Maybe This Time(11)

“My Mustang.” He nodded toward the car parked thirty yards away, at the back of the parking lot, probably so other cars wouldn’t scratch it.

I tilted my head, wondering if he was serious. “I was kidding. I know what car you drive … Remember?”

“Right. Yeah.” He stood up, swung Gunnar’s bike out from under him, and loaded it into the back of the van.

“Thanks,” I said.

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you at school,” he said.

“See you.” My heart was racing. Now was the time I should ask if he wanted to go out again, prove to Micah that I’d meant what I said. But instead I watched Kyle walk away. I didn’t need to ask him now. We had time.

The voices in the lobby were even louder when I went back inside. I told myself to walk past without looking but I didn’t listen to my own advice. Micah, Lance, and Gunnar had joined June and Andrew around the laptop. What was so interesting about Andrew’s laptop anyway? My pride kept me from asking. But it didn’t keep Micah from seeing me.

“Soph, come check it out. Andrew has already started the website for my dad.”

I walked over to give the computer a polite glance, but my gaze froze when I saw the screen. A gorgeous picture of brightly colored plated food was the backdrop, and the business name stood out in big, bold letters. There were tabs along the top and Andrew clicked on the one marked Events. Pictures from tonight’s Valentine’s Dinner were already uploaded. Really good pictures.

“Those are cool,” Gunnar said.

They were cool. A lot were of the food, but then there were some of the guests, old faces wrinkled with happy smiles and young faces shining with laughter. There was even one of a tulip. It was a close-up, just showing the pink edges, and I loved it.

“Who took pictures tonight?” I asked, trying to sound casual. I hadn’t seen a photographer.

“I did,” Andrew said.

“How?” How could a person as thoughtless as Andrew take pictures with so much life?

“With my phone,” he said. “It has this thing called a camera on it.”

“It’s just …”

“It’s just that they’re really good,” Micah said when I didn’t finish. “My phone doesn’t take pictures like that.”

“Maybe it’s the operator,” he said, giving Micah a smirk.

“I have no doubt that’s true,” she said, smiling.

I rolled my eyes. “Give me a break.”

“Show us some of your other photos,” Lance said.

And then it was the Andrew Show. Destination after destination of all the places Andrew had been in the last several years. Most were big cities—New York and San Francisco and London. But there were quieter towns as well, with pretty hillsides and remote cottages.

“You sure travel a lot,” Micah said. She hated to travel. All the variables involved in the process made her anxious. If she had her way, she’d stay in Rockside working for her dad forever.

“My dad loves traveling,” Andrew says. “And he usually takes me with him.”

“What about your mom?” Gunnar asked.

“No mom,” Andrew said simply. “She left when my dad’s career dried up.”

“Oh,” I said, almost without meaning to. Andrew looked at me quizzically.

“What?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Nothing,” I said coldly. Andrew did not need to know the details of my life, that my dad had left as well, even if his reasons weren’t quite as shallow.

Andrew was still clicking through his photos on the screen. One of them was of an airplane, soaring through a cloud-filled sky.

“Wow,” Gunnar said. “One time we drove to an air show in Birmingham and I saw an airplane,” he added, sounding very much like the country kid that he was.

“Wait, you haven’t been on an airplane?” Andrew asked. He met my glance, a mocking glow in his eyes.

Micah, who was changing out of her work shoes and into some boots, said, “I have. We went to a food show in Vegas last year. Airplanes are the worst.”

Lance nudged her arm with his. “It wasn’t that bad.”

An uncomfortable feeling churned in my stomach. “Let’s go, Gunnar,” I said. “It’s getting late.”

Lance looked at Micah and Andrew. “You guys ready to load up the rest of the catering van?”

“Yes,” Andrew said. He shut his computer, tucked it under his arm, and left without a backward glance.

I collected my brother and went to get the last few things still in the cafeteria. As Gunnar and I walked through the parking lot, I watched Micah, Lance, and Andrew carrying large trays of dishes to the open van.

“I’m sorry I made it so you can’t hang out with your friends,” Gunnar said.

“You didn’t, buddy. They’re heading home too.”

I had always felt out of place here in my small town. Like the odd person out. I thought it was because I didn’t belong here; I belonged somewhere full of action and creative energy. When I went away to college, I had convinced myself, I would finally feel like I’d found my place, my people. But as I’d looked at all of Andrew’s pictures, as I talked with him, as I watched him in all his world-traveler confidence, I realized all these years, maybe I had been fooling myself.