Something Like Fate

  There’s no way to fight this anymore. I don’t even want to.

  I dial his number. He answers right away.

  I say, “I miss you, too.”

  24

  “Are you sure trains don’t come this way?”

  Jason keeps insisting that this part of the train tracks isn’t used anymore. I keep asking if he’s sure. Every few minutes it sounds like a train’s coming, even though none ever do.

  “Don’t worry,” he assures me again. “This branch hasn’t been used since the seventies.”

  I stumble over some splintered wood.

  Jason clutches my arm. “Do you really think I’d bring you anywhere that wasn’t safe?”

  “No.”

  “Trust me.”

  Electricity zings from where Jason’s touching my arm, shooting in all directions. He must be feeling it, too.

  Or not. He just goes, “There’s a cool bridge up here.”

  We’ve already walked about two miles. I can see why Jason loves walking the tracks so much. There are all these cool secret areas in the woods and old signs and hidden trails that you’d never see unless you were on this side of things.

  “I used to play in that playground,” Jason says.

  “What playground?”

  “See it? Through there?” Jason moves behind me. He points to where he’s looking.

  I only see endless green leaves. “Um . . .” I’m pressed up against him. I can smell the fabric softener in his shirt.

  We swelter together in the heat.

  I forget what the question was.

  “Right there.” He takes my hand and points with it.

  Then I find snippets of the playground. Part of a sandbox. Some water spritzing from a fountain. A yellow Tonka truck.

  “Oh!” I recognize it now. I’m just used to seeing the playground from the road, so it was hard to tell what I was looking at from way over here. “I used to play there, too!”

  “Whoa.” Jason backs away from me. He looks spooked.

  “What?”

  “Did you used to play in the sandbox?”

  “I loved the sandbox.”

  “Did you have a red bucket and shovel with . . . some kind of pattern on them?”

  “Smiley faces.”

  “Yes! Exactly!”

  “How do you know that?”

  “We played together. You let me borrow your bucket.”

  “Wait.” I totally remember Jason now. He used to borrow my bucket to move like half the sand from one end of the sandbox to the other. Then he’d get water from the fountain and build these gigantic sand castles. Well, they seemed gigantic at the time. “Did I ask you why you didn’t have your own bucket?”

  “I think so.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Me neither.”

  “But you remember me.”

  “Yeah. I really do.”

  This is too much. It’s like we don’t even have a choice about being together. Fate decided about us a long time ago.

  Before I started learning more about concepts of fate, I would always be blown away when things like this happened. But the more I noticed them, the less surprised I was that these connections exist. Connections are all around us, and if we’re open to them, we become more aware of them. So while I’m amazed, I’m not as shocked as Jason is. Of course we played together when we were little. It all makes sense now.

  Some people think things like this only happen in movies. Like in Broken English when Parker Posey goes all the way to Paris looking for this guy and right when she gives up and she’s taking the Metro to the airport, he gets onto her subway car. Doubters of fate see something like that and complain how those things never happen in real life.

  But they do.

  “So . . . why haven’t we been friends this whole time?” Jason says.

  “I don’t know. I guess people grow up and go their separate ways.”

  “But we go to school together.”

  “Yeah, but how many classes have we had together?”

  “But you were always . . . there.”

  I think Jason is starting to understand the power of fate. Or maybe he already knew, like I did, that the person he’s meant to be with has been here this whole time.

  We walk for two more miles, all the way to Green Pond Road. This is Jason’s street.

  “Do you feel like ice cream?” he says.

  “When don’t I feel like ice cream?”

  “I’m guessing never?”

  “Hey, you’re good at this game.”

  There’s an old-school ice-cream parlor near Green Pond called The Fountain. Since I’m doing stuff with Jason and, apparently, not trying to avoid him anymore, I can finally go there without worrying about running into him. Which is such a relief I can’t even tell you. They have the best gelato ever. They also have this puffy purple couch I adore. It totally feels like you’re sinking into a cloud when you lounge on it. I’m hoping that the couch is free. I’ve spent hours on that couch, wishing one day a boy I loved would be sitting there next to me.

  Not that I love Jason or anything. I’m just psyched about the couch.

  But I’m also worried that someone from school might see us. Which wouldn’t be a major issue if Erin and Jason were still together. No one knows they broke up yet, but if someone sees us and tells Erin when she gets back, she’ll know we kept hanging out after Jason dumped her. How would I explain why?

  When we go in, I’m relieved that no one we know is here. The couch is taken, though. I get a cup of honeydew gelato, and Jason gets a cup of watermelon gelato. I put my cup under Jason’s nose and say, “Smell this.”

  He sniffs. “Whoa. That’s intense.”

  “I know!” The honeydew gelato is so good. It smells like you just cut open a fresh honeydew. “I usually get watermelon, but I’ve been OD’ing on actual watermelon lately.”

  “Oh, totally. They’re so good right now.”

  We sit at a window table. There’s no way I’m eating outside. I am in desperate need of air-conditioning. We both are.

