Running Lean (25 page)

H
e leaned against the frame of his back door, staring out at the workshop, where his bike sat waiting for him to fix it or pour gasoline over it and light a match. Yet another betrayal. The Yamaha couldn’t wait another week before it started running bad?

“Cal?”

He brought the phone back up to his cheek. “Yeah?”

“You’re picking Tyler up right after church Sunday morning, right?” Flannery asked. “You’re sure you’ll be able to get to my place before eleven thirty? Dad’ll be a pain if we don’t get on the road by noon.”

“Yeah, no problem. My parents already know I might have to cut out of church a little early. We’ll be there.”

A long pause, yet Flannery didn’t say good-bye. Calvin waited for another consolation speech.

“Cal, it’ll be okay. You’ll see.”

Really? He almost laughed. Was that all she had to say?

For the last two days of school, Stacey’s moon eyes in the hallway had cut laser-straight through the bodies of other students and carried an unmistakable message:
You hurt me!
Calvin imagined his own eyes communicated the same thing. Her pained glances had intensified the ache in his chest, but there was no conversation, no
making up. If Stacey’s eyes didn’t say that, Zoe’s glare sure did. And Zoe seemed glued to Stacey’s side … while Noah Dickerson was nowhere to be seen.

He’d blown up over nothing. He’d destroyed their relationship over
nothing
.

“I don’t know, Flan. Maybe y’all should go without me. I’ll just be a drag.”

“Forget that! No way. Cal, you need this trip. You’re going, if I have to kidnap you and strap you to the truck like a deer.”

He did need it. Like a drowning man needed air. To be away from all that hurt him and feel the woods permeating his whole being, the bike’s engine churning beneath him. Would he be able to enjoy it for two seconds without thinking about Stacey?

“Okay, well, I’d better start packing then.”

“You’ve got two days.”

Not really. Not if he had to tear the bike apart to see why it was running like crud all of a sudden. On the ride home from school, the Yamaha’s motor stuttered every time Calvin cranked the throttle. Its acceleration was more like chugging up to speed. He hoped a new set of spark plugs would be all he needed to fix the problem. He so needed at least one thing in his life to have an easy solution.

“Uh, I might see you tomorrow at the shop.”

“Cool. We can skip over to Oliver’s for lunch.”

“Yeah. I’ll let you know. See ya, Flan.”

Calvin leaned inside the back door and set the phone on the dining room table. He crossed the driveway to the workshop and dug around in Dad’s toolbox.

Stay active. Don’t think about …

Careful to keep his fingers away from still-hot metal parts, he removed the spark plugs from the Yamaha. As he worked, he made a mental list of all the things he had to do before the trip: Dig out his camping gear and check it for holes or anything stinking or damp.
Pack jeans, shirts, and riding gear. Flannery’s parents would be providing food, but a cooler for extra drinks or snacks might be handy. Clean out Dad’s pickup and find some cassettes that weren’t totally lame for the old player in the truck. Old-school metal bands; Tyler would approve. Make sure the heavy-duty cargo straps—enough for three motorcycles—were in good shape. He might have to pick up some more at the shop. Gas up the truck, load the Yamaha in—

Calvin’s heart sank. The electrodes of the first spark plug he’d extracted were so chalky he could rub the gunk off with his fingers. What did that mean? Calvin sat back on his haunches and stared at the spark plug dangling on its wire against the crank case.

Not fouled—that would result in dirty electrodes. No, not enough fuel. The engine was running lean. That’s what caused the popping in the exhaust over the past week and a loud backfire in the school parking lot.

Great. I’m running lean. As if I needed another thing to remind me …

Okay, so what would cause it? Bad plugs? Timing off? He’d have to ask Dad for help on this one, and call Flannery’s father at the bike shop to get some fresh plugs. Maybe extras for the trip, just in case. Another task to add to his list.

At least it would keep him occupied, so he wouldn’t lapse into pointlessly staring at Stacey’s pictures on her Facebook page, hoping for some status update that would give him a tiny ray of hope, or reading her past emails and poetry.

Flannery was right. He
so
needed this camping trip.

T
he most tolerable place in Zoe’s house was the screened-in patio. Frizzy hair from the humidity was preferable to Zoe’s screeching little brother, her mother parading around with the angst and attitude of a teenage drama queen—without the style—and the chainsmoking stench and slobbish presence of the unemployed, live-in boyfriend. Zoe was possibly the most normal person in the family.

Stacey caught a clump of hair between her fingers and pulled it tight. Maybe that would keep it straight. Or not.

