Eleven Things I Promised (10 page)

“So is the piercing thing starting to
hurt?” Mason asked as we drove back to the CCCR headquarters for the night.

After leaving Wing Nut, we'd grabbed a couple of burgers at a restaurant in town, and I was pretty sure I'd eaten like a ravenous animal. I didn't even remember eating my french fries, because I ate them so quickly. Mason didn't look shocked. He had to know how hungry someone would be after logging seventy miles on a bicycle. “No, it doesn't hurt at all,” I said. “I don't think you have much actual feeling in your belly button.”

“So I could punch you,” Mason said, “and you wouldn't feel a thing.”

“Don't push it. You only just started being nice by bringing me those socks.”

“I know. But I wanted to see you,” he said. “I mean, see how things were going. You sounded . . . I don't know. Lost.”

“I kind of was,” I said. “You saw the list. You can probably guess what I tried to do last night.”

“Drink something stronger than water?” he guessed.

“Oh yes. And let me tell you. That's something I don't need to do again.” I shuddered, thinking of the bitter taste and the headache it had given me that morning. “Do you . . . ever? I mean, you're in college, so you probably go to a lot of parties.”

“Not really.” He downshifted the truck as we turned into the high school parking lot. We parked in a far corner, away from the field of eighty-plus tents. Mason turned off the engine, but neither one of us made a move to get out.

“We have a pretty intense code of conduct for the hockey team,” he explained. “We have to keep a certain GPA, we can't do anything illegal—I mean, obviously. Some guys try to get around it, but I don't. It's not worth it. I have a scholarship, you know?”

“I guess I remember that.” I thought about the high school hockey games Stella and I had gone to when he played—we'd ostensibly be there with her parents to support Mason, but
we'd spend our time laughing with friends instead of watching the game, and checking out the guys from the other school.

“So are you missing school right now?” I asked. The sky was getting dark, which was our official time to turn in for the night. “Is that okay?”

Mason nodded. “For now. I decided to take a leave of absence for a while. Since hockey's over for the season, it's okay with my coach. This way I can help my parents, help Stella.”

“Wow. That's so admirable of you. That's a big sacrifice.”

“You sound surprised that I would do it,” he said. “Am I that horrible?”

“No, I didn't mean it like that! I'm in awe, actually.”

“It's okay, taking a break. I'm not really sure what I want to major in, and I don't want to take the wrong classes, you know? They said I can make up what I miss by taking some summer classes.”

“How can classes be wrong?” I asked.

“Well, I started out in economics. Now, though, I want to do something more hands-on, like becoming a vet.”

“A vet? But . . . you'd have to cut open cute little kitties,” I said. “How could you do that?”

“It's not all surgery,” he said. “And I'd be
helping
them.
But you may have a point. I should probably look for something that doesn't involve knives and bodies.”

“You sound scary right now,” I teased him.

“I could be a radiologist. Just look at cute little kitty X-rays. I don't know. Why, what do you think you're going to do?”

“Me? I really have no idea,” I said. I opened the door and slid out.

“You should start thinking about it,” he said, walking around the truck toward me.

I scuffed the ground with my flip-flops. I wasn't ready to think, or talk, about the future right now. I'd always hoped Stella and I would go to the same college or university—how else would I graduate? (I'm only half joking.) I knew we could find a school we both wanted to attend. But now what? Would things be different?

“I should probably go,” he said, “and you should probably get back before people notice you're gone.”

“It's like a jailbreak,” I said, smiling.

We walked across the parking lot. We were both moving really slowly. I knew I didn't want the night to be over. I didn't want him to leave and go back to Sparrowsdale without me. On the other hand, I had to stay and finish this thing. I only had four days to go.

We were almost to the edge of the tents when he said, “I left the socks in the truck. You want to come with me?”

“Sure,” I said.

We walked back to the truck, a little quicker in this direction. My leg muscles were beginning to feel sore and tired. My back was kind of aching, and I had a pinched feeling in my stomach.

Oh, right,
I realized.
It's my new accessory.

“I can't believe I almost left without giving you these.” Mason unlocked the passenger-side door and reached for a package behind the seat. “How stupid can I be? Don't answer that.”

“I'm the one who lost my phone. I think we're both a little preoccupied,” I said.

“Speaking of which, do you want my phone? I'll give it to you for the rest of the trip,” he offered.

“What? No, that's okay.”

“No, really. I'd feel better if you took it,” he said.

“Thanks, that's really generous. But I'll be fine,” I said.

“Are you sure? You can stay in touch with Stella that way. It's new. Check it out.” He handed me the phone and gave me a quick rundown of the features it had. He went on and on about them, as if this were the first smartphone ever invented, as if I was going to take it and needed instruction. He was
leaning close to me, almost into me. Our ears were touching. How can a stupid ear be sexy? But it was.

