Джей Эшер - The Future of Us

Dad’s voice is tight. “That’s not what I said.”

Mom lifts a hand to her chest. “Were you?”

I stand up and pull my backpack over my shoulder. “No, we weren’t having sex. And I’m only telling you that so you don’t have a heart attack. But you’re assuming an awful lot just because I was a few minutes late to school.”

“David was never late to school,” Dad says.

“And yet,” I say, my voice rising, “he chose to go to college over two thousand miles from Lake Forest!”

Mom and Dad turn to each other. There’s nothing left to say, so I grab my skateboard and leave.

THE MAN IN A WHITE PAPER HAT passes me a sugar cone with two scoops of rocky road. Holding the ice cream in one hand, I drop a quarter in the tip jar and put the rest of the change in my pocket. I carry my board outside and sit on a wooden bench, working my way around the edges of the cone.

I’m dreading seeing Mom and Dad later. Even though they brought David’s name into the discussion, I didn’t need to imply that he moved to Seattle to get away from them. I don’t even know if that’s true.

Across the four-lane road, there’s a small shopping center with a comic book store, a hair salon, and a record shop. I watch a white convertible pull into the parking lot.

That’s Sydney’s car! She looks at herself in the rearview mirror and tugs her hair into a ponytail as the top electronically closes around her.

In one of my pockets is Sydney’s phone number written across a torn piece of paper. Her cell phone is probably in her car right now. In my other pocket are enough coins to make a call. And beside this bench is a pay phone.

No, this is ridiculous.

I wipe my lips with the back of my hand. If I call Sydney and tell her I can see her, she’ll think I’m a stalker. Besides, if Emma’s right and Sydney is playing hard to get, then she won’t answer her phone. She’ll wait to hear whatever message I leave, but I have no idea what I’d say.

I watch Sydney walk past the hair salon and open the door of the comic book store. She’s into comics? Nice!

She gave me her cell number because she wants me to call, but what if this is too much too soon? Calling her right now could ruin everything. If we’re meant to be together, it needs to happen naturally. I step onto my board and skate away, licking my ice cream to distract myself.

Or maybe I’m just being chicken.

At the first corner, I bend my knees and take a right.

If I was heading home, I would’ve gone straight.

“I DON’T UNDERSTAND why you’re forcing me to eat ice cream,” Kellan says, staring at the menu above the concession stand at the lake. “I’m craving a slushie.”

“Because I’m the one with the money.” I lift my sunglasses so I can read the flavors. “Besides, ice cream is healthier.”

“Healthier how ?”

“It’s high in calcium,” I say. When my stepmom was pregnant, she talked about needing a lot of calcium.

“What’ll it be, girls?” asks the woman behind the counter.

“I’ll have strawberry,” I say, grabbing a handful of napkins, “with rainbow sprinkles.”

Kellan turns to me. “Pretty please, slushie?”

I shake my head.

“Fine,” she says. “Then cookie dough.”

While the woman leans into the ice cream tubs, Kellan says, “I don’t get why everyone’s so concerned about my eating habits. First Tyson, now you.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Since when are you and Tyson on good enough terms to discuss how you eat?”

Kellan waves off my question. “We’ve always been on good terms.”

“Do I have to remind you how much he irritates you? Or about those two weeks you missed school?”

Kellan reaches for her cookie dough cone. “Did you know love and hate share the same nervous circuits in the brain?”

“So now you love him again?”

“I didn’t say that. I was just stating a fact.”

We walk across the sand, licking our ice creams.

“I feel like you’re keeping things from me,” I say.

“Like what?” Kellan asks.

I step around some little boys building a sand castle. I watch them fill the moat with a small bucket of lake water and I wonder if Kevin Storm and I will still have two sons tonight.

“You wouldn’t tell me why you went to the doctor today.”

“I know,” Kellan says. “It’s just that I feel weird talking about it.”

“The only reason I’m asking is because I care about you.”

Kellan licks a drip off her cone. “Okay, I went back to that therapist I saw after Tyson and I broke up. I hadn’t seen her in a few months, so it was just a check-in.”

“Well, I’m really glad you went,” I say. “Thanks for telling me that.”

We sit on our towels and finish our ice creams in silence. With the puzzle of her doctor visit solved, there’s something else we need to discuss. My mind races to fabricate a believable story.

“I was in the school nurse’s office today,” I say, “and you’ll never believe what I saw.”

“Why did you go to the nurse?” Kellan asks.

“I cut myself on a music stand in band. It’s fine. Anyway, this girl came in asking for a condom. Did you know the school nurse gives out free condoms?”

“You and I had health together,” Kellan says. “I was there for the free condom talk.”

“Oh, right.”

“So who was it?” she asks.

“Who was what?”

“The girl asking for the condom.”

“Some senior. I don’t know her name.”

“Not that I need a condom,” Kellan says, “but I definitely wouldn’t get one from school. Who wants the nurse knowing all your business?”

I see my chance and I move in quickly. “How would you get a condom if you needed one?”

She considers my question, but doesn’t give an answer. I can tell by the way she’s shifting on her towel that I’m on the verge of losing her.

“Want to hear a secret?” I ask. “But you can’t tell anyone.”

Kellan crosses her heart.

“Last summer, when Josh’s brother came home to visit, Josh told me he stole a condom from David’s toiletries bag. He stashed it in his wallet, in case he ever needs it.”

Kellan cracks up. “Why do guys carry ratty old condoms in their wallets? When they finally get around to using them, they’re either expired or worn out.”

I instantly feel guilty for selling Josh out, even though he’s been infuriating me today. It was for a good cause, putting the idea in Kellan’s mind of always carrying a condom, but it’s not the kind of thing Josh would want getting spread around.

KELLAN’S IN THE WATER, and I’m sitting on my towel, my sunglasses hiding my eyes. A half mile across Crown Lake is a huge house with a wraparound porch, a beautifully manicured lawn, and a dock with two kayaks.

I recognize that house from the night I saw Josh’s Facebook page. Someday, he’ll live there with Sydney. They’ll go boating and have barbeques. His children will grow up rich and privileged and Josh will eventually get sucked into that world, too.

“Hey there,” Kellan says. She shakes the sand off her towel and then wraps it around her waist.

I pull my legs to my chest and point across the lake. “Do you know who lives in that house?”

“The one with the big porch?” she asks, shielding her eyes with her hand. “I don’t think anyone from school.”

“Do you think Sydney’s family could afford a house like that?”

“Sydney Mills?” Kellan sits next to me and unscrews the cap of her Sprite. “Why is everyone talking about her recently?”

I shake my head. “I think Josh might be interested in her.”