too. But somehow I'm surviving. I still haven't figured out how. I still haven't figured out why I even want to. Maybe the fact that I don't really care is why, or maybe surviving is a relative term.