  Before we take our first bites, we clink our spoons together and say, “Cheers.” Then I go, “How’s lifeguarding?”

  “So good. It feels like . . . I don’t know.”

  “What?”

  “Like even if I’m just sitting there, I’m protecting everyone somehow. Just by watching them. And like, knowing I could save any one of them if I had to. It makes me feel like I’m doing something meaningful every day, you know?”

  “Totally.”

  “It’s kind of the same thing with the kids in mentoring. Like I’m helping them. When they talk to me about their problems and I can help solve them, it means I’m not just wasting my time. I’m doing something that matters to people.”

  I nod. It’s the first time Jason has said anything like this. He’s told me about some personal stuff, but he never really talks about his feelings. Mostly he keeps everything on a lighter level.

  Then Jason goes, “How’s swimming?”

  “I’m not going anymore.”

  “You’re done? Sweet!”

  “No . . . more like, I quit.”

  “Oh. Why?”

  Here’s why: I almost drowned in my last class and totally overreacted. While I thought I was really drowning, I was actually in a part of the pool where I could have just stood up and I would have been fine. But ever since the accident, I completely spaz when water gets even remotely scary. It was just way too embarrassing, sputtering out of the water with everyone staring at me, all concerned. So I stopped going. The thing is, I still want to learn how to swim before my family reunion in Hawaii. I have a year left. Maybe I can find a different class where no one saw my meltdown.

  There’s no way I can admit all that to Jason. “I’m just not talented in that area,” I tell him.

  “False. Anyone can learn how to swim.”

  “How do you know?”

  ?
??Uh, I’m a lifeguard, remember? Drawing perfect circles isn’t my only talent.”

  “Then why’s it taking me so long to learn?”

  “People learn at different rates, is all. I can totally teach you.”

  “Really?”

  “Anytime. Just say the word.”

  “Maybe I will.” How cool would that be? I bet Jason’s a really good teacher. I saw how he was with the kids he mentors. He’s patient and funny, which are the two most essential qualities for making learning easier. Plus knowing what you’re doing, which he does. The downside would be that he’d see how pathetic I am and then he might not like me anymore. Swimming is obviously important to him. But maybe wanting to learn is enough, even if I suck at it.

  I just want to be with him. I haven’t heard from Erin about the breakup yet and there’s no way I can even begin to tell her what’s going on. She’d never understand.

  I wish this didn’t have to be so hard. Because I love how I feel when I’m with Jason. The way we are together. The way I can tell what he’s thinking, just by the color of his eyes. Our secret sandbox history. It’s like we were made for each other.

  If this isn’t something like fate, I don’t know what is.

  25

  We decided to get here early to find the best spot. It’s getting crowded now, so I spread out the blanket to its maximum capacity. Then I put our flip-flops along the bottom edge of the blanket.

  “Staking out the territory,” Jason says.

  “I hate when people try to move into your space.”

  “I hear you. But don’t worry. No one stands a chance against those flip-flops.”

  “Flip-flops are ferocious.”

  “Exactly.” Jason smiles with his eyes all sparkling. Like they’re lit up just for me. Then we’re sitting there, looking at each other. Not saying anything. His smile starts to fade. “Hey, um . . .”

  “Do you want a Popsicle? They have—oh, or a snow cone? Love those!”

  “Sure. But I’m treating.”

  “That’s okay.” I jump up and slide on my flip-flops. “I’ve got it.”

  “You sure?”

  “Totally. What kind do you want?”

  “That’s an excellent question. Hmm. Well, it is the Fourth of July. Do they have those red-white-and-blue Popsicles?”

  “Oh, yeah! The ones that look like rockets?”

  “Those are the ones.”

  “They better. I’ll be right back.”

  I go over to the ice-cream truck with my heart skittering all around. I have this feeling like Jason was about to say something that I wasn’t ready to hear. What am I going to say if he asks me out? I can’t go out with him. He just broke up with my best friend.

  Key words being broke up. Does that mean this is something like a date? Or that it is a date? Does Jason think I’m here with him because I want to be his girlfriend? As if I could even go there. I mean, hanging out as friends is one thing. But there’s a line. And once you cross it, there’s no going back.

  When I come back with our Popsicles, the sun is setting behind the trees. We lean back on the blanket, watching. The sunset is pink and red.

  “Cool,” Jason says.

  “I know.”

  “It’s wild how the trees look like they’re on fire.” He points. “Like where they’re reflecting the sunlight?”

  Jason’s the only boy who would ever understand about sunset-fire trees. Most boys don’t even notice things like colors and light the way I do.

  “So, you decided to go with the Fourth of July theme, too,” he says.

  “What?”

  Jason points his Popsicle at my Popsicle.

  I’m like, “Oh. Well, you inspired me, so I didn’t have a choice.”

  “Cheers.” He holds his Popsicle out to mine.

  “Cheers.” We tap them together.

  We watch the sunset.

  When the fireworks start, everybody cheers. There are all these blue-and-purple ones, plus red ones that are the exact shade of sunset red. There are ones that look like flowers exploding. Ones that look like green rain. My favorite ones are the hearts. And the smiley faces.

