Reaching for his phone, thinking to text her about the carnival, he realized he didn’t have her number. He’d forgotten to ask in the wake of heading to the principal’s office.
“I’m done.” Bentley bounded into the office. “Can we go skating now?”
Now?Caleb skipped through his to-dos. Alderman’s plans. Town council presentation. Getting Emery’s number.
“Let’s go for inspection first.”
Upstairs, Bentley’s room and bathroom looked exactly how an eleven-year-old with no cleaning skills might “clean.” He’d moved his clothes from the floor to his bed in one cohesive pile. He’d moved his bathroom towel from the floor to the back of the toilet. Caleb was about to instruct him on how to fold clothes and hang up a wet towel, but you know what? Good enough for beginners. One step at a time.
“So you want to go skating?” Caleb handed Bentley a twenty for skate rental and a snack from Spike’s Concession. Spike had run the rink’s concession for almost forty years before retiring and handing over the Starlight to Simon. But for posterity, and all that was good about the rink’s concession for the past sixty years, Simon kept the name.
Bentley snapped the twenty-dollar bill, then tucked it into his jeans pocket. “Please.”
“Sure. Why not. Might be fun.”
Walking toward the rink, Caleb called theGazetteto get a hold of Emery, but voicemail picked up. He didn’t leave a message.
At Sea Blue Way, he thought of the passing carnival semi and fell into a memory ofthatsummer, Emery Quinn, and how the girl from Cleveland had stolen his heart.
6
CALEB
Then . .
Heregoesnothing.
Caleb tapped lightly on Cassidy’s door. “Hey, it’s me.”
It was Saturday morning, and he knew she was holed up in there because last night when Mom asked her to unload the dishwasher, sheunloadedon Mom instead. Caleb volunteered to do it, but Mom refused. She went toe-to-toe with Cassidy until Dad called a truce and sent Cassidy to her room. She slammed the door and that was that.
“Cass?” He heard a thump on the other side just before the door swung open.
“What?”
“Just wondered if you were still alive.” Caleb moved into her room as she fell back into bed, burying herself under the covers so all he could see was her long, dark hair spreading over the pillow. The morning sunlight warmed her room.
When they were kids, everyone thought they were twins. Guess they were sort of—Irish twins. Only eleven months and two weeks apart.
After a second, she sat up. “Would you care if I wasn’t? Still alive?”
“What do you think? Come on, Cass. What’s going on with you? Where’d you go the other night with the dude in the Jeep?”
“None of your business.”
Caleb swiped his finger over the dust on her spelling bee trophies, then looked to her bookshelf, where she’d tacked first- and second-place math ribbons.
“I heard a girl transferred to Nickle High to play softball,” he said, moving on to Cassidy’s softball trophies. In the spring she was named Female Athlete of the Year. “Do you know her? Is she good?”
“Yeah, she’s good.”
Last year, Cassidy led the Nickle High Eagles softball team from the “circle” to regionals. And then colleges had come calling.
“When’s softball camp?”
“I’m not playing.” Her muffled voice came from under her blanket.
“What?” Caleb sat on the edge of the bed. “You’ve played your whole life. The team needs you. You’re predicted to go to state. You could get a scholarship to play D1.”
