18 Things (24 page)

“One of my many endearing qualities. I’m also brilliant and insightful and freakishly good looking. Did you want some?” I held up a forkful toward him.

He muttered something, too low for me to hear, but it sounded inappropriate. Something about wanting to be the pie, but that couldn’t be right.

“What’s that?” I asked, my eyebrows shooting up.

A smile played at the edges of his mouth as his thumb stroked my bottom lip, brushing away a crumb. His touch was better than the pie and coffee, and I was almost tempted to give him a dose of his own medicine by taking his thumb in my mouth to nibble teasingly.

Almost. It would’ve been fun to see his reaction.

“Only kids eat pie for breakfast. Besides, Sean’s mom already served up a breakfast for champions with toast, scrambled eggs, bacon, and grapefruit.”

“Oh, so you’re too old to eat pie in the morning but not too old to let someone’s mommy fix your breakfast,” I mumbled, shoving the last bite into my mouth.

He grunted in agreement.

“Ha! Now who sounds like a pig?”

I watched him bite back a smile. “You done?”

“Yep,” I responded as Dad barreled into the kitchen, wearing his sailboat boxer shorts and nothing else. “Dad!” I yelled, mortified.

“Sorry,” he apologized in a robotic voice. “Must. Get. Coffee. Hey, Nate.”

“Hello, sir. See you at the game tonight?” Nate asked, helping me out of my chair.

Nate attended every football game to watch me cheer and wanted to believe my parent’s noticeable absence was because they were letting me get really good before they came.

Dad didn’t look up as he poured his coffee. Not a good sign. “Game?”

Nate took a breath and held it in his mouth. He looked like a squirrel hoarding acorns in his cheeks before finally exhaling slowly. “Yeah, it’s Olga’s last one.”

“Oh?” Dad took a hard, obvious swallow of his black coffee. “Did you want me to come?”

I knew he was caught between a rock and a hard place. Mom and I had an understanding. In the last few months, we both struggled to be in as much control of our shared universe as possible. If Dad agreed to attend my game, he’d put himself smack dab in the middle of our fight and upset our perfect, albeit psychotic, balance.

“Nope,” I lied. “We’re going sailing. See ya later, Dad.”

“Wait. Sailing?” Shock rolled over his features like a wave cresting.

“Yep.”

Running a hand through his gray hair, he seemed to contemplate the right words to say. “Be safe.”

While Nate skateboarded, I rode my bike to Grand Haven Beach Rentals. I hadn’t been there since the day Conner died, but I tried to keep the thought from reaching my heart.

“Truth or dare?” Nate asked, and I was grateful for the distraction.

Eyes squinting in the sun, I said, “I thought you were too old for kid stuff.”

His smile wavered. “Okay, truth it is. Do you want your parents at the game tonight?”

I frowned at him. “Why do you keep harping on this?”

He put his hand on my shoulder. “Number seven on your list is telling people what you really think.”

I rolled my eyes. “Have you memorized my list?”

“Call me Rain Man.”

I shrugged. “Is that another inside joke with yourself that I don’t get?”

“No, I’m referring to the movie with the savant capable of remembering obscure details.”

Scanning the street, I checked for traffic before we crossed the intersection. “Hmm, never heard of it.”

He jumped off his skateboard, then kicked a rock in an outrage that I’m positive was eighty percent fake because he laughed. “We need to have another movie night. That one should definitely be on your list of top one hundred flicks.”

I let my long hair fall over the side of my face to hide my shame. Remembering our last movie night still caused me to cringe. “Yeah, sure. Back to the list though. I’m the list keeper here, not you.”

It was true. The
Bucs’ Blade
had run two bucket list features now. While waiting for class to start, people came up and talked to me all the time about their lists. And when I walked through the halls, I’d often shout things like, ‘Hey, Amy. How’s learning to drive a stick shift going?’ Or, ‘Jack, did you start writing the next great American novel yet?’ It was all a bit surreal going from death threats to the school’s most popular journalist.

“Chillax. You can keep your title as official list keeper. I’m only interested in two: yours and mine. And as your Mr. Philosophy best friend, my advice for dealing with your mom is to be part of the solution, not the problem. It’s time for a candid convo between the two of you. It may not be pleasant but—”

“It definitely won’t be pleasant. Nothing with her ever is.”

“Right, but it’s necessary. If you guys start communicating with each other clearly, you can avoid future misunderstandings, which will help make your senior year the best ever.”

“Conner’s not here, so it never had the potential to be the best,” I retorted, my voice grim.

He sighed loudly. “Are you gonna debate every point I try to make?”

I waved a hand through the air. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re a journalist; it’s what you do. But even if it won’t be the best year, it’s your last year of high school, and don’t you want to leave on good terms with your mom?”

A disheartened shrug was my only agreement. “Listen, if you think telling my mom the truth will help us bond or whatever, you’re wrong.”

“Well, you love proving people wrong, right? Go home this afternoon and try it. Invite them to the game. I triple dog dare you. And if they say yes, you owe me.”

Punching him in the shoulder, I said, “Oh, yeah? What will I owe you?”

He remained quiet for a minute. “I don’t know yet. But I’ll think of something.”

“Well, if I win, I want you to tell me your number one thing.”

Everyone in the Jedi Order had completed writing their own ‘18 Things’ list. It seemed my mission not only brought me purpose after Conner’s death, but it brought purpose to them as well. Somehow, we ended up turning a very negative into a somewhat positive. But when it came to sharing time, Nate refused to reveal his top thing to anyone.

