Lisa Schroeder - The Bridge from You to Me

When we get to her room, she plops down on her bed. Her suitcase is on the floor, full of clothes, but not zipped up yet.

“So what’d your mom say?” I ask.

“She said that she wants to be a family again. She wants to save up our money so we can move back to Seattle, and we’re going to fight to get shared custody of my little brother.”

“You want to go, then?”

“Of course.”

“Did she apologize? Say she missed you? Anything?”

“Yeah. She apologized. In a general sort of way. I mean, I could tell she feels bad.”

“Did she ask you how you’ve been?”

“You don’t understand, Colby.” She stands up and goes to her dresser, where she picks up a hair band and throws it in her suitcase. “She’s not really like that. And don’t make her out to be the bad guy in all of this. It’s not entirely her fault. I made mistakes too. It’s just a messed-up situation, and the important thing is that she wants to try and make it right.”

I get up and go over to her. “But, Lauren —”

She doesn’t let me finish. “Can I see what you brought me? We don’t have all day, you know.” She smiles, trying to lighten the mood. “Don’t you have to catch a bus soon?”

I look at the clock on her nightstand and realize she’s right. I texted Coach and told him I forgot something and had to run home, so I’d have to miss the spirit ralley after lunch. Pretty sure he’ll forgive me for that. Missing the team bus, however, would not make him happy.

I hand her the gift bag. She takes it and sits down on her bed again. One by one, she pulls the items out.

A bottle of blue nail polish.

A small picture of a vase of daisies.

Stickers of the sun and hot air balloons.

A paint-by-number set of three parrots.

A cupcake wrapped in cellophane.

And finally, a bag of Bugles.

“Oh, Colby,” she whispers, tears in her eyes. “My favorite things.”

“All except the bake sale.”

She holds up the cupcake. “But something you’d find at a bake sale, yes?”

I nod. “Right.”

She stands up and hugs me. “Thank you so much.”

“Can you come to the game tonight?” I ask when we pull away. “Before your flight?”

She straightens the strings of my hoodie, avoiding my eyes. “I told them they could drop me off at the airport and then go to the game. That way, they don’t have to risk missing any of it. I’ll be there really early, but that’s okay.” She points at the bookcase full of books. “I have plenty of books to choose from.”

“Lauren, you don’t have to go, you know.”

She takes my hand. “Yes, I do. I know you probably don’t understand, but . . .”

“Is it really what you want?” I ask. “Just tell me that.”

She kisses me. Softly. Slowly. It tastes like sadness. I wonder if all good-bye kisses taste that way.

Then she answers my question in an odd way. “Going to live with my family is what I have to do. What I want doesn’t matter.”

“Lauren, don’t you see? What you want matters most of all. You don’t have to.”

She changes the subject. “I’m sorry to break our date tomorrow night.”

I sigh. “Well, I did it to you first. I guess we’re even now.”

She’s still holding my hand as she leads me to the door. “Thank you for the gifts. I’ll paint the birds and send them to you. You can hang it in your locker.” She tries to lighten the mood. “All the guys will be so jealous.”

I reach out and hug her again. “I don’t want to go,” I whisper into her hair.

She pulls away. “You have a game to play, Number Twenty. The whole town is counting on you.”

“Benny’s flying in,” I tell her. “For the game.”

“Oh my gosh, that’s awesome!” she says. “See, you won’t miss me tomorrow night. You two will be up at Murphy’s Hill. Just like old times.”

I stare at her. “Lauren. I’m going to miss you. More than you know.”

She bites her lip. Looks at the floor for a moment before she finally says, “You should really go.”

“Stay in touch?” I ask.

She nods. “Absolutely.”

“You promise?”

She holds up her hand, like she’s swearing. “I promise.”

It makes me think of my promise to Benny. To be happy. Right now, that seems completely and totally impossible.