Oh God, if you don't feel the same way and don't kiss me right now, I'm going to die,
I thought.

But I could never say anything like that to him. I had to just take the orange socks and get back to my tent. Soon.

“So you really don't want this?” he asked.

“Want . . . ?”

“This phone,” he said, not moving.

“Right,” I said in a slightly hoarse voice that didn't even sound like me. I could hardly breathe. I was going to do that embarrassing thing where you literally choke on air. I hate when I do that thing. Like, who doesn't remember to breathe correctly?

“Frances? You're really beautiful, you know that?” Mason reached out and pushed back a stray curl of my hair, one of the short layers that always fell into my face that I'd tried to grow out and never succeeded at. His hand lingered on me for a second. He ran his fingers down the side of my cheek. Before I could make a move toward him, he kissed me.

After a minute he pulled back, gently brushing at my lips with his fingers. “Sorry, I—”

“No, it's okay. Keep doing that,” I said, leaning back in for more.

Suddenly the F-It List popped into my mind.
Have an epic kiss.
This was happening. Something about Mason and this epic kiss made me feel like I was a different person than I'd been a couple of weeks ago. Like I was older, no longer just Franny but actually Frances, someone growing into her name. Someone who had feelings for her best friend's older brother because of everything we'd been through together lately.

We smushed a little closer together, still kissing, and as he reached for my waist, his wrist brushed my new piercing. “Ouch!” I said, but as soon as the pinched feeling started, it was over.

“Sorry. Does it hurt a lot?” Mason asked, backing up a little.

“What?”

“Your belly button.”

“No.” I shook my head. “It's fine.”

“I thought you said it had no feelings.”

“Apparently it does,” I said.

Then we kind of attacked each other all over again.

“Um, should we be doing this?” I stepped back, wondering if I should stop now. I should get back to . . . wherever it was. Wherever I was supposed to be and whoever I was. But now it was getting really dark, and I didn't want to leave Mason. “I mean . . . I want to do this.”

“So do I,” he said.

We kissed some more and then he opened the truck passenger door again, and we both just climbed in together and kept kissing. This was crazy. Insane. But great. It just felt so good to be with someone who knew what was actually going on in my life and who understood. We were both scared, I could tell that. We were both terrified. But we were in it together.

“It's getting late,” he whispered into my neck. “You should probably go find your tent.”

“I know,” I said. But I wasn't going anywhere.

I was brushing my teeth the next
morning when Margo walked into the locker room. For once, I was ahead of her, but only because I'd been awake since five a.m.

She glared at me. “I thought you
left
last night,” she said. “I thought you ruined it for everybody.”

I finished brushing and rinsed my mouth. “I'm still here,” I said. “What would I ruin?”

“But first I saw you with Mason, then you weren't at dinner, and then you weren't in the tent when we were supposed to be. What did you do? Did you go off somewhere with him or what?” she asked.

“Not that it's any of your business, but I came back to the
tent a little after five. I was here the whole time. I just . . . fell asleep in his truck.”

“Yeah, right. How dumb do you think I am? I didn't know you and he, I mean . . . are you and he together?”

“No.” I shook my head. But then I thought,
yes
, and
I don't know
. Mason was an incredible person, but he was nineteen and I was seventeen, and I thought he was probably too old for me, but it didn't actually feel that way, not ever and definitely not after the night we'd spent being close. I couldn't stop asking myself questions like,
What was that? Why was he here? Did we just do that because of Stella, because we're both worried and freaked out?

Margo left, and I leaned against the wall in the entryway to the locker room. So much had happened in the past couple of days—in the past couple of weeks. I wasn't quite sure how to handle it all.

When I walked out, thoughts swirling in my head, Heather, the ride director, was waiting for me. “I need to talk to you,” she said. “Can you come with me for a sec?”

It wasn't a question. It was an order.

I followed her to a picnic table, a secluded area. All I could think was that she was going to tell me that I'd been riding too slowly. Too often. They were taking away some of the
money Sparrowsdale had raised—because of me, the weak link in the chain.

“Frances, I'm sorry,” Heather said when we found a bench where we could sit down. “But we can't let you stay on this trip. You broke one of our most important rules. You're going to have to leave tonight. Who can come pick you up?”

“Please, you can't kick me off the trip. Please!” I begged. “What did I do? What did I do?”

“Last night you didn't stay in your tent with your team. We have strict rules about male and female interaction. We have guaranteed certain things to parents, to teachers, to
you
. This isn't a trip to take if you want to hook up.”

