Moving Neutral (16 page)

While Blake was getting cleaned up, I opened his laptop to find a post office that stayed open on Saturday afternoons. Typing the terms into a search engine, I opened another window to check my email.

I had three messages from Madison, which I found kind of funny, since I’d called her twice already from Blake’s phone. I skimmed them quickly for anything important and then deleted them.

Next, there was a string of emails from my mother, grouped together to show that she’d replied to her original email each time, without waiting for me to respond. I listened for the sound of the water flowing in the shower, not wanting Blake to come out and start reading over my shoulder. Taking a deep breath, I opened the first message, sent the morning after the concert.

Where are you? Call immediately.

The following message was the same, in all caps. I couldn’t imagine the voicemails they would have left on my cell phone, if they hadn’t already taken it away.

The next message was longer, sent while we were on the way to Vermont:

Casey,

This is really poor judgment yet

again. Instead of taking responsibility

for your mistake, you’ve left us worried

sick about you. This isn’t how you treat

your family. If you haven’t learned that,

I don’t know what I can say to you.

You spend so much time telling us you re

an adult, but actions speak louder than

words. You clearly have a lot to learn.

Mom

The last email was titled Columbia, and just seeing it brought back Blake’s words from the night before. I opened the message, my breath catching in shock as I glanced at my mother’s words.

Casey,

Your first tuition check is due in a

week. If you’re not home by then,

don’t expect it to come from us.

I clenching my jaw stubbornly, trying not to feel panicked. Blake turned off the water in the shower, and I deleted the entire string of emails and closed the laptop, breathing in deeply to calm myself down. I thought about the night before, about waking up in Blake’s arms -- maybe I could just stay. Maybe September didn’t have to mean anything.

Part of me hesitated, and I knew it was the part that spent eighteen years acing every test, studying for the SATs on the weekends and poring over my admissions essays. It had mattered so much, and now it felt like everything had changed.

It was a good move, on my parents part. Now every minute I stayed was a decision, one that I didn’t feel ready to make.

Ready? Blake emerged from the bathroom, halfway through buttoning his shirt, a hint of cream on his cheek that he’d missed while shaving.

Come here, I said, sitting down on the bed and smiling at him. You missed a spot.

Maybe my decision was already made. The email didn’t change anything -- I still wasn’t going home.

It was almost three by the time we got to the post office, and I waited in line for fifteen minutes before buying a box from a middle aged woman who kept glancing at the clock like she wanted it to go faster.

My fingers lingered on the label as I scrawled our home address, wondering if I should include a note. I spent a minute looking down at the box, thinking about my mom’s string of emails. The more I tried to come up with something to say, the more defeated I started to feel. There wasn’t much I could say, not really.

Finally, I just stuffed some packing peanuts into one end and pasted on the label, handing it back to the woman, who flicked her eyes over it and charged me four dollars.

I would call them in a day or two, I promised myself, sort of meaning it. We’d sort everything out then.

Hey, I said suddenly, as I followed Blake out onto the street. What city is next, after Chicago?

Cleveland, he said, rolling his eyes. Then we’re going south, he laughed. Jacksonville, New Orleans, Austin, Texas. But first we have to drive all the way down there. It’s about two weeks, altogether.

I counted the days in my head. It would put me about a month away from school. Then the tour is over?

He grinned at me. Sort of. Our last three shows are in Los Angeles. He took my hand, reaching out with his other arm to hail a cab. You can see my house.

I thought I would be immune, at this point, to Blake giving me nervous jitters. But as I stepped into the cab, I felt excitement start to grow in my mind. He gave the driver the address of our hotel, and as we drove away, I thought about Brett, hoped he wouldn’t have left for school by the time we got to Los Angeles.

I realized I wasn’t saying if I got to Los Angeles anymore. A pang of guilt hit me, but I pushed it aside. It was the best summer of my life.

Sunday was cool and clear, with a breeze from the lake that I could feel the moment we stepped out of the hotel. Sophie had planned our day, claiming she knew Chicago as well as she knew Los Angeles, and April and Jesse had decided, at the last minute, to come along as well. I took a cue from Sophie’s ripped jeans and wore flip flops and one of Blake’s tee-shirts over cutoff denim shorts. Once we were a few blocks away from the hotel, we looked like a normal group of grungy teenagers. Blake pulled his favorite hoodie over his head, and we set off in the direction of Lake Michigan.

Even April was in a good mood this morning, but it didn’t stop her from complaining about the smaller acoustic show they were performing that night.

I just don’t see the point, she said, ostensibly to Jesse but loud enough for the rest of us to hear it. We get no press for them, they seat like twenty people. We spent enough time playing college shows, I’d rather leave the venues with sticky floors behind us. Besides, she interrupted herself, acoustic shows were cool, like, a decade ago.

I looked at Sophie, trying not to roll my eyes, but she was concentrating on the street signs. Rounding a corner, she stopped, and suddenly I could see the water behind her, a seemingly endless stretch of cool, sparkling gray-blue.

We were all quiet for a moment, staring out at the water, and then Sophie started walking again, crossing the highway that separated us from the water.

I thought we could get lunch here, she said, clearly pleased with herself. Does that work?

Jesse followed her, and even April broke into a jog as we crossed the street, smiling at me for an instant before catching herself.

We stayed at the edge of the lake for hours, first going as far as we could in one direction, then walking back, buying hot dogs and pretzels from a cart at one of the intersections.

I wish I’d brought my guitar, Blake said, and Jesse nodded as if he’d been thinking the same thing.

