Page 17

CHAPTER 17

blue

DECEMBER 6TH, HIS JUNIOR YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL

“ H ey, beautiful,” I said, leaning back against the pillow on my bed like I felt completely at ease. Truth was, my stomach was in a twist and my temper was still hot from the argument I’d had with my dad. But seeing Anna over FaceTime always made things better.

Dad and I lived with my Uncle Van in a dumpy apartment on a hill but it overlooked the beach. The ocean was two miles away, but you could see the water, hear the waves, smell the salt-air. My window was open and I could smell it at that very moment.

“Hi.” Anna smiled, her eyes crinkling. FaceTime was the best invention ever created, in my opinion. Now if someone could invent a teleportation device, we would’ve been set. “Look.” She turned her laptop to show me a countdown timer. “Thirteen days, six hours, and twenty-seven minutes until I get to hug you.” She closed her eyes and released a large sigh. “Finally.”

My chest cinched so tight I could barely breathe. I sat up. “So…I need to talk to you about that.”

She let out a stilted laugh. “Okay. I don’t like the sound of that.”

I crossed my legs and propped my phone against a pillow. My breathing sped up and I forced it to slow down. Then, before I could chicken out, I forced myself to say the words I didn’t want to say. “I can’t come home for Christmas.”

She sat there, expressionless and completely still for the longest five seconds of my life. “What do you mean? I thought you already got a ticket.”

I blew my breath out in an O, eyes burning. “I thought so too. My dad was supposed to buy it but I guess he forgot. And now prices have gone up and he says we don’t have the money.”

One of her brows puckered. “I thought… What happened to all your pizza delivery money?”

“It got stolen.” It was the truth. I’d worked all summer and every weekend since I got here, saving up for this trip home and every penny was gone.

One of her brows lifted in a slow arch. “You didn’t put it in the bank?”

My face was burning, my heart racing. “It doesn’t matter. Just…I can’t come.”

She shook her head. “No. You have to come. I haven’t touched you in eight months, Blue. You have to come for Christmas. I need to hug you. You promised.”

I threw my hands up. “I don’t have the money.”

Her chest rose and fell. Then a stoic, determined expression crossed her face. “Well, I do. I’m going to hop online and buy you a ticket right now. Silas will help me.”

“No.” I cursed, my face in flames. “I’m not letting you spend your savings on me.” The last thing I needed was Silas thinking I was a loser. I’d worked way too hard to earn his respect. How pathetic would it look that I couldn’t afford a single ticket to Virginia? That my girlfriend had to buy one for me?

I’d had twice as much as I needed for the ticket. I’d planned on spending the rest of it, taking her on dates while I was there. And now it was all gone.

“I want to.” She forced a smile. “It’ll be your Christmas present from me.”

“No!” It came out in a shaky yell.

Her eyes were wet. I could see that even through the phone. “W-well,” her voice shook. “What if I come see you instead?”

I wished. I would love nothing more than to take her to the beach, show her off to all my friends, flaunt her in front of Lacy so she’d back the heck off. “Silas would never let you fly across the country alone and stay with me and my dad and my uncle.” It was true and I could tell from her expression that she knew it. “Look,” I said, faking calm. “Just… I’ll be home for the summer, okay? We just have to wait a little longer.”

She hugged her knees to her chest. “No,” she said in a hush. “You’re not coming home for the summer either. You know you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.” I punched the mattress.

“No,” she said quieter, wiping a tear from her cheek. “You’ll have football practice and camps and a job.”

I couldn’t breathe. It felt like I was caught in a riptide and couldn’t get my head above the surface. Because she was right. Maybe I could come home for a little while. A week tops. But that was it. I’d told her differently because if she knew the truth, that would be it. It felt like she was constantly on the verge of breaking up with me. She’d never said that, but I felt it. Just like I did right now.

Then she said the words I’d been dreading for eight long months.

“It’s okay, Blue. You’re doing what you need to do to go to a good college. And I’m here doing what I need to do. It’s just not our time.”

It’s just not our time?

She opened her mouth to continue.

“Stop!” I held up a hand.

But she didn’t. “It’s okay,” she said again. But her face, her tears, her tone, none of it said she was okay. “We can be friends and maybe when we’re a little older this will w-work out.” She gasped, trying to breathe.

“No. Anna. I don’t want that.”

She shook her head, looking away. She closed her eyes and a tear plopped over the rim of her lid and rolled down her cheek. I desperately wished I could wipe it away.

“I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t do it anymore. I just miss you so much and I’m constantly worried about other girls. I saw that one girl, Lacy? I saw her post on Instagram. She tagged you. Did you know that?”

