Time After Time (19 page)

I wash the dirt off my face and clean up my arm. Without saying a word, I hold my hand out to Sam and he tosses me the rest of the Gatorade. I dump a little more on a clean corner of the napkin, take a big gulp, swish it around in my mouth, and spit out a mouthful of dirt.

“Well at least you crushed your face and not the burgers,” Sam says with a laugh. He reaches into the bag and pulls out his Double-Double, then tosses the bag to me.

I down another Gatorade, Sam takes a big bite of his burger, and neither one of us speaks as we stare out at the view. I take a few bites, but when I start thinking about what might have happened, I feel my stomach tighten up and my appetite disappears.

What if I had fallen to the bottom? I didn’t think about doing it over—it all happened too quickly—but I could have. What if I’d locked in on a time before we started up that rock, closed my eyes, and brought myself back? What would have happened if I’d saved my own life? Could I even
do
that? If I had, Sam would have seen everything.

Out of nowhere, I think about something I once said to Anna. As I was envying her deep roots in Evanston and a normal life she couldn’t wait to leave, I told her that, aside from my parents and my sister, everyone I knew back home was somehow temporary. Now I feel guilty for saying that. I watch Sam mowing his burger and wiping sauce from his face, and I can’t stop picturing how he dropped to the ground and reached over the edge for me.

Sam’s not temporary. He never was. And it occurs to me that, while I can’t tell him my biggest secret, perhaps I shouldn’t keep so many of them from my best friend.

We finish our burgers and I toss my backpack—now much lighter, since it’s filled with nothing but trash—over the edge. I use the top rope to rappel down to the bottom, and Sam follows me.

We pack up and head down the path to the next rock. It turns out to be a lot more technical, and when Sam offers to lead, I accept immediately. We climb two different routes. At dusk, we start the half-hour hike back to the Jeep.

We’re walking single file and almost at the end of the trail. “Sam,” I say to his back.

He lets out a “huh” that’s barely audible.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you.”

He keeps walking and doesn’t turn around.

I take a deep breath. “I wasn’t backpacking in Europe last spring.”

He flips his head around and gives me a quick nod. Then he turns back to the path.

“I was in Illinois.”

“Oh…”

“Living with my grandmother.”

The fact that I can’t see his face makes this easier.

“And while I was there, I sort of…met this girl.”

He stops cold and I almost run into his backpack. He turns around, his eyes wide with surprise. “Why were you staying with your grandmother?”

I stare at him. I wasn’t expecting him to go there and don’t have a great answer for this. “I was just…dealing with some family stuff. It was complicated. I just needed to get away.” It’s not the whole story, but so far, I’m not lying.

His eyebrows knit together. “Coop,” he says. “We all know you were in rehab.” Then he stops cold and stares at me. “Wait, did you meet a girl in
rehab
?”

“In rehab? Why would I be in rehab?” My mom swore she didn’t tell that ridiculous story to anyone outside the school administration. And Sam has never seen me drink or smoke or pop a pill. Even if he’d heard that, how could he actually believe it? How can he just be telling me this now?

“Come on, why else would you take off suddenly in the middle of the school year, not come back for three months, and when you do, tell everyone you were traveling in Europe.” He rolls his eyes. He’s got a point. “Besides, your mom told Cameron’s mom that you were away ‘dealing with some issues.’ What else would we think?”

Great.

I step in front of him and start walking down the trail toward the car. I didn’t want to start some kind of major confrontation about where I was last spring; I just wanted to tell him about Anna. I’m tired. I could have died on that rock today. And now my brain isn’t working fast enough to feed me new lies and help me keep up my cover. All this lying is exhausting, so I decide to give up, play it straight.

“Look,” I say without turning around, “You don’t have to believe me, but I wasn’t in rehab. I was living with my grandmother in Illinois for three months and then I came back. Now I go visit her. And Anna.” It feels good to say her name aloud.

I can hear Sam’s footsteps behind me, but he doesn’t say anything and neither do I. Once we reach the car, we silently load up our packs and get inside. I turn the key in the ignition and crank up the heat, and then I reach for my iPhone, looking for music.

Sam buckles his seat belt. “Is that why you stayed there for the rest of the semester?” he asks.

