She rips the bag open and starts putting the funnel-shaped munchies on her fingers. She turns and paws at the air. “Food and wicked claws. How’s that for a two-for-one?”
“Okay, now I really want to try one of these.”
She hands me the bag, and I take one and pop it in my mouth.
“Delicious, right?” she says before she sticks a claw in her mouth and eats it.
I look her in the eyes. “Thanks to you, I think my life is complete now.”
“Yep. I know. Hey, you want to trade my bike for your truck? Two-for-one, just like you said.”
I grimace as I get to my feet. My legs are killing me. “That’s a really nice offer, but I think I get enough exercise.”
“Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
“At the convenience store, buying Bugles?”
“Yep. Pretty much. Stupid small town.”
“Think of it this way,” I say as I walk toward my truck. “If it weren’t small, I probably wouldn’t have met you today.”
She laughs. “And your life would have continued to be incomplete?”
“Exactly.”
THERE’S THAT moment
when you
get a gift
from a friend
with the cutest
wrapping paper
you’ve ever seen,
covered in
colorful cupcakes,
and you’re wishing
that what’s inside
makes you smile
as much as that
adorable paper with
the matching bow.
You open it
slowly,
savoring it,
your hopes
floating higher
and higher,
like a birthday
balloon.
And then
you see
it’s
good.
Not just good,
but the best thing ever,
and it’s exciting
and you’re happy
and you’re wondering
when you can sneak away
and spend some time with the
amazing gift.
Yeah.
Meeting him
and talking to him
was pretty much
like that.
I DRIVE home thinking about Lauren.
The way her eyes sparkled when she smiled.
The sound of her laugh.
The easy way we talked, without one mention of football.
There’s a creek party coming up this Saturday, and I realize I should have told Lauren about it. Invited her to come along. It’d be a chance for her to meet people, maybe make a friend or two before school starts. I almost turn around to see if I can find her and her blue bicycle, which probably wouldn’t be too hard, but I want to get the bread home to Gram, like I promised.
When I pull up to our house, Benny’s motorcycle is parked in the street, and he’s sitting on my front porch. Waiting for me, apparently.
“Didn’t I spend enough time with you today?” I ask him.
“I need your help.”
Benny is a big guy, with muscles like boulders. Looking at him, you wouldn’t think he’d need help with anything.
“What’s going on?”
“It’s my mom’s birthday.” He reaches behind him and grabs a grocery bag he was hiding. “Can you help me whip up a cake?”
It makes me laugh. “Whip up a cake? What, do I look like Rachael Ray? Also, why in the hell didn’t you just buy one? Isn’t it a little late to be doing this now?”
He stands up. “Nah. We got time. We aren’t eating dinner until eight. And she doesn’t like store-bought cakes. Hates ’em, as a matter of fact. It’s the frosting, I think. So I thought I’d make her an angel food cake. I even bought some strawberries to go with it.”
“All right. Come on. Let’s see if Gram is willing to share her kitchen with two sorry-ass chefs like us.”
Gram and Grandpa are sitting in the family room, working on a crossword puzzle they set up on a card table.
“Gram, I got your bread. And Benny’s wondering if he can borrow our kitchen to make his mom an angel food cake.”
“Fine with me,” she says. “I’ve got a roast in the slow cooker, but the oven is free. Do you want me to help you?”
“Nah,” Benny says. “I don’t want to put you out. We’ll be okay. I even bought the right kind of pan, since I wasn’t sure if you had one or not.”
“That’s real sweet of you, Benny,” Gram says. “I’m sure your mother is going to love it.”
“If we don’t burn the thing,” I mumble.
“Knock it off, Pynes. We are going to make the best-looking cake you’ve ever seen.”
“Judith, you should find these boys some aprons,” Grandpa says. “Pretty ones with lots of ruffles. And be sure to get a picture — I bet the Valley Times would love to see what some of the Eagle football players do in their spare time.”
“Don’t tease them, Hank,” Gram says. “It’s not nice.”
“Yeah, just tease Benny, Grandpa.”
Benny drops the grocery bag and attempts to put me in a headlock, but I wriggle away before he gets the chance.
We’re both laughing as I grab the bag and head for the kitchen. “Come on, big guy,” I say. “Let’s do this thing.”
The kitchen smells amazing, with the roast cooking away, and my stomach rumbles. I set the bread I bought at Jiffy Mart along with Benny’s grocery bag on the counter before I take out the cake mix and pan. I read the instructions and say, “Well, what do you know. It looks to me like you picked the easiest cake ever. We just have to add water to the mix and that’s it.” I look at him. “Why’d you come here? You could have done this by yourself.”
He shrugs. “This way, if we somehow screw up the easiest cake ever, I can blame you.”
