Taking Flight (20 page)

Cammie was quiet for another few seconds. I watched her take a deep breath, and then nod her head. “Yeah. That makes sense.”

“It does?” A sense of relief washed over me.

“Yeah. Being the daughter of a famous person… that must be all you are to a lot of people. Or at least to the ones who knew who she was.”

“Which would be everyone at my school,” I told her. “Which, contrary to what you may think, did
not
make me popular. Everyone thought I was a spoiled little shit.”

She cracked a smile. “You kind of are.”

“Only on my bad days,” I countered. “And I’m trying to be better. Anyway, now you have to show me your drawings.”

“Wait. You still haven’t told me what she was like.”

“Oh. Right.” I didn’t consider my answer for long. I’d been asked this question a lot.
Everyone
wanted to know what my mom was like. “Well… I mean, you’ve seen her stuff, right? I know she used to think her comedy could be better, but she was pretty funny, I thought. She was just a really good actress in general. And she loved her job but didn’t like the pressure, I don’t think. She loved her fans too; would always worry about disappointing them—”

“Lauren,” she cut me off, shaking her head. “Not what Nicole Erickson the celebrity was like, okay? What your
mom
was like.”

I blinked at her.
That
was a new one. “What do you mean?”

“Like, as a person,” Cammie pressed. “As the mom you got to know, even if it was just for a little while. Did she read you bedtime stories? Did you guys do things together? You know, the mom from your childhood.”

“Oh.” I tilted my head to the side, thinking back. And then I smiled. “Yeah, she did read me bedtime stories, didn’t she?”

“What kind?” Cammie asked. She was grinning at me now, for some reason.

“I don’t know. I don’t remember,” I admitted. “She did the voices, though. And she liked to take me out for ice cream a lot, after my gymnastics classes. Back then, she didn’t get recognized so much. We’d go to the park and eat ice cream and there was this big playground set with three slides… I liked to hide in them and she’d guess which one I was in.” I laughed, abruptly. “Oh, wow. I’d totally forgotten about that.” With Cammie still staring at me, I fell silent, resting my chin on my hand. “Huh.”

“What changed?” she asked me.

“I got older and she got a big movie role. She had her faults, though, you know. Even when I was a kid, my dad was an alcoholic. I think she thought that if she ignored it for long enough, he’d fix himself. And eventually, she was too busy to dwell on it. So I became old news and daddy dearest became my only real guardian.”

“He could still get help,” she pointed out.

“He won’t without someone to motivate him, and there’s no one to do that.”

“Well, there’s you,” she said.

I chewed on my lip for a moment, and then glanced toward her desk, eager to get away from the subject of my dad. “Anyway, your drawings?”

“I wasn’t being serious about talking about those,” she replied, her cheeks pinking slightly, but I rolled my eyes at her and shook my head.

“We had a deal. Are all of them of New York City, or what?”

She pinked further, and crossed her arms in front of her chest, almost defensively. “I didn’t know you could tell exactly what city I was drawing.”

“The skyscrapers and yellow cabs gave it away.” I tilted my head to the side, studying her while she pursed her lips together. “So… what, you want to live there one day? Small town life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be after all?” I guessed.

She was quiet for a moment. Her eyes moved to the bedspread in front of her and, at last, she shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know.” She looked up at me. “I don’t mind the farm stuff. I like animals, and the work isn’t too hard. But I guess…” She trailed off, and then let out a deep sigh. “Okay, yeah. I guess I’ve thought about it a little. There’s this art school in New York City I’ve done some research on. It’s just this small private college, but…”

“You should go,” I told her immediately. She seemed surprised by my sudden response.

“I can’t just leave my family after graduation to go to school halfway across the country, Lauren.”

“Why not? You should do what you love. If it’s what makes you happy, then go for it.”

“It’s not that simple,” she said. “I have… commitments here.”

I watched her as her gaze sank back to her lap, and my eyebrows furrowed in realization. “Your mom and your boyfriend and your imaginary future family?” I guessed. Her lack of response was an answer in itself. “But you don’t want that,” I said.

“I never said that,” she retorted.

“You didn’t need to, Cammie. I paid attention.”

Her eyes jumped back up to look into mine. I could no longer get a good read on her; she seemed a little… affronted?

“Why would you do that?” she asked. “You know, it’s really…
annoying
how you can see right through me. You came here with your own issues. It’s not like you actually have the time to sort
mine
out.”

I offered her a small smile. “So you’re admitting you have them, then? Everything isn’t perfect after all in Cammie Marshall’s world?”

“Nobody’s perfect.”