I don’t look up but I nod.

“Because of Anna.”

I inhale sharply when I hear Sam say her name, and I turn to look at him. “Yeah, because of Anna.”

“Who lives in Illinois.”

“Unfortunately, yeah.”

He gives me this
let’s hear it
gesture with his hand, and as I back out of the lot and turn onto the two-lane road that heads to the bottom of the mountain, the words just start pouring out.

Omitting details about the decade I visit, I tell him everything there is to know about Evanston, Illinois, and what I do when I’m there. I even give him the history, going all the way back to last March, when I first arrived at my grandmother’s house and enrolled at Westlake. A half hour later, he not only knows all about Anna, he knows about Emma and Justin, Maggie, and the Greenes, too. Anna was right. My shoulders are lighter right now than they’ve been in months.

When we reach the bottom of the mountain, Sam points out a diner that serves twenty-four-hour breakfast, and I pull in and park. I’m just about to get out when my phone chirps. I pick it up and read:

Miss you here.


Come next weekend? There’s someone I want you to meet. :)


“You want to get us a table?” I ask Sam. “I’ve got to reply to this message.”

“From Anna?” he says, like he’s enjoying being in the know. If he only knew how impossible that is.

“It’s from Brooke. Give me a sec. I’ll be right in.”

Sam shuts the car door and heads inside. It occurs to me that, as much as I miss Brooke, and as much as I’d love to tell her what happened today, I’m glad I’m not in Boulder right now. I can’t remember the last time I wanted to be exactly where I was.

I type the words:

Miss you too,
but can’t do next weekend (Anna).


A minute later, her reply arrives:

Bummer.


I’m just about to shove my phone in my pocket and join Sam when I have an idea. Anna told me I’d better bring flowers next time, but I can do a hell of a lot better than that. I start typing.

There’s someone I want you to meet too.


Wanna come along?


“God, it’s freezing out there!” Brooke pulls her leg inside and slams the car door shut again. She tightens her jacket around her body and shivers.

“Actually, I was going to ask you to wait in the car. Do you mind?”

“Are you kidding? We just drove three hours, the last of it in an electrical storm, and now it’s, like, twenty degrees out there.” It’s actually closer to ten but I decide not to tell her that. “I am
more
than happy to wait in the car.” Brooke holds out her hand, palm flat. “Keys?”

“What?”

“Keys. Heat. Music.” She points at the ignition. “Keys?”

I hand her the car keys and reach behind me to grab the huge bouquet of flowers I bought on the way here. “I’ll be over there.” I point at the crowd of people gathered in the field surrounded by white pop-up tents. “See the guy in the blue parka? That’s her dad. As soon as you see Anna join us, give me ten minutes and then come over. Got it?”

“Got it.” She turns the key backward in the ignition, cranks the heat up to ninety, and starts spinning the radio dial, looking for a station. She stops in midspin and shoos me away. “Go. I’m fine.”

As I close the door, I hear the gunshot off in the distance and I follow the signs to the starting line. Anna’s dad is still huddled up with the other parents, each of them clutching a matching Styrofoam coffee cup in one hand and checking a stopwatch in the other.

I stand in the empty space next to him. “Hi, Mr. Greene,” I say quietly, and he turns to face me. I keep the flowers low at my side, but visible.

He studies my face and says, “You’re here.” Then he looks back at the course and takes a big sip of his coffee.

I shift in place. “Yes, sir. I’m here.”

“Anna told me you would be, but I didn’t believe her.” He looks down at the flowers and brings his cup to his mouth again, tips his head back, and drains it.

“I wanted to tell you personally how sorry I was about homecoming. I would have been there if there was any way, but…I…” I trail off because I can’t find any words that wouldn’t be lies.

He stares at me. “Why didn’t you call?”

I shift nervously. I’m searching for a way to explain this and still tell the truth, but I’m coming up blank.

“Did you know that she stood there for an hour, in that dress, waiting for you? And you didn’t even
call
. How could you do that to her?” He’s not yelling, but I almost wish he would. That would be easier to take than his calm demeanor and the way his voice is dripping with disgust and disappointment. It’s almost too much to take. It’s almost enough for me to tell him everything, all my secrets, right now, so he can understand why I keep disappearing on his daughter when that’s the last thing in the world I want to do.

