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“June.”
That’s true. And it’s not. I did not specify the year. Chronologically my eighteenth birthday happened six months ago. But in the tumultuous time after my father’s death I lost a lot of months of school. My mom thought it was in my best interest to repeat a year and the family friend who secured a new identity for us agreed that it was a good idea to change my birthdate. So on paper I am three hundred and fifty nine days younger than in reality.
She’s waiting for me to say more. I wish she wasn’t so pretty. Camden has a natural kind of beauty that doesn’t require makeup. I’m wary over the fact that she’s in full reporter mode, asking questions and trying to extract answers. But I really don’t want to be a dick to her.
“Camden, I can handle the store tomorrow night if you don’t want to work on your birthday. You probably have better plans than stocking shelves and cooking hot dogs.”
She’s shaking her head before I finish talking. “No, it’s all right.”
“Diane and Dee won’t mind.”
“I should work.”
That kind of stops me for a second. She must really need the money. I think back to the day she showed up here and Dee ended up offering her a job. We’ve got some things in common. There aren’t too many kids at Black Mountain Academy who worry about paying the bills.
“Who’s Adela?” I ask her because I remember Dee mentioning the name.
A smile tilts her lips but she looks sad. “Adela’s my mom. Well, my stepmom. I think of her as my mom. My real mother died when I was a baby but somehow I don’t think she’d mind knowing how much I love Adela.” She tucks a strand of long hair behind her left ear and swallows. “Adela has breast cancer. Her prognosis is good but the treatment takes a lot out of her and she hasn’t been able to work in months.”
This is a moment where people lower their eyes and mutter, “I’m sorry”. That never made any sense to me. Still, I’d be made of bricks if I didn’t feel bad for her. She’s obviously torn up by her stepmom’s illness and she’s already lost one parent. There are few things more terrible than losing a parent and I’m hovering on the edge of admitting that grief is something I understand too well. The weight of four years of silence presses on me and if Camden were a different girl and if we were in a different place I might choose to tell her about my father. Not everything. That would be impossible no matter who she is. But I might decide to be a little bit honest with her if she weren’t Camden Galway. Pretty. Brainy. Curious. Reporter. That could all add up to trouble if I let it.
“That sucks,” I tell her because her story does suck. So does mine.
She nods with a sigh. “Hey, do you know Frankie Encanto?”
The image of a black-haired kid a few grades behind me at Devil Valley High comes to mind. “Yeah, I remember him.”
“He’s Adela’s son, my stepbrother. But he’s my real brother in every way that matters.”
“I didn’t know that. He’s on the wrestling team, right?”
“That’s him. I go to his matches to cheer him on whenever I can.”
Her face is alight with pride when she talks about her brother. Camden obviously loves her family. In spite of their struggles her home is probably a happy one.
She tilts her head. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
I have no siblings. Only cousins. Fucking junior sociopaths who grew into dangerous men that I hope to never see again.
“Nope.”
Camden frowns over my one word answer. Too bad. That’s all she’s getting.
She’s about to speak again when the bell above the door jingles. A trio of Devil Valley High girls blow through it with a gust of cold air and a whole lot of high pitched chatter.
“BEN!”
“We miss you, Ben!”
“Ben, I need to hug you.”
They do not acknowledge Camden at all and I see her take a step back. Bridget Spinelli, head cheerleader and mean girl extraordinaire, who isn’t afraid to enhance her attitude with her fists, practically shoves Camden out of the way before hopping up on the counter. Her boyfriend is Dez Taylor, the biggest offensive lineman on the football team. But I’m not worried about what’ll happen if he hears about how Bridget lets her varsity jacket slip from her bare shoulders, cups her hand across the back of my neck and gives me a long taste of her tongue. That’s the thing about Dez; he likes his girl to get it on with other guys. I don’t push her away but in truth she does nothing for me and she tastes like cheap alcohol and nicotine.
Her friends, Abbey and Maya, also Devil Valley cheerleaders, crowd around the counter as well.
“Ben, when are you coming back to school?”
“No fair that Black Mountain took the hottest guy.”