I pull a bowl out of the cupboard. “You’re such a good friend, Ben.”
“I know it.”
“You do realize I’m gonna have to follow you home when it’s done, right? Unless you bought a special cake carrier for your motorcycle while you were at the store too.”
He slaps himself upside the head. “Dang. I didn’t think about that. You’re right. But I’m guessing you don’t have anything better to do tonight. Hey, you can even come in and have some cake with us. Ma would like that.”
I have to say, I do love strawberry shortcake.
“Twist my arm.”
I TELL my uncle
I met Colby
at the store.
“Nice kid,” he says.
“Great football player.”
I’m glad about
the nice part,
but who cares
about football?
My cousins are playing
the most annoying
game in the history
of the world
with hippos and marbles,
so I take refuge
in the backyard.
As the sun begins
to set in the distance,
I listen for the
friendly owl,
but all is quiet.
Loneliness creeps in
and settles down
next to me.
I think of my friends,
Andi and Martina.
Do they miss me?
Do they wonder where I am?
Do they know I’m sick
about not saying good-bye?
I could call them,
but the thing is,
I know it’ll make me
miss them even more.
It wouldn’t do any good.
I’m here and they’re not.
The ache in my chest
grows and grows
until I’m about ready
to go inside.
Right now,
annoying noise
mi
ght be better than
lonely silence.
But then, he’s there.
whooo-hoooo
The haunting sound
of the owl’s call
fills the empty space.
I close my eyes
and thank the owl
for talking to me
tonight.
My new friend learns
I’m a good listener.
ON THE way to Benny’s house, the warm wind blows through the open windows of my truck as the sun hangs low in the sky. Benny’s in front of me, on his old Suzuki. He loves that bike almost as much as he loves football.
We drive through town, past the Hasty Freeze with a parking lot full of people. Past Purcell’s New and Used Cars, where most kids get their first cars. And we drive past the Towne Pump, the gas station where we all meet up on Saturday nights, trying to figure out where we can find some fun.
As much as I think about leaving and moving on to bigger and better things, there are moments, like right now, when this small town makes me smile. It is home, after all.
When we reach his house, Benny pulls his bike into the driveway behind his mom’s car. I park on the street, and then I grab the cake and strawberries.
I hand the cake off to him before we go inside. “Nice job, Rachael Ray,” he says before he opens the door and yells, “Happy birthday to the best mother in the whole wide world!”
She peeks her head around the corner. When she sees him carrying a cake, she claps her hands over her mouth and comes all the way out from the kitchen.
“Benny. And Colby. What did you boys do?”
He walks over and hands it to her. “It’s angel food. We made it ourselves. I got strawberries too.”
“Oh my word, it looks wonderful.” She looks at me. “You boys really made it?”
“Sure did,” I say. “Happy birthday, Mrs. Lewis.”
She sets the cake down on the coffee table, pulls Benny into a hug, and kisses him on the cheek. Then she does the same to me.
“Can you stay for dinner, Colby?” she asks. “The lasagna is just about ready. As soon as Ben’s dad and brother get here, we’ll eat.”
“Ma, you shouldn’t have cooked,” Benny says. “We could have taken you out.”
“I don’t mind,” she says. “As long as we’re together, that’s the important thing. So, Colby, you staying?”
“Yeah, my grandparents aren’t expecting me home for a while. They know it’s your birthday and that Benny and I wanted to help you celebrate.”
“I just can’t get over it,” she says. “You boys doing this for me.”
Just then, Mr. Lewis walks in the door. He’s carrying a bunch of red roses wrapped in floral paper.
“Happy birthday, baby,” he says as he hands her the flowers and gives her a kiss.
Benny motions to me to follow him into the kitchen, so I do.
“They like kissing each other,” he tells me. “But that don’t mean I have to watch.”
It makes me laugh. “Well, it’s good they love each other that much after all this time, right?”
“Right,” he says as he flips through the pile of mail sitting on the counter. He flashes a couple of college brochures at me. “Since I took the SATs, they keep on coming.”
“Hey, that’s a good sign. Your scores must have been pretty decent.”
“Yeah, I guess. Not sure it’s gonna happen unless I get a scholarship, though. And I’m not talking one based on my academic achievements, if you know what I mean.”
“Something will come through,” I tell him. “Try not to stress about it.”
I say it because this is what I want to happen for him. Maybe if we say it enough times, it really will.
“What about you?” he asks. “You made a decision?”
I sit at the kitchen table, and Benny joins me. I take a deep breath. “I know it’s hard for people to understand, but I swear, I’ve thought about it a lot … and I’m pretty sure my mind’s made up. I don’t want to play college ball. I don’t want the added pressure in college. The expectations. The baggage that comes with it, you know? I don’t want professors to see me as the stupid jock. Or anyone, for that matter.”