“I can’t possibly explain how sorry I am. I know I…let her down.” He must hear the genuine remorse in my voice, because his eyes soften, but only for a second or two. He walks away without saying anything else, and I think that’s the end of it. But then he drops his empty cup in a trash can and heads back toward me.

The hard stare has returned. “My problem, Bennett,” he finally says, “is that you
keep
letting her down. And for some reason her mother and I can’t comprehend, she keeps letting you do it.” I feel my face contort. I didn’t think I could feel more horrible than I did after I told Anna she was a secret.

The crowd starts moving into formation, standing on opposite sides of the bright yellow tape and making a path between the edge of the forest and the finish line. Mr. Greene checks his watch and says, “She should be here in a few minutes.”

I think he’s going to follow the other parents, but instead he takes a deep breath and turns to look at me. “Look, I’m not going to pretend to understand this thing between you two. She doesn’t seem to care that you live two thousand miles away from each other, or that she only gets to see you every few weeks, but I do. It was fine when you lived in the same town, but this is ridiculous. Do you really think you can keep this up?”

I grip the flowers a little tighter.

He gestures toward the finish line. “Here they come,” he says, and he walks away from me and squeezes in among the other parents. He’s clapping and yelling in a deep, booming voice, even though there are no runners in sight yet. When Anna comes into view, he takes it to a completely different level. I step in to get a better view but keep a safe distance from him.

Three runners emerge at the same time, Anna in third, but tight on the heels of the girl in second. She passes her easily and then kicks it up a notch. Her feet are spinning so fast they’re a blur, her arms are pumping hard by her sides, and she has this look of determination on her face that I’ve never seen before.

“Go, Annie!” Mr. Greene shouts. “Come on! Punch it! Let’s go!”

I can see her eyes now, fixed on that yellow tape. She’s gaining on the leader, but she’s running out of time to close the gap. She’s right on her heels, and the other runner speeds up again. Anna barely overtakes her at the very end. She breaks through the tape first and throws her arms in the air.

Mr. Greene is still hollering, but he suddenly stops and presses a few buttons on his watch. “Yes!” he yells. Anna’s across the field, doubled over, hands on her knees, until she stands up and starts walking in circles, working hard to catch her breath. She stops next to the girl who almost beat her and reaches out to shake her hand.

Her teammates gather around her, bouncing up and down, blocking her from view. But a few minutes later, she emerges from the pack and I see her looking around, presumably for her dad. He spots her right away, and gives her an enthusiastic wave.

She starts running toward us and I watch him, pacing back and forth, as if it’s all he can do to keep from running over to her and picking her up like she was six and not sixteen.

“Did you see that?” she asks. Her dad holds up his hand and she gives him a high five. “Man, I had to turn it on at the end there!” Her shoes are completely covered in mud, and as she gets closer, I can see that everything from her calves on up is speckled with it too.

“That’s my girl!” I hear her dad say as he pulls her into a tight hug. She pecks him on the cheek and he squeezes her again, even tighter, and that’s when she opens her eyes and sees me standing there. She pulls away from him.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi.” I hold out the flowers and her eyes light up. Then she covers her face with her hands and says, “I was totally kidding about the flowers.”

Mr. Greene clears his throat and Anna looks over at him and nods once, like she’s dismissing him, but he doesn’t budge. “Dad.”

“Fine. I’ll go verify your time,” he says, and he leaves the two of us alone.

“Man, your dad’s pissed at me,” I say as I watch him walk away. My pulse is racing and my hands are still shaking as I hand her the flowers. “I’m afraid these didn’t help much.”

“Thank you anyway. I love them.” She takes the bouquet with one hand and rests the other on my right cheek. “What happened to your face?”

“I scraped it rock climbing.” I cover her hand with mine and kiss her palm. “I brought you something else, too.”

“Oh, yeah?” She looks over my shoulder, like she’s trying to get a glimpse of what’s behind my back. “Where is it?”

“In the car. I was hoping I could drive you back home.” Anna looks confused, so I keep talking. “I’ve been thinking about what you said last time I was here, and you were right. You should know my family. And I want them to know you.” Her forehead crinkles up and she stares at me. “I’m starting with Brooke.”

