Page 9

CALEB

Then . .

Here goes nothing .

Caleb tapped lightly on Cassidy’s door. “Hey, it’s me.”

It was Saturday morning, and he knew she was holed up in there because last night when Mom asked her to unload the dishwasher, she unloaded on Mom instead.

Caleb volunteered to do it, but Mom refused.

She went toe-to-toe with Cassidy until Dad called a truce and sent Cassidy to her room. She slammed the door and that was that.

“Cass?” He heard a thump on the other side just before the door swung open.

“What?”

“Just wondered if you were still alive.” Caleb moved into her room as she fell back into bed, burying herself under the covers so all he could see was her long, dark hair spreading over the pillow. The morning sunlight warmed her room.

When they were kids, everyone thought they were twins. Guess they were sort of—Irish twins. Only eleven months and two weeks apart.

After a second, she sat up. “Would you care if I wasn’t? Still alive?”

“What do you think? Come on, Cass. What’s going on with you? Where’d you go the other night with the dude in the Jeep?”

“None of your business.”

Caleb swiped his finger over the dust on her spelling bee trophies, then looked to her bookshelf, where she’d tacked first- and second-place math ribbons.

“I heard a girl transferred to Nickle High to play softball,” he said, moving on to Cassidy’s softball trophies. In the spring she was named Female Athlete of the Year. “Do you know her? Is she good?”

“Yeah, she’s good.”

Last year, Cassidy led the Nickle High Eagles softball team from the “circle” to regionals. And then colleges had come calling.

“When’s softball camp?”

“I’m not playing.” Her muffled voice came from under her blanket.

“What?” Caleb sat on the edge of the bed. “You’ve played your whole life. The team needs you. You’re predicted to go to state. You could get a scholarship to play D1.”

“I don’t want to play, okay? Am I allowed to make my own choices? Why does everything in this house have to be about sports and school and good grades and church and stupid trophies?” She burrowed under her pillow. “Just go.”

Caleb paused at the door. “By the way, Shift called. The West End Panthers trashed our beach. And by trashed, I mean stuff from like dumpsters or something. Shift said it smelled like a sewer.”

Cassidy threw aside her pillow and scrambled out of bed. “When? How do you know it was the West End?” She peered out her window. “Who did it?”

“Who else? The football team. They’ve been pranking us every summer since we started winning the rivalry game. We’ve never retaliated, but this year, we want revenge. Want to come?”

“No.” She turned from the window. “It’s so dumb, trashing the beach over a football game.” Cassidy picked up a brush from her dresser, then set it back down. “Wh-who all was with them?”

“How should I know? Those cowards work at night. All because they can’t beat us on the field. And yes, it’s dumb, but they started it.” Caleb started to leave but stuck his head back in for a final word. “Give Mom and Dad—especially Mom—a break, will you?”

She said nothing as he closed her door, just stared at the floor, looking lost and sad.

He met the team on the beach with trash bags, a cooler of drinks, and a whole lot of grumbling about the smell.

“We have to get revenge this time,” Jumbo said to Caleb as he passed out the trash grabbers he’d borrowed from his dad’s refuse company.

Hollingsworth set up a speaker for some tunes, and the Eagles football team got to work. Shift drove his dad’s ATV over the sand, collecting full bags.

A photographer from the Gazette snapped a few pictures while a reporter asked questions.

When the sun rose high and hot, a couple of the guys abandoned cleanup for a pickup game on the beach.

“My nose can’t take it anymore,” Kidwell hollered.

“Come on, Kidwell, Alvarez, get to work. Then we can get up a game.” Caleb reached in the cooler for a Gatorade, and as he tossed one to Shift, she walked by. The girl from the Sands Motor Motel.

“Hey! You...” He moved around the cooler toward the Beachwalk.

Emery slowed, glanced over at him, lifted her chin, and kept going.

“Hey, Quinn, what’s up?” Caleb started to follow. One of the guys let loose with the “Brick House” whistle, but Emery didn’t even break stride.

“Okay, I see how it is. You too good for me, Emery Quinn?”

She slowed this time and looked at him through the loose hair blowing around her face. She wore shorts and a T-shirt, and her sunburn had faded to a soft tan.

“It’s me, Caleb Ransom,” he said. “How’s the Boyfriendinator?”

“He’s great, practicing Krav Maga.” She pointed to the trash bag in his hand. “Punishment for some criminal activity?”

“No, this was done by the idiots at our rival school. Emery, come meet the guys!” She waved and started on down the Beachwalk. “Yo, Emery Quinn, you leaving me hanging?”

