Center Ice by Cate Cameron Page A

make-believe world at least a little longer.

Chapter Seven
    - Karen -
    Tyler insisted on walking me home, even though I told him I was fine. When we got to the house, he waited on the sidewalk until I was in the backyard. I turned back for one more look at him before I went around the corner of the house, and I froze, torn between knowing I had to go inside and wanting, wanting so bad, to run back to him. I wasn’t sure what I’d do when I reached him—it didn’t matter, really. Just being with him, being with someone normal and sane and kind, someone funny and sweet who seemed to actually be happy to see me and want to spend time with me. That was all I wanted.
    But he couldn’t see me hesitating in the shadows, and he turned around and started off toward whatever his real life was, so I was able to make myself be responsible.
    All the lights in the house were off, so I found the hide-a-key in the back yard. When I got to the kitchen door, though, it was unlocked, and when I stepped inside Will was sitting at the table, no light except for what was filtering in from the hall. He’d been waiting for me. He asked, “You’re okay?” in a quiet voice.
    I nodded mutely, and he stood up. “Okay. Go to bed. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
    That was all. He turned and headed for his staircase; I turned and headed for mine. If I hadn’t been so tired I probably would have been worried about the next day’s conversation, but as it was, I played my mom’s message a couple times, then fell asleep fast and easy.
    I woke up the next morning with the dawn, and it took me two blinks to realize where I was. There was the familiar weight of reality, the renewed realization of why I was there and what I had lost. When I was asleep, I was still in my bed in Toronto, and my mother was still safely sleeping in the room next door. Every time I woke up, I lost her again, and it took me a while to adjust.
    Then I rolled out of bed and reached for my running clothes. I had to keep moving, keep distracting myself. And I was over my pathetic need to be rescued, at least temporarily, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t look forward to seeing Tyler.
    There was no sign of him when I got to the park, but that wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t like we’d set a time, or anything. Thinking back, there hadn’t even been a “see you tomorrow morning”. Just a quiet “good night” on the sidewalk.
    I stretched for maybe a little longer than usual, definitely long enough for him to have completed a lap of the path through the forest, so I knew he wasn’t there yet. No big deal. Maybe he was just late. I started jogging and tried to get into my rhythm. Usually, I could totally drown out my thoughts with a sort of mental chant, thinking along with the sound of my feet hitting the path, the measured pace of my breathing. In, thud thud, out, thud thud, in, thud thud… It wasn’t exactly exciting, but it was great to turn my brain off for a while. But that day, I kept being distracted. I thought I saw him about a dozen times, either in front of me or behind, just out of sight, and in a move of rare brilliance I actually reversed the direction that we both normally ran so I’d be sure I’d go past him if he was there, instead of both of us running around at the same pace on opposite sides of the circuit.
    I kept at it for way longer than usual, long enough that the sun was getting hot and my legs were starting to feel like wobbly blades of grass, but Tyler didn’t appear.
    It wasn’t a big deal. It was stupid to feel disappointed. Everything was fine, and it was great that I’d gotten such a good workout. I stretched out on the benches in the grassy area of the park and then walked home, and I did not look over my shoulder a bunch of times to check in case he’d just been really late.
    Will’s car was gone by the time I got back which was an excellent side effect of the extra-long workout, but the rest of the family seemed to be awake, which was a