Ana of California (26 page)

They stood there catching eyes catching them standing
in close proximity. Ana suddenly couldn't remember if she was supposed to meet Rye back at the Garbers' or the Moons' booth or if they were meeting up on the hill. There were whispers shooting up around them.

“C'mon,” Ana said, grabbing his arm, surprising herself and Cole and everyone else pretending not to watch or listen.

They walked side by side through the crowd, weaving through the fair toward Main Street, dodging curious looks from students and townspeople alike. Cole grabbed her pinky finger, and she let him.

“Did you work today?” he asked.

“Yep,” she said, ignoring Alder Kinman's thumbs-up as they passed. “I'm guessing you did not. Do you ever?”

“Well, racing is like a job, or used to be. I'm not really on the circuit this year. But to answer your question, yes, my family has a wine booth at the fair. My mom's doing tastings from some new vineyard my dad bought.”

“Your dad bought a whole vineyard?”

“His second one. I'm pretty sure he bought it as a guilt gift for my mom. And she doesn't care as long as it makes her more money. But, yes, I do have to work.”

“Is your dad helping out?”

“My dad helps out by staying away.”

They crossed through the carnival games area, bypassing a group of fellow classmates huddled around a table in front of the ice cream truck. Ana noticed Kelsey Weaver noticing them, her head dipping down behind a group of girls.

“I have an idea,” Cole said, grabbing her hand and leading her in the opposite direction. They dashed through a mass of people carrying plates full of fair food. He squeezed her hand and she squeezed back before they ducked behind
Minerva Shaw's booth, which was dripping in dangling butterfly paraphernalia.

“I can't go in here,” Ana said.

“Why? She's giving away free masks to the kids. Grab two and we'll go incognito the rest of the way. I need to get something from our booth. Be right back.”

Ana peeked between booths and saw that the Brannans' stand was just across the pathway. Nadine Brannan was pouring wine to multiple middle-aged sippers, her pencil skirt and heels still in place. Minerva's table was busy too, with parents ushering their children in for last-minute face paint or butterfly masks.

Ana positioned herself at the corner of the booth, hoping to grab a few masks without Minerva noticing. But Minerva Shaw noticed everything.

“Well, hello,
Ana
Cortez. Or should I say, ‘Hola'?”

Ana forced herself to smile. “Hello, Mrs. Shaw.”

“Call me Minerva, dear. Are you enjoying the fair?”

“Immensely,” Ana said. She turned to look for Cole but didn't see him.

“Well, I'm sure the Garbers are selling out of everything as usual, what with all of the local fans like that Will Carson. Tell me,” she said, taking a moment. “Did you happen to receive the little present I left for you on Abbie's counter?”

“I did. It was a surprise, a good surprise.”

Ana didn't want to seem rude, but she couldn't help but remember what Minerva said to her that day at the mansion.

“I'm glad. It was not my intention to overreact, and certainly not to such a spirited young person new to town. I hope you can forgive my ignorance. I hope we can start over again.”

Minerva clapped her hands and grabbed the cheeks of a little boy whose mother she seemed to know.

“Lookee here, Charles Watson, this is Ana Cortez,” Minerva said, gesturing toward Ana as if she were part of a puppet show. “She comes all the way from Los Angeles. Isn't that exciting? Her ancestors come all the way from the great land of Mexico. That's pronounced ‘Meh-hee-co' in Spanish. Can you say ‘Meh-hee-co'?”

The little boy laughed and pointed to the butterfly masks.

Ana grabbed one and handed it to him.

“
Mariposa
,” Ana said. “That's ‘butterfly' in Spanish.”

The little boy laughed and ran with the mask, his mother close behind.

“You're certainly good with the little ones,” Minerva said.

“I've had a few foster siblings.”

Minerva gave her a warm smile, genuine and apologetic. “Looks like your friends are waiting for you,” she said. “My, my, is that Cole Brannan?”

Ana turned to see Cole and who she assumed was his younger sister approaching.

