Moving Forward (Moving Neutral, Book Three) (12 page)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Stepping off the train in Rockland, Connecticut, the day before Christmas, with all the shops in town covered with lights and decorations, I felt like I was entering another world. 

Madison got off the nearly-empty train before
me, and I paused at the door to take in the families reuniting for the holidays — fathers and mothers coming home from work, college kids coming home from school, girls and guys in their twenties coming from other cities to spend Christmas in their hometown.

As much grief as I’d given Rockland (and my parents) over the years, it was actually pretty amazing to be home.

My dad was picking up me and Madison, but by the time we spotted his car, it was on the opposite end of the parking lot.  Sighing, we rolled our suitcases towards him — I had two giant suitcases that were stuffed to the seams, since I’d attempted to pack for both Christmas and California. 

When we got to my dad’s car, he
looked down at me, deadpan serious.

“Oh no,” he
said.  “You didn’t get kicked out of school, did you?”

“Dad,” I groaned
.  “Don’t even say that.  I had a lot of stuff I needed to bring home.”

“Well, I just assumed,” he said, his dimples flickering as he smiled, “that you had to be moving back in for good, since I don’t remember you owning enough clothes to fill these.”

“Oh, didn’t you hear?” Madison chirped. I tried to stomp on her foot to shut her up, but missed.  “Casey gets all her clothes for free now.”

My dad looked at me with a skeptical expression on his
face. 

“Not all of them,” I mumbled, looking down at the asphalt in
embarrassment.  “Some of them I have to send back afterwards.”

That, for whatever reason, made my dad laugh, at least. 
“Nice.  Maybe next time, you could convince them you’re a six-foot-tall man who needs some new suits, huh?”

I snorted.  “Sure, dad.  I’ll see what I can do.”

He walked around to the front of the car and climbed in.  But before we opened our doors, Madison and I dissolved into a fit of silent giggles.

I took a deep breath
and slid into the car next to her.  We’d been doing that since we were six years old.

Chapter
Twenty-Eight

When my dad pulled into our driveway after dropping Madison off, I finally caught a glimpse of our house.  My parents always went overboard with Christmas decorations, but this year, our house could probably have been seen from outer space.  White lights covered the edges of the roof, the path from the driveway, and the trunks of every tree in our yard.

No yard gnomes dressed up
like Santa this year.  So at least there was that.

“You guys went all out,” I said, pulling
one of my suitcases out of the backseat and taking a look around.

“Trevor got really into Christmas lights this year,” my dad said.  “He would have done the tops of all the trees too
— and probably killed himself in the process.  He’s never had much interest before — honestly, I’m not quite sure where it came from.”

Trevor, my little brother, had started
fifth grade this fall.  I looked at my dad curiously.  “A girl?”

“You know,
I hadn’t thought of that.  Think that Trevor secretly has a crush on … Mrs. Claus?”

I played along, pretending to be horrified.  “What would we do if Trevor split up the Santa Claus marriage?”

“Hmmm…  Burn his birth certificate, deny that we ever knew him?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

My dad held the door open for me as we walked inside, taking the suitcase out of my hand as I struggled to get it over the doorstep.

“It’s good to have you home, Case
y.”

“It’s good to be home,” I said.  I hadn’t mentioned
that I had a plane ticket to Los Angeles that left in six days, but I figured now wasn’t the time.  I’d have a great holiday here with my family, no distractions, and then I’d figure out the trip to California.

I went upstairs to my old bedroom and unpacked as well as I could, not touching the suitcase that contained my clothes for California.  The last thing I needed was for my well-meaning mom to start wondering why I’d brought four bikinis for Christmas in New England.

As I shoved the last of my socks and underwear into a drawer, my eyes caught on a rolled up sheet of paper resting on the top of the dresser.  Already knowing what it was, I slid off the rubber bands that held it closed and unrolled it.

And suddenly, I was staring into Blake’s blue eyes once again.

My parents had bought me a Moving Neutral poster last summer, and I’d left it at home — I figured it was probably a little creepy to have a three-foot-tall shrine to your ex-boyfriend in the middle of your freshman dorm room. 

But looking at the poster made me think of all the t
imes I’d imagined meeting Blake — when it had been pure fantasy, utterly unconnected to all the complications that we’d been through.

The last time I’d been home, the poster was like a
cruel joke at my expense — reminding me that the real Blake Parker had given me up for good.

But now?  Now I kind of liked it.  It was Blake the way I’d first met him
— shiny and untouchable. 

“Hey mom
—” I called, and wasn’t surprised when my mom’s head poked through the door a split second later.  They were giving me space, but they’d hardly seen me in six months.  One opening, and they pounced.

I smiled at her.  “Could you help me hang this?”

“Course,” she said, looking a little relieved.  A minute later, she returned with some tacks and a hammer.  “Where do you want it?”

“By the bed?” I suggested.  I really wanted it on the ceiling, so Blake’s eyes could be the last thing I saw as I fell asleep every night, but there was no way on this earth I’d admit that to my mom. 

So we settled on a section of wall next to the bed, tapping and leveling in unison until it was attached.  She sat down on the bed and squinted at it.

“So I take it things with Blake are good?”

I exhaled so quickly it was almost a snort.  “No,” I sighed.  “Things with Blake are definitely… not… good.”

“Should we get you a poste
r of Tanner Cole, and you can just paste it on top when you and Blake are on the outs?”

I glanced over at her, horrified, but her expression gave away nothing.  She just stared from me to the wall with a curious expression. 

And then she burst into laughter.

“Mom!” I yelled, pushing her backwards into the cushions.  She was still laughing, trying to catch her breath.  “Since when do you read US Weekly?”

“Since my daughter started appearing in it three times a month,” she laughed, grabbing a pillow and hitting me back. 

Well.  T
hat was a fair enough reason. 

“You know it’s all lies, right?”

She looked at me, her eyes soft and kind.  “Casey, I know the daughter we raised.  You’ve made your share of bad decisions, but you have a good head on your shoulders,” she smiled at me.  “Please — this is the girl who ran away from home without a word, but still managed to mail the absolutely perfect birthday present to her brother.”

I giggled.  “Ok, well, to be fair,” I kept my voice light and teasing.  “That video game was three parts sisterly devotion, and maybe one part blackmail.”

My mom threw her head back with laughter.  “I knew it—” she said, still smiling.  “Trevor would never tell us.  I just won twenty bucks off your dad.”

I
smiled for a second, and the room fell quiet.  I looked over at the poster, at Blake’s smiling blue eyes. 

“Casey, if
—” my mom paused, not wanting to overstep her bounds.  We’d never really talked about boys, and it didn’t seem like the best time to start, now that my love life was inextricably would up with tabloids and YouTube and record labels. 

This was no ‘any boy who makes you cry isn’t worth your tears’ situation. 

“It’s ok, mom,” I said, trying to give her an easy way out.  “I’ll figure it out.”

She exhaled, looking down at me, and ran a hand
over my hair.  “Casey, honey, you were the weirdest little kid,” she said, and I couldn’t help but smile.  “You were so smart in so many ways and so completely immature in others — half the time, your dad and I didn’t even know what to do with you.  We’d send you to your room, and by the time we got up there to check on you, you’d be halfway through a novel and you’d have forgotten why we put you there in the first place.”

“Mom, we’re still talking about my love life here, right?”

“I think so.  Casey, sometimes you get so wrapped up in things, you know?  There’s only one college for you, only one guy.  You’re full speed ahead, all the time.  And sometimes I just wonder… You’re so determined, but…”

I looked at her, curious.  “But?”

“But sometimes changing direction isn’t so bad.  Find a distraction, get your mind off things.  There’s a lot of world out there you haven’t seen yet.”

I gave her a half-smile.  “You want me to go backpacking in Europe?”

“Maybe,” she grinned.  “I want you to have some fun, Casey.”  Her voice turned serious as she looked at me.  “I want you to not be heartbroken all the time.  For my brilliant, creative, beautiful daughter, I’m sure there’s no shortage of fish in the sea.”

I looked at her closely,
biting down on the inside of my lip to keep from crying.  “Mom, I don’t want any other fish,” I said, blinking back a lone tear.  “But the one I picked doesn’t want me.”

My mom’s face folded into a sympathetic smile.  “Casey, you’re so young.  I swear, no eighteen-year-old on the history of the
universe has ever realized how young they really are.  Nothing’s ever over, Case.  You’ve just got to keep moving forward, and everything comes full circle in the end.”

She
folded me into a hug, and I let her.  I didn’t have the heart to tell her: Blake and I had had a dozen chances.

And we’d blown it every single time.

Chapter
Twenty-Nine

Christmas morning in the Snow household was the same as always.  Trevor—even though he was pushing eleven at this point and really should be starting to grow out of this—woke everyone up at six a.m. on the dot, trying to rouse us all out of bed to go open presents.

I politely declined. 

And by that, I mean that I screamed bloody murder until he turned off the light switch and sulked outside.

M
y parents must have opted for the same strategy, because he didn’t emerge again until after nine.

“Case
eeeey…” I heard his voice coming from outside my door.  He drew out the last syllable of my name for at least five seconds, until I finally pulled my covers over my head.

“
Ugh, fine,” I sat up in bed and pulled on the sweatshirt I’d worn on the train the day before. 

I heard Trevor whoop outside —
I wasn’t sure how he could hear me from the hallway, but apparently his hearing turned bionic when Christmas gifts were concerned.  Tucking my feet into slippers, I opened the door.

“Finally
—” Within a half second, Trevor had grabbed my hand and was dragging me down our front stairs. 

“Slow down, kids,” I heard from below, and groaned out loud.  Every year, my parents had this mortifying habit of recording
a video of us coming down the stairs on Christmas morning.  Sure, it was cute when I was three — but recording a college student on her way downstairs to see if Santa came? 
Seriously
?

I waved at the camera politely, and then took the stairs two at a time, dodging out of view.  Maybe something good had come of my paparazzi run-ins after all
— if I didn’t want to be photographed, good luck. 

Trevor, of course, was hamming it up, darting from present to present like he couldn’t force himself to sit still.  When he paused over an oddly-shaped package that
had
to be a skateboard, I felt myself crack a smile.

“Could you please turn off the camera?” I called,
still half hidden behind the door to the kitchen.  I could feel my parents exchange a look.

“Wouldn’t want it to end up on YouTube,” my dad said sarcastically, fitting the lens cap over the video camera.

“No,” I refused to take the bait.  “We wouldn’t.”

Ignoring the rest of us, Trevor was already ripping off the wrapping paper, shrieking with joy as he uncovered what was, in fact, a skateboard.  I didn’t have the heart to tell him that his next
three presents were probably going to be a helmet, elbow pads, and knee pads. 

“Case, will you teach me how to jump?”

I laughed, and then grinned at him.  “Trev, that’s out of my league — you’re going to have to take lessons or something.”  Madison and I had gone through a brief skateboarding phase, but neither of us had the coordination or the guts to try any tricks.  Apparently Trevor had missed the memo.  “But I can help you learn to balance if you want.”

“Yeah
—” he grinned, already moving onto the next present, a neat, rectangular package that had to be either a book or a video game.  “Sweet!  Madden!”  He pulled out a Playstation game that apparently centered around football. 

“Hey, Trev, open mine next,” I said, holding out two boxes.  

“Thanks,” Trevor said, taking one look at the top package and then ripping the wrapping paper off with one hand.  He looked down, and his eyes widened.  “Harry Potter?”

“It was my favorite,” I grinned, loving the look on his face.  “I thought maybe we could start it together while I’m home.” 

Trevor grinned ear to ear, and dropped the second present momentarily to come over and hug me.  I could see my parents exchange smiles out of the corner of my eye. 

