The Truth About Letting Go Read online

  “Of course, you do.” He stands up, and I notice he’s not as tall as Jordan. But he’s perfectly filled out. Perfectly.

  “Hey, you guys’ve met!” Mandy bounces up beside Colt and stands looking at him in the same way I probably am. I clear my throat and look down.

  “I was just asking Lady Ashley here about the luau.” He smiles at me again. Why does he keep calling me that? Then I notice Mandy’s face, in particular her glaring eyes.

  “I think Mandy still needs a date.” I say quickly. I don't really want to deal with Mandy mad at me, and I’m not sure I can trust myself with this guy. Not with the way I’ve been lately.

  But I realize that’s the old Ashley way of thinking. I look at Colt again and consider how he would shake up everything. No brakes, no stopping the ride.

  “I don’t believe it,” he says.

  “Well, I was kind of hoping you might be interested.” Mandy blinks up at him. I can tell she’s having a hard time keeping her arms crossed behind her.

  “Why don’t we double?” Colt looks up at me. “Who’s your date?”

  “Oh, no,” I stammer. “That’s okay. I’m just… my date’s just a friend.”

  “You have a date?” Mandy turns to me. “Who?”

  “It’s nobody,” I say, avoiding her stare.

  “Oh my god. Ashley!” She shrieks, and for a moment Adonis is forgotten.

  “He just asked me yesterday,” I hastily explain. “And I… I said okay.”

  “I knew that filming thing was a trick! And I told you not to date him.” Mandy cries. “You are not going to be happy about this later.”

  I look down and press my lids together.

  “What’s going on?” Colt is grinning watching us. I glance up and want to die. I want to be anywhere but here having this conversation.

  “Jordan. This god-awful geek she’s been hanging around with since we got back from break.”

  “He’s not god-awful.” I say quietly. “Jordan’s nice.”

  He’s more than nice, but I don’t feel like defending him here. I don’t feel like defending him at all after yesterday. My anger’s trickling back.

  “You’re going to the luau with a geek?” Colt looks up at me, and I can’t help responding to him. Mandy could’ve warned me at least.

  “I’m taking off,” I say, rising on unsteady legs. “And you can stop talking about it now.”

  “Just wait. I’ll drive you home.” Mandy turns back to Captain America and smiles up at him. “We going together?”

  “Sure.” He smiles at her, and I feel a tweak of something like envy.

  * * *

  The short drive to my house feels like hours with Mandy gloating and singing along at the top of her lungs to a pop song on the radio. At the musical break, she flips her head my way.

  “Well?” She grins. “What did I tell you?”

  “Nothing, actually, and I’m totally pissed at you.” I lean back in the passenger’s seat with my arms crossed.

  “What?” she cries.

  “God, Mandy. You could’ve told me he looked like that.”

  “How do you describe that?” She purrs. “Perfection on two legs?”

  “He looks like…” I can’t even say it out loud. Not with Mandy acting this way.

  “He’s 18.”

  “That’s not what I was going to say.”

  “No, he’s actually 18.” She’s turning onto my street.

  “So? It’s senior year. A lot of kids are turning 18. Amber’s—”

  “He’s 18 turning 19. He was expelled or got held back a year or something. He’s a bad boy.”

  “He said that,” I mumble. “What happened?”

  “Don’t know exactly. Just that’s part of the reason he’s here. Dad talked his parents into moving to Creekside to get him away from the bad influences.”

  “Your dad knows him?” We’re in my driveway, and I start to get out of the car.

  “Yes. Isn’t it fabulous? And I love his name.” I catch the glint in her eye. “For once, the books were right. My dry spell is ending!”

  I chew the inside of my lip thinking about it. His parents might’ve thought they were moving here to get him away from trouble, but from where I’m at, it looks like they moved the trouble to us.

  And that’s it. The answer to why he’s here washes over me. Maybe trouble is exactly what I’m looking for.

  * * *

  After Mandy leaves, I head to the creek to try and sort out my feelings now that Colt’s in the picture.