“Do you mind if I take a few masks, Mrs. Sh—Minerva?”

“Take what you need, dear.”

Ana grabbed them and met Cole halfway.

“Hey, this is my sister, Camille,” he said. “She wouldn't let me walk away without meeting you.”

“Hi,” Camille said with a quick wave of the hand. She looked to be about thirteen, petite with long dark hair and a dress Ana was certain her mother had forced her to wear. “I like your sweater.”

“Thanks,” Ana said. “I like your dress.”

“It's hidge,” Camille said.

“Aka hideous,” Cole said. “This one would much rather
be slashing around on her dirt bike right now than handing out winery brochures.”

“Truth,” Camille said.

“I don't know if this is your thing, but do you want one of these butterfly masks?”

“Totally!” Camille took it and put it on. “Now I can come with you guys and Mom won't notice.”

“No can do. We're heading out, but I'll see you later, okay?” Cole said.

“You're seriously going to leave me behind?”

He nodded.

“You do and I'll tell Mom you have wine hidden in your coat.”

“You do and I'll tell Mom you went off trail last week.”

Camille gave Cole a dirty look and walked away.

“What are you doing?” Ana whispered.

“Having fun,” he responded. “Let's get lost.”

“I don't think it's a good idea . . .” Ana didn't want to get caught for stealing wine, especially from Cole's mother.

“Believe me, she'll never know it's gone. She has cases of this stuff at home.”

He put on his mask and grinned. She shook her head and put on the mask as they wound their way toward the exit of the grounds. Ana kept an eye out for Rye, who was nowhere to be found, not even at the Moons' booth.

“Don't worry, she'll be there,” Cole said. “Everyone will.”

They kept walking down a deserted Main Street as the streetlights flickered on.

“Bold move, Brannan,” Ana said, pulling off her mask. “So, are you going to share what you have stuffed in your pockets?”

He smiled and pulled out two mini cans of sparkling wine.

“Honestly, they look and taste like soda. Pack a pretty weak punch.”

They popped the small cans open and continued strolling past the bookstore.

“So, where are you taking me?” Ana asked.

He took her hand again as they cut across Main Street. They passed Monarch Mansion and a few houses before heading into a children's playground near the stone church, tossing their cans and watching a group of people making their way up the hill in the distance. Cole walked over to the swings. He grabbed the chains and pushed off from the ground. Ana kicked off in the swing next to him. They swung back and forth in silence, higher and higher, watching the sky bleed pink over the town. Ana remembered being on a swing set once. There was a sudden gasp in her throat and a feeling like she wanted to jump. She dragged her feet in the dirt and came to a stop.

“What's the matter?” he said.

“Long time since I've been on a swing set.”

“Me too.”

“Playgrounds were never that fun for me as a kid.”

“We can go somewhere else,” Cole said, worried.

“No, I like it here.” She wanted to add “with you” but didn't.

“My mom left me on a playground swing once,” Ana continued. “I don't know why I remember this, but I was so little, and she just left me there for hours, I think.”

Cole put his head down, his hair falling into his eyes. “I don't know what to say to that.”

“It's insane?”

“I was going to say ‘cruel,' but yes. My dad slapped me across the face once. I lost a race on purpose, and he slapped
me. I think it surprised him more than me. He never did it again.”

Cole couldn't believe he'd just compared his situation to Ana's.

“It's always the thought of why they did it that stings the most, right?” Ana said.

“Exactly. Like how for a split second, while their reflexes were making the decision, you didn't factor into their action at all.”

They both sat there for a moment before slowly swinging again.

“If you don't mind my asking, where's your dad?”

“Oh, he's out and about tending to his priorities.” Cole didn't feel like it was his place to talk about the circumstances of his father's departure, especially when the Garbers clearly hadn't told Ana about it.

“It's weird, but there was a time when I went with it—everything—without much care,” he continued. “I kind of wish I was still like that now.”

“I know what you mean.”

