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Fuck, I might have forgotten about that.
“So when you come back for that,” she adds, “you better bring me gifts. And none of that cheesy trinket stuff. Like real good stuff, Chase. Chocolates and a real live coconut.”
“Yeah, yeah I got it. How are you? School okay?”
She huffed into the receiver. “Fine. Same old high school bullshit. I’d do better if I were homeschooled on an island though.”
I shifted on my feet, not quite sure what to say. Ginny is a cheerleader and a popular kid on campus. I don’t know why she hates high school so much. It seems like she should be thriving. But then again, she and I have always seen past the bullshit. It’s one of the reasons I had to leave.
“Mom and Pops okay?” I asked, and I could almost hear the eye roll over the phone.
“Mom just cries since you left. Pops is out working on the farm, not talking about his feelings. People have been asking where you went. Dixon is locked down tight. Won’t say a word.”
“Yeah,” I said, feeling like shit.
“I get why you did it. It’s suffocating here. I wanna do what you did. I want out.”
God, I know exactly how she feels. I felt it when I was her age too—the need to break out of that small town and figure out who I was. But time had gotten away from me, and then I was in college, in the same small town, playing football. And I felt stuck. But after graduation, on a morning after drinking too much and nursing a terrible hangover, I saw this ad on my phone.
And I went for it.
Now, here I am. On this motherfucking island.
“It’s crazy here, Ginny. You’d love it. It’s so different.”
“I know. If you stay out there over summer, I’m gonna buy a ticket and come visit you. I want to see where you’re living.”
“So, you’re not mad?” I’d asked, and she sighed.
“Only a little, but just…keep in touch. And don’t miss my competition. And send me pics like you did the other day. Text me updates. I need something to live off of while I’m here, rotting away.”
“I love you, sis.”
“Love you more.”
After we hung up, I should have called my mom, but I’d been too chickenshit. So, I sent her a text with the same picture of the ocean I’d sent Ginny.
She hasn’t responded, but I expect she will. Soon enough. She and her entire church group, I’m sure. I may even get a message from my dad. If he finds out about the flip-flops, he might be pretty upset—more upset about that than the fact that I left.
I am dreading the conversations with my parents, but I know there is no avoiding them. If I go home for that competition, I’m gonna have to face them anyways. Might as well call them both soon so I have a place to crash.
But I’ll be so different when I arrive, I’m sure they’ll notice. Maybe I should just send them both a pic of my feet basking in the sun with sunscreen on them.
And then one of Holden’s ass. Let them come to their own conclusions. Maybe I won’t even have to say a goddamn thing.
Work is over faster than I expected. We made our way over to one of the restaurants to fix that faucet and then over to the bungalows to fix a broken toilet—someone shoved a bar of soap down it—and then we ended up back in the laundry room where Devon was desperately searching for Molly. I wonder, for a moment, if he spends most of his workday trying toaccidentallyrun into her, but then shove that thought aside. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters much at the moment, other than Holden.
When he’s done stalking Molly, Devon makes me a spare key for my room, telling me to wear it and never take it off this time, even if it feels like I’m about to be chained to cement.
I solemnly swear to him that I won’t. I will wear this damned thing until I die. I don’t want to be stranded and at the mercy of the jungle.
I’m not Mowgli. I wouldn’t be able to find a Baloo. I’d probably just get eaten by lizards.
Yeah, I think as I secure my key on my wrist, I am gonna be very, very responsible from here on out. No more coconut bongs and most definitely no more Holden.
No more fucking. Just no.
That’s my word now.