“I know that, Hannah Montana, but you walk around like you have this town in the palm of your hand. I mean, I watched you win Homecoming Queen. And there may be people who don’t like you here, but they’ll never say it because you’re almost, like, too
high up on the hierarchy to be torn down. Like you’re socially untouchable. And I know you worked hard to get that way. But I also know that everything isn’t as okay as you like to pretend it is.”

She sat quietly as I spoke, and didn’t make any moves to interrupt me. So I kept going.

“I think you let other people dictate who you are. I think you’re the innocent good girl around your dad, the sweetheart church girl who reads cheesy romance novels around your mom, a total whore around your douchebag boyfriend because you know that’s what he wants, and a shallow boy-crazy ditz around your cheerleader friends. At first I wasn’t even sure if
you
knew who you really were.” I paused, watching her clench and unclench her jaw as she stared at me.

“But I’d like to think that maybe you feel like you can be honest with me? Or at least more honest than you can be with anyone else. I mean,
I’m
so fucked up that I’m in no place to judge your whole multiple-personality game anyway.”

There was a long silence, and I watched Cammie as she sat back and chewed on her lip. Her hands fidgeted with a clump of her comforter for a moment, and then she released it and looked to me.

“I thought
I
was supposed to be the future therapist.” She cracked a small smile, and, relieved, I returned the gesture.

“You don’t have to be all of that, Cammie. There are people who will like you for being who you are instead of who they want you to be. You should live your life the way you want. Go to art school.”

She shook her head, shooting me a knowing look. “I can’t.”

“Not true. You can do anything you want to.”

“You don’t really believe that.”

“Sure I do. You’re smart. Pretty. Clearly you’re eerily socially aware. You get good grades. If you just get over this thing about being who everyone wants you to be and actually start being yourself for a change, you can do whatever you want. Just stop caring so much about what everyone thinks of you.”

She shook her head again. “I can’t do that. What everyone thinks of me matters way too much here. And people would hate me if I were totally myself.”

“That’s not true,” I immediately cut in.

“Oh, yeah?” She arched an eyebrow. “How do you know?”

“Because I’m the closest thing you’ve got to someone who knows the real you, and I don’t hate you. I’ll take the Cammie who likes drawing, hates her friends and wants to live in New York over popular cheerleader romance-novel-loving Cammie any day.”

She laughed. “You would.”

I smiled over at her as her laughter died down, and the mood abruptly became somber. We sat in silence together for a minute or so, and I laid down on my bed, folding my arms behind my head and staring up at her ceiling.

“Sucks, doesn’t it?” I said at last. “To not feel at home where you grew up? I used to have these elaborate fantasies about escaping Los Angeles one day. This wasn’t exactly where I imagined I’d end up, though.”

Cammie didn’t respond at first, but when she did, I had to hide a grin.

“Yeah. But I’m glad you’re here.”

Chapter Fourteen

“Look.”

Cammie’s arm stretched up overhead between us, and she pointed to a cluster of stars off to our left. I followed her finger.

“What?”

She chuckled. “Looks like a dick.”

“Nice.”

I rolled over onto my side to watch her as she grinned up at the stars. We were in the clearing ten minutes from her house, and Aerosmith was tied up to a tree just a few feet away. We’d brought a blanket to lay beneath us. It was one in the morning on a Friday night, and the rest of the Marshalls were asleep. I guess that meant that technically we’d snuck out. We’d been doing that often lately. Things had changed a lot over the course of the past few weeks.

With Maddie refusing to talk to me and my time with Fiona and Nate limited to school hours after Cammie and I’d been busted for drinking, Cammie was kind of the only friend I actually got to spend time with now. But part of me was okay with that. The more time we spent together, the more I liked her.
Really
liked her.

I swallowed hard as I watched her, then forced myself to close my eyes. The Sunday after I’d dumped soda on Trevor came to mind. He hadn’t been at church that day, and no questions had been asked about it.

But then he hadn’t been there the next week. Or the next. Or the one after that. And soon enough, Cammie had started to wonder why. So I told her. When I was finished with my story, she’d hugged me so tightly I’d ached on the inside. Right around the chest area, actually. Things hadn’t really been the same since.

I opened my eyes to find that she’d turned her head and was looking back at me. “Tired?” she asked, smirking.

“Yeah,” I mumbled, not quite looking her in the eyes. “Farm work tomorrow. Gross.”

“You should be used to it by now,” she pointed out.

“I’ll never get used to shoveling horse shit.”

She laughed. “
One
time! You big baby, you just stand around and watch me do it. Don’t complain.”

“I’m not,” I whispered, letting my eyes flutter shut again.

“I have a date with Peter tomorrow night,” she told me abruptly. “Will you help me get ready?”

“Sure,” I agreed. There was a long silence.

“So… remember how you asked me about cheating on him?” Cammie asked.