  As I walk, I think about Jordan, his soft brown hair and blue eyes. His funny quirks, the way he made me laugh, his kisses. My stomach fills with emotion, and I kick the ground hard. I’m not going back there. Jordan is just a friend like I said.

  I think about Colt.

  He’s something else, something completely different from Jordan. It’s like I made this decision to change my life, and the next day he ran up, ready to help me with it. It’s weird that he sort of looks like my dad, but it’s just a strange coincidence. It doesn’t mean anything. Oh, God, what does it mean?

  I freeze on the spot.

  That was not a prayer. It was just an automatic, habitual response to a confusing turn of events in my life. I neither expect nor want some God’s input. Not that I even believe in that anymore, regardless of what Jordan says.

  Just then I hear a familiar huffing and puffing, and I see my absentee friend making her way to her spot on the bank below me.

  “Charlotte,” I smile at first, and then I frown. “Where have you been? You completely ditched me after convincing me to do that whole interview about my dad.”

  “Oh, Ash,” she breathes, steadying her voice. “I couldn’t be around Jordan with you. You’re so… so…”

  “What?” My brows are still pulled together.

  “I just… I mean, I’m already like this.” She waves at her large torso. “I can’t be with you with him and just throw it all into contrast for him.”

  “Hang on.” I shake my head. “You’re saying you ditched me because you like Jordan?”

  “You never listen to me.” Her high voice holds a gentle accusation. “I said I thought he was so cute, remember?”

  “Yeah, but, thinking someone’s cute doesn’t always mean you’re into them.” I think about my own feelings for Jordan.

  That do not exist now that I know his secret. There is no way I’m getting mixed up with someone who’s totally brainwashed, no matter how cute he cleans up or how easy he is to talk to. Or how well he kisses. My jaw gets tight. Who decides to be a pastor at seventeen? That is not what I want. I want to find out more about Colt, the self-proclaimed bad boy.

  “I couldn’t watch him with you,” she says. “Especially since you don’t think of him that way. It would make it all worse.”

  “Oh.” Guilt fills me. I was so happy to see my new friend, and now I have to tell her the truth. “I… he… well, he…”

  “I know. He asked you to the luau.” She’s still smiling, and I search her eyes for any sign of anger or betrayal.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” I stammer, thinking of our kiss. Our kisses. Our almost… which is totally not happening now. “It’s just as friends.”

  “I know.” She sighs and we’re quiet.

  I study the creek. The soothing sound of the water tripping over branches as it rushes past, driven by the slight breeze. It should all be soothing, but I’m unsettled. As much as I don’t want to care, I can’t shake my unexpectedly hot make-out session with Jordan and how it swept away all my sadness, replacing it with glowy warmth—before slamming it all to a stop like a plunge in ice-cold water.

  “Will you go?” I ask.

  “What?” Charlotte frowns. Then she lets out a soft giggle. “To the luau?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Umm, no. Who’d ask me?”

  This time I see it in her eyes. Sadness. We’re quiet, and I attempt to change the subject. Maybe if I show her a bit of
my inner crazy…

  “I met the new guy. Colt.”

  “I don’t even look at guys like that,” she says. “But he is gorgeous, isn’t he?”

  “Does he… remind you of anyone?”

  “Hmm.” She looks off at the water. “I guess that new actor—”

  “No. I mean, anybody we know? Or… knew?”

  I wait for her response, silently holding my breath. I know my dad’s number one fan has to have seen the resemblance. Charlotte looks at me again. Then after a few seconds she seems to understand.

  “You think he looks like your dad?”

  “You don’t?” I exhale relief followed quickly by concern. Maybe I need professional help.

  “Well, maybe before he got sick and all. But your dad was different. He was so good, it shined in his eyes.”

  I think about that. It’s true.

  “I just saw him on the track,” I say. “And it seemed like—”

  “But your dad didn’t look like that in high school,” Charlotte interrupts. “Don’t you remember?”

  “How do you know?”