“What? No.” I didn’t give a crap about Lacy. She was a jersey chaser who’d come at me hard all season. But she was nothing compared to Anna. Not even the slightest bit of a temptation. I guess she’d posted the dumb selfie I’d let her take of the two of us after we won the state championship two days before. But I’d taken a lot of selfies with a lot of people. That’s what happens when you’re celebrating.

“It’s too much,” Anna said in an undertone. “With my mom gone and now you gone, I’m an anxious mess all the time. I’m losing even more weight. I cry myself to sleep every night. And I’m so tired. I need a break.” A look of resolve crossed her face. “This will be good. Yeah. This feels like the right thing to do.”

“Anna, no,” I sobbed. “Can we just talk about this?” The regret of leaving Seddledowne had never been heavier than at that moment. It had been a selfish choice. I’d never asked her what she thought about it. I’d made the decision and told her after it was already done. And then I’d yoked her with this long-distance relationship, as if I had the right to do that. Now, it was finally coming back to bite me in the butt.

“I have to go help make dinner right now. We can talk tomorrow.” She nodded. “But I already know this is the right thing.”

I gripped my hair, tugging it so hard prickles shot across my scalp. “So that’s it? You get to make the decision for both of us?”

Her hand pressed against her heart. “I think in a week or two you’ll realize I’m right. It’ll be a relief not to have to worry about this. You’ll see.”

I held my hands up, even though they were convulsing. “Let me get this straight. Because I can’t afford to come home for Christmas, you’re breaking up with me?”

“Blue, I… I just can’t.” She stared at me with pity. She wasn’t even crying anymore.

I was a bumbling mess. All alone. Maybe if I told her that, instead of buying my ticket, my dad had blown all my money gambling in Vegas last weekend, it would make a difference. But I doubted it. And I was already humiliated enough.

So I stopped crying too. A hardness crept in that felt good. “Yeah. Okay. You’re right. We’ll see other people. Be friends. It’ll be great.”

I thought the “see other people” thing would break her resolve but it didn’t.

She just stared at me, a sad smile playing at her lips. “Yeah,” was all the response I got.

I wanted to throw something.

Just then her bedroom door opened. I heard the familiar creak. Silas needed to WD-40 the hinges. The baby cried in the background.

“Hey,” Lemon said off camera. “Could you stir the spaghetti meat while I nurse James?” The baby wailed.

Anna nodded. “Sure. Be right there.” She looked back at me. “I gotta go. We can talk about?—”

I punched the red X, ending the call. A wild desperation filled me like I’d never felt before. I stormed out of my room and up to my dad, sitting at the kitchen table, smoking a disgusting cigarette. I couldn’t go visit Anna or Mom and Colt for Christmas but he could waste money—probably my money—on cigarettes?

“I just got dumped because of you!” I shouted.

He shot to his feet, his chair grating against the linoleum. We glared each other down, chests heaving.

“I hate you!” I screamed. “I hate everything about you! I never should’ve let you move me here!”

More glaring and chest heaving. Then a slow smile spread across his face and he laughed. My dad was laughing at me. As I stood there sobbing. “You are so na?ve. Did you actually think you two were going to last? Face it. I did you a favor. If that was all it took to break you up, you were never meant to be in the first place. Go find a new girlfriend. They’re all over the place out here.”

Rage tore through me. I gripped his shoulders, wishing I could hit him. Fear flashed in his eyes. Good. I cocked my fist back, certain it would make me feel better.

“Hey.” Uncle Van walked into the room. “Blue, back down, buddy.” But I didn’t. I just stood there, tears leaking out of my eyes no matter how hard I tried to stop them, fist ready to break Dad’s nose. “You’ll regret it later,” Uncle Van tried in a calm tone. He reached for the keys to his Mustang on the wall. I’d wanted to drive that thing since the day we arrived. “Take a drive. Cool down.” He tossed them to me.

I caught them and stepped back. The carbon dioxide that was exiting my body was infused with hate. Hate for my dad. Hate for Anna’s inability to see further than right now. But most of all, hate for the suffocating helplessness I felt from being poor.

As I raced down the road, going way too fast, I made myself a promise. I was going to be so freaking good at football that every college would want me. I’d pick the one that offered the most money and the almighty dollar sign would never have the power to screw up my life again. Poor no more , would be my new mantra.

Ten minutes later, I pulled over at the beach and walked out onto the sand. There was a volleyball game going on. Girls were lying out, tanning. Two weeks before Christmas. California was nuts.

Then I texted my two best friends from Oceanview Prep, Slate and Oliver, who proceeded to give me the worst advice of my life. Take Lacy to the awards dinner, post it on social media, and tag Anna. They were positive Anna would come crawling back. And like a complete moron, I ran that play faster and harder than I ever had with a football. Crashing and burning any future chance I had with the only girl I’d ever loved.