I noticed April looking at something in the distance, something I’d been watching since we’d stopped walking.

Let’s go on the ferris wheel, she said, pointing in the direction of the pier at the end of the path.

Sophie scowled. That’s Navy Pier, she said. It’s really lame, just a zillion little kids and exhausted parents.

It could still be fun, I said, taking the opportunity, for once, to side with April.

Sophie looked reluctant, but Blake agreed too, and even Jesse said it looked kind of cool. She led us in the direction April had pointed, muttering under her breath about how she should have just taken us to the Sears Tower.

As we approached the pier, I could tell immediately that Sophie was right -- the line for the ferris wheel was filled with dozens of families, toddlers screaming they were hot or bored or just screaming for the sake of screaming. Sophie gave me a gloating look and paid for all of our tickets.

I checked my watch. It was almost six, and the show started at nine. This show was more exciting to me than the bigger concerts -- it was the kind of thing Madison and I would have sold our firstborn children for tickets to. The venue was only about a hundred people, a quarter of the size of the theatre they used for school plays at Prospect. The kind of place where you could hear the music even before they amplified it, where you could sit down and just listen while the band was playing. There was another acoustic show at the end of the tour in Los Angeles, Blake had told me, but they’d had to fight to schedule them. And April’s reluctance hadn’t helped things.

I thought about calling Madison from Blake’s phone during the show, holding it up so she could hear a little bit of the music. It was too bad, I thought, that she couldn’t be here too.

It was starting to get cool outside, especially with the wind picking up from the lake, and I rubbed my arms for warmth as we stood in line, waiting to get on the ride.

Do you want this? Blake whispered as he unzipped his hoodie and handed it to me. I accepted it gratefully -- even June in Chicago could sometimes get pretty cold, as I’d learned the night before. I wrapped my hair into a twist and tucked it underneath the hood, slipping the sweatshirt over my arms.

April was looking at me with daggers in her eyes when a voice interrupted us, coming from out of nowhere.

April?

When I looked up, there was a middle aged man in an untucked tee-shirt, carrying a professional-looking camera. Can I get a picture? He looked at the rest of us, appraising. Everyone, actually?

I slipped out of the line. Obviously I wasn’t included in the picture. The four of them stood silently for a moment while the man snapped a few photos, and then took some of April by herself. While the camera snapped, she bought a giant mound of pink cotton candy and brought it back to the line for the others. By the time the photographer walked away, we were almost to the front of the line.

Blake, April said quietly.

I looked from him to her, not understanding what was going on.

He’s gone, Blake said, his voice firm.

He’s not gone, April sighed. He’s just using a different lens from far away.

Sophie looked at me awkwardly, as if she was worried the conversation might be offending me. I tried to smile at her, to show her I was fine, but I wasn’t sure exactly what I was supposed to be offended by.

Why don’t Blake and I go on the ferris wheel together? Jesse broke in, gesturing to the front of the line. There was only one family ahead of us. Then you girls can squeeze into one seat together.

Sophie and Blake both looked relieved, and April looked livid.

Sure, Blake agreed.

The next minute, Blake and Jesse were climbing into the seat of one of the booths, Blake waving to us and Jesse blowing goofy kisses as the wheel rotated and took their booth higher. Blake’s focus was on April as they rose into the air, giving her a look that I couldn’t decipher. She scowled as she climbed onto the seat next to Sophie, glaring at me across the small space.

Those photos will probably be in US Weekly by Monday, April said, looking out the windows as we lurched into the air.

April-- Sophie’s voice had a warning in it, but I still didn’t understand what for. I just nodded, following April’s gaze out the window and over the lake.

What? She should know, April said, flipping her hair over one shoulder.

Know what? My hands clenched the corner of the seat.

April looked at me coldly, not even bothering with the pretense of looking at the view anymore.

We get a lot of free publicity from the tabloids thinking that Blake and I are dating, she said icily. It’s a huge deal for our record label.

Sophie looked at me as if she wanted to break in, but I was still struggling to figure out what, exactly, April was telling me.

So you want to -- what? Pretend like you’re dating Blake?

April rolled her eyes. We don’t have to pretend anything. They take a picture like they did today, and make up the caption. But what they cannot do, her voice was serious as she drove home each word, is take a picture of Blake with you.

She said you as if I were some rodent that they’d found on the tour bus. Without waiting for me to say anything, she continued.

So you can be his little groupie of the week, she said without flinching. But don’t ever forget -- he knows that no one can ever know about you. She looked back out at the view, satisfied. But don’t worry, she said, her voice heavy and thick with sarcasm. I’m pretty sure he likes you more than the last one.

I felt dizzy and suddenly hot, like the sun was magnified through the windows of our booth. I looked out at the lake, trying to focus on the cool, serene water.

I’d never thought of myself as a groupie until now -- when Blake had invited me to come along, he didn’t even think I knew their music. But now just hearing the word made me feel dirty, like I’d done something I should feel ashamed of. I looked back at April, unable to speak, but she just stared out at the Chicago skyline.

What? she said smugly, moving in for the kill. Did you think you were the first?

I couldn’t even meet Sophie’s eyes, wondering if that’s what she thought of me too. April’s words cut to my core in a way she couldn’t have even anticipated. Maybe Blake did like me now. But when he found out the truth, I’d be just another in a long string of girls he’d left behind.

All of Chicago stretched out before us, but I didn’t want to see any of it. All I wanted was to be somewhere else, somewhere where I didn’t have to sit across from April’s gloating expression. I tried to force a poker face until the ride ended, just so she wouldn’t have the satisfaction of watching me cry.