  The best way to watch fireworks is lying back on a pillow. I only brought one pillow, so we’re sharing. I put my favorite pillowcase on—the one with a black-and-white-striped cat wearing big red sneakers.

  After the finale, everyone cheers again. Then it’s this mad rush of people grabbing their stuff and packing up and shaking grass off their blankets. The guy next to us on Jason’s side snaps his blanket in the air, flinging grass all over him.

  Jason wipes grass off his nose. “Guess he didn’t notice me sitting here.”

  “You’re hard to miss.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Oh, please. As if anyone wouldn’t notice you.”

  He has that look again. The one with the dark green eyes. The one where I can’t breathe right.

  “Let’s stay,” I tell him.

  “Okay.”

  I don’t want to leave. Ever. It’s so perfect here, with the amazing night and the sky all big and the sweet summer breeze. It feels like the park is here just for us. Especially after everyone leaves. We’re the last two people left, in the middle of everything. Just lying on the blanket and sharing my pillow, looking up at the big sky all around us. We’re the only two people in the world.

  I want something to happen, but at the same time I don’t. I don’t know what I want. Or I do. But I shouldn’t want it.

  “Firefly!” Jason goes.

  “Where?”

  “See it?” He points. “Over by—”

  “Oh, yeah! There’s another one!”

  “They’re coming back out now. The fireworks scared them away.”

  “I love fireflies!”

  “I know.”

  Then we have a contest to see how many fireflies we can count. Which of course is a bogus contest, since they keep flying around in the same circles. There’s no way to know which ones are which.

  “Seventeen!” I yell.

  “Disqualified. You counted that one already.”

  “How do you know which one I’m counting?”

  “Come on. You obviously mean that one.”

  “Which one?”

  “Oh yeah, right. Like you don’t know which one.”

  Jason shifts a little. Now his head is touching mine. The part of my head touching his head is all tingly. Is he going to move his head away? Did he shift on purpose so we’d be touching like this? I want to keep my head touching his head, but I’m afraid I’m going to spaz and have one of those jerky twitches where you’re ultra aware that part of you is touching part of someone else and you’re trying too hard not to move.

  Maybe I should just try to relax.

  Crickets chirp. Stars slide into new positions. More fireflies blink on.

  When Erin and I were little, we had firefly collections. This was before I realized that you shouldn’t take living things out of their natural habitat and shove them into captivity. We’d go into my backyard and stretch out our arms and let the fireflies land on us. Or we’d chase after them, careful not to damage their wings. Actually, most of the females can’t fly, but they all light up.

  That lighting up is a signal to the other fireflies. They light up to say, “Hey. I like you. Let’s be friends.” Actually, I think they want to be more than friends when they do that. It got me thinking about the way we put signals out into the world for other people to see. To let them know we’re lonely or that we’re looking for new friends.

  Or that we want a boyfriend.

  Not that I’m necessarily looking. I mean, every girl I know wants a boyfriend or a girlfriend. Most girls I know want a boyfriend so badly it’s all they can think about. They have this attitude like once they find him, their life will instantly be perfect. Like it never occurred to them that maybe the reason they feel lonely or sad or bored has to do with them, not with the lack of someone else.

  “Lani.” r />
  “Hi.”

  “Hi. I’m having a really good time.”

  “Same here.”

  Jason moves his arm so it’s touching mine. Okay. Now I know he did that on purpose.

  He goes, “No, I mean . . . just being here with you.”

  “I know. I like it, too.”

  Then Jason moves his fingers over my hand. He bends his fingers around mine.

  And then we’re holding hands.

  And I swear, the Earth stops rotating.

  Should I say something? Or should I wait for him to say something? What if I wait and he doesn’t say anything and he thinks I’m not saying anything because it’s okay with me that he’s holding my hand?

  Is it okay that he’s holding my hand?

  Of course it’s not okay. Erin would freak if she knew. Imagine you’re Erin and you’re away at camp, thinking you’ll have this perfect boyfriend waiting for you when you get back. Then he tells you it’s over. Before it really even started. How would you feel if he was going out with your best friend on top of all that?

  You’d feel like dying. That’s how you’d feel.

  So how can I do this to her? How can I lie here like it’s okay, with our heads pressed together on my pillow, holding hands?

  I slide away a little so I can look at Jason. His eyes are closed. I stare at his profile in the dark, memorizing it. The slope of his nose. The shape of his lips.

  I don’t know what’s happening to me. I guess you get to a point where you can’t fight it anymore. You just can’t help it. Because it’s taken control of you. And it’s never letting go.

  He opens his eyes. He turns toward me.

  Our faces are really close. We stare at each other. He touches my cheek, brushing some hair away from my face.

  “We can’t do this,” I say.

  “Why not?”

  “Erin’s my best friend.”

  “So, she wants you to be happy, right?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Lani,” he whispers. “We belong together.”

  And then he kisses me.

  There’s no time to think about it.

  There’s no way to take it back.

  Our lips stay pressed together, like neither of us wants to be the first to move away.