How My Summer Went Up in Flames (19 page)

“Why do you think he wants to know if I’m serious?”

Lilliana hesitates, then exhales loudly, clearly exasperated by Joey. Or me. Both, probably. “No clue. Do you think he wants you back?”

At first my heart does a triple salchow at the sound of those words. It would be a small victory of sorts, but the ho and TRO are hard to get past. The person he turned me into that night . . . that’s even harder. I don’t want to be her anymore. In the past few days, I’ve come a long way and, well, I’ve come a long way. Right?

“He’s up to something,” I conclude.

“Do you think he’ll go to Phoenix?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?! You don’t seriously want him back, do you?”

“I need to think.”

“What is there to think about? Let me tell him to go eff himself. I can say the Fourth of July message didn’t come from you. That someone hacked into your account.”

“I’ll call you back.”

“Whatever. Take your time.” Then Lilliana hangs up
on me. I don’t blame her. I’m fed up with me too.

I know Lilliana is right. But what if Joey contacted her because he does want me back? I think about what Spencer said. It’s possible, right? That it could be the answer to all my problems. He could drop the TRO and we could get back together. True, what I’m feeling for him now is close to hate, but I could suck it up, date him for a month, and show him what it’s like to be the dumpee. I’d get closure sans a criminal record, squash any rumors about me, and finish out high school without some horrible nickname. What’s not to like about that plan?

My mind starts reeling. Do I call my parents and Steve Justice to come clean about the Facebook message to Joey? Do I call Lilliana back and tell her to tell Joey to eff himself? I know she’ll be disappointed if I don’t. What am I doing? How can I even consider taking him back? What then? We rendezvous in Phoenix and fly home together as a happy couple? Ugh. I hate this! I have this sudden urge to talk to Avery.

“Are you okay there, Rosie?” Spencer is leaning between the front seats.

“Fine. Why?”

“Because you’re doing a hundred and one in a seventy-five-mile-per-hour zone,” Matty offers.

Yikes! He’s right. It’s hard to tell out here. A person can drive for miles without seeing another car. “Can we switch drivers soon? I’ve got some calls I need to make.”

“We’re stopping in Williams,” Logan says. “We’ll switch then. In the meantime, ease back off the gas, pardner.”

“I gotta say. Traveling with Rosie is like overhearing my mom’s soap opera in the next room,” Spencer says.

“Overhearing? Who are you kidding?” Matty says. “I’ve watched
General Hospital
with you on SOAPnet. It’s addicting.”

“Anything I can do, Rosalita?” Logan asks empathetically.

I make a quick mental list. Kick Joey’s ass. Tell Joey off. Take Joey’s place. I recognize that last one is not the answer to all my problems. Most likely just the beginning of new ones. Or maybe not. Logan is not Joey.

“I’m good,” I say, and keep my eyes straight ahead and don’t say another word until I see our exit and pull into the small town that is our destination.

 • • •

WELCOME TO WILLIAMS, ARIZONA! GATEWAY TO THE GRAND CANYON;
that’s what the sign said when we arrived fifteen minutes ago.

“More like gateway to the weird,” I mumble. I’m not trying
to be judgmental, but I’m standing next to a fifty-foot-tall Fred Flintstone, my arm reaching upward as I pretend to hold his hand while Matty and Spencer take my picture. We’re at the Yabba-Dabba-Doo campsite and theme park. Ha! Theme park. For five bucks visitors can walk around the village of Bedrock, where Fred and his buddies lived. This place is as old as the original cartoon. There’s a giant dinosaur slide, which looks somewhat tempting, but when I get to the top, it smells like pee and there’s no way in hell my tush is touching that thing. I urge the boys to retreat back down the dino-tail steps.

We walk around the rest of Williams, which is kind of quaint. There’s lots of Route 66 signage and plenty of stores on Main Street that sell memorabilia from the old Mother Road.

“Williams has the distinction of being the last town on Route 66 to be bypassed by the interstate,” Spencer reads from a placard outside one of the shops.

“Aw. Just like that Disney movie with cars,” I recall.

“Cars?”
Matty says sarcastically.

“That’s it!” I say.

We grab a quick lunch at Subway and then walk around some more. I’m procrastinating. I know I should call Lilliana back.

“I’m going to gas up the car,” Logan says. We probably only burned a quarter of a tank, but I guess he’s not taking any chances.

“We’ll get some supplies at that market over there,” Spencer says.