“I didn't want to hook up!” I cried. I mean, maybe in the moment, sure, but I wouldn't tell her that. “I didn't go into this trip thinking
that
. I had no intention of ever—”

“Nobody ever does,” Heather said. “You signed an agreement, saying you'd abide by the rules. And the rules apply to everybody.”

“You have no idea how important this ride is to me. Please. I'm doing this ride because my friend can't. Stella's injuries . . . they're more serious than she wants people to know. I mean, she's not even telling me half of it, but the half I know is pretty bad. She's barely even herself anymore. She's
mad at everyone, she's mad at the world . . . she's mad at me. So if there was one thing I could do to try to help—it was completing this ride in her place. That way all her donations will count.”

“I'm sorry to hear that. Wow. I don't know what to tell you,” Heather said. “I know Stella, and I know your dropping out would probably crush her, because it would also mean disqualifying your team.”

“You'd disqualify the whole
team
? No, that can't happen!”

“You broke our rules. In any other circumstance, this would be grounds for dismissal.” She tapped her fingers together.

Wait a minute. She'd said, “In any other circumstance.” That sounded slightly hopeful. She looked like she was thinking of some other punishment for me. Did she realize that having me ride four more days was, in a way, already punishment?

“I'm trying to think of another solution. Your team could stay, but they'd need another rider, and you've already made it this far,” Heather mused. “That seems unfair to make them accountable for your actions. But if I let this pass without any action on my part, I don't know how we can ask others to respect the rules.”

“You could not tell them what happened?” I said.

She just gazed at me over her sunglasses, like that was the dumbest thing she'd ever heard. I had to say something else to convince her. Something good.

“I—if it helps? We didn't, like,
do
anything,” I said.

Her face turned slightly red, as if she didn't need that information and wished I hadn't shared.

“I know this is embarrassing,” I continued, “but honestly, we just sort of cuddled—”

“I get the picture,” she said, cutting me off. “I'm not sure it helps me with this decision. Give me some time to talk with my team. You, go meet with your team at your staging area. I'll come find you and give you the answer. There may be conditions involved, just so you know.”

I nodded, eager to accept any and all conditions. “Of course, of course. Whatever you think is best. But please, please, don't make me go home. I know I'm not the best rider here, but it means a lot to me to finish this, and the same goes for Stella. More than you could know.”

I wandered off, in a daze, stunned that I might have blown this entire thing. I should have known I couldn't stay out late with Mason; when he asked if I should go, I should have said
Yes, I guess so,
and pulled away.

But I hadn't been able to make myself do that, not when he and I were discovering we had such strong feelings for each other.

How had Heather found out that I wasn't back in the tent by lights-out, though? Weren't we on an honor system with our own team?

I walked back to my team at the staging area and went straight to Margo, pulling her aside so not everyone could hear. “You
told
on me?”

“Told on you what?” she asked.

“Last night. How I didn't sleep in the tent the whole night.”

“I didn't—why would I do that? Why should I care where you sleep?” she muttered.

“You cared about ten minutes ago. And if you didn't tell Heather, then how else did she know?” I asked.

“They do a tent check every night, probably. They should, if they're responsible. I don't know, why don't you ask Autumn and Elsa if they said something?” Margo asked.

“Because. Why would they care where I was or if I was doing something wrong? No, it has to be you.”

“What are you two arguing about now?” Autumn asked, coming closer. “Are you both ready to go? Because we'll be taking off soon. Don't you need to change?” she asked me.

“I'm—well. I'm half-changed,” I said. “I'll get my bag.”

“Yeah, that's if you even need it,” said Margo.

“Why would she not?” asked Elsa in a wispy voice.

“You're not giving up, are you?” said Autumn. “Oh my God. You are giving up. You're going to ruin this
now
, when we're almost halfway there?”

“Are you hurt, is that it, Fran?” asked Oxendale.

“I'm not giving up!” I said. “And I—I'm not injured.” I glanced over at Cameron, my closest friend on the trip. He wasn't coming to my defense. Before I could explain further, Heather walked over and stood in front of us. “Frances, may I have a word?” she said.

I held my breath as we moved out of the way, finding a little privacy by one of the breakfast tables. Heather cleared her throat. This was awkward for her too, no doubt. “While I in no way want to condone your rule breaking, I've consulted with my colleagues, and we've decided to let you stay on the ride.”

“Oh, thank you!” I gasped.

“But there will be strict conditions, Frances. One, you need to check in with us every night. Whether you're coming or going, we need to know. Two, once you're in for the night—and it's lights-out—you can't leave the tent under any circumstances. Unless it's to use the restroom, I suppose, and
if you do that, you'll need to have one of your tent mates accompany you. I'll be talking to them as well, but not right now—I have too much to do.”

