And I'd wasted five pages recording the event ad nauseam in my diary.
"He'll be back in town any minute,” Korbie said. "It sucks, right? I mean, you're over him, right?"
"So over him,” I said, hoping I sounded blasé.
"I don't want it to be awkward, you know?"
"please. I haven't thought about your brother in ages." Then I blurted, "What if I keep an eye on you and Bear? Tell your parents we don't need Calvin."The truth was, I wasn't ready to see Calvin. Maybe I could get out of the trip. Fake an illness. But it was my trip. I had worked hard for this. I wasn't going to let Calvin ruin it. He'd ruined too many things already.
"They won't go for it,” Korbie said. "He's meeting us at Idlewilde tonight."
"Tonight? What about his gear? He won't have time to pack,” I pointed out. "We've been packing for days."
"This is Calvin we're talking about. He's, like, half mountain man. Hold up-Bear is on the other line. I'll call you right back."
I hung up and sprawled in the grass. Breathe in, breathe out. Just when I'd finally moved on, Calvin was back in my life, dragging me into the ring for round two. I could have laughed at the irony of it. He always did have to have the final say, I thought cynically.
Of course he didn't need time to prepare-he'd practically grown up hiking around Idlewilde. His gear was probably in his closet, ready at a moment's notice.
I rewound my memory several months, to autumn. Calvin was five weeks into his freshman year at Stanford when he dumped me. Over the phone. On a night when I really needed him to be there for me. I didn't even want to think about it-it hurt too much to remember how that night had played out. How it had ended.
Afterward, taking pity on me, Korbie had uncharacteristically agreed to let me plan our senior spring break, hoping it would cheer me up. Our two other closest friends, Rachel and Emilie, were going to Hawaii for spring break. Korbie and I had talked about spending our break with them on the beaches of Oahu, but I must have been a glutton for punishment, because I said adios to Hawaii and announced that we were backpacking the Tetons instead. If Korbie knew why I'd chosen the Tetons, she had the sensitivity not to bring it up.
I knew Calvin's spring break would overlap ours, just like I knew how much he loved hiking and camping in the Tetons. I hoped that when he heard about our trip, he'd invite himself along. I desperately wanted time with him, and to make him see me differently and regret being stupid enough to give me up.
But after months of not hearing from him, I'd finally gotten it. He wasn't interested in the trip, because he wasn't interested in me. He didn't want to get back together. I let go of any hope of us and hardened my heart. I was done with Calvin. Now this trip was about me.
I closed my mind to the memory and tried to think through my next steps. Calvin was coming home. After eight months, I was going to see him, and he was going to see me. What would I say? Would it be awkward?
Of course it would be awkward.
I was ashamed that my next thought was so incredibly vain: I wondered if I'd gained any weight since he'd last seen me. I didn't think so. If anything, the running and weight lifting I'd done to prepare for our backpacking expedition had sculpted my legs. I tried to cling to the idea of sexy legs, but it wasn't making me feel any better. Pretty much, I felt like throwing up. I couldn't see Calvin now. I'd thought I'd moved on, but all the pain was surging back, swelling in my chest.
I forced a few more deep breaths, composing myself, and listened to the Wrangler's radio playing in the background. Not a song, but the weather report.
"• • • two storm systems set to hit southeastern Idaho• By tonight, the chance of rain will rise to ninety percent, with thunderstorms and strong winds possible•"
I perched my sunglasses on top of my head and squinted at the blue sky stretching from one horizon to the other. Not a wisp of cloud. Just the same, if rain was coming, I wanted to be on the road before it hit. Good thing we were leaving Idaho and driving ahead of the storm, into Wyoming.
"Daddy!" I hollered, since the house windows were open.
A moment later he came to the front door. I craned my neck to look at him and put on my best little girl pout. "I need money for gas, Daddy."
"What happened to your allowance?"
"I had to buy stuff for the trip,” I explained.
"Hasn't anyone told you money doesn't grow on trees?" he teased, observing me with a patronizing shake of his head.
I jumped up and kissed his cheek. "I really need gas money."
"Of course you do." He opened his wallet with the softest resigned sigh. He gave me four faded, rumpled twenties. "Don't let the gas tank drop below a quarter full, you hear? Up in the mountains, gas stations start to thin. Nothing worse than getting stranded."
I pocketed the money and smiled angelically. "Better sleep with your cell phone and a tow rope under your pillow, just in case."
"Britt-"
"Only kidding, Daddy,” I said, giggling. "I won't get stranded." I swung into the Wrangler. I'd dropped the top, and the sun had done a fine job of warming my seat. Sitting taller, I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror. By the end of summer, my hair would be as pale as butter. And I'd have added ten new freckles to the ranks. I'd inherited German genes from my father's side. Swedish from my mother's. Chance of sunburn? One hundred percent. Lifting a straw hat off the passenger seat, I squashed it on my head. But dang it all, I was barefoot.
Perfect attire for 7-Eleven.
Ten minutes later, I was in the store, filling a cup with Blue Raspberry Slurpee. I drank some off the top and refilled it. Willie Hennessey, who was working the register, gave me the evil eye.
"Good grief,” he said. "Help yourself, why don't you?"
"Since you offered,” I said cheerfully, and stuck the straw between my lips once more before refilling.
"I'm supposed to keep law and order in here."
"Two little sips, Willie. Nobody's going bankrupt over two sips. When did you become such a crank?"
"Since you started pilfering Slurpee and pretending you can't operate the gas pump so I have to come out and fill your tank for you. Every time you pull in, I want to kick myself."
I wrinkled my nose. "I don't want my hands smelling like gas. And you are particularly good at pumping gas, Willie,” I added with a flattering smile.
"Practice makes perfect,” he muttered.
I padded barefoot through the aisles looking for Twizzlers and Cheez-Its, thinking that if Willie didn't like pumping my gas he really should get another job, when the front door chimed. I didn't even hear footsteps before a pair of warm, calloused hands slipped over my eyes from behind.