My mom remained healthy, and I navigated the ins and outs of what it meant to fit in during my last year of middle school. I got braces, took my first drawing elective, and started playing piano for the choir.
Cozy and I became inseparable, our conversations changing from wall ball teams and hot lunch choices to boys and note passing. We began having sleepovers every Friday night, watchingGilmore Girlsand binge-eating popcorn and ice cream.
Baker was still a part of our social circle but less so without a tetherball court on campus. He started wearing a heavy hand of Hollister cologne and ran track for the school team, and I found I had a harder time relating to him. Relationships with the opposite gender started to slip from platonic to romantic, which made it difficult for me to even look a guy in the eye anymore.
In all my middle school years, never once did I have a boyfriend, a first kiss, or even get asked to the eighth-grade dance. I was a late bloomer in that regard, but I was fine with that. The truth was, when I thought of my first kiss, there was only one boy I could imagine myself doing that with, and it wasn’t any of the guys at Treefort Middle School.
Eighth-grade graduation was the celebration of all celebrations, and I was sad when it came to an end. That was, until my parents showed up on the last day with a loaded car and a pair of grins that could touch the sun.
We were finally going back.
I feel my shoulders slump with exhaustion by the time I finish reliving the last four years of my life to Miles. It was emotionally draining, but he listened.
I end with a lame “I’m sorry I couldn’t come back sooner,” and it’s the first time he looks at me.
“No, it’s okay. I always wondered, but it makes sense now,” he says. “I was just happy to see that your cabin never went up for sale.”
I draw little circles in the water with my big toe to avoid looking at him.
“Really,” he continues, “thank you for telling me.”
A part of me wishes he were angrier. That he’d hold me accountable for breaking my promise no matter the reason. That would mean he at least cared even half as much as I do. There are things I chose to miss out on because I waited around for this moment. Seeing Reed slotted into his life, I’m not sure there is a place for me anymore.
I peer over the edge where our feet dangle in the water and catch a glimpse of a tadpole skittering by. I smile.
“It’s not as easy as it once was,” Miles says.
“What’s that?”
“Catching tadpoles. I came out here every summer after you left. It wasn’t as simple when I wasn’t with you.”
A lump forms in the base of my throat, making it difficult to swallow. Imagining him wading out into that water by himself physically hurts.
Just as I’m about to say, “I know what you mean,” a rock flies between our shoulders and skids across the water in five long skips. We both whip around to locate the source and see Reed standing with a towel draped over his arm. He jogs the length of the dock to wrap the towel around my shoulders, an air of confidence I don’t yet possess thick around him.
Miles pins him with a glare. “You could have hit us, you idiot.”
“I was just making sure I didn’t interrupt anything.” He nudges Miles’s shoulder. “I take it you two have some history.”
There is nohistorylike that when you’re children. But then I glance over at Miles and catch him doing that thing he used todo when he was upset, twisting his hands in a Chinese death trap in his lap. His eyes flash to mine, and it’s a silent plea not to tell him about our past. I don’t know what it is he doesn’t want Reed to know, but I also think this is first step to getting my friendship back with him, so all I say is, “Something like that.”
Reed shoves his hands in the deep dips of his workout shorts and flashes me a grin before turning back to Miles. “You ready to fish?”
“Yeah, I just need to get my pole out of the shed,” he tells him as he moves to stand.
My attention ping-pongs between them, the lump in my throat disappearing down my esophagus like a boulder to my stomach.What is this feeling? Jealousy?I’m annoyed that they’re so at ease around each other. I can’t stop wondering how long they’ve been friends, and I realize just how little I know about their world. A small, selfish part of me wants to tell Reed to beat it and find a different dock to fish from. I don’t love the idea of the two of them sharing something I’m not a part of.
As if he’s telepathic, Reed says, “Teddy, you should fish with us.”
I swat at the air. “Oh, that’s okay, I don’t have a pole.”
“I have an extra one!” Miles exclaims, taking off in a jog down the dock.
Okay. This could be good, I convince myself.The more the merrier.So, I do what I’ve done for the last four years. I put on a brave face and leave the summer I shared with Miles in the past to welcome a new one. One where there is three of us, and I learn how to fish.
“You want me to help you with that?” Reed offers. He encircles my waist with his burly arms to reach where my fingers are fiddling with a stringy worm.
“Uh, sure.” I puff out the little air left in my lungs. I would have taken a giant breath and held it had I known I would find myself somewhat wrapped up in him.