He shook his head, his dark hair sweeping low on his forehead.

“You are so nosy. No worries though. Your parents will be at the game tonight,” he predicted, skating into the parking lot.

Twenty minutes later, sunlight flickered on the lake. I shivered in the shallows, pushing our tiny sailboat further into the water. The cold radiating through my legs made me panicky. I knew it wasn’t cold enough for hypothermia to set in, but the expression ‘worried to death’ came to mind. Once, my sixth grade science teacher told the class this story about a man trapped in an unplugged freezer, imagining himself freezing to the point of actually dying.

Nate shrieked from the cold, snapping me to present, and we both hopped on board. He adjusted the sails, and I was frozen to my spot, my mind calling out ‘mayday, mayday.’

Closing my eyes, I inhaled deeply and breathed in the sea air, letting the sun massage its warmth onto my shoulders. A gust of wind swayed the boat, and I wrapped my arms around myself, rocking back and forth with the vessel, trying to fix my eyes on something steady.

“Are you okay?”

Hearing the rush of my heartbeat in my ears, I looked up at Nate for a split second before bending over the ship’s side and puking up breakfast.

“Here,” Nate said gently, handing me a water bottle.

“Thanks.” With trembling fingers, I brought it to my lips, then drank. The thought that I’d just barfed into Conner’s remains made me want to vomit again. “I’m never seasick. I don’t know what’s going on. The water’s not even choppy.”

Eyebrows drawing together, Nate said, “I don’t think it’s the rough sea making you sick. Are you sure you’re ready for this? We can turn back now if you want.”

“No. We each already paid our twenty dollars for the rental.”

He wrapped me in a hug, and I squeezed him back.

“I don’t care about the money; I only care about you.”

His embrace didn’t comfort me, and I realized probably nothing could in this moment.

“I know, but I need to do this. Putting it off won’t make it easier. Just give me a minute.”

Pulling my knees to chest, I curled up in a ball and laid down.

We were silent, watching the seagulls swoop through the sky, breathing in fresh air as I prayed for strength to help me get through my next task, for peace to know why Conner died.

Nate opened a bag of chips and munched, and the sound lulled me to sleep, another strange dream invading my thoughts.

I’m walking home after sailing, everything in black and white. My apartment looks like a haunted house, the interior misty like it’s filled with dry ice. Cobwebs are everywhere, and the air smells like Dad neglected to take out the trash for weeks. The faceless, black-shrouded figure is back, standing silently in the hallway. I move past him and enter my parent’s room. Mom cries on the bed, flipping through old photo albums from when I was a baby. Reaching out, I touch her shoulder and everything turns Technicolor, bursting with life. I turn around and the hooded figure explodes, turning to dust. The dust changes to fluffy, white clouds and carries me outside, everything black and white again. The clouds come up to my knees, and I imagine this is what being on a rollercoaster is like as I ride the floating vapor all the way to school.

Grand Haven High is covered with dead vines. Dead leaves from dead branches cover the grounds. When I’m at the entrance, I push open the door, and everything turns to vibrant color again. Students fill the hallways, all more beautiful than I’ve ever seen them before. Sun streams through the glass front doors, and this overwhelming feeling tells me all is as it should be. Someone starts chanting my name, and soon everybody joins in. I feel pure love and acceptance for the first time in my life, and tears roll down my face in gratitude.

I woke up with a start, thickness in my throat.

“Have a nice nap?” Nate asked.

Unable to articulate what just happened, the real tears started.

Nate wrapped me in his arms again and it finally felt right, like my dream of love and acceptance manifested. After a few minutes, he offered me a tissue from my backpack, and for the first time, I looked around. We were out on Lake Michigan now. Unknowingly, Nate had returned us to the exact spot of Conner’s death. There was nowhere to run, but I knew this was fate at work. Taking the water bottle Nate handed me earlier, I dumped the last few sips into the lake before searching for my standard pen and paper in my backpack. I scrawled a note to Conner.

Dear Conner,

Thank you for being my best friend for twelve years. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you in the end. I wept for a long time and thought it was the end of me, too. But I know you’d want me to move on. Thinking of your strength and boldness helps me face each new day. I’m never without you, as I feel your presence all around me. I try to enjoy the blessings of life even more now that I realize what a precious gift it is. I’m not gonna lie. Life still has its challenges and difficulties, but my heart is full of wonderful memories with you, and those serve as reminders that life is good. Thank you for the effect you had on my life. I pray your light will always shine through me so I can make it possible people will never forget you. I love you.

Yours Forever,

Olga

I folding up the paper, placed it in the bottle, then laid it ceremoniously in the lake, something Dr. Judy suggested months ago, but I wasn’t ready then.

Nate and I watched my message in the bottle bob in the water, and I decided letting go felt like someone stabbing me in the heart.

“With hardly any wind, it’ll be hard to keep the boat moving back to shore,” I told him lightly, trying to block out the pain.

He nodded. “I know. It’s weird; it just died down when I got to this spot. But I’m okay with relaxing for a while if you are.”

I almost laughed aloud. Conner would’ve never let me get away with that. Always the competitive one, he’d want to engage the wind in some fierce battle. “I’m okay.”

As I leaned back in the boat, I realized for the first time in a long time I truly meant those last two words. The last time I truly felt okay was the last time I was here with Conner.

Boats raced back and forth across the water, trees waved at me from the shoreline, and the gentle waves lapped against our sailboat, whispering, “Welcome home.”