“Okay. Let’s meet in front of the store in twenty minutes,” Logan says.

While Spencer and Matty wander around inside—I told them to get me a snack—I stay outside and make some calls. Just thinking about the sound of my mom’s voice gets me all choked up. I can’t quite bring myself to reveal my latest Joey transgression. I decide to start with Miranda. It’s probably more important that Steve Justice know about this anyway. But when Miranda answers the phone and finds out it’s me, she doesn’t give me a chance to come clean.

“I’m glad you called. I’ve got good news,” Miranda says.

“How good? Do you think he might drop the whole thing?”

I mean, if what Lilliana suspects is true and Joey wants me back, it wouldn’t be a stretch, would it? He’d be out of his mind to think I’d want to be with him again if the TRO’s hanging over our heads.

“Don’t get your hopes up about that,” Miranda says.
But we found a neighbor who was home the night of the fire and claims she saw everything. I’m going out to speak with her and record her statement tomorrow.”

“Wow. That is good news. Will you let me know what she says?”

“Don’t worry. We’ll talk about everything during your meeting with Steve, before the hearing. Just pu-lease try to stay out of trouble until then,” Miranda says.

She makes it sound so easy,
I think as I disconnect my phone. I should call Lilliana back, apologize, and urge her to get in touch with Joey immediately to put the brakes on this thing, but I can’t, not yet. First, I want to talk to Avery.

“What am I gonna do?” I ask her. “Do you think he wants me back? Would he actually come to Arizona?”

“First, you’re going to breathe,” Avery tells me. “Then you’re going to check your backpack for the care package I slipped in for you. I can’t believe you haven’t found it yet.”

“It’s a mess in there,” I admit. I’ve been stuffing things in without bothering to look or clean up the clutter.

“When’s your court date?” Avery asks.

“July ninth. Not until Thursday. I lucked out because of the holiday.”

“There you go. Whatever’s gonna happen won’t happen until then. Make the rest of this trip about you, missy. Got it?”

“But what about Joey; what should I do?”

“Do what you gotta do.”

“Uh-huh.” That’s not very specific. I want to press her for a more definitive answer, but I get the feeling she’s not going to offer me one. “Hey, so when do you leave to build houses?” I don’t want Avery thinking everything always has to be about me.

“Not until August. I’m waiting until it’s good and hot so I can suffer.” She laughs. “I’m excited. These houses are going to be totally eco-friendly and sustainable.” There we go with that word again. “Don’t worry,” she says before she hangs up. “I know you know what to do.” That silly, sweet girl has apparently already forgotten about the brawl I started less than thirty-six hours ago at the club.

Two minutes after I hang up with Avery, Matty and Spencer come out of the store carrying a Styrofoam cooler. I wonder what Logan will say about the non-eco-friendly material.

“What did you guys get?”

“Drinks and snacks and stuff,” Matty says offhandedly.

“We’re not that far away from the Grand Canyon, are we?” I’m suddenly tired thinking about another three-hour stretch in the car.

“About an hour, but we may get hungry and thirsty while we’re there,” Spencer says. “The restaurant in the lodge looks pricey.”

Logan pulls up and I expect them to fight for shotgun, but they both get into the backseat without a word. Fine by me. I didn’t exactly want to ride with a cooler and a guitar.

“Can you pass me my backpack?” I ask after I’m settled into the front seat.

“Sure thing,” Matty says, passing it forward. He doesn’t ask for my phone, and I don’t offer it up. I know I’ve got to call Lilliana soon. I unzip my backpack. As I root past my makeup bag, dwindling snack supply, random receipts, napkins, magazines, and two copies of the trip itinerary, I see a Ziploc bag with a Post-it note that says
For your reading and listening pleasure. It’s all about the possibilities. XOXO Avery.

Inside are two brochures, one from ASU and the other from Habitat for Humanity, and a USB flash drive on which Avery has written in tiny pink letters
AVERY’S BOYS SUCK, GIRLS RULE MIX
. I feel like I’m thirteen again.

“Hey, Spence,” I say, waving the USB into the backseat.
“Can you help me download these to my iPod the next time we stop?”

No answer.

“Spence?”

When I turn around, Matty and Spencer are shielding their faces behind the Styrofoam cooler lid.

“Are you two sneaking food?” I say. “What’s the big deal? Oh my God, you aren’t kissing, are you?” This elicits groans of disgust all around.

