“I don’t think I’d fit in anything of yours,” I say, eyeing his physique. Aaron is tall and thin, probably just shy of six feet. He’s built like Chester Bennington from Linkin Park but with a young Ryan Sheckler hot skater-guy vibe.
“Is there, I don’t know, a Target nearby or on the way?” I ask.
He chuckles. “I didn’t take you for the Target type but yeah, there is.”
My shoulders sag as I lean against the wall, relief sweeping through me. “I don’t come from money. All of this, my dad’s assistant bought it all for me when I moved in. I’m very much a Target kind of girl.”
He grins this goofy lopsided smile. “I think I like you even more with that revelation. Come on. Let’s get you some new kicks and go have some fun.”
SIX
Allie
I’ve never been one for shopping but I absolutely raid Target as soon as we get to the women’s section. I’m not the picky type so I grab the basics. Things I can mix and match with little effort. A few solid white shirts and a couple with band logo graphics. Some black ripped skinny jeans. A pair of shorts even though it’s past fall and nearing winter. A swimsuit, just in case. And a few pairs of leggings along with a hoodie for good measure.
Aaron is a good sport, helping me carry the piles of clothes as I wander up and down the aisles without a single complaint. When I feel like I have enough, we make our way to the registers.
I feel bad when the cashier rings me up and gives me the total. Four hundred and thirteen dollars. I swallow hard as I hand over Gerald’s credit card and guilt sweeps through me, reminding me I need to find a job so I don’t have to rely on him. I’ll be eighteen soon, and I need to be prepared for that.
It only takes a few minutes after she hands me my receipt to remember my mom just died and Gerald hasn’t bothered to be around all week. What kind of father does that?
That helps sweep away any lingering guilt over how much I’m spending today. I’ll still need to search for a job, though.
“Woah, Allie. You look good.” Aaron says when I step out of the restroom.
As soon as I’d paid, I rushed to change into the ripped black jeans and a white V-neck shirt I’d just purchased. I even bought myself a pair of fake gold hoops. I was an idiot for thinking I wanted to be anyone other than myself. I hate all the expensive white and peach and pink clothes Janessa bought for me. And I really hate the way people judge me when I’m in them.
“Thanks.” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and smile.
I was comfortable. I was me again.
I’d missed me this week.
With my arms full, Aaron helps me carry my load to his car and we toss everything in the back of his Subaru WRX. As I shopped, he told me about the cabin we’d be staying in. I was relieved when I learned I wouldn’t need to worry about getting a tent or a sleeping bag. Camping with Aaron sounds more like staying in a hotel, so clothes and toiletries are all that is required.
I can tell Aaron comes from money. Not like Gerald does. That’s an entirely different level. But Aaron’s family is better off than just comfortable. It makes me wonder what he’d think if he’d seen my former home. If he’d still want to be my friend if he’d met the old me? The me before my mom died who lived in a one-bedroom, one-bathroom home on the wrong side of town with bars on the windows.
Then I shove that thought away because I realize I’m silently judging him the same way the students at Sun Valley High have been judging me. I’m not like that.
The drive to Shadle Creek takes a little over an hour. Aaron and I listen to The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, All American Rejects, and Panic! At the Disco, and for the first time in over a week, I feel myself relaxing. The wind blows tendrils of my hair loose and I can’t help but smile wide as Aaron navigates us down the winding roads, both of our windows rolled down and the sun shining through.
There’s no pressure here. No hate-filled stares. Aaron is surprisingly funny and despite having a horrible singing voice, he has no problem belting out the lyrics toI Write Sins Not Tragediesright along with me.
Before I know it, the asphalt road turns to gravel and we’re pulling into a clearing ringed with cabins. Dozens of teenagers—some I recognize from school and others I don’t—are milling around, chatting, and drinking beer. Some are pitching tents and another group is getting a bonfire started in the center of the clearing.
As soon as we get out of the car, I close my eyes and breathe in the forest around me.
My shoulders relax, my breathing slows. I exhale and it’s like all the tension from earlier this week melts away.
I catch Aaron ginning at me over the top of his car.
“Glad you came?”
I nod and grab my bags, following him as he leads the way to the first cabin on our right. “Yeah. This place is really cool,” I say as he unlocks the door and we step inside. He drops his own bag just inside the doorway and I take in the rustic yet clean A-frame cabin. It’s simple and screams teenager hangout with the mismatched sofas and already set up red Solo cups on the dining table. A game of beer pong is definitely in our future tonight, not that I’m complaining.
There’s a surround sound system set up in every corner and an old school boombox with mini subwoofers built beneath the speakers resting on a cherrywood entertainment center. I spot the CD booklet sitting next to it and can hardly wait to rifle through it. MP3 players and streaming are so overrated. Mixed CDs are where it’s all at.
“Thanks. My family owns this one and the cabin right next to us, but I’m letting a few buddies of mine use that one. We’ll probably have some crashers here on the sofas later tonight. Usually, we leave our cabins open to whoever decides to stay, but there’s a bedroom in the back so we’ll have some privacy.”