He squints his eyes like he’s confused by my response. “But you’re good, Pynes. I mean, do you know how good you are? It’s like taking that beautiful and delicious cake we made, that we worked so hard on, and throwing it away. It’s such a waste.”
“As long as I go to college, isn’t that the important thing? I mean, I played ball these past four years because it was fun, with you and the other guys. And around here, you know how it is.”
“As my dad likes to say, it keeps us out of trouble,” Benny says.
“Exactly. I’m glad I played. We all make a good team.”
“Not just good, Pynes. A hell of a team.”
“Yeah. But next year, it’s a whole new ball game. The reasons I’ve loved it so much these past four years won’t be there anymore.”
“So how you gonna go without a football scholarship? Aren’t you worried about that?”
I fiddle with a burgundy place mat in front of me. “I don’t know. But I figure people do it all the time, right? I can get a job. Take out loans. My grades are really good; there might be other kinds of scholarships I can get.” I look at him. He’s trying to understand, but I also know he would give just about anything to trade places with me right now. And if I could, I would.
“And you know, it’s important for you to remember that too,” I tell him. “If you don’t get a football scholarship, there are other ways. We can help each other figure it out, okay?”
“But I want to play,” he says. “You probably don’t even know how much I want to play.”
He’s right. I don’t. Just like he doesn’t know how much I’m ready to move on from living and breathing football.
His mom comes in. “Russ is pulling up. Can you boys get the table set, please? I just need to finish up the salad, then we’ll be ready.”
Both Benny and I stand up. I look at him. “For now, let’s forget all that. Focus on the task at hand. To take state.”
He reaches for a fist bump. “You can count on that.” His eyes light up when he asks me, “Hey, after we eat dinner and have cake, wanna watch The Avengers again?”
I’ve lost track of how many times we’ve watched it.
“Is the Hulk green?” I ask.
“That would be a yes,” he says.
And then Benny laughs. He laughs and laughs, like it’s the funniest thing in the world. And then I’m laughing, and his mom is too. Happy birthday, for sure.
FOUR NIGHTS a week, Erica works
graveyard as a nurse at the hospital.
That way, the kids always have
a parent at home with them.
Sometimes Erica is asleep in the evening
when it’s time for the bedtime routine.
But tonight both their mom and dad
are here for books and bedtime kisses.
“Want to join us?” Erica asks
as she gathers the kids to go upstairs.
I politely decline, because tonight
my heart is missing home pretty bad.
Maybe I didn’t have a mom who
read books to me or tucked me in.
And maybe I wished for a mom who
liked to cook and gave long hugs.
But I never wanted this — to be
living somewhere else without her.
I miss our spa nights on Sundays,
with bottles of polish, a kaleidoscope of colors.
I miss the way she hummed, all the time,
but especially when she was nervous.
I miss passing the pint of ice cream
back and forth, like a special secret, between us.
I feel like I should try to let her go,
but if I do that, where does it leave me?
It’s not like this nice happy
family
is mine to keep forever.
“Good night, Lauren,” Demi says as her
little arms, full of love, reach up for a hug.
Leave it to a four-year-old to show
me what I really want, most of all.
TUESDAY AFTERNOON, I stop in at Whispering Willow Bookshop again, between work and the second practice.
“Hey, Colby,” Mr. McMann says. “I heard you met Lauren. Kind of funny you ran into her after we talked yesterday.”
“Actually, that’s why I’m here. Some of us are getting together on Saturday. We’re going up to the creek to swim, and I thought I’d see if she wants to come along. Does she have a cell phone?”
He shakes his head. “No, unfortunately she doesn’t. She’ll have to get a job if she wants one. We just can’t afford one for her. You could call her at the house, though. Do you want the number?”
“Sure.”
He grabs a pad of paper, and when he’s finished writing, he tears off the piece of paper and hands it to me.
“Thanks,” I say.
“You bet. Hey, did you give your grandpa the book yet?”
“Oh, yeah. Last night. He liked it a lot. Thanks again.”
He smiles. “My pleasure.”
“See ya later.”
As I walk to my truck, I think about how I probably shouldn’t have lied. Maybe Mr. McMann wouldn’t have thought anything of my weird fascination with bridges. It’s not like I had to tell him how far my fascination goes. Just because I bought a book doesn’t mean he has to know about my list of the top twenty bridges I want to visit in my lifetime.
Last night, after looking at the book for a while in bed, I redid the list. I do that sometimes. Narrowing it down to twenty is about as hard as scoring a touchdown on a kickoff.
The top five stayed the same, though: