Rewind to You (2 page)

Something hot flashes through me. This is
my
fault? Oh yeah, big surprise.
Everything is
. “Bring up Dad? Are you kidding me?”

Mom wrenches open the linen drawer and starts refolding—refolding! —the dinner napkins. “How inconsiderate can you be, Sienna? Football with Dad is what Spencer lived for every summer. The whole reason we came to the island this summer is to start over. As hard as it may be, we have to get our minds off of Dad and move on.”

“Get our minds off of him?” I say. “Here? On Tybee? Mom, we came to this island every summer
with Dad
. How do you expect us to come here now and forget about him?”

“I don’t expect you to forget about him!”

“That’s what you said!”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Mom slams the drawer shut. “I just want you to be yourself again! You don’t even dance like you used to. For a year now, it’s like you’re on the stage but not really there.”

Yet another thing I’m doing wrong. I nod, taking it all in. And I walk to the door.

“Sienna?” Mom asks, starting after me. “Are you going out with Brian?”

A happy yet wistful feeling flutters in my stomach, but it can’t be at the thought of Brian. “Maybe,” I reply as I check my pocket for my cell phone.

“Maybe?”

“Yes.”

“Perfect. You’ll be at Brian’s house then?”

“No,” I reply and grin. This, oddly, is the wistfully happy part. “Brian and a bunch of his friends are meeting on River Street.”

Her lips form a stern line. “You’re going into Savannah? Tonight?”

“Yeah. Is that okay?”

River Street—wild and spirited and adventurous—is everything I secretly love, and everything she hates. But this is Brian we’re talking about, the son of my mom’s best friend from her hometown in Georgia.

“All right,” she says. “Stay with Brian. Don’t go walking around alone.”

I slink out, my stomach knotting as I glimpse Mom picking up Legos. She’s right. It is my fault.
Everything.
I took Dad away from us all.

I jog to the SUV and jump in. To my mom, apart from the rich history of architecture and design, downtown Savannah is a cesspool of poverty and unruly living in a deep-fat fryer. My dad, however, felt differently.

“Anything can happen on River Street,” he said to me once with his big smile after I found a silver dollar there as a kid.

I shove the key in the ignition, fighting the thought that if Dad were here, he’d tell me to listen to Mom. He’d tell me to move on; he was unselfish like that. The engine purrs to life when I twist the key, puncturing the silence.

“Here’s to moving on,” I say to no one, feeling the words swell up in my throat as I throw the gearshift into drive. I can almost hear my dad’s voice now as I speed down the gravel road:
Anything can happen on River Street.

CHAPTER 2

Austin

W
hen life gives you lemons, buy a Mountain Dew. That’s my motto. All right, really I’m just your average Joe, scraping by to make a little punch with the fruit life throws at my face. But not for long.

I glance at my online bank statement. Dimes and pennies. Takes a lot of them to build a savings like this, and it wasn’t easy. You see, in many ways, my life is like a football game. Short, intense plays of grit and sweat, one after another. Inching closer to the goal. Occasionally I’m thrown a perfect wide pass, but there’s always a fierce defense, driving me back. But tonight is a water break.

“Later,” I say as I pass Uncle Mark on my way out. His gaze is fixed on the preseason game on TV, his ears open to nothing but the cheer of the crowd and the referee’s whistle.

“Can I toss the TV remote in the toilet for you?” I say for kicks. Couldn’t help it.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mark says. Totally fell for it. He fishes a purple sock from the laundry basket and folds it with a brown one. “Sure.”

“Amen to that!” Aunt Deb cheers from the kitchen as she pulls a lasagna from the oven. “Austin, honey, bring one of those girls by for Sunday dinner sometime. You hear? Your mom is gonna want to hear all about who you’re dating out here.”

“Right,” I say, faking a smile. You see, I’ve become as much of a pain in my mom’s side as my dad was. Pretty sure she wishes I didn’t exist.

I get a whiff of lasagna before I open the door. I hang back, stomach growling. No one cooks like my aunt. Well, besides my mom. “You’re killing me, Deb.”

“You sure you don’t want to stay for dinner?”

“Gotta go,” I say. “Save some for me.”

“Take that trash out on your way, will ya?” Deb calls out.

I pull my baseball cap on. Snag the trash. “See ya.”

An old sedan pulls up, heavy metal music blaring. I toss Deb’s trash into the can. My two-year-old cousin sure is cute, but dang, her diapers make this thing reek.

The passenger window inches down. Leo slings his arm out. “Yo, ace! What up?”

“Just throwing out the crap.”

“What, they got you taking out the doo-doo now?”

I laugh as I hop in.

Reggie takes one last drag from his cigarette. Tosses it out the window. He cranks up the music and we wind through the city Reg-style. No regard to speed limit whatsoever.

“So, spill it. What’s going down tonight that’s so great you couldn’t tell me?” I ask as we enter Savannah’s historic district.

They exchange silent glances. Leo turns and gives me the once-over, his nose scrunching. “What you wearin’, man?” He tosses a different hat to me, ignoring my question. “Here, put this on.”

I glance at the cap, some flat-brimmed thing with metal spikes and sparkly stuff I wouldn’t be caught dead with. “Swag, man. Real nice.”

“You think?” Leo smiles, taking me seriously.

I chuck it back at him. “Where are we going?”

“C’mon, Grandpa,” Leo says. “You wear your hat like you out golfing with the seniors. Where’s your pride? And your shirt’s inside out. You blind?”

“Why does it matter? You said we were going somewhere chill.”

“We are.”

“Come on, Leo. Tell me we aren’t—”

“Just hitting up a party,” Reggie cuts in.

“You’re such liars.”

“Say what?”

They tricked me. Again. So much for a water break. “Hey, I’ve got a better idea.”

“Uh-huh.” Leo makes a doubtful sound. “What’s yo’ betta idea? Some hillbilly movie only Austin Dobbs can dig and still get chicks, ’cause he’s some preppy football star?”

I stare at the back of their heads as they laugh. “Actually, I was thinking a chick flick,” I say like I’m serious.

“Chick flick!” Leo spits out between bursts of laughter.

Why do I hang out with these monkeys? Good question. I guess it’s easier to dodge sympathy when you’re surrounded by idiots whose lives are a whole lot more screwed up than your own. Reg and Leo aren’t the types who have everything in life. They aren’t the types who pity anyone who doesn’t.

“C’mon,” Leo pleads. “Lindsay’s gonna be there, lookin’ hot!” He lists every enticing detail. Music and babes and on and on. His face animates his enthusiasm, as though he hopes his party fever will rub off on me. I nod, pretending to listen. Find myself catching the sugary scent of pralines in the air, the smell derailing my train of thought. One thing I’ve learned in the year I’ve lived in Georgia: Savannah makes pralines like Girl Scouts make cookies.

“You sure you guys don’t want pralines?”

Leo’s face turns sour. “
Pralines?
Have you been listening to a word I just said?”

“Not really.”

He lets out a breath of impatience. “What’s yo’ beef with parties, ace? You know, sometimes you act like a grandpa, too.”

“Come on. Every party is the same,” I say. “A bunch of wannabes pretending they’re having a good time.”

“What you talking about?” Leo says. He pulls a plastic bag from his pocket and dangles it over his shoulder. “We
are
gonna have a good time!”

I look away, silenced. No comeback this time. Nothing.

I glance at the brick buildings outside and listen to the jolt of a tour bus gaining speed as it pulls away from the curb. A man runs after it, trying to flag it down with his umbrella. Poor sucker’s never going to catch it. I look at everything but the dime bag of weed in Leo’s hand. The reason my mom sent me to Savannah in the first place rushes back with regret.

“Pull over.”

Despite Reggie’s rap music, an itchy silence stifles the air.

“What?” Leo asks.

“Pull over.”

Reggie gestures to the lanes of cars stacked like ants. “Pull ova’? In this?”

I tap the window. “Yep, right there.”

“You takin’ a leak or somethin’?” Leo jokes.

“Nah,” Reggie mutters. “He’s bailing on us.”

“Bailin’?”

“Absolutely,” I reply.

“Hey, you not down with this stuff, we cool with that. But we got a party to hit,” Leo says.

“And I hate parties.”

“Why you be such a hater, man?”

“I’m not hating,” I say. “Look, I just don’t want to go.”

“Lindsay’s gonna be there!”

“Lindsay and I broke up.”

“She’ll be shakin’ her hips. Dancin’.”

A Leo-induced headache flares up. “Dude, I don’t dance.”

“Nah, I’ve seen you get down. You ain’t
that
bad.”

“Just. Pull. Over.”

Reg slams on the brakes as the light turns from yellow to red. “Where you going?”

I reach for the door. “I don’t know, maybe I’ll . . . watch fireworks,” I say, recalling what tonight is.

“Fireworks?”

“Yeah. I’ll get some pralines and cream on River Street. Find a bench. Sit there with my grandpa cap and watch fireworks with some old lady.”

They both chuckle and then burst into laughter. “You want pralines?” Leo asks and dangles the drugs in front of me again. “I got somethin’ a whole lot betta than pralines, homey.”

I shove his hand down. Throw a quick glance around. “Keep that down. Better yet, get rid of it.”

Leo makes a face. “You realize how much flow we put down for this, Gramps?”

“Too much. You obviously don’t have much brain left to fry, anyway, so ditch it.”

Reg turns around. “A’ight, hear me out, Austin. You chill out and come to the party. You don’t have to try none of this, and we’ll keep it on the down low. We cool?”

I shift my gaze to the sunset, something weak inside luring me to cave. Go to the party. Whatever. Sit next to Lindsay. Put my arm around her and forget the past. Maybe even go along with Reg and Leo, drown out every mistake and the hard truth of what a screwed-up mess my family is. Doesn’t sound so bad after all.

“Austin?” Reggie asks again.

My fingers slide across the door handle. I never hesitate. Never. I read the defense, spot gaps between zone coverage, and shift direction to make the catch, all within seconds of exploding off the line of scrimmage. It’s the only thing I’m good at.

Yet here I sit, hesitating. No matter what I say, Leo and Reg are going to trudge through the mud on this one. They’re good guys. Deceptively rough on the outside and as stupid as my dog, sometimes, but they’re genuinely good, like most people.

“Austin?” Reg asks again. “We cool?”

My hand rests on the handle, frozen. Then the traffic light turns from red to green, and time is up. Fate is something I’ve never let myself consider. However, when I finally make up my mind, I have a strange feeling this decision will change the course of my life forever.

CHAPTER 3

Sienna

I
shouldn’t be here, not on my own. I check my cell. Still no reply from Brian. Glancing at the setting sun, I start down River Street anyway. Alone. Mom would kill me.

Fading sunlight seeps through the sweeping oak branches as I find a contact on my phone and press send. The handsome voice brings a smile to my face until I realize it’s his voice mail.

Yo, this is Kyle. Peace out.

I still remember the grin on Kyle’s face from across our pre-algebra classroom as he texted me for the first time. Hey. U r hot. Wanna go out?

Did I imagine we would still be together when we graduated high school three years later?

I leave a short message, drop my cell in my purse, and ignore the shadows around me as I walk through Emmet Park.

If Mom had her way, I’d date Kyle all through college and marry him. Seriously. She adores his parents: charming, respectable, wealthy—perfect potential in-laws, in her eyes. Falling in love with Kyle came easy. Breaking up with him our junior year was like swimming in a hurricane. However, like the pull between two magnets, my dad’s death yanked us back together.

I sigh in relief when I reach the edge of the park and join the crowd of tourists walking from shop to shop. My purse vibrates and I whip out my phone. “Hello?”

“Sienna?” Brian calls out over loud music on the other end.

Brian’s been my beach buddy ever since I can remember. He could have been my older brother, we’re so close. Our moms grew up in Georgia together, so naturally Brian is my mom’s second pick. My life is like a GPS with a programmed destination (and my mom plays the voice that says “recalculating route” whenever I veer). Lame, but true.

“Hey, Brian!”

“Where are you?” our voices ring out at the same time.

I smile. “You’re on River Street, right?”

“Actually, no. Sorry. We’re up at this awesome party at—” Static cuts Brian off. “Do you want to come?” I hear him at last. “You’d rip up the dance floor here.”

“Where?” My voice repeats like an echo, cutting in and out. “Brian?” I hold my phone up to see if it helps reception, doing the cell phone samba around a park bench and no doubt attracting odd glares.

“You’ve, like, gotta come—” Brian says before another round of static. I shake my phone, feeling like an idiot desperate for company.

On second thought, college starts this fall, and I won’t have peaceful moments like this. I’ll be living with my best friend, Haylee, in an apartment a block away from Kyle at the University of Richmond.

“H-hey. You there?” Brian asks. “Where are you now?”

“River Street,” I reply.