She stands up, brushing dirt off her pants and avoiding my eyes. “I’ll walk you to the cart. You can take it and we’ll walk back.”
I’m glad to have a moment alone with Kristen and to get some fresh air. But I have no idea what to say. I hardly have any idea what to think.
“Are you judging?” she asks.
“No,” I say. It’s not a complete lie. In order to judge I first have to emerge from my state of shock. “I just did not see that coming.”
I watch for her reaction. She only stares ahead.
“A lot changed,” she says when we arrive at the cart.
“I know,” I say, because she’s my best friend and I love her. Also, because I have a lockbox of allmychanges that I’m too cowardly to talk about.
“You don’t have to leave. I really want to hang out with you.”
“I want to hang out with you too,” I say, feeling fractional relief at the fact that we at least agree on this point. “I just… uh… don’t think this is really my thing.”
“You haven’t even tried it. You might like it. I mean, I used to think it was kinda wild too—”
“And then you started hanging out with Vincent,” I say, more so piecing it all together than telling her.
“He’s not some bad influence if that’s what you’re thinking. He didn’tmakeme smoke.”
I want to remind her that she didn’t smokebeforehim, but I know that’ll only make her mad, and the bitterness in her tone makes me feel like we’re at the edge of a cliff.
“I know. And it’s, um, good that you guys can do this together.” I force a smile, hoping she can tell that I’m not madather. If anything, I’m embarrassed and feel out of place, which is a highly unfamiliar feeling to have around my best friend.
“Please don’t tell anyone,” she says.
There it is, in her voice, I hear it. Real Kristen. Not lip-locking, pot-smoking Kristen but Kristen My Best Friend. And I feel even smaller at the accusation that I might betray her trust. I want to say,Of course not. I might not agree with you, but I wouldn’t betray you. But I don’t say that. It should go without saying.
Instead, I say, “I won’t,” before starting the cart.
“We will hang soon, just the two of us,” she says, smiling.
I feel the weight of all my secrets and all her secrets pushing us apart as I drive off.
I glance down at my hand wrapped around the steering wheel, the ring standing out even more now. Weaving through the familiar paths of the farm, I wonder if, despite my efforts, going to Camp Refuge has changed us after all.
Chapter Seven
The buses have left for the day, my best friend is getting high, and because the universe is clearly working against me, my parents won’t be off work untiltomorrow.
I live almost five miles away. Don’t get me wrong, some people run five miles for fun. But I bet they don’t do it with three textbooks, two binders, a lunch box, and a forty-ounce water bottle on their back.
I stop at the edge of the field hockey pitch, the scrimmage in full swing. Almost immediately, I spot Hannah running up the sideline in my direction. She shouts to her teammate, “Ohio, Ohio.” It’s one of their plays, she explained to me over the summer. The code name keeps the other team from knowing what they’re doing.
Predictably, the Cuyahoga Falls offense flanks Hannah, since she’s calling the play, leaving the backs open for a pass. Cuyahoga tries to recover by crossing the field, but just as their goalie starts calling out, the ball is passed back to Hannah, who’s now unattended, and she scores. Hannah pulls out her mouth guardto cheer with her teammates, and as she’s sweeping one of her smaller teammates into a hug, she turns and sees me. She stands in place, staring, while the rest of her team runs to the other end of the field.
“Hannah, come on,” someone shouts as everyone gets back into their starting positions.
Hannah holds a thumbs-up, questioning. I nod. She jerks her head in the direction of the stands, but I shake my head no, fine staying by myself. I put my bag down and try to wave her on, not wanting to distract her from the game.
It’s even more exciting than she made it sound over the summer.
When the final whistle blows, Ridgeway winning 16–4, the girls line up to high-five and say “Good game.” Hannah quickly runs over and grabs her stuff from the bleachers, not even changing out of her uniform before she jogs back to where I’m standing.
“That was awesome,” I tell her.