Southbound Surrender by Raen Smith Page A

spiritual path. Big Dave is the custodian here. So this is his closet by the way. He also has an MBA from Cornell so he’s probably the most over-qualified janitor you’ll ever meet.” I shrug my shoulders. “But I’m really into all my science classes. Biology and Anatomy specifically, so I’ve been thinking about, funny enough, med school.”
    “A doctor?” Piper scrunches up her nose and pinches it. “For real?”
    “Maybe. My turn. Are you seriously going to Princeton?”
    “I hope not. I secretly hope they don’t admit me, but I know that’s not going to happen. My dad went to Princeton and claims it was the best education for his future. He’s a distinguished graduate and donates a ridiculous amount of money every year. Blah, blah, blah. But I figure he can’t make me go there, technically.”
    “It’s a really good school, though.”
    “I know.”
    “What’s with the pink?”
    “I like pink.”
    “That’s it?” I ask incredulously.
    “Yeah, and you totally wasted a good question. How did your mom die?”
    “In a car accident when I was a baby. I was in the car but didn’t get hurt at all. I don’t remember anything about her, but I have some pictures of her. She was beautiful and funny. I guess she was hilarious,” I say. “I’m sure I would have liked her. Obviously, I would’ve loved her because she’s my mom and all, but you know, some parents can be handfuls.”
    “I think I would have liked her, too.”
    “Your mom. How did she die?”
    “Brain cancer,” she says flatly.
    “No,” I whisper.
    “Well, it’s not exactly as tragic or surprising as it sounds. She was a patient of my dad’s when he first started out. Everyone warned him not to get involved, but he did. They thought the cancer was gone, so he pumped one in her and voila, out I came. She died on my second birthday.”
    “Jesus, Piper. That’s tragic .”
    She points up to the small statue of Jesus hanging on the cross above her head and puts her finger to her mouth to shush me. “We’re in a holy place. Well, Rodolfo knew what he was getting into –” she starts.
    “Your dad’s name is Rodolfo?”
    “No,” she laughs. “Sorry, I let one sneak in there. His name is William Sullivan. And I should really count that as a question, but I’ll let it slide because I like you.”
    Her eyes crinkle in the corner as if she’s made a sudden realization, and she slips her hand in her pocket and retrieves her phone. She holds it up and says, “Cheese.”
    No questions asked, I smile just like everyone else does when someone holds up a camera and directs you to say cheese. I don’t think about taking a picture of her at the time, but by the end of the day, I am torturing myself over what I didn’t do – how I didn’t capture a snapshot of her beautiful face when I had the chance.
    I shake my head and realize that spending the last five minutes in a closet that smells like cigar smoke and antiseptic with a girl who has a propensity to lie has been the single most meaningful experience in my high school career. It probably sounds depressing, but it’s not.
    “What’s your favorite color?” she asks.
    “Pink. Or maybe it’s peach. I think they’ll tie for first place.” A smile spreads across my face, and I clasp my hands in front of me. My hands are sweaty, real sweaty.
    “This is getting heady, Cash Rowland.”
    “Yes it is, Piper Sullivan, and I’ve got one more question.”
    “Shoot.”
    “It’s a big one. I hope you’re ready for it.” I don’t know if I am ready to ask the question, but she’s here and it’s all I’ve been thinking about since I first laid eyes on her four days ago. I’m nervous as hell, but I’m going for the gold.
    “Whatever you got for me, I’m ready. I’m always ready.”
    “Can I kiss you?” The question slips from my mouth before I can reconsider. My chest is wound tight waiting for her answer, and a bead of sweat drips down my back. Too many silent seconds