When she disappeared inside the Blue Plate, Caleb returned to picking up trash, checking every few minutes to see if she’d exited the diner. But what if she left out the front?

Yanking off his gloves, he handed his trash grabber to Clubber, who’d done nothing but drink Gatorade and toss the football for the last hour. “Here, put yourself to good use.”

“Bro, where are you going?”

“To see a girl.” He spotted her in the back booth, going over the menu, and slid in across from her. “Look, Quinn, I know you’re way cooler than me, but really? Shooting me down in front of the bros?” He slapped his hand over his chest. “How could you do me that way?”

“I gave you a look.” She proved it by recreating that coy glance. “Even smiled and waved. What do you want from me?”

“I want you to—” What did he want? To hold her hand. Work up the nerve to kiss her. The warm flush on his cheeks was embarrassing, so he grabbed her menu and ducked behind it. “Did you order yet?”

“Hey, Caleb.” He looked up to see Sarah, a girl in his class, setting down Emery’s orange juice. “I thought you were picking up trash with the rest of the team.” She gave him a flirty smile before dully asking Emery, “What’ll it be?”

“I don’t know, someone stole my menu.” She made a face at Caleb, who promptly handed it over.

“The Big Breakfast Plate is good,” he said.

“I don’t know if I can trust you.” Emery deliberated, ordered the Big Breakfast Plate, handed the menu to Sarah, then eyed Caleb. “If it’s not good, you’re buying.”

“No problem.” Caleb ordered the same, along with a Coke.

Sarah jotted on her order pad, asking Caleb about his summer and if the Eagles planned to retaliate against the Panthers for trashing their beach.

“Don’t know,” he said. “But if I told you, I’d have kill you.”

“Such a cliché, Caleb.” Sarah squeezed his arm. “Anyway, some of us are going to the Fish Hook later. It’s bonfire night. You should come.”

“We’ll see,” he said.

“She’s into you big-time,” Emery said, when she’d gone.

“She’s a flirt. Dates my buddy Jumbo.”

“You’d better warn him. And where did he get the name Jumbo?”

“You’ll see when you meet him.”

“You think I’m going to meet him?”

“Of course, when you start hanging out with me.”

“What makes you think I’m going to hang out with you?”

“I have no idea. I’m shooting in the dark here, Emery.”

“Speaking of the dark, did your sister come home the other night?”

“She did. About four a.m.” He looked up when Sarah set down his soda. “I tried to talk to her this morning, but she’s not giving up much.” Talking about Cassidy made him sad. And he didn’t want to be sad while sitting across from Emery.

“My mom was into punk in her teens,” Emery said.

“She wore combat boots and chains. If my grandparents hated something, she loved it. Next thing you know, she’s in college, majoring in business, joining all these clubs and honor societies.

Then she met my dad, got an MBA, engaged and married, had a baby while rising in the banking ranks, became a senior vice president, and drove a Mercedes.

Punk Rosie would never believe Adult Rosie would do corporate America.

So give your sister a break. She’ll come around. ”

Caleb reached for her hand. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

He thought she’d pull away, but she held on, gripping his right with her left.

Caleb softly moved his thumb back and forth, only letting go when Sarah loudly arrived with their food.

He sat back, grateful to pull himself together.

Another minute and his heart would’ve thumped right out of his chest. He’d heard about a girl making a guy feel nutso, but he thought it was hooey. Until now.

Being an Irish twin with a sister, Caleb was comfortable around girls. Cassidy had a boatload of friends who were always running in and out of the house. Some of them “liked” him over the years, but none make him feel the way Emery Quinn did.

Across the table, she cut up her pancakes and took a small bite. Caleb did the same. Even though he was starving, he didn’t want to look like a buffoon.

“What was Sarah talking about? With the other high school?” Emery said after a minute.

“We’re rivals with West End High. The Panthers,” he said. “The East End of Sea Blue Beach is the original settlement. The Nickle High Eagles are the original high school. The town was founded by a prince and—”

“Nuh-uh. A real prince?”

“Yeah, from Lauchtenland. He built the Starlight roller-skating rink and half the town. A man named Nickle, who was a freed slave, saved the prince after his yacht crashed during a storm or something. Nickle High was named after him. In the nineties, some developers came in and built up the town west of the rink. Everything new is on the West End. Everything old is east. West End High was built in 1994. Nickle High was built in, like, 1900. The football teams became rivals. They started pranking each other. Toilet-papering the courtyard, hauling beat-up old cars to block the field house. The last four years, we’ve owned the rivalry game.

And every summer, they trash our beach.”