  “It was in his profile piece, ‘How I went from Fat to Fit’?” She stares at me like I’ve forgotten my own phone number. “Your dad wasn’t an athlete in high school. He had asthma. Remember?”

  I look away and try to think. It seems like Dad used to joke about how I got Mom’s good genes, but I never really paid attention. He was always so fit as long as I could remember. I never tried to find pictures of him at my age.

  “I guess I forgot.”

  “He wasn’t as big as me, but he was never like that.” She lets out a grunty laugh that I consider advising her never to do again. But I let it go.

  “He was such an inspiration,” Charlotte sighs looking off.

  It all makes sense to me now. “That’s why you think… why you said…”

  “If he could do it, I can, too.”

  I watch Charlotte pull her shirt so it doesn’t cling to her rippled midsection. How have I become friends with her? What is it that makes me want to talk to her, hear what she has to say? Why is she so comforting to me, and how can I just tell her these irrational ideas pressing on my mind?

  “When I first saw him, I thought that, well, that he could somehow help me remember my dad better. If I were with him. Is that weird?”

  “Umm, yeah.”

  “I know. But that’s not what I mean. It’s like, if I’m with Colt, I won’t have to miss Dad. I won’t worry about forgetting him.”

  “Just look in the mirror if you don’t want to forget your dad.”

  “It’s not the same. Colt’s a separate person. And they have the same interests, he runs. It was like… I thought he might be an angel or something.”

  Charlotte bursts into a tittering laugh. “From what I’ve heard, that boy is no angel.”

  I nod, looking down, feeling stupid. “I know. And I don’t even believe in that.”

  “But he doesn’t look like your dad to me. He looks like… trouble.”

  There it is. She said it, too. I’m still looking down as my eyelids automatically press together. I know where this is headed, and I know I’m not going to stop it. I’m going to be with Colt. And it’s not going to be angelic or good or anything to do with my dad, and I’m not going to care who gets hurt.

  “I’m sorry about Jordan and me,” I say, to both of us.

  “It’s okay, I guess. I’m proud of him for actually asking you.”

  My eyes flicker to hers. “Why?”

  “Well, you’ve never been very approachable.” She glances sideways at me. “I mean, before now. Before your dad died. Jordan’s braver than I thought.”

  I nod. It’s true. He is brave. About a lot of things.

  I've got to stop thinking about him like that. “You approached me,” I say.

  “I saw you were having a weak moment.”

  “You see a lot of things.”

  I wonder what she’d see in my future. If it would be the same thing I see. I wonder if it would scare her, too.

  Chapter 7

  My cheerleader uniform is hanging by itself in the back of my closet. It’s Friday, the last home game, and standing alone in the large space staring at it, the memory of my old life is so close. It’s on the edges of my skin. I hold my breath, and I can almost feel it, that comfortable routine of pulling on the scratchy polyester, brushing my hair into a smooth, high ponytail, and then going through my day in that privileged, insulated bubble. Coming home and Dad’s here, working or waiting for me to help him try some new project.

  I feel hazy as I take it off the hanger. I’m not on the squad, but I doubt Coach Taylor will order me to go home and change. I don’t know, maybe I wouldn’t care if she did. My eyes close as I slide the thick uniform top and skirt over my body in the most familiar way. I don’t do the ponytail, but I do brush my hair into smooth submission. When I open my eyes, standing in front of my bathroom mirror, for the first time since spring break, I look like the old Ashley.

  It’s a lie. That girl is gone.

  * * *

  Mandy glances at me when I climb into her car. “I’m sure Coach T would let you back on the squad if you asked her. It’s understandable to have a transition period after you… you know.”

  I don’t want to talk about it. Now I’m regretting even putting this stupid thing on. What was I thinking? I told Jordan not to make a big deal of it, and here I am wearing the stupid thing. I’ve been working so hard not to be this person, and then in a moment of temporary insanity, I dive right back into the costume.

  Like it’s going to change anything. Like it’s going to bring anybody back.

