How I Fly (15 page)

He winces like I’ve punched him. “Considering this Harrison’s my roommate, and he’s already taken my place in our group project, I’m going to have to be okay with it because your friendship is—always has been—important to me. And…I do want to stay here for the rest of the summer.”

“Because we’re going to stay friends. And because you want to be a photographer.”

“Yes. For those reasons, and because you said you liked him and because you said you were happy.”

I nod. I think if I confirm anything more out loud right now, I’m not going to be able to keep up my mask of convincing confidence.

When my eyes hit and lock on to his, his own solid and determined expression slips and I can see his all of his vulnerability. Worse, I feel his loneliness. It makes the back of my throat ache. I don’t call him on what I see because he’s not calling me on what must be written in my own eyes.

I just pull myself together and wait for him to get himself where he needs to be so we can keep going.

“Say it, Ellen. Say you are okay.”

I stall, waiting for us both to be breathing normally again. “Am I okay? Hmm. Such a simple question for such a complicated thing.”

“I realize that. But ultimately…above all else and with me sitting here in your space…are you truly okay?”

And though my thoughts and the empty space between us have made me feel two thousand years old, I pull sunshine into my voice and layer on a smile. “I’m okay. Better than okay. As long as you’re okay, then I’m going to be okay. Honest.”

*Realizes: First love—or falling out of first love—is what messes up all of the adults in the world.*

*Wonders: Does this realization suddenly make me an adult, too?*

I keep my gaze direct and absolutely as strong and as unwavering as I can make it before saying, “Your turn, then. Tell me
you’re
okay.”

“I’m…
damn.”
He barks out a small, brittle-sad laugh. “You’re right. It is such a simple question for such a big mess, isn’t it?” He glances up at the sky. His wry smile turns the right side of his mouth up as he pulls a hand over his shorn head. “I’m taking my days one at a time right now. But I’m good today because I’ve seen you. I’ve apologized, you’ve accepted, and you’ve told me you’re okay. So…” He glances back over the pond. “I’ve met my goal for today. Actually…it’s been my goal all these months. So…thank you for that.”

I try to joke: “Always the goal setter.”

“Always.”

“And what are your goals for the rest of the summer?”

“Really?” He looks at the sky like he’s thinking.

“Yes. Really. List all of them, because I know you well enough to know you’ll have more than one.”

*Holds breath. Tries to kill the answers I wish he would say, like: Run away with you, search for a Tardis or any object that can turn back time.*

He paces in front of me as though he’s suddenly nervous. “My goals. In no particular order. First goal is to not hurt you again, though it’s pretty obvious I’ve already failed at that. Second goal is to grab one of the scholarships. Third—I’d like us all to be friends again. Me and you and Patrick and Laura. Once all of this awkwardness is over, do you think it can happen? I can’t imagine returning to Brights Grove and senior year without that part of my life back.”

I nod, only able to address the one that doesn’t twist up my heart all over again. “You want one of the scholarships? Why?”

He shakes his head. “Unfair amount of questions coming from your side. It’s my turn.” I shrug. He leans forward. “My mom told me you did an additional surgery to your tendons while you were down and out. Was it—the surgery, the recovery, the broken legs, the wheelchair—how bad was it?”

“The wheelchair part
sucked
. The rest felt standard to me. Without those broken legs, I wouldn’t have done that surgery at all. I’d still be facing it. Worse, I’d have to be in a wheelchair senior year. So, as Nash says, that accident was probably the very best thing that could have happened to my legs.”

“Ellen, that was the worst thing that could have happened, so don’t lie just to make me feel better.”

“I’m not lying.” I shrug. “That surgery needed to happen. Call Nash if you don’t believe me.”

“If I weren’t terrified of that guy, I would.”

I laugh. It’s possible the physical therapy that followed the accident was the most painful I’ve ever faced, but since one of my new goals is not to hurt Cam Campbell back, I’m sure as heck not going to bring up any pain levels in my legs around him ever again. As far as Cam’s concerned, I’m cured and about to skip painlessly around the world on my two straight feet.

I add, “You’ll see. When I don’t have the boot on, my gait on the left side is now almost straight. Still slow, but it’s almost freakishly normal looking. So…” I smile softly. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger or something like that, right?”

He shakes his head. “I’m more for the Ed Sheeran lyrics where he says ‘what doesn’t kill you sucks’ or something like that.” His face transforms as he layers on a beautiful, sad smile. “Does that make me sound like a wimp?” he asks.