“They’re sneaking beer,” Logan says, like a parent who can’t be fooled.

“How’d you know?” Spencer asks.

“Did you think I wasn’t gonna hear you pop the bottle caps?”

“You got served?” I’m shocked. They both look twelve.

“They were selling beer next to the soda,” Matty says. “We just put it on the counter with the other stuff and the kid behind the register never said a word.”

“You’re okay with this?” I look at Logan.

He shrugs. “As long as they’re not driving. And don’t get caught.” I can tell he’s not really cool with it, but he’s trying to be.

As we get closer and closer to the entrance to Grand
Canyon National Park, the laughter in the backseat gets louder and louder. I’m reading through both of Avery’s brochures and learning some interesting facts about both ASU and Habitat for Humanity. I make two very important discoveries.

1. ASU does not allow freshmen to have cars on campus.

2. Jimmy Carter and his wife, Rosalynn, made the first Habitat trip in 1984 and raised the visibility of the organization tremendously.

I was too embarrassed at the time to ask Avery what Jimmy Carter had to do with her inspiration to build houses this summer. I can’t wait to listen to Avery’s mix to see what other startling revelations I can make. I take out my phone and think about calling Lilliana just as Matty lets out a loud burp.

“I hope they’ve got railings at the Grand Canyon,” I say.

“Not many. We’ll keep an eye on them,” Logan says. Logan turns to look into the backseat. “We’re almost to the entrance, you two. How ’bout you put away those open containers and close the cooler?”

We pay the admission fee at the toll booth and get a
map of the various lookout points we can drive to by car, as well as the hiking trails and information about mule and helicopter rides—neither of which I’m interested in. We drive for a few miles before I catch my first glimpse of the canyon near the Desert View observation point.

“Holy Mother of God!” I yell. “Pull the car over!”

Matty lets out another loud burp. “Jeez, Rosie. What is it? Another McDonald’s shaped like a flying saucer?”

We clamber out of the car, and it may sound like an exaggeration, but the view literally takes my breath away. The Grand Canyon is its own kind of wonderful. The sheer vastness, the shadows and changing colors, the depth and stillness. I never thought anything except the ocean could silence my thoughts and make me feel so free.

Moments later, a small mishap occurs while Spencer is taking a picture of drunk Matty and me. Matty’s in that “I love you, man” kind of mood and wants one of just the two of us for, as he puts it,
Matty’s Memoirs
. Our backs are against the lookout railing, and I prop my foot on the lower rung. The vastness of the Grand Canyon stretches behind us. It’s so perfect, it almost looks like a photographer’s backdrop.

“This one will be a keeper,” Matty says, and we put an arm around each other.

Just after Spencer snaps the picture, my foot slides off the railing and I accidentally kick myself in the butt (probably long overdue), which sends my phone flying out of my jean shorts and over the edge. It falls about twenty feet before smashing to pieces on the rocks. It’s like the umbilical cord that’s been stretching since I left New Jersey finally snaps. Matty and I peer over the railing. My first thought is, I hope I don’t get some kind of littering violation. Other than that, I’ve got nothing.

“Well, as much as that sucks,” Matty says, “I am thrilled to be free of your mom’s constant barrage of communiqués. I am
so
tired of my pockets vibrating.”

Just then, Matty makes a strange face.

“Your pants are vibrating, aren’t they?”

“It’s her,” Matty says, looking at his cell. “I bet she thinks you’re dead. Here, you take it.” He hands me the phone like it’s a bomb.

I put my hands up. “Oh, no, Mr. Rosie Needs to Get Out of Dodge. This one is all you. And don’t let her know you’re shit faced.”

Matty answers. I hear screaming on the other end. “No, Mrs. Catalano, we’re fine. Rosie didn’t fall into the Grand Canyon. I know. I know. That’s some GPS you had on that
phone. Yes, I said ‘had.’ Uh, here, talk to Rosie.”

This time, Matty tosses me the phone like it’s on fire. “Hi, Ma. I’m fine. No, no, it wasn’t the satellites, either. It was my phone. It fell out of my pocket. That’s why you lost the signal.” I hold the speaker away from my ear so I don’t have to hear her bilingual tirade. Finally, she gives me a chance to speak again. “It’s only a couple more days, Ma. We’ll just use Matty’s phone, but not too much, okay? It’s not fair to burn his minutes. Okay, okay. Love you too.”