The Distance Between Us(15)

“Well, not the whole school, but yes, I get out at noon.”

“Why?”

“Um . . .” I gesture toward the shop. “Work release.”

His eyes widen. “You miss half your school day to work in the shop?”

“It’s not a big deal. . . . It was my idea. . . . It really doesn’t bother me at all to help out.” I know I’m rambling because deep down it does bother me—a lot—so I cut off my list of excuses and finish with “I better go.”

“Okay. Bye, Caymen.” He turns around and walks back toward his car without even a backward glance.



“Caymen,” Mr. Brown says as I walk into science class a few minutes late.

“Sorry, I got caught in a thorny vine and had to untangle myself from its clutches.” Which is actually sort of true.

“Although your excuses are by far the most creative, that’s not why I addressed you.”

The rest of the class had already started on a lab and I want to be doing it. It looks like there are actual chemicals involved.

Mr. Brown must’ve noted my gaze because he says, “It will only take a minute.”

I reluctantly walk to his desk.

He slides several papers across to me. “This is that college I was telling you about. It specializes in math and science.”

I grab the papers. “Oh yeah, thanks.” I learned at the beginning of the year that it’s better to just play along with teachers about college than to try to explain to them that you’re not going for a while. I shove the papers in my backpack and take a seat at my station. At the beginning of the year we had an odd number of people in class. Mr. Brown asked for a volunteer to be alone. I raised my hand. I’d much rather do lab work alone so no one else can screw it up. It’s so much easier not to have to depend on anyone else.



The next morning Xander’s waiting outside the shop again, casually leaning against a light post, like we’ve been walking to school together our whole lives. He takes a sip of my hot chocolate then hands it to me as we start walking.

I take a drink. It scalds my throat going down. This isn’t working. I need him to disappear so I can get back to my normal life of mocking people like him. So he can stop making me look forward to every morning. “So, Mr. Spence, your first brother is a lawyer; your second is going to some fancy college. What does your future hold?”

“I’m kind of like you.”

“In what universe?”

He seems to think this is a joke and laughs. “I’m expected to take over the family business.”

“What makes you think that’s the same as me?”

“You work there, you live there, you help run the place. . . . I’m pretty sure your mom thinks of you as her eventual replacement.”

I had resigned myself to the fact long ago, but hearing someone else acknowledge it triggers something in me. “I’m not going to run the doll store forever.”

“Then you better start sending different signals. Stat.”

“It’s more complicated than that.” I can’t just walk away and do something else. She depends on me.

“I completely understand.”

Now it’s my turn to laugh. He can’t completely understand anything about my situation. It’s more than obvious by his lifestyle that if he walks away from whatever his “family business” is it will survive. His family’s bills will still get paid. He has a future of limitless possibilities.

“What will you do instead?” he asks.

“I don’t know yet. I like science, I guess, but what am I supposed to do with that?” Knowing that would’ve required me growing up thinking I had a choice in the matter. “So why you?”

“Why me?”

“Yes, why are you expected to take over the business? Why not your brothers?”

“Because I haven’t done anything. I haven’t declared my strength. So my dad has declared it for me. He says I’m good in many areas so that must mean I’m supposed to be the face of the business. So they send me out into the world.”

“What is the family business?”

He tilts his head like he’s trying to decide if I’m serious. “The Road’s End.”

I try to make sense of that statement. “You own a hotel?”

“Something like that.”

“What do you mean ‘something like that’? You either do or you don’t.”

“There are five hundred of them.”

“Okay.”

“All together.”

“Oh.” Realization dawns. “You own all of them. . . .” Holy crap. This guy isn’t just rich; he’s RICH. My entire body tenses.

“Yes. And I’m getting groomed to take over one day. Just like you.”

Just like me. “We’re practically twins.” By this time we’re in front of my school. So is this why he started hanging out with me? I want to tell him that if he thinks he has found some sort of connection with me through our “similar” situations he should think again. But I can’t bring myself to say it, and I’m not sure if it’s to spare his feelings or mine. “I’ll see you. . . .” This time I walk away first and don’t look back.