he closed his fingers over mine, holding us still in the moment as he smiled down at me.
Nervous that my mother would come around the corner or someone would tell her what was going on, I forced myself to pull away from him and get back to work. “Yeah, that’s never going to happen,” I informed him as I picked my knife back up.
“Why?”
“It’s on the Cape. My mother’s never going to let me go.”
“It’s an earthy crunchy hippie music festival. Totally up her alley. She’ll go for it.”
I shook my head. “Not with you. She totally freaked out when you brought me surfing that day. And that was just on the other side of town. Not on another island.”
“Well then, we need to figure out a way to get you off the island.”
I scoffed. Sneaking out of the house and going down to the beach was one thing. But leaving the island? That was going to require a level of deception I hadn’t mastered.
“C’mon Callie, you know you want to go.” He leaned on his forearms, daring me to give in. My heart broke looking at that smile. Sure, he was asking for trouble. And he’d get it. But knowing the secret behind those laughing eyes was almost too much to bear.
“Fine. Help me come up with what to tell her.”
He stood up straight, triumphant. “It will be worth it, I promise.”
I couldn’t stop thinking about it all day. I needed to make this happen. No story I came up with was good enough. Everything I came up with was full of holes. So I told her the scariest thing I could think of: the truth.
After all, there was an extremely slim chance she could go for it. Like Tristan said, it was an earthy crunchy musical festival. Plus, I was still riding the wave of her excitement about me sitting with the Obamas at the fundraiser.
“Hey, Mom,” I approached her that evening as she sat on the deck, reading.
“What’s up, Callie?” She picked up on the questioning tone in my voice. Smiling, she put down her book to talk to me. Score. I caught her in a good mood.
“So, Tristan invited me to go to a concert with him, and …”
“No.” She said pleasantly, and went back to reading her book.
“That’s it? No? You didn’t even let me finish!”
“You didn’t need to. You’re not going.”
“Why?”
“I don’t need to tell you why.”
“Because you think I’m just a kid.”
“Not that it matters, but because you’re my daughter and you’re fourteen. Tristan might not seem like he’s that much older than you, but he is. You don’t even know why he’s here or the kind of trouble he’s —”
“What if I do know and I don’t care?”
That stopped her dead in her tracks. She just stared at me.
“I know,” I continued softly, as calmly as possible. My whole body shook. “And has he been in trouble all this summer? No. Please, just stop thinking he’s so awful. And just trust me. Please.”
“Look, Callie, I get it. He’s attractive, he’s charming, but he is just a bad influence on you. I don’t want you around that sort of thing. He’s manipulative —”
“Did you ever stop to think I might be a good influence on him?” She stared at me, lips tight. My mother did not like being interrupted. Or challenged. My anger made my voice louder. “Yeah me. Little kid Callie. I make good choices, I’m smart, and I shouldn’t have to tell you this because you are my mother and you should know this already. And I. Am. Going.”
I stormed off in the direction of my room, slamming every door in my path. My mother was yelling at me, to me, I don’t know, just yelling in the kitchen. I’d heard enough.
Keisha jumped off her bed when I blew into the room, alarmed by my entrance and the chaos I left behind downstairs. I flopped down on my bed, face first, and hugged my pillow. The anger was still trembling through my body.
“I need you to switch days off with me. You take my Saturday, I need Thursday.” The anger hadn’t quite dissolved from my voice, it sounded like a
Nervous that my mother would come around the corner or someone would tell her what was going on, I forced myself to pull away from him and get back to work. “Yeah, that’s never going to happen,” I informed him as I picked my knife back up.
“Why?”
“It’s on the Cape. My mother’s never going to let me go.”
“It’s an earthy crunchy hippie music festival. Totally up her alley. She’ll go for it.”
I shook my head. “Not with you. She totally freaked out when you brought me surfing that day. And that was just on the other side of town. Not on another island.”
“Well then, we need to figure out a way to get you off the island.”
I scoffed. Sneaking out of the house and going down to the beach was one thing. But leaving the island? That was going to require a level of deception I hadn’t mastered.
“C’mon Callie, you know you want to go.” He leaned on his forearms, daring me to give in. My heart broke looking at that smile. Sure, he was asking for trouble. And he’d get it. But knowing the secret behind those laughing eyes was almost too much to bear.
“Fine. Help me come up with what to tell her.”
He stood up straight, triumphant. “It will be worth it, I promise.”
I couldn’t stop thinking about it all day. I needed to make this happen. No story I came up with was good enough. Everything I came up with was full of holes. So I told her the scariest thing I could think of: the truth.
After all, there was an extremely slim chance she could go for it. Like Tristan said, it was an earthy crunchy musical festival. Plus, I was still riding the wave of her excitement about me sitting with the Obamas at the fundraiser.
“Hey, Mom,” I approached her that evening as she sat on the deck, reading.
“What’s up, Callie?” She picked up on the questioning tone in my voice. Smiling, she put down her book to talk to me. Score. I caught her in a good mood.
“So, Tristan invited me to go to a concert with him, and …”
“No.” She said pleasantly, and went back to reading her book.
“That’s it? No? You didn’t even let me finish!”
“You didn’t need to. You’re not going.”
“Why?”
“I don’t need to tell you why.”
“Because you think I’m just a kid.”
“Not that it matters, but because you’re my daughter and you’re fourteen. Tristan might not seem like he’s that much older than you, but he is. You don’t even know why he’s here or the kind of trouble he’s —”
“What if I do know and I don’t care?”
That stopped her dead in her tracks. She just stared at me.
“I know,” I continued softly, as calmly as possible. My whole body shook. “And has he been in trouble all this summer? No. Please, just stop thinking he’s so awful. And just trust me. Please.”
“Look, Callie, I get it. He’s attractive, he’s charming, but he is just a bad influence on you. I don’t want you around that sort of thing. He’s manipulative —”
“Did you ever stop to think I might be a good influence on him?” She stared at me, lips tight. My mother did not like being interrupted. Or challenged. My anger made my voice louder. “Yeah me. Little kid Callie. I make good choices, I’m smart, and I shouldn’t have to tell you this because you are my mother and you should know this already. And I. Am. Going.”
I stormed off in the direction of my room, slamming every door in my path. My mother was yelling at me, to me, I don’t know, just yelling in the kitchen. I’d heard enough.
Keisha jumped off her bed when I blew into the room, alarmed by my entrance and the chaos I left behind downstairs. I flopped down on my bed, face first, and hugged my pillow. The anger was still trembling through my body.
“I need you to switch days off with me. You take my Saturday, I need Thursday.” The anger hadn’t quite dissolved from my voice, it sounded like a
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