Мэг Кэбот - Pants on Fire

I decided against telling him about Phase Two of my plan…the convent and/or all-women’s college. Better to take it one day at a time at this point.

“That sounds like an excellent plan to me,” Tommy said.

My shoulders slumped a little. I don’t know why I was so disappointed in his response. I guess I hadn’t exactly thought he’d try to talk me out of it.

But I thought he’d at least have said something like,Too bad. I was about to ask you out.

But this is just an example of how much I really do need to take a vacation from boys.

“I’ll let you in on a secret, if it’ll cheer you up a little,” Tommy went on. “It’s about why I’m back in Eastport. Well, part of the reason. But it’s got to stay a secret till tomorrow morning. So you have to promise not to tell.”

“Okay,” I said, instantly curious.

He reached down and pulled up a backpack that had been sitting in the gravel near my bike. Unzipping it, he took out a newspaper. I recognized the standard for theGazette. It was the Sunday — tomorrow’s — edition.

“Turn to the sports section,” Tommy said.

I did. And was shocked by what I saw.

“That’s you!” I cried.

Because it was. There was a new column along the left-hand side of the page — the high school sports beat. And there, next to a byline that readTOM SULLIVAN, was Tommy’s picture.

“That’swhat you came back for?” I cried. “Because Mr. Gatch offered you the high school sports beat?”

“Well, partly,” Tommy said. “But you can see why I’m not too worried about those guys — what did you call it? Oh, yeah — having any kind of blanket party on me. I don’t think Coach Hayes — or anyone else, for that matter — would take too kindly to the Quahogs beating up the reporter who’s going to be covering their games all year.”

“Tommy,” I breathed, looking down at his photo. He looked totally great in it. Maybe I’d cut it out, and when I was living in the convent, I could look at Tommy’s photo and remember what it was like to be kissed by him. “This…this is really impressive. It really is. Mr. Gatch has never hired anyone as young as you before. I mean, to have their own column.”

“Yeah,” Tommy said. “It was a pretty strong incentive to come back, I’ll admit. My parents weren’t too thrilled about it, but when I explained how good it would look as part of my college applications, they finally agreed to let me give it a try.”

“Well,” I said. I handed the paper back to him reluctantly. “I, um. I guess I must have sounded really stupid, going on about thinking you were here because of…well. Me.”

“Notthat stupid,” Tommy admitted with a smile, as he stuck the paper back into his bag. “Because you were partly right.”

I blinked at him. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, hey, I almost forgot,” he said, ignoring my question. “I have something of yours.”

“Of mine? What?”

And he reached into the backpack again, and this time drew out something bulky, wrapped in a brown paper bag.

“What is it?” I asked, taking hold of it curiously. “What—”

But the minute my fingers went around it, I knew.

“Tommy!” I cried, springing up from the bike rack and pressing the thing in the bag to my heart. “No. You didn’t.”

My mouth said the words. But my hands, clutching the camera to me, said something else entirely — they said,Mine. Because it was like they were home.

“You’re right.” Tommy was grinning. “I didn’t. Mr. Gatch did. Well, he and Mr. Bird, really. You know how much they both hate the Quahogs. Oh, and here.” Tommy reached into his backpack and pulled out an envelope, which he slipped into my hands. “Your money back. So you can give it to your parents, to put toward the sandblasting.”

I just shook my head in wonder. The tears had come back.

But they were a different kind of tears from before.

“Tommy,” I whispered.“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. And don’t think you’re getting that camera for free, either. Mr. G expects you to work it off taking photos for the paper this year. I was hoping you’d cover the games with me. What do you say?”

I shook my head some more. “Tommy…why? I mean…why are you being so nice to me? After what I did?”

He shrugged, getting up from the bike rack. “Are you kidding?I ’m the one who owesyou. If it weren’t for me, you’d have placed in that pageant last night. Jenna Hicks only placed because you dropped out.”

Which was when I noticed something, despite my tears. Or rather, I noticed something missing. From the Gull ’n Gulp parking lot.

“Tommy,” I said, blinking back the tears. “Where’s your Jeep?”

“Oh,” he said. He had bent over to unlock a chain around a mountain bike parked beside mine. “Parked back at my grandparents’ place. I figure, you know, if we’re going to be hanging out, I’m better off with pedal power, if I’m going to keep up with you.”

I just looked at him. When he’d successfully removed the chain, he straightened up and noticed my stare.

“What?” he asked, looking puzzled. “You wouldn’t get in my car, anyway.”

“Tommy.”

My heart was beating slowly and steadily beneath the Leica I was pressing to it. It wasn’t fluttering. It wasn’t hammering. It was just thumping.Ka-thump. Ka-thump.

“What you were saying before, about why you came back.” I licked my lips, which had gone dry as the gravel beneath my feet. “You said I was partly right. That it was because of me.”

“Oh,” Tommy said, his gaze on mine. “That.”

I didn’t look down this time. I looked right into those amber-gold-green eyes of his.

“Yes,” I said.Ka-thump. Ka-thump. Overhead, a seagull screamed. “That.”

“Well, I’ll admit,” Tommy said finally. “I was curious.”

Ka-thump.“About what?”

“About whether or not I was still in love with you,” Tommy said.

KA-THUMP.

“You were in love with me?” I echoed. “You mean…in the eighth grade?”

“You sound shocked to hear it,” Tommy said wryly. “I guess I hid it pretty well.”

“Superwell,” I said.Ka-thump. And, in spite of all my best intentions, I found myself taking a step toward him. “I had no idea.”

“Well, you were pretty hot, even then,” he pointed out. “I don’t know if it was the braces or the frizzy hair that did it.”

KA-THUMP.

“Was that what the peanut butter cookies were all about?” I asked, taking another step toward him.

“Absolutely,” Tommy said. “My plan was to lure you into my romantic clutches with Scholastic Reading Counts quizzes and peanut butter cookies. Not very sophisticated, but the best I could come up with at the time. It was eighth grade, after all.”

One last step, and I was standing directly in front of him, so close that I had to tilt my chin up in order to look into his eyes. With his sunglasses on, I couldn’t see what color they were just then. But I was betting bright, ocean green.

“And?” I asked.

He looked down at me, his gaze unreadable, thanks to the Ray-Bans.

“And what?”

“Andare you still in love with me?” I asked.

He grinned. “What do you care? I thought you were taking a vacation from guys.”

“I am,” I assured him. Good-bye, convent. Good-bye, all-women’s college. “From every guy but you.”

Which is when he took his sunglasses off. And I saw that his eyes were bright green, just as I’d suspected they’d be.

“In that case,” he said, “the answer is yes.”

But the truth is, I’d already forgotten what the question was. Because I was too busy kissing him.

Acknowledgments

Many thanks to Beth Ader, Jennifer Brown, Barbara Cabot, Sarah Davies, Michele Jaffe, Laura Langlie, Amanda Maciel, Abigail McAden, and especially Benjamin Egnatz.