“No. Well…maybe.” Another small laugh bubbles up just as the forty-five-minute bell rings.

Suddenly I’m able to breathe normally, and he seems to also relax.

“This friends thing…it’s going to work. Isn’t it?” he asks.

“It’s going to work great.” I reach for my bag. “Let’s go into the dorm. The professors always come out here during this break. I’d hate for Professor Perry to think you didn’t take me over to the nurse’s office like he ordered. He’s kind of a stickler for rules. On the first day I got busted for chewing gum.”

“You don’t even like gum.”

I laugh. “I know. I wasn’t even chewing it. Harrison had just given me this piece and…don’t ask. It was all this terrible misunderstanding. You’ll need to check the website every single morning before class, because he sometimes adds stuff on there and then—
poof
—whips it right off. It’s like he’s trying to trap us into slacking off. Oh, darn, that reminds me.” I slap my hand to my head. “Today was the day he was passing out scholarship info as well as the deadline schedules for the projects.”

“I got the scholarship information, but I missed the other one. The other guys will have copies, right?”

“Harrison will give me his, I’m sure.”

Too late I realize I’ve said the wrong thing. He doesn’t answer, and because I’m pretending really hard that I didn’t just see him wince like I’ve punched him in the stomach from me saying Harrison’s name, I quickly crutch ahead of him toward the door that leads to the dorm.

*Vows: The just-friends thing is not going to be hard. It’s not.*

Ellen

As we push into the back hallway that leads to our dorm, my book bag starts to slip so I pause to readjust my crutches. The dorm is crowding with people streaming in after the bell.

“Do you need my help?” Cam asks as a few people squeeze around me.

I want to beg him not to say that to me anymore, but I don’t. It’s Cam. He’s always going to ask me if I need help. I need to remember that helping people is simply part of who he is.

I’ve got to remember him, and he’s got to remember me, and then…

Our gazes tangle.

*Changes mind: This friends thing is going to be impossible.*

He adds, “Because…I’d be…happy. To help. You.”

“Uh…uh…”

He suddenly sounds as awkward as I feel. What happened to our easy conversation?

I’m sure my inability to answer him is making that worse.

Only, now that it’s not just me and him sitting on a bench in a private garden, and the rest of the world’s crashing in around us, I’m having some sort of panic attack.

I force out a smile, but it feels so stiff my lips crack. I work to fast-track my head with ideas of Cam and me living here in this same dorm. I work to visualize Cam and I walking down this same hallway every day and then picture Cam heading off to breakfast with our little group, including Harrison. I make an image in my mind of Cam being inside Professor Perry’s classroom along with all of us while he and I are being
just friends
.

A few more students rush past us, slowing to stare at me, but mostly they’re curious about Cam. From far away I hear my voice finally bark out an answer: “No need for help. I’m good. Really good.”

I want to whack my own forehead. Now who sounds awkward? I just sounded like a bad version of Siri.

“Good. Really good.” His voice has also gone slightly robotic.

I think it’s hitting him, too. Our new
friendship
is going to involve a ton of people who do not know our deal, our pasts, and now we’re going to have to figure out a way to navigate all of that until this—me and him—feels normal together.

Once through the door, he falls into place beside me as I crutch toward our rooms. I keep glancing at him out of the corner of my eyes, but I have this funny urge to startle each time because he’s really next to me.

Voice still brick-heavy, he says, “This dorm looks really—good. Is it? Good?”

“Yes. It’s really…good,” I spit out, but then try to keep the conversation going with, “Once I unload these crutches at the end of the summer, I’ve promised Nash to always have a cane. I’m done pretending I don’t have CP anymore, which will be
good
. Good for me, that is.”

“That is really good. Because it doesn’t matter. You know? CP is part of your life and you so it should be that way because…you’re so…
good
…” His eyes shutter down all over again. But then, as though he’s trying to keep his side going, he adds, “It’s good. That’s all. We should all be who we are, because what we are is good.”

“Yeah. And like I said, how good my foot looks!” I hold up my right foot and wiggle it some, happy that I decided to wear socks with my sneaker today so he doesn’t have to see any scars. “I’m not lying about how I’m really good. So good.” I nod. Then nod again.

He’s staring down at my foot as though suddenly he can’t look at my face. “Good,” he says, way too quietly. “And the foot movement looks very good. Good and straight.” He looks up at my face, copying my nod.