  “All my jeans were dirty,” I say, and look away, out the window. She doesn’t push it.

  My transformation doesn’t completely register until I see Jordan at our lockers. He’s wearing the cords he bought and that blue shirt, and I notice his hair, thick and glossy. He looks so good. I do not touch him.

  I stop in front of my metal door, and his ears go all pink when he looks up at me. I’m not sure how I feel about him responding to me that way, like he wants to touch me, too. I ignore the flutter in my stomach. Pointless flutter.

  “You picking me up tonight?” I ask.

  “Oh. Yeah, right.” He looks away quickly, fumbling to shove some books into his ground-level locker. “It’s weird they planned it on a game night.”

  “This year’s class just has to be different,” I say through a sigh, twirling the dial on my lock. Jordan stands and slouches against the metal door beside mine.

  “You look good.” He smiles, and I think about what Charlotte said about him being brave. I think about his quirky confidence and the glasses still trapped in my locker. That’s when I get it. He really doesn’t care what anyone thinks. He’s just doing his thing, following his heart.

  “Thanks,” I say, looking back at my locker and wondering if it’s my heart I’m following. That’s certainly where my ripped-up emotions are trapped, and they seem to be calling the shots these days.

  “And, I mean, thanks for going with me still,” he says, looking down at his books. “I know things got weird, but maybe if we spend some time together—”

  “I won’t come around, if that’s what you’re about to say.”

  “I was going to say you might understand better.” He picks at the metal spiral on his notebook. “I know what I told you is sort of…”

  “Ridiculous?”

  His eyes flicker to mine, and I know he’s being sincere. Again I want to touch him, but I don’t.

  “I was going to say unexpected,” he says. “I don’t really understand it myself. That’s why I’m doing the thing this summer.”

  “Becoming a missionary?”

  “It’s more working with a group of missionaries, seeing what they’re doing, and being their helper. Seeing if I connect. If I’ve got what it takes.” He turns his back to the lockers and looks down. “Committing to a lifetime of service is a
pretty big decision.”

  “Which you’re too young to make. Nothing’s happened to you yet.”

  He nods. “I know. And that’s why you’re one of the only people who knows about it. That I’m seriously considering this. But it’s something… I’ve got to try.”

  Our eyes meet again, and his are so earnest. My thumb touches the silver ring on my middle finger, and my memory flashes back to me sitting at the bar in my kitchen with Dad. The way he’d look those days he’d talk to me about his work.

  “Sometimes when Dad would finish an article, he’d say he felt it.”

  Jordan’s brow creases, and I’ve got his full attention. “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know exactly. I mean, I kind of did.” My whole body is shaky and afraid. Going down this road, back to those days with Dad, even carefully, has the potential to bring it all crashing in on my head. But I know I’m safe with Jordan.

  “It was like he felt like his job was to encourage people to get healthy or something,” I say. “To find the key, whatever it took, to inspire them to make a change. He said that was one of the hardest things in the world. But sometimes, he’d write something he felt got close.”

  “It was his calling.”

  All of my books are in my hands, and my eyes are too damp. “Whatever. I gotta go.”

  I take off without looking back. I don’t want to talk about these things with him. I don’t want him trying to lure me back to some phony way of life that’s all a lie. I did what was expected for years, and all it got me was to this place of pain and loneliness and anger. I want to lose these bad feelings and find that other one, that good one I felt in his bedroom.

  And it didn’t have anything to do with Jordan. It was all just chemicals and hormones. If I’ve learned anything in the last six months, it’s that our bodies do what they want. We can’t control them or how they react. Being healthy, making the right decisions, it’s all a lie. Life is simply random.

  I’ve managed to argue myself off the emotional cliff when I round the corner and spot Colt leaning against the lockers. My heart jumps. Mandy’s pressing into his chest, and he’s listening to her with a bemused expression on his face. She’s on maximum-flirt-overdrive, and I slow my pace to get my breathing back under control. I try to focus on Mandy’s rapid blinking and not my skittering pulse.