I nodded. That was embarrassing. “I really am sorry. I've never been under, like, this much stress before. Between the ride and Stella and . . . I made a bad decision. It's not like me. You have no idea. I'm not that kind of person, usually,” I added.

“It's my responsibility to keep all of you safe. And accounted for,” Heather said. “That's all I care about right now.”

“Got it,” I said. “I won't give you any more trouble, as far as that's concerned.”

Heather didn't look impressed by my promises. “We'll see,” she said, and briskly walked away to the group of volunteers who were checking in by the support vehicles.

I let out a huge sigh of relief and went back to my bike. Somehow I was down to one bike bottle; I had no idea where I'd left the other one. Maybe in Mason's truck? I didn't have time to think about it. I had to grab my clothes and finish getting dressed. I'd need to get my back-up water bottle, too—it was a travel mug from Mercy Hospital.

I was halfway through getting my clothes to go change when I remembered: today was the day I'd planned to do
the most awful item of the F-It List. I had to wear a bikini, instead of my usual shirt and baggy shorts.

This wasn't a good day for it. Everyone hated me, and I was on shaky ground.

But if you looked at it another way, things couldn't get much worse. If I went ahead and got this over with on the day when nobody wanted to associate with me, that might have its advantages. If I was going to be exiled, why not be exiled on the most embarrassing day of all?

I'm not rail thin like Autumn or Margo or most of the other riders were. I have curves. And I don't do bikinis in front of three hundred people. If I'm hanging out at a neighbor's pool? Sure—despite what Mason said about my always wearing a T-shirt. That might have happened once or twice when I was twelve, but not since.

What if I wore the bikini top
under
my shirt—would that count? No. Probably not.

But there was no way I was giving up my padded shorts to wear only a bikini bottom. I already had saddle sores. I'd compromise by wearing my shorter pair of bike shorts and rolling the waistband down a bit to show off my belly button. That would have to count.

“You're getting your stuff ready. Does that mean you're not kicked off?” Margo asked.

“I'm still on the trip,” I said.

“Wait a second. You almost got us kicked off the ride?” asked Oxendale. “What did you do?”

Suddenly all seven other riders were circled around me. It felt like an inquisition. I had to talk fast or they might shoot me—that was how they looked.

“I broke a rule,” I quickly admitted. “It's not a super-big deal. I talked to Heather and it's going to be okay. I just have to check in with her more often.”
And not spend the night with Mason again.
Which would be easy. He was gone. Unless of course he came back tonight, too, which would be awesome. . . .

“What rule?” Autumn asked.

“I—well—see—Stella's brother, Mason, we were talking,” I said. I couldn't confess to the rest of it in front of all these people; I hadn't even told my best friend yet. “The time got away from us, and I ended up falling asleep in his truck. I broke the tent curfew.”

Nobody said anything for a minute. Then Cameron asked, “How could you be so stupid? Don't you know how long we've worked for this, how much is at stake? Maybe
you
don't care, but we're trying to make a difference here.”

“I know. I'm sorry.” I looked down, embarrassed. “Yes. It was really dumb. I promise I . . . I'm in this thing to finish.”
Somehow it didn't matter that I'd talked my way into staying. Everyone hated me anyway.

They went back to getting their bikes ready, and I headed for the locker room to change. Margo trailed along beside me. “Now you have two strikes against you. One, you're the last one to finish every day. And two, you almost cost us the trip. You're on thin ice.”

“Which is it?” I asked, annoyed. “A baseball metaphor or a skating metaphor? Because I'm confused.”

She stopped walking. “You know what? I've been trying to help you. But you're on your own from here on out.”

“Help me? You?” I laughed.

I left her and went into a locker room stall to get changed. When I came out, she was gone. Outside, everyone was lining up for the start.

I tried to keep a low profile, which wasn't easy in a hot-pink bikini top, with platinum hair and a pierced navel. This was getting ridiculous.

As I got on my bike and slowly rode over to the start, Max and Oxendale zipped past in a blur, followed by Autumn and Alex in their practically matching outfits. If they noticed me, they didn't say anything.

I worked my way up in the crowd of cyclists and stopped to adjust my seat a bit. This wasn't the day to ride in a bikini
top. It really wasn't. I made sure I had everything I'd need for what was going to be a hard day: water, the patch kit (Mason), extra socks (Mason), extra shirt, and the hundred-dollar bill I was carting around in my bike bag every day.

Suddenly I spotted Cameron off to the side, and I gradually made my way over toward him. I bumped his back wheel and he turned to look at me.

“What's with the getup?” he asked.

I wished I had something, anything, even a giant peach dress to cover me. “It's a dare, actually. Can you get a photo for Stella?”