“Brooke?”

“Yeah. She’s in the car.” I gesture behind me, toward the parking lot. My face breaks into a huge smile, and I expect hers to do the same, but instead she looks horrified.

“In the
car
? I can’t meet Brooke
now
. I’m not…I mean…” Her shirt is drenched in sweat and her cheeks are dotted with mud. She pulls her hair out of the ponytail, brushes it back off her face again, and puts it back exactly the way it was, but then her eyes grow wide as she stares over my shoulder.

“What’s the matter?”

“Hi!” I hear Brooke’s voice behind me. I’d forgotten that I told her to wait ten minutes before she got out of the car. I should have told her to wait there until I got her. I should have given Anna more time to get used to this idea. Surprising her with this suddenly feels selfish.

“Hi.” Anna looks down at her clothes and shakes her head. “Wow…I was kind of hoping to meet you when I was…cleaner.”

Brooke flicks her wrist in the air, like she’s swatting Anna’s comment away. “No worries,” she says. But then she stands there awkwardly, crossing and uncrossing her arms, while she tries to think of something else to say. “I’m so excited about this road trip. I lived in Chicago for a few months, but I never saw the rest of Illinois.”

“There’s a good reason for that,” Anna says. She lets out a nervous laugh and goes back to staring at Brooke like she’s still trying to wrap her head around the fact that she’s standing in front of her.

Then Anna’s dad returns and I introduce the two of them.

Brooke is bouncing in place as she holds out her hand. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Mr. Greene. Bennett’s told me so much about your family,” she says. She’s still shaking his hand, and Anna’s dad looks down, as if he’s wondering if she’s planning to let it go anytime soon.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he says, stealing a quick glance at me. “We’ve heard a lot about you, too. I’m glad to see you in such good health.” Brooke’s whole face contorts and she starts to say something, but then she looks over at me and I stare back at her with this
Just go with it
look.

She nods and says, “Thanks,” and drops his hand. When he looks away, Brooke shoots me a glare.

“There’s a local reporter interviewing the team,” Anna’s dad says to her. He points off in the distance to a white tent with a sign that bears the Illinois High School Association logo. I recognize her coach and a few of her teammates. “You should probably join them.” His eyes dart in my direction and then back at Anna. Everything, from the expression on his face to the way his arms are crossed, makes it clear that he doesn’t want me here.

“I’ll be right back,” she says to us, and then to her dad, “I’m going to ride back with them, okay? I’ll just go back to the hotel with you so I can shower first.”

“What about the store?” He’s talking to Anna, but he’s staring at me, red-faced and expressionless. I can practically see his blood boiling. He finally looks away and I take a deep breath. “I only need you for an hour,” he says to her. “I can’t close in the middle of the day.”

Then she and her dad exchange a meaningful look, and I have a feeling I’ve been a subject of a number of tense discussions in the Greene house over the last few weeks. After a few more uncomfortable seconds, he looks back at me, his arms still crossed, his forehead still tight. “She needs to be at the bookstore by three o’clock.”

“She will be,” I say.

He returns his attention to Anna, pointing at the flowers in her hand. “Do you want me to bring those back with me and get them in water?” His face relaxes and she gives him a grateful smile as she hands them to him.

When they head off to the tent for her interview, Brooke punches me hard in the arm.

“Ow.” I grimace. “What was that for?”

“Nothing. Just proving that I’m in good health.”

I laugh and rub my arm where she hit me. “Yeah, I’d probably better fill you in on that.”

Brooke and I wait out in the car in front of the hotel, and we finally see Anna walk through the double doors. She climbs into the open passenger seat. Her hair is still damp and she smells likes soap.

“All the places we could go in the world, and you want to drive three hours from Peoria to Evanston.”

“It’ll be fun.”

“Fun?”

“Yes, fun. In fact, Brooke and I have designed a trip that will have all three of us in completely new territory for the next three hours. We’re taking the scenic route.”

“There’s nothing scenic between here and Lake Michigan. Trust me.”

“Now, that’s not true. We’re going to pass eighteen lakes in the next hour.”