The Rest of the Story(94)

Calvanders, I thought, getting off my bed and walking over to the window. “I’m so stupid,” I said. “If I just hadn’t drunk . . .”

“He still would have freaked out, Emma,” she said. “I mean, come on. Think about it. You weren’t answering his calls or where you said you’d be.”

“It made it worse, though,” I said, thinking of Roo, his face in that bright light of Gator’s flashlight.

She was quiet for a second. Then she said, “Have you heard from him at all? How did you guys leave things?”

Bridget was one of my two best friends for lots of reasons. But I especially loved that she knew what I was thinking, even when I didn’t say it out loud.

“Not good,” I said. “I know I should text him, but I’m so embarrassed. He must hate me.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” she said automatically.

“Bridget. I almost got him arrested.”

“Almost,” she said, like this was hardly anything of note. “Not the same thing.”

I watched a motorboat pass by, a girl with long hair gripping the float as it bounced over a wake. Fun in the sun, all summer long. I sat back down on my made bed.

“Anyway,” Bridget said now, “have you talked to Ryan? I can’t get through to her except an occasional text. All she’s thinking about is that show! And the girl in that show.”

So there it was. “She told you,” I said.

“After telling me she called you first!” She sighed again. “This is HUGE. And as the romance expert among us, it stings a little bit that I’m the last to know.”

“Sorry,” I said.

“I’ll get over it. What’s important,” she continued, “is that she told us. I just hope this girl’s good enough for her. If she’s not, she’ll hear from me.”

I laughed. “I think Ryan can take care of herself.”

“True.” She thought for a moment. “Really, it’s ironic. I was the one who was so sure this summer was going to be fabulous, full of amazing potential. And now you guys have romance for real, while I’m left standing, unkissed.”

“I have a feeling you’ll be fine in that department, though.”

“Well, yes,” she agreed. “But it better happen soon!”

I laughed. “I’m so happy for Ryan, though,” I said, thinking of how she looked in the pictures she’d sent. “She’s, like, giddy.”

“No kidding. God, I feel so bad about all the times I dragged her along, trying to meet up with the twins. Assuming she’d want that.”

“I feel the same way,” I said. “Like we should have known or something.”

“Ryan’s always been private, until she decides not to be. And she told us when she was ready, which is all that matters.”

It was true. I’d had two more top-of-mountain texts from her, and they were all about dress rehearsals and tech runs. There’d been a couple more pictures as well, of her hanging at camp with her castmates. Liz was beside her in every single one.

“Do you think they’ll stay together when she’s home?” I asked her.

“Long-distance? Oh, man. I don’t know. Does that ever work?” she replied. “I mean, in the movies, summer romance tends to be location-specific.”

I had a flash of Roo, then immediately pushed this thought away. We didn’t have a relationship. And now, thanks to me, we never would. “My mom and dad remained a couple during the year,” I pointed out.

“Yes, but they were only two hours apart. Ryan’s dealing with entire states between her and Liz. It’ll be a challenge.” She was quiet for a minute. “But if it’s meant to be, it will be. Things work out, that’s what I’m saying. Look at Sam and me!”

“True,” I said, choosing not to mention that right now what she had was an invitation, not a relationship. Which was still more than I could claim at the moment.

“Just promise,” she said, “that even with all these new cousins and boys and everything else, you won’t forget about me. When my time comes, you guys have to listen and be excited.”

“I can’t wait,” I said. “I’ll scream from the rooftops.”

“Okay, that might be a bit much,” she said, laughing.

“You think?”

“I’ll let you know.”

When I hung up, I looked at the digital clock on the bedside table: it was only ten a.m. Then again, I’d been awake since six, tossing and turning as I went over the events of the previous days. Normally I would have just slipped downstairs to walk over to the Larder for a copy of the Bly County News and a muffin. But I wasn’t even allowed to do that. Because now, there were rules.

My dad had been clear: from now on, I couldn’t go to North Lake. I couldn’t go to the raft. Really, all I was allowed was to sit in the hotel room, which got boring quick. Which was why I’d found myself reorganizing my sparse belongings: folding and stacking shirts in my drawers, lining up my two pairs of shoes in the mostly empty closet, and making my bed the way Trinity had taught me, sheets pulled so tightly I could barely wedge myself beneath them.

It was in the midst of this routine—now repeated a few times—that I’d found the family tree I had begun my first day at Mimi’s. I’d immediately sat down, flipping it open to read over the names that had once sounded like strangers, but were now as real to me as my own face. Now, I looked at those Calvanders, neatly organized on the page, then at my shoes, lined up against the wall, and shut the notebook again.