Still, it was better than being smothered at home. Summer vacation had started Saturday morning with a heaping plate of pancakes served by Mom On a Mission, and eggs and bacon with hash browns this morning. Lunch, dinner, dessert … the house smelled like food all the time. No way could Stacey hide or discard the mountain of calories and carbohydrates with the woman hovering over her. Puking it up after each meal had taken meticulous timing and promised a long, agonizing summer break.

Stacey tossed her hair over her shoulder and tucked her legs up to her chest. The webbed chaise lounge creaked beneath her weight. She imagined the plastic strips stretching and breaking and her big butt falling through to the concrete, her legs sticking up in the air and her arms flailing. Zoe would die laughing.

Zoe rolled her head in time to the music playing through her iPod. “Don’t make me say I love you,” she sang, her voice thin. “Don’t make me call your name in the middle of the night.”

How ironic! Or pathetic. Stacey could relate to those lyrics. She’d hardly slept in a week. And since last Monday, she’d whispered and cried Calvin’s name over and over in the middle of the night, and now her pillow was stained with tears. She couldn’t confess this to Zoe, who now thought of Calvin as
he-whose-existence-is-an-abomination-to-all-humanity
.

“Mmm-mm-mm. My heart belongs to me.” Zoe fluttered her hand over her chest and jutted her chin with each beat. “Know what, Stace? I feel good. Fabulous, in fact. I’ve lost four pounds this week.”

“Four pounds?” Stacey hugged her knees closer.

“How about you?”

“Slowing down. Only one.” The scale called to her and terrified her at the same time. Mom’s meals would probably have her gaining fifty pounds in no time.

Zoe pulled her earbuds out. “Hey, you okay?”

Stacey looked at the glass of ice water on the floor next to her seat. Condensation rolled down the sides and pooled on the concrete. If she touched the glass then wiped her fingers against her face, she might cool the ache behind her eyeballs. “Um, no.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t … I can’t do this.”

“Do what?”

She pressed the heel of one hand into her left eye socket. Tears flooded out anyway. “Mom’s driving me crazy, and I can’t stop thinking about … Calvin.”

“Oh no.”

“I can’t take it anymore. I need him.”

Zoe sighed. “I really thought he’d call begging you to take him back by now.”

Stacey whimpered and covered her other eye too. “But he didn’t. Girl, you deserve someone who’s going to fall on his knees and plead for you to just look at him.”

“Who does that, Zoe? Seriously. Nobody does that.”

“Well, he should.”

“He doesn’t love me. I’m not good enough for him.”

“Stop it!” Zoe’s chair scraped the floor, and an instant later Stacey’s chaise thumped and tilted. Zoe leaned into Stacey and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. “Shh, shh. Don’t cry. Girl, you’re sexy, smart, and talented, and he doesn’t deserve you.”

“I’m shaking. All the time. I can’t sleep. My head hurts so bad.”

“All right, so call him.”

“You mean it?”

“Whatever. I totally don’t think he’s worth it, but if being away from him is making you sick, then call him.”

Stacey lowered her hands from her eyes. Her friend perched on the edge of the chaise, arms crossed, looking at something on the other side of the porch.

“You’re mad at me.”

“So what? You’re in love, so do what you have to do. I don’t care.”

“Zoe …”

She flipped her hair back. “I’m not mad. I just think you need to give yourself more time to get over him. Look, he didn’t call you. He hasn’t tried to apologize for yelling at you at school, accusing you of cheating in front of everybody, and forcing an ultimatum on you. He’s trying to control your life. And maybe he thinks you’re supposed to go crawling back to him. Stace, if it were me, he’d be history.”

“You never really gave him a chance.”

“It doesn’t matter. Call him if you have to.”

Stacey had left her purse on the table, her cell phone inside it. Her body ached to get up, leap across the patio, grab the phone, and
dial Calvin’s number. Endorphins flooded her veins and muscles.
Do it now
.

She touched Zoe’s bare arm. “You’re my best friend. I know you’re just looking out for me. I wish I was stronger, but …”

Zoe tilted her head toward Stacey and smiled crookedly. “Hmm. I can see it now. You’re going to end up marrying the farm boy.”

Stacey’s heart fluttered at the idea. She lifted a shoulder. “Be my bridesmaid?”

“Yeah, right. Don’t you dare make me wear taffeta.”

A strange sound—a giggle—burst from Stacey’s lips. “I’ll let you design your dress.”

“Deal.” Zoe stood. “Guess you don’t want me hanging around while you talk to him. I’ll be inside.”

Stacey unfolded her legs. Despite the urgency in her limbs, she could only move slowly. The world swayed as she stood, and her calves cramped when she walked—a new development. She stepped carefully to the glass-top table and opened her purse. Her cell phone waited in its assigned pocket. She clutched it hard and tapped in Calvin’s phone number.

The phone rang four times.

