Caleb briefly closed hiseyes in relief, grateful that she hadn’t done that. His momwould’ve freaked out if Ginny, his alibi, had shown up at theirdoorstep, demanding to know where he was.
He supposed he’d have totell her the truth. Taking a steadying breath, he opened his eyesto Ginny’s face mere inches from his own. It made him stagger backa few steps.
“Oh, my God,” shebreathed, still on tiptoe. “What did you to your hair?”
Hearing her voice reek ofincredulity made Caleb’s defenses spike. “So you get to color yourhair any way you want, but when I decide to get a new haircut, it’sridiculous?”
She flinched at the sharpedge in his voice. “I didn’t say that. It’s just . . . ” shehesitated, her voice coming out small. “It just seems like out ofcharacter for you.”
Caleb knew it was, andsomehow, this only made his defenses harden. “And you know me sowell, right? Better than I know myself since I was the one who wentfor this.” Angrily, he swiped his fingers through his bangs,tangling them.
Ginny bit her lip. “I’msorry. That was a knee-jerk reaction—being more of thejerk kind of reaction.”Again, she stood on her toes, and reached up to finger-comb Caleb’shair. “You could’ve shaved all your hair and painted a bull’s eyeon the top of your head, and I’d still love you for it. You know Iwould, Cale.” She took a step back, her eyes holding his. “But youcan’t blame me for being infinitely worried. You haven’t beenpicking up my calls or answering my texts. You’ve been missingclasses, including that exam you’ve been stressing over for weeks.”Her voice dropped to a near-whisper. “And I know—atleast—that didn’tseem like you.”
He didn’t know what tosay. The memory of Ginny leaning on his shoulder, telling him howgrateful she was for his friendship flashed in his mind.
“Is it . . .” Ginny’svoice shook at the edges. “Are you avoiding me because I didsomething wrong?”
Guilt the weight of agrand piano slammed into Caleb’s chest. “No, Gins.” He shook hishead for emphasis. “Don’t ever think that.”
Her face slackened withrelief. “What is it then? You can tell me anything, remember?” Shelowered her voice. “You’re not doing drugs, are you?”
He almost burst outlaughing. Why was it that the people closest to him couldn’t accepthis hairstyle, but could easily imagine him doing substance abuse?With his mom, it was smoking. And now, Ginny was accusing him ofbeing a druggie. His lips twitched. “I thought you knew me. Are yousure you’re not that the one who’s taking drugs?”
But Ginny didn’t smileback. Instead, she grabbed his shoulders. “Then what is it? Tellme, Cale.”
“Caleb! Hey,Caleb!”
They both turned theirheads at the same time. Franco, peeking out the window of his car,was waving him over. Caleb’s reaction was automatic. Like a beedrawn to a pot of honey, he flew to Franco.
“You have time?” Francosquinted up at him. Maybe it was just the glare of the sun, but theskin under his eyes looked darker than ever.
Caleb hesitated. Francousually had his urges of truancy from lunchtime onwards, not firstthing in the morning. He glanced over his shoulder at Ginny, whowas staring at them, open-mouthed.
Some decisions were bestnot to be mulled over. The Caleb of last week would have refused,or would have at least faltered. But this was a new Caleb, alwaysup for the next adventure
He scooted over to thepassenger side and opened the door.
In the car, the skin atthe back of his neck prickled, telling him that Ginny was stillwatching him as Franco drove away.
* * *
On a weekday morning, thepark seemed bigger. Instead of the massive crowds and noise thathad filled it last weekend, there was only the smattering ofjoggers and the distant hum of machines cutting grass.
For Caleb, to see the parkin a state of quiet was a bit disquieting. Even Franco seemed to bein on the conspiracy of silence, barely saying a word since Calebhad gotten inside his car. Instead of the usual conversation, theride to the park had been dominated by the morning talk showblasting from the speakers.
By the time Caleb had satbeside Franco on one of the sun-warmed benches that edged thepark’s roundabout, he was itching to break the silence.
“I don’tthink the amusement park’s open,” he observed. As soon as the wordswere released into the air, the heavy curtain of silence fell overthem again.
For a long time, Francosquirmed in his seat, until he reached into his back pocket,producing a silver case and a lighter. He opened the clasp of thecase and finally spoke. “Last night, I promised I’d quit.” Hefished out a cigarette stick, sandwiched it between his lips, andfired up the lighter. “But I figured I would need one last smoketoday.”
“Oh? Good for you. I’vebeen meaning to tell you that my uncle died of lungcancer.”
Franco’s eyes dipped atthe corners—his best attempt at a smile as he sucked in thenicotine, his cheeks hollowing out. The smoke streamed from hismouth before fanning out into swirls. “Sorry to hear that. Whydidn’t you tell me earlier?”
Caleb shrugged, notknowing the answer either.
A white butterfly flittedin front of them, kissing the small pink blooms in thegarden.
“That must be your unclethen.” Franco nodded to the butterfly. “Sorry for subjecting yournephew to second-hand smoke. This is the last stick I’ll eversmoke, promise.” Franco bent to ground the cigarette butt againstthe concrete.
He picked it up and walkedtoward the trashcans a short distance away. Looking back, he calledout, “Recyclable or non-recyclable?”
Caleb shrugged.“Non-recyclable, I guess. What else can you do with a usedcigarette?”
When Franco sat back down,he crossed his legs, uncrossed them. Crossed them again. Calebcould feel the nervous energy shooting off him insparks.
Suddenly, Caleb knew whatto do. He would rub Franco’s back. It was what his mom used to dofor his dad during those long drives to the beach. But Caleb hadonly managed to flatten his palm against Franco’s back when thelatter flinched, his back stiffening.
“Sorry,” Franco croaked,lifting one hand to cover his eyes. “I’m sorry, Caleb.”
“It’s okay.” The wordscame out faster than he