As if he’s trying to change the subject, or as if he heard my mind start screaming,
BEING FRIENDS WITH YOU IS GOING TO KILL US BOTH,
he starts talking really fast: “My parents are getting divorced. That’s the other reason I was using a different last name. I’m sort of homeless until Mom gets settled into an apartment back in Brights Grove.”

“That’s good. Really good,” I say distractedly while we pause at my door and I work to fish out my key card. My mind’s spinning.
Do I invite him in? Do I invite him for lunch…God please help me! What am I supposed to do right now?

When he doesn’t answer, only bites his lower lip and crosses his arms while staring at me through his lashes, I try to regain the conversation thread and realize I just said his parents’ divorce was good. In a rush to recover, I add, “Wait. I mean…I’m sorry. It’s
not good
. It’s tough when families split up and…so,
not good
.”

“No. The divorce is good. Really good. A really long story.”

I bite back an inappropriate giggle. “A
good
story?”

His brows shoot up and he laughs out loud. “The story’s not so
good
, actually.”

Suddenly, I’m laughing out loud along with him. “That’s not
good
.”

“Damn. How many times have we said
really good
and
good
in the past minute?”

“I think
good
twenty times, but I didn’t get a
really
good
count.” We laugh together some more. “I’m sorry this…whole thing…me and you. It’s bound to get strange, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. And it just got beyond strange.” He sighs—it sounds a little sad, but I can see he’s relaxing again as well. “We’ll get used to it…we’ll figure out how to hang out together. I know we can.”

I nod. “There’s more for you to know. I feel like it will help if I can hear about every month of your life that I missed. If you don’t mind.”

He smiles. “Yeah. I guess that would help me, too. If you’re willing to go for coffee or just talk one of these days, after I get settled in?”

I nod. “Let’s just let all of that happen naturally. As long we’re—you and I—as long as we’re
good
, then I’m good and you’re good then—oh, God.” I sigh. “I’m doing it again!”

He leans against the wall by my door. “I’ll have to work on smoothing things over with your Harrison. He wasn’t very happy to have to disassemble his amazing bachelor suite for me this morning, that’s for damn sure.”

“Oh. Yeah. I bet that was a pain.” That comment has me blushing bright red, so I change the subject. “And don’t forget, you’ll still have to make it through Patrick, because…well, you know how he is.”

“Oh hell—I’m sure he’ll try to kill me or something.”

I laugh, leaning back against my door for support. “I think he said double black eyes…or wait…maybe that was Laura?”

He grins. “I’d ask how those two have been, but I’m afraid you’d start saying the word ‘good’ again.”

I laugh deep into my belly. “Yeah. Don’t ask. Um.” I point to the bag he’s forgotten he’s holding for me. “My bag?”

He hands over the bag just as the double doors at the end of the hall swing open. It’s Laura. She’s running as fast as I’ve ever seen her run. “Ellen. Ellen! Thank -the-gods-and-heaven that I’ve caught you here, because I’ve got good news. Cam’s here! He’s actually here which is so good. Only, I found out he’s going to be Harrison’s roommate, which is so not very good, now is it?”

“Did she say good? Or not good?” Cam’s biting his lip as he straightens and faces Laura.

She skids to a halt, her eyes finally landing on Cam. “Good. God.
You’re here-hullo
!” Her face transforms from shock to pure happiness. “Cam! Oh wee-little-Camden, you’re here!”

His eyes are dancing with laughter, but he’s holding himself stiff like he’s really unsure what to do all over again. “Hello, Ireland,” he says softly.

Laura, without a pause, launches her full body at Cam, which forces him to reach out and catch her midair. She’s hugging him as tightly as I did, only she’s pulling it off in her wrong but
always right
Laura London ways. She’s using her legs and her arms and most of her hair, minus all of my tears to wrap herself all around him. “Oh, Cam. Dear, -sweet-you. It’s wonderful to see ya-here.” Confident that he’s not going to drop her, she leans back and places both hands on his cheeks. “Would you look at your beautiful face! How I’ve missed seeing these gorgeous peepers staring out at me. And wow.” She pulls in a long breath and leans back some more. “Your hair and…all of you…you look very changed, but still the same. My poor-wee, long-lost, beautiful Canadian. What months you must have suffered without us bothering you every day.”

