Page 16 of We Already Dug the Grave

I forced an awkward laugh and stepped right onto a rolling can. I rocked off balance, tipping back before he grabbed my arm to steady me. My cheeks flushed, and suddenly I was hyperaware of my sweaty shirt and my frizzy hair and oh my God I felt like an idiot, even though I hadn’t been the one who’d startled another person into a tower of soup.

And okay. Why was there even a tower of soup in the first place? There was no way the folks of Puddle Creek bought that much soup. Nobody on earth bought that much soup.

And what’s with the camera?

“That went well,” Casey said, tucking the camera into his apron pocket.

I looked down to where the fingers of his other hand curled around my forearm, realizing I’d yet to say anything.

“Um,” I mumbled. My stomach flipped, and not in that heebie-jeebies way. This was like being filled with a million moths, all flapping their wings toward the porch light. Casey’s gaze followed my own, then we both looked up at the same moment, our eyes locking.

“Casey,” I began. Say something cool. “What the hell? Why do you have a disposable camera?”

“Sorry. I thought it would be funny.” He dropped his grip. “It’s for this project I’m doing in art class. I’m taking pictures with different types of cameras.” He pushed his floppy auburn hair away from his forehead and blew out a breath. “God. I’m stupid. But in my defense, I had no idea that you’d…you know. Freak out.” He pressed his lips together to stifle a laugh.

I couldn’t help it. His laughter had always been contagious, a gasping chuckle that sounded like it belonged to someone’s grandpa, not a seventeen-year-old. Soon, my shoulders shook with laughter, as I tripped toward full-on hysteria. God, it felt good. For a moment I thought, We’re back. This is us. The real us. Until his manager walked by, a scowl on his lined face. Casey’s posture snapped into a straight line, and I covered my mouth with my palm. Casey spoke in a deep customer service voice. “As long as you’re okay, ma’am, I’ll get this cleaned up.”

The second the older man was out of sight, I snorted, and the laughter started over.

“Come on,” Casey said eventually. “I’ll check you out.”

I followed him to a register and he began scanning my items. It should’ve been nothing.

Except, I felt him look at me. Then look away. On the third time, I couldn’t help it. “What’s up?”

He sighed, his shoulders dropping in his uniform polo. “Nothing. Just. Are you mad at me?”

“What?” The question caught me by surprise.

“Did I do something? If I did, can you tell me? Because I think you’re pissed at me or something.” He scanned the can of soup that had fallen into my cart, then looked at me intently.

My mind emptied.

“No.” I shook my head. “I’m not mad at you. Why would you think that?”

He shrugged. “Seems like we’ve been, I don’t know, off or something. If it’s about the kiss—”

“Stop.” My entire body felt as if it might ignite. I kind of wished it would. Just burn me up in the middle of the Piggly Wiggly, because that would be infinitely better than listening to him talk about that mortifying party game. The urgent kiss with my teeth bumping against his before I ran. “I mean, no. Um. It’s not…not that.”

“What is it, then? And don’t say ‘nothing.’”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I have a lot going on.” I scrambled for something to tell him, anything besides how I actually felt. I didn’t think telling him I wanted to grab his hand and never let go while standing in the middle of his workplace was the right move. “I think… It’s just, well, Frances,” I blurted out.

“Frances?” He tilted his head to the side.

“Yeah. She’s been acting weird lately. She’s been avoiding me, and it’s just this whole family drama thing, and, uh, oh God, I guess school is a mess.”

“School? But you’re good at school.”

“I know—but Mr. Fortenberry called me out in class today and I mean I get why everyone thinks he’s hot with his dark hair and…whatever, but I don’t know, he just gives me the creeps and…” I petered out, realizing I was rambling.

Casey’s smile was almost cocky in its tilt. “Okay.” He nodded. “Good. I thought…” He sighed.

“What?”

“I thought you were mad at me for asking you to the dance after you were forced to kiss me at the party. For what it’s worth, I hate spin the bottle. Hated it in fifth grade. Hate it now.” The scanner beeped as he dragged my loaf of bread over the sensor. “I was going to tell you, if you are, upset with me, I mean, we don’t have to go together.”

An alarm sounded in my head.