The Art of Losing(38)

The girls in Audrey’s cabin were already in bed as I snuck inside and crouched next to her on the bottom bunk.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, automatically scooching over to make room for me in bed next to her. I climbed into the narrow bed as best I could.

“I just wanted to make sure you were sleeping okay,” I lied.

Audrey knew it, too. She pulled Bear Bear out from underneath her and made him look me in the eye.

“Okay, I’m homesick,” I admitted. I missed my room, my comics, my privacy. A bathroom and shower that I didn’t have to share with a hundred other girls.

She gave me a hug, with Bear Bear squished between us.

“Take Bear Bear,” Audrey said. “He’ll keep you company.”

I was tempted to say no, but the shard in my chest made the decision for me. “Okay,” I said. “But promise you’ll come pick him up tomorrow so he doesn’t get lonely?”

She stuck out her pinkie and linked it with mine. “Deal.”





Chapter Ten



The Fourth of July snuck up on me. I hadn’t made plans and a full day of doing nothing stretched ahead. I couldn’t call Cassidy; she had agreed to take a shift at the coffee shop since Will and Janine planned to see the outdoor concert on the Mall downtown. I’d done that once with Mike. It was enough. Every summer it was the same: some band older than my parents and a bunch of angry protesters, coupled with stifling heat and hordes of sweaty tourists. Mike had brought a mini cooler full of beer. That had not helped the situation.

I’d gone to the hospital that morning with Dad and Mom. They’d brought miniature American flags and festive window clings to decorate Audrey’s room, but when they left to get lunch, I left, too. By mid-afternoon, I was bored. I was even bored enough to take Floyd out into the muggy summer sun for an impromptu walk. He didn’t seem enthusiastic about the idea.

We ambled slowly up the street. It was so hot I could see the heat shimmering in the air above the pavement. Floyd gave up a few minutes in, sighing as he lay down on the sidewalk under a tree three houses down from ours.

“Seriously?” I groaned.

There was laughter behind me.

I spun around to see Raf a few feet away. He wore shorts and a white undershirt, with flip-flops on his feet. It was the first time I’d seen him in days . . . since the kiss. The memory of it rushed back.

He’d texted, but I hadn’t responded. I hadn’t known what to say. I still didn’t.

He stepped closer and bent down to scratch Floyd behind the ears.

“This dog is no fool,” Raf said. “He knows when it’s not worth being outside.”

“I guess it makes me feel better about not having any big barbecue plans today,” I said.

“Yeah,” he answered, sounding wistful. “Instead of drinking on the Mall, in the sun, with my friends all day, eating mushrooms, and sneaking off to the Porta Potty to get stoned before the fireworks start like I did last year, I’m planning to sit in my basement bedroom and . . . I don’t know, cry?” He laughed, but I didn’t think he was kidding.

“Would you want to maybe do something with me instead?” I asked before considering whether it was a good idea. My lips formed words independent of my brain, as if they were desperate for another chance to be on his. Traitors.

He looked at me, squinting. “I was worried you were mad at me or something,” he said. Floyd pawed at him, urging Raf to keep scratching his ears. It gave him an excuse to look away. “You didn’t answer my text from a couple days ago.”

I chewed my lip. “I’m sorry,” I said. “Things got a little busy. With Audrey and everything.”

My voice sounded weak and unconvincing. I was a coward for using her as an excuse instead of just telling him the truth: that I was a mess.

Raf stood up. “I’m going to go to a meeting first, but what did you want to do?”

In the past, the Fourth of July had always meant a party at our house. A crab feast, with fresh July corn and hush puppies dipped in melted butter. I could almost taste the fresh sliced tomatoes on my tongue. But with Audrey in the hospital, the party was canceled this year. Mom and Dad were spending the evening watching the fireworks on TV in her room in the Neuro ICU.

“Do you want to go to the high school to watch the fireworks?” I asked. It just wouldn’t feel like the Fourth of July without fireworks.

Raf’s eyes brightened. “Absolutely. I’ll meet you at the Jeep at eight thirty?”

I nodded, trying not to show the nerves I was suddenly feeling. “See you then.”

By the time eight thirty rolled around, it was still muggy, but dusk was falling. Fireflies winked as they hovered in the sky.

I’d deliberately stayed casual, in cutoffs and a T-shirt, my hair in a ponytail. I leaned against his front bumper, already feeling beads of sweat prickling my scalp. Raf came around the side of the house a few minutes later. He’d changed into jeans and a different shirt, and his hair was still wet and combed neatly. As we got in the car, I could smell his shampoo—the same “No Tears” kind he used when we were little.

“What do you have in your bag there?” he asked, gesturing to the tote bag at my feet.

“Um, sparkling cider,” I said. “And cookies with red, white, and blue sprinkles.”