“I was in with the groups at school, went to the house parties, kind of walked through it all in a numb daze. It was a break from the racing. It's a lifestyle more than just a sport, something my dad and I have been doing since I was a kid, you know? And I was just burned out. He was always pushing me to ride. I would hold the weight of the bike over these jumps, my adrenaline choking every part of me. One day, I kind of snapped out of it and asked myself why I was doing it. Was it for me or him? I thought it was for us both, but then he started going out of town more and not being available. He didn't even notice that Camille wanted to race more than I did.”

“Are you okay with your dad now?”

“I don't see him that often because he's always off with—with work. It's civil,” he said in a way that Ana couldn't tell was sad or resolute.

“We should find Rye,” Ana said, but noticed Cole's disappointment at the mention of Rye's name. “She told me about what happened, you know.”

“What did she say?”

“That you outed her at some party. She's hurt by it.”

Cole took a breath and stopped swinging. “Yeah, I screwed that up masterfully.”

“You know she's still dealing with it, right? People at school are taunting her and saying things. It's not right.”

“It was an accident, a stupid one. I trusted the wrong people, drank more than I should have—not that that's an excuse. I've apologized, gone over there, sent her letters over the summer . . . she won't forgive me.”

“Can you blame her?”

They both continued swaying lightly on the swings as it grew darker. There were audible voices up on the hill cheering for the fireworks to begin.

Cole bumped his swing into Ana's. “Shall we get going?”

“Sure,” she said, bumping him back.

He pushed his swing over to her as far as it would go. “Are you going to help me out here?”

She pushed her swing out to meet him.

Though they both hesitated for a moment, knowing what was coming, someone leaned in first and they kissed. It was a real first kiss this time, quiet and deep. And if there were fireworks, neither one of them noticed.

“Yo, Cole!” someone shouted. “Put it away, dude!”

They parted.

“My friends are here,” Cole said with a sigh.

A group of guys and girls approached, Jim and Kelsey among them. Every single person eyed Ana with curiosity.

“Ana, this is everyone,” he said. “Everyone, this is Ana.”

“We've got beer, dude, and so much more,” a guy in a sweatshirt said. “Let's crack it all open before the show starts.”

A couple of guys jumped around on the merry-go-round pretending to surf at high speed while the group of girls unfurled a blanket in the grass.

“We don't have to hang out with them,” Cole whispered, though she knew he probably wanted to stay.

“I'm going to go find Rye,” she said, getting up from the swing.

“You looking for your little friend?” Kelsey approached, her hair swinging from side to side behind her. “She's up on the hill near the cemetery tripping balls. Bought a double portion from Dillon and took twice the amount we did. Maybe she'll do us all a favor and fall into an open grave.”

Ana refrained from saying or doing anything that might get her sent back, no matter how much she wanted to punch Kelsey Weaver right in the mouth. Manny's voice popped into her head, telling her it wasn't worth it. Instead, she started running and didn't stop until she made it out of the playground and past the church, the sounds of laughter trailing behind. She took a breath at the base of the stone steps leading up to the cemetery and then ran up them, two at a time, as a loud boom rang out overhead, bright lights guiding her way. She passed shadows of people on benches in and around the old gravestones, but she kept climbing, knowing Rye must be up there. There were rows of people clustered across the top viewing area so she kept heading up. Just before reaching the top, Ana peered down to take in the
graveyard, which cascaded down the hill. The fireworks illuminated the gravestones and the various people, making it an eerily wondrous sight.

“More,” she heard someone say up ahead. “Glitter. Stars. And more, please. I'd like some mo', please!”

All by herself, on a long and empty bench, was Rye Moon stretched out like a contented cat. There was another loud boom and another before pops and crackles across the sky.

“Rye?” Ana called out, running to the bench. “It's me. Are you okay?”

“Well, look who it is—it's my old pal come to rescue me on the wings of a Pegasus.” She was calm, a faint smile on her face.

“Can you stand? I'm going to take you back down the hill.”

“I can walk, silly. I'm not trapped inside my brain. Whoa. Wait. Did you see that over there?”