I opened my eyes again, wondering why she’d bring that up now. It was long forgotten. I wanted to know more about her, but I wasn’t going to pry anymore.

“Yeah. What about it?”

She took a deep breath. “Ironically, I think he might be the one cheating on me now. With Tiffany.”

I propped myself up on an elbow, curious. “What makes you say that?”

“I don’t know. I guess they’ve been acting weird around each other lately. Maybe after all this time he still wants to get even.”

“He’s supposed to love you, you know.”

She shot me look. “Yeah, right.”

“I mean, do you care if they did hook up?”

“I haven’t decided.”

“It might put a wrench in the whole ‘marry him to make your parents happy’ thing.”

“Yeah.”

I watched her for a moment, studying her. She seemed let down, but not very affected. “Cammie, have you ever really had feelings for someone?” I asked, curious. “And not like Trevor. In the way that it wasn’t about social status or who your friends thought was cute or who they told you you should text back or whatever, but someone you genuinely wanted to be with?”

She arched an eyebrow at me. “Don’t sound so accusatory. You know, I could practically ask you the same thing. Ever had feelings for anyone you didn’t just want to sleep with?”

“I asked first.”

She frowned, and then admitted, “Twice.”

“Who were they?” I asked. She shrugged her shoulders, and I nudged her. “C’mon, Cammie. At least tell me about one.”

She sighed deeply, and then grudgingly replied, “Alright. But I’m keeping it short. It was when I cheated on Peter.” She rolled her eyes. “I was losing interest in him, and I met this guy. We were getting along well and I guess I thought maybe I liked him. We hooked up; it wasn’t what I’d thought it’d be. He moved away a few months later.”

“That hardly counts,” I said. “You changed your mind.”

“Okay. Then… once, I guess.”

“Who?” I tried, but she blushed and shook her head.

“You said one, so I talked about one. That’s all you’re getting. Your turn.”

I considered her question. Did Caitlyn count as someone I had feelings for? I cared about her, sure. I missed her terribly even now; the last time I’d talked to her, I’d stolen Cammie’s cell phone and chewed her out for her bad advice after the whole fallout with Maddie. I felt terrible about it now, which only made me miss her more. But I knew I didn’t want to date her. Maybe she’d just been temporarily filling a void I hadn’t realized I had.

“Never,” I said at last. “Like I’ve said: I’ve never really been the relationship type.”

“Why not?”

“It’s easier to not let anyone get close. I never get burned that way, romantically or otherwise.”

She shook her head at me and let out a light laugh. “You’re such a cliché. Am I going to hurt you, then, now that I know so much about you?”

I rolled my eyes at her and feigned a laugh. “Yeah, definitely.”

She grinned, and her hand brushed against mine as it rose to hit me on the shoulder. “Shut up,” she laughed. My hand burned.

*   *   *

“Can we talk?”

“No.”

The call ended with a click and I sighed deeply, trying to be as quiet as possible as I hung up the Marshalls’ house phone. David was in the shower, Wendy was in bed, Scott was at Jill’s for the night, and Cammie was out on her date with Peter. That meant I had a brief window of opportunity to sneak another call to Caitlyn. She’d been ignoring me for a while now, but tonight, it seemed, was the breakthrough night, because when I called again, she answered with a growl of, “Are you just gonna keep doing this until I talk to you?”

“Yes. I’m still trapped in Hillbilly Hell and you’re gonna ignore me? I know I was a bitch—”

“Understatement.”

“--I
know,
okay? I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry. What else can I say?”

“Maybe: Caitlyn, I am an idiot for trusting your drunken advice and it’s my own fault I lost a chance with a girl by being my usual douchebag self.”

“Fair enough. All true,” I admitted. “I shouldn’t have blamed you. I was just upset.”

“Yeah, well… historically there’s a direct correlation between your bitchiness and the length of time since you’ve had sex,” she mumbled. “Should’ve expected it.”

“How are things going there?” I asked her. I mostly meant with my dad, and she seemed to catch my meaning.

“Well enough. Same as usual. And with you?”

“It’s okay, I guess.”

“Yeah. Things are pretty okay.”

We fell silent for a moment, and I listened to her breathing on the other end of the line. “Cait?” I asked at last, keeping my voice down to a whisper.

“Hmm?” She sounded tired.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah. Shoot.”

“Okay. Do you ever think about what being in love would feel like?” I wished I could ask her what it did feel like, but I knew she’d never been in love before. Neither of us had even come close back in California.

“Yeah, of course. But I’m kind of disturbed that you’re the one asking me this question. What is Marshall doing to you there?”

“It’s not David. I mean… we don’t talk about love. Not much, anyway.” I paused. “If I tell you something can you not be weird?”