“What months indeed.” He hugs her tightly before setting her back down on her feet. “You’re as beautiful and as bright as ever, Laura. I can’t believe you’re not back in Ireland. Don’t those people miss you, or is there something you’re not telling us?” He winks.

“Bite your wee-wicked tongue. I’m sure I’m half Canadian now. I’m staying. Even if they try to get me home, I won’t have it.” She crosses her arms and surveys him shamelessly up and down, then tosses me a look as though she’d like to check if I’m okay.

I smile as wide as I can, so she understands all is well. Turning back to Cam she adds, “I see you’ve lost some weight but gained some muscles.” She reaches up and squeezes his biceps unabashedly. “Cor…would ya-look at these things. It’s like you’ve been lifting logs the whole time you’ve been gone. Where’ve ya-been, laddie? Just where?”

“I’ve got tons to tell you, but how about we do it over lunch—and in front of Patrick, if I survive meeting up with him again. Then I only have to say it all once.”

“Sure. Yes. Of course.” She glances nervously over her shoulder, then whispers, “I’ll smooth things over between you and Patrick. Okay?”

“I’d appreciate it.” He tugs at her hair, adding, “I see you’ve lightened up on the glitter some.”

“Some.” She flips her bright curls around, and only half the usual amount of glitter falls out. “Don’t need all these new kids knowing my personal secrets. I save the big pixie dustings for when magic is needed. Had I known you were coming today, I’d have gone all out!” She leaps back, dance-hopping with glee as if she’d like to tackle-hug him all over again, but then her face

crosses with worry as she registers my puffy, cried-out eyes. Turning her back to him, she takes up my hand and gives it her best-friend squeeze. “So you two obviously talked it out. How’s…things between you two, then?”

“We’re good,” I answer for him, shooting him a wink.

He winks back. “It’s going to take time, but we’ve decided to start off friends. Are you in on that part? I sure hope so.”

“Thanks to fate, I’ve always been in with being friends with you, Cam Campbell. Friends starting and friends finishing, that’s what was decided the day we all met. Isn’t that right, Ellen?”

“Of course.”

Laura squeezes my hand tighter. This time, I squeeze back.

She pulls back as Patrick and Harrison come through the door. They’re both out of breath as though they, too, were walking extra fast to get to me. “But your answers are not satisfying me one bit. How are ye? Really and truly, tell me. Are you okay?”

Cam gives me this secret look as he answers, “Good. I’m really, really, really, really good. Honest.”

Laura sighs. “Good. Really, really good.”

I bust out laughing just as Harrison and Patrick walk up. It’s sheer nervousness that’s driving it, and for some reason I can’t stop. Patrick is ignoring Cam completely as he calls out to me, “Ellen, Professor Perry sent us to the nurse’s station. He said you’re sick. Really sick. And that he sent you away with a kid we don’t even know named Reece, but here you are looking—all—red-faced, but you’re laughing.”

I’m glancing at Cam as I answer through my laughter, “I’m good. Really good.”

Patrick crosses his arms. “If you’re so good, why does your face look like you’ve been stung by two hundred bees? I know how you look when you’ve been crying. What the hell is going on?”

“Patrick!” Laura walks over and grabs Cam’s hand just as his eyes land on Cam. “Patrick. It’s Cam.”

Patrick goes sheet white. “Holy crap!” He crosses his arms in front of him, with his fisted hands hiding under his elbows, and his voice turns murderous. “I’ll say it again. What the
hell
is going on? They said
you
weren’t coming!”

“Are you sick or not?” Harrison asks, glancing from face to face, obviously trying to compute the situation. I try to bottle up my laughter, because Harrison looks really nervous, like he doesn’t quite know what to do or where to stand, because in addition to me laughing and crying at the same time, Laura’s holding his new roommate’s hand!

I say, “Harrison, this is Cam. Cam Campbell, the fourth person who won our
Frozen Trees
project with us and…and…he’s one of our best friends. I’m not sick…just cried because I haven’t seen him in a long time.” I say that last comment with a warning glance toward Patrick, and then turn back to Harrison. “I guess you guys already met this morning?”

“Oh. Yes. Cam. Cam…Campbell?” Harrison looks really surprised, then kind of annoyed as he locks some sort of challenge glare on Cam. “But you said your name was Reece?”

Harrison glances at me like he’s trying to read my mind or something.

Cam shrugs. “My mom registered me under her maiden name. Long story.”