When the Heart Falls(43)

"You'll succeed," Winter finishes. I can't remember if she's ever finished my sentence before. Our relationship has deepened in the last month. She blushes, probably thinking the same thing.

"Exactly." I take her hand in mine, and though her skin is always cool to the touch, her proximity produces a rush of heat in me.

Her stomach growls so loud she blushes again and giggles. "That would be my cue to get us some food. Do you want anything special?"

"Whatever you're having is fine." I release her hand and feel her absence as soon as she walks out of our private room.

My French test sits on Winter's seat, mocking me. I pick it up and study it again. Even though Winter has spent countless hours working with me, and I've spent countless hours studying on my own, most of the questions still look like gibberish. I even guessed at several answers I got right, but I'm not going to tell Winter that.

I have to do something before I lose all chance of passing this class. Pulling out my phone, I scroll through the numbers until I find the one I want. "Bonjour. Monsieur Bellugue?"

"Oui. Bonjour, Cade."

"How do you always know it's me?"

"You accent is very distinct."

Oh, right. I clear my throat, planning my words in my head. "I got my last French test back."

"Did you do well? Your professor says you are improving with Winter's help."

I stare at the 75%. "I guess I am, but not fast enough. I've worked real hard, studied real hard, but there's no way I'm getting an 80% on the next test. On any test. And my average is falling. Soon, even if I can pull off an 80% score it won't cut it."

"I see."

"Please, Monsieur, is there anything else I can do for extra credit?"

"Not for a summer program."

"There must be something. I'm heading to Mont Saint-Michel right now. I can write an essay on it."

"Even if you could write the essay in French, it wouldn't help with this kind of course, I'm afraid."

"Please, Monsieur. You know I'll work hard, just give me something to work on."

"I'm sorry, Cade. There's nothing I can do. Keep studying, I'm sure you'll get there."

My stomach clenches as my last hope for salvation disappears. "I understand. Thank you, anyways."

"Au revoir, Cade. Good luck on your French."

I end the call and lay the phone down next to me. I've never been so bad at anything in my life, and never so desperate to be good. Anger and frustration gnaw at me, eating away at my future. I scrunch the test up into a ball in my hand, then stuff it into my book bag so Winter doesn't see. She's given up so much of her summer helping me. I dread disappointing her when I fail this class.

Winter returns a few moments later with a platter of food: some sandwiches, soda, chips, breads and cheeses, and fruit. Sitting next to me, she sets up the food on a small table in front of us and offers me some.

"Thank you. This looks good." My gut is in knots, but I push past it to eat.

Winter bites into her sandwich and points out the window. "Look at the sheep."

"Reminds me of my old home." For the first time in my life, I just referred to my family's home in the past tense, and it shocks me. But that's what it feels like, my old home, my childhood home, not where I belong now. I can't imagine going back to that life, to that world. "I used to ride my horse over fields like these every day."

"What's your horse's name?"

"Biscuit." I think I miss her the most, next to Stevie. "I loved riding her, loved the scorching sun at my back, and the wind, I loved the wind. The way I'd tear through it, and the way it would part for me sometimes, as if to help me out. Nothing but nature everywhere."

"I wanted a horse so bad when I was little." She sips her soda. "I think every little girl does. Seems girls everywhere want a pony and to be a princess or a ballerina."

Leslie had wanted to be a Disney Princess, but I didn't realize that's a common girl fantasy. I have a hard time imagining Winter like that. "So which did you want to be, a princess or a ballerina?"

"Neither," she says. "I wanted to be a writer. If I was a princess, I'd have all sorts of princess duties and I'd never have any time to write. Plus, their dresses, while pretty, look too uncomfortable. If I was a ballerina, I'd have to work out and dance for hours and hours every day, and I'd never have time to write. Plus their toe shoes, while pretty, look too uncomfortable."

I laugh out loud. "You like your comfort. I can appreciate that. Have you always been so practical?"

She tilts her head as she thinks, then nods, her mouth full of bread. "Mmhmm." She swallows. "Definitely. But, I still want a horse. We should go riding together sometime." She winks at me.

I can imagine it. Her arms linked around me, her breath on my neck. But, she's the kind of girl who would want her own horse. I switch the fantasy in my head and then mentally kick myself. This is a fantasy, a daydream. It's not real, because at the end of the summer I'm leaving and she's not. I've pushed that thought away, pretending this is our forever, but it's not. It can't be.

My face must be broadcasting the direction of my thoughts because Winter's smile has faded. She leans away from me, a serious look on her face. "So, when will we talk about that thing we're not talking about?"