“No guarantees,” she yawned.

I sighed. “Well, after that whole thing with us right before I left—”

“Lauren,” she cut me off, sounding much more awake now. “I get that you haven’t seen me in a while, but if you’re about to tell me you’re in love with me, I’m hanging up right now.”

“You’re so full of yourself,” I sighed. “It’s not that bad.”

“
That
bad?”

“Just listen. After we hooked up, I had this feeling. I guess for like half a day I thought maybe it was about you, but maybe…
probably
… I got a glimpse of what it could be like to be with the same person every day, and I guess I didn’t mind it. Maybe I just wasn’t open to the idea before now. Maybe I just had to meet the right person.” I shook my head. “I don’t know; or maybe this trip has me wigging out or something.”

Caitlyn was silent for a moment, and I waited with baited breath. I wasn’t prepared for what came next.

“You wanna daaaate me, you really loooove me,” she sing-songed, and I scoffed at the phone and rolled my eyes.

“Shut up!”

“Lauren has feeeelings…”

“Idiot,” I snapped, glancing over my shoulder toward Wendy and Scott’s room. “Can we have a real conversation for like two seconds here? Jeez, it’s easier to talk to Cammie than it is to talk to you at this point.”

“Ouch,” she replied, stopping at last. “So you’ve officially replaced me.”

“You know that’s not true. She’s just…” I cleared my throat. “She’s a cool girl. That’s all.”

Caitlyn was silent on the other end again. I bit my lip and let out a sigh. Some part of me was already expecting her response, because I wasn’t surprised when it came. “You really like her, huh?”

I swallowed hard, and then shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know.”

I closed my eyes as Caitlyn replied. Her tone was somber now. “I’m sorry, Lauren. I wish I could be there.”

“It’s like there’s this constant ache in my chest and I don’t even know when it started,” I told her. I knew I was about to start rambling, but I couldn’t stop. “From the first week she was like a puzzle I could pass the time trying to figure out, so I started paying attention. And pretty soon I was paying attention because I cared, and we were getting along, and having these conversations about…
everything
. Like me and you, but… it’s different.” I let out a deep breath, but Caitlyn urged me on.

“Keep going, girl. Let it all out. This is the only place you’re gonna get to do it, you know.”

“I know,” I sighed, and chewed on my lip for a moment. “There was this guy who did this really terrible thing to her a few years back. She told me and I was the first person she ever told. I kicked his ass next time I got the chance. I didn’t even think twice about it. And she’s got this boyfriend who – just,
God
, I can’t stand him—”

“Whoa, whoa. Stop there,” Caitlyn cut in. “She still has the boyfriend? Like, as far as you know, she’s
still
straight?”

“Yeah.” I exhaled sharply. “But she’s only dating him to make her mom happy. Another thing she only told me.”

“She’s probably still straight.”

“Yeah,” I repeated lamely. Then I shook my head, as though bringing myself out of a stupor. “Yeah, you’re right. I need to stop this. I’m not getting my heart broken. Jeez, first girl other than you I actually have a heart-to-heart with and I’m talking like this. Forget it; I don’t wanna be in love with anyone.”

“Good luck with that. What are you gonna do? Just tell yourself you don’t care every time you start to feel all fuzzy inside?”

“Exactly.”

“That’s not going to work. My advice would be—”

“Uh uh,” I interrupted. “After last time I’m not taking advice from you. Just let me get myself through this.” I glanced over my shoulder and realized the shower was no longer running. “Look, I have to go. I’ll be in touch.”

“Good luck,” she repeated, amused, and I hung up the phone.

I spent the next couple of hours lying in bed with my music. As I grew drowsier, I tried to pinpoint when I’d changed. I’d wanted so badly to give the Marshalls a hard time here. I’d wanted to be the same person at the end of this trip that I was when I came here. But I knew that was no longer going to be the reality. David – slowly but surely, and much to my own chagrin – had become the father figure I’d never really had, and Cammie, almost from day one, had attached herself directly to the throbbing organ behind my ribcage. I was sick with dread now, aware that I’d be hearing about every second of her date with Peter when she returned.

The movies really didn’t do this feeling justice. Falling for a straight girl was
hell
.

She got back after I’d fallen asleep, I’d later find out. Told David she’d had a good time, removed her makeup and let down her now-messy hair. Took a shower because she didn’t feel very clean anymore, and then changed into sleepwear and fell asleep with a heart aching worse than mine.

*   *   *

Cammie fell ill a week or so later and missed a couple of days of school, which left David and I to ourselves on our early morning drives. On the second day we were alone, he turned the radio down and asked me, “So Collinsville isn’t as bad as you thought it would be, hmm? You’re about halfway done and honestly, you’re doing great.”