“Hello?” Mrs. Greenlee’s voice was a pleasant little melody, but it stopped Stacey’s heart. What did Mrs. Greenlee think of her now?

“Hel-lo-o …?”

Stacey shut her eyes and plunged. “Yes, Mrs. Greenlee? Hi. I-is Calvin there?”

Silence on the phone. Did she hang up? Was she checking? Then, “No, Stacey, I’m sorry. He left right after church today.”

“What? He left?”

“He’s gone camping. Didn’t he tell you about that?”

“That’s today?”

“They’ll be back Wednesday afternoon.”

“Um …” She pulled her lip and pressed the phone tighter to her
ear. Her thoughts ran in dizzying circles around nothing she could grasp, but she just couldn’t say good-bye yet. “Did he … say anything to you about … about him and me?”

Another long pause. “Not since Monday after school, when he told me y’all broke up.”

A sob burst out of her. “I need to talk to him. I need to know he doesn’t hate me!”

“Stacey, honey, Calvin does not hate you. Now you stop thinking that way.”

“But he didn’t—Did he say
anything
?”

“Sweetheart, I know this is hard for you. These feelings, when you’re young, are so intense, and you feel like the world is coming to an end. But it’ll be okay. I pro—”

“I just need to hear his voice! I need to hear
him
say it’ll be okay.”

“All I can do is tell him you called. He’ll get a hold of you as soon as he gets home.”

Tyler; he’d have his cell phone. “Do you think it’d be okay if I called Tyler’s cell?”

“Stacey, please don’t do that. Calvin’s really been looking forward to this trip. Don’t ruin it for him. Just give him a few days, and he’ll call you.”

Oh, so simple. Just wait three more days, don’t
ruin
his trip, and go crazy in the meantime. Did the woman have any clue what she was saying? Waiting would be torture. It meant Stacey would hang around helplessly when what she needed most was to hear Calvin’s voice. Just a few words. Enough to say it’d be okay.

“P-please.” She was whining like a little child. Stacey sniffed and pushed her shoulders back. “I need to know he’s okay too.”

“Well, I’ll tell you he was in quite a state all week about the argument y’all had, and with his finals at school. Yesterday he was so busy getting ready to go that I didn’t have a chance to talk to him.
He might’ve had a talk with Peyton, but she’s over at Ryan’s house visiting with his family right now.”

He was hurting. She’d seen it on his face at school. They’d orchestrated an absurd standoff against each other. She loved him and he loved her—they belonged together. There had to be a way to fix this.

Mrs. Greenlee was saying something. Whole lives ahead of them, blah, blah. Stacey sniffed and waited. She glanced at Zoe’s patio door and the darkness inside. She shuffled back to the chaise and sat down, wet her face with some water while her brain buzzed with options.

“Are you going to be all right?” Mrs. Greenlee asked.

“Um, yes.”

“I’ll tell Calvin to call you. It’ll be all right, honey.”

“Okay. Thank you. Good-bye.”

“Be sweet. Bye-bye.”

Stacey stared at the phone in her hand. Wait until Wednesday night to hear from Calvin? When it would only take a minute or two using Tyler’s phone? Then he could go back to driving or camping or riding or whatever he was doing. Surely the conversation would help him too.

What time was it? Would they be at that lake yet? How far was the place?

Stacey pulled Tyler’s number from her contacts and dialed. The phone rang three times then clicked.

“He—o? … O?”

“Tyler? Tyler, can you hear me?”

“Sta—”

“Tyler! I need to talk to Calvin.”

“… breaking u—hear you.”

“Please!”

“… in the woods. I’ll have to—”

The phone went silent.

Stacey’s breath came out in whimpers and gasps. She redialed Tyler’s number. It rang four times then went to voice mail. On her next try, the call went immediately to voice mail, which meant Tyler had turned his phone off.

Stacey dropped her cell onto the chaise and covered her damp face with her hands. Whimper, gasp, whimper, gasp. She heard the rumble of Zoe’s sliding glass door.

“Uh-oh. Go bad?” Zoe asked.

Stacey dropped her hands and sniffed. “I couldn’t reach him.”

“How come?”

“He went camping somewhere. Badin Lake. Wherever that is. Somewhere west of here.”

“Oh yeah. So …?”

Stacey snatched up her phone and stood. “I have to leave.”

“Leave? But I thought we were going to start making our outfits tonight.”

“I’m sorry. I have to.”

Zoe followed her to the front door. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll see you later.”

Stacey jogged across the front yard to her Honda parked on the shoulder of the road. She flung open the car door and tossed her purse into the passenger seat. She’d have to spend the money Mom gave her for fabric on gas instead. And a map. Daddy would have a map of North Carolina in the garage, but he’d bust a blood vessel if he had any clue what Stacey was planning.