“Open the other one.”

I’d purposefully used a larger box so it wouldn’t give away the size, but
Trevor had it open in four seconds flat.  He held up the smaller box inside and started to unwrap the paper, slower this time, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

Finally, the last sheet of wrapping paper fell away.  His jaw dropped, and I grinned.

“You got me an iPhone?” he screamed, jumping up and down the way that only a ten-year-old could get away with.

“Calm down, Trev,” I said, hardly containing my laughter.  “It’s just the Touch, but still cool, right?”

“
So
cool,” he yelled, scratching at the plastic covering with his nail to open it.  He shot a glance at my parents.  “It’s ok, right?”

My mom was looking at me with an expression that almost looked like concern.  “Trevor,” she said, smiling at him through whatever else her face was conveying, “can you just give us a second, sweetie?”

Trevor looked from my parents to me, his face making it clear that he thought this was bad news.

“It’s ok, Trev,” I said, smiling encouragingly.  “Just a sec, then you can open the rest of your presents.”

Evidently he decided that submission was the best option, because he jumped up and ran into the kitchen, shutting the door behind him.  I’d bet my life savings that he stationed himself just inside the door, holding his ear to the crack of the door to hear our conversation.

“Casey,” my mom said, hesitating
.  “That thing is hundreds of dollars.”

I laughed a little.  “I think you’re stuck in, like, 2007.  Tech
nology gets cheaper and cheaper nowadays.”

“Listen, Case, it’s a really sweet and generous idea, and I know Trevor loves it.  But since we’re the ones funding your life, I think you’ve really got to reign in the spending.”

I blinked, staring at them blankly.  “Spending?”

“Casey, we’re not made of money.  We gave you an allowance at the beginning of the semester, and we expect you to stick to it.”

I was still so confused, and starting to get a little mad.  “I have been sticking to it,” I said, feeling my voice start to raise.

My dad broke in, trying to smooth things over.  “Listen, Casey, it’s just that we’re concerned.  You’re on your own for the first time, and you come home with suitcases full of new clothes, stuff for Trevor that you can’t afford.”

I looked at him icily.  “How do you know what I can afford?”

“Listen, Casey, I know you feel entitled to this, but it’s our money that you’re spending.  When your allowance is done, I hope you don’t expect that we’re going to bail you out.”

I squeezed my nails into my palms, feeling them bite into my flesh.  “Don’t worry,” I said, my voice cold and severe.  “I won’t be asking you for any more money, you can quote me on that.  And you didn’t pay for
anything
in that suitcase.  I’ve barely touched my allowance.  You know what?  You can have it back.”

“Casey, listen, I just mean
—”

But it was too late.  It was high school all over again, only something had changed.  I wasn’t just some seventeen
-year-old with a tiny allowance and strict rules.  I had my own life now.  Income included.

I stormed up to my room and grabbed my suitcase from where I’d left it on the floor.  Rummaging around, I wrote the full amount my parents had deposited as my
allowance on a blank check.  I put it outside my bedroom and slammed the door.

“Just so you know,” I yelled, sure they could still hear me downstairs.  “I didn’t even pay for that stupid thing.  It’s from a gift bag
— I just thought Trevor would want it.”

I threw myself down on the bed, my fingers still clenched into fists. 

I knew I was overreacting.  I knew I was being a complete brat.  It was like I could see it all happening in front of me, and I couldn’t stop a thing. 

I opened up my cell phone and texted Tanner.

New Year’s Eve.  8pm.  Pick me up at LAX.

It only took him a minute to write back.

Trenchcoat.  Nothing underneath.

I snorted a giggle through my fury.  Only Tanner.

You first,
I wrote back. 

I’m holding you to that.

I imagined Tanner, picking me up in his convertible, in nothing but a trenchcoat.  For a second I felt a smile creep onto my face, but I pushed the thought away as quickly as it had come.  Tanner was about my only friend left, and I didn’t need to screw that up with anything romantic.

Even if it was a little tempting.