Tasha and I had closed up the apartment the day before with promises from Agnes and her nephew to keep an eye on it while I was away.
“God, I can’t believe you’ll be gone the whole summer,” Tasha’d said as we sat on the stoop out front. “What am I going to do without you? Who will be my coffee bud? Or go swimsuit shopping with me? You’re the only one I can trust!”
“Yeah. It stinks,” I’d said.
And it did. But after I’d gotten over the initial shock, I realized how hard the past weeks in Ashville had really been. I missed Nan so much. Reminders of her tugged at me endlessly, places we’d gone or talked about, things we’d done together.
It wasn’t just that, though. It was the mark. I couldn’t handle seeing it on someone else I knew. What if it were Juan at the newsstand or Agnes or Tasha or Jack Petroski? If I stayed, someday it could be. It was bad enough knowing it was someone’s time, but I wasn’t ready to face the added burden of knowing their history and dreams, the family they’d be leaving behind to feel the way I felt now.
I’d started to think it wouldn’t be so bad to be with strangers for a little while.
“And what about play-offs, Cassie?” Tasha threw up her arms melodramatically. “You’re going to miss your man’s starring role!”
“You are such a nerd,” I’d told her, smiling, though I’d had to force it a little, which was truly stupid because it wasn’t like, if I’d stayed in Ashville, I’d be likely to see Jack much anyway. Or that it would amount to anything more than “Hi, howya doin’, how’s your summer?”
I hadn’t gotten to say good-bye to him. I’d tried, but every time I saw him the past week, he’d been with Val or his teammates and I felt weird calling him away to tell him I was leaving.
I’d almost caught him two days ago as he’d run past me down the school steps. I called his name, amazed to see him finally alone.
He turned, giving me a big smile. “Hey, Cass! We’re taking off for the first game. Wish me luck!”
“Good luck,” I said, his back already turned as he jogged toward the waiting bus.
I decided I wasn’t going to mope about Jack, who probably wouldn’t even realize I was gone, much less care. And, though I knew I’d miss Tasha, I’d started to feel a tickle of excitement at the thought of a few months in Bering. A fresh start.
Now that the day was here, though, mostly I just felt sick to my stomach.
Andrea Soto was meeting me at the airport. “I’m average height, dark hair. I’ll be carrying a big orange bag,” she’d said in our brief phone conversation. “My work tote. It goes with me everywhere, probably the best thing to pick me out with.”
I hadn’t been sure what to expect when Mr. Koumaras told me she’d be calling. Would it be a teary reunion? Condolences about Nan? Would she talk about her brother, my father?
It turned out to be none of these, purely logistical: where we would meet, her phone number, address. Just the facts, ma’am. That was fine, I thought, after we’d hung up. The rest of that stuff would be better in person anyway.
At a patch of turbulence, my seatmate inhaled sharply and practically threw her magazine to the floor. “Stupid, I know,” she said through clenched teeth. “Fear isn’t always rational.”
I liked that.
When the bumping and bouncing stopped, she turned to me. “Sorry to be such a nutcase.”
“Not a problem.”
“I’m Petra,” she said. “I’d offer to shake, but my hands are sweaty.”
I smiled. She had black hair, dyed and clipped in a sharp bob around an elfin face. She wore heavy eyeliner, heavier boots, and was reading something with lots of technical-looking charts that I couldn’t decipher without being snoopy. She reminded me of Tasha somehow, though they looked nothing alike. “Interesting name,” I said.
“Thanks.” She waited before prompting, “And you are …?”
“Sorry. Cassandra. People call me Cassie, Cass, take your pick.” I had known it was my turn, but held back. I don’t know why, really. What could be the harm in telling her my name? Except that it meant I knew someone, someone knew me. Connection. One thing I was hoping to leave behind.
“Beware of Greeks bearing gifts,” Petra said, smirking.
“That’s right.” I was surprised. Despite the goth look, she was sharp. Not many people knew the history behind my name.
“You live in Wichita?” she asked.
“No. I’ll be staying there for a few months. Not Wichita exactly,” I corrected, “but a town called Bering.”
She nodded. “I’ve been there. Nice place. I live in Ridgevale.” Seeing my blank look, she added, “It’s about midway between Wichita and Bering.” She waited for a reaction, but having never been west of Pittsburgh, I had none. “Do you have family there?”
“Uh-huh. My aunt.” It felt weird to say it, even though I’d been tossing it around in my head since Mr. Koumaras had told me about her.
“Oh, yeah? What’s she do in Bering?”
“I don’t know.”
Petra looked at me strangely. “How old is she?”
I shrugged. “Not sure. Maybe forty? Fifty?” Though she could just as easily be ten years older or younger. I hadn’t thought to ask.
She frowned. “So … you’re going to live with your aunt, but you don’t know how old she is or what she does?”
“I’ve never met her.”
She raised her eyebrows. “How come? Was she locked up somewhere? Or is it a family feud?”
I don’t know why I’d been worried about being snoopy. Clearly this girl wasn’t, but she was so openly curious, it was disarming.
“No,” I answered. “I don’t think so, at least. I just found out about her. I didn’t know I had an aunt.”
“Wow. So, it’s like a long-lost relative thing? Like on soap operas?”
I smiled a little. “Yeah. I guess it kind of is.”
“Cool,” she said, her dark eyes gleaming. “What do you know about her?”
“Well …” I reached into a pocket to pull out a wrinkled paper. “I’ve got her address.”
Petra looked at it. “Great neighborhood. About as hip as Bering gets.”
That little spark of excitement was back. But then Petra added, “Which isn’t very, by the way.”