And we stare at each other, a new comfort stretching over us. An intimacy that only sharing secrets can bring. Quiet, comfortable.
“Now that we’re friends,” he says, “do you want to go to a movie or something?”
“I don’t go to the movies with my friends.”
“No?” he asks.
“Nope.”
“What do you do, then?” He looks amused, even pleased that I let him call me a friend.
“We go to 7-Eleven,” I say. “Get chased by crazy bitches through a cornfield.”
“I’m all for the adventure,” he says. “But I thought maybe we could try something less violent. Maybe something with popcorn and armrests.”
He’s adorable. I straighten in the seat and look toward my house.
“I have to go,” I say, not really wanting to.
“I know.” Neither of us moves.
“Thanks for . . . the ride and the cereal and everything,” I say.
“No problem. Thanks for letting me beat you at pool.”
“You’re an ass,” I say. “Okay, for real this time. I’m going. I’ll see you at school.”
“You sure you won’t come see a movie with me?”
I want to. I want to be that girl with a hot guy, sitting in a theater, eating popcorn and making out in the back row. “I can’t,” I say. “I have Evan tonight.”
“He can come.”
“No.”
Cameron exhales, shaking his head. “Maybe another time, then. Have a good night, Sutton.”
That’s it? He isn’t going to argue more? “Okay . . . bye,” I say, and open the door. I feel rejected, even though I’m the one who said no. Even though I’ve been the one pushing him away.
I walk to my front porch and sit on the stairs, waiting for Cameron to leave. I wish I said yes to the movie.
Evan’s bus turns down the street, and I jump up to meet it. I glance at Cameron, who’s still waiting in his car.
As the yellow bus pulls up, Evan is in his seat, his face pressed to the window. When the door opens, he races down the steps.
“Savannah!” he calls excitedly.
I look at the bus driver, but she shrugs, letting me know he’s been keyed up the entire ride. It makes me happy, seeing him like this.
“What’s up, buddy?” I ask. Comforted by his gentle touch when I take his hand.
“I made you something. It’s here in my bag.” He lifts his backpack, nearly tripping with his excitement.
“Thanks,” I say, fixing the buttons on his jacket. I’ve decided not to tell him about Retha and Travis being gone. It might make him think of our mother.
“Who’s that?” Evan asks, pointing toward the street.
I turn to see Cameron’s BMW still at the curb. His eyes widen when I notice him, and he starts his car like he’s about to take off. He’s so damn curious.
