Chapter 14 #2
Not that Sam gave me any reason to feel that way.
We emailed constantly when we were apart, already making plans for when we could see each other when we both started university.
He sent me the schedule for the train that ran between Kingston and Toronto—the trip was under three hours—and the sweetest, nerdiest list of bookstores and hospitals he thought we should visit in both cities.
By April, Toronto was in bloom with tulips and daffodils, and the buds on the magnolia and cherry blossom trees were getting fat.
But up north, clumps of icy snow still hung around the edges of Bare Rock Lane and throughout the bush.
Sam and I trudged up along the streambed, our boots sinking in where the snow was still surprisingly deep, and slipping on the damp ground where the sun had managed to break through the boughs.
It smelled both fresh and fungal, like one of Mom’s expensive mud masks, and there was so much rushing water, we had to raise our voices over the roar.
The stream was quieter by the swirling pool where the old fallen tree lay across its belly. It was a bright day, but chilly in the shade of the pines, and the bark was soggy even through my jeans. I was glad for the quilted jacket Sam convinced me to wear.
“So there’s this big party at the end of the year,” he said once we settled, handing me one of Sue’s oatmeal-raisin cookies from the pocket of his fleece.
“It’s right after graduation, and, uh, everyone gets dressed up .
. .” He pushed his hair out of his eye—he hadn’t cut it in months and it tumbled over his forehead in a waterfall of swooshes and swoops.
“You mean prom?” I asked, grinning.
“There is a prom, but it’s nothing special. This is like a grad party except it’s in a big field in the middle of the bush.” He raised his eyebrows as if to ask, So what do you think?
“Sounds fun, which you have time for now,” I said, taking a bite of the cookie.
He cleared his throat. “So I was wondering, if it doesn’t conflict with your grad, if you wanted to go with me.” He winced slightly and clarified, “You know, as my date.”
“Will you be wearing a suit?” I smiled, picturing it already.
“Some people wear jackets,” he said slowly. “Is that a yes?”
“If you wear a suit, then I’m in,” I elbowed him in the ribs. “Our first date.”
“The first of many,” he elbowed me back. And my smile fell.
“There’ll be other dates, Percy,” he promised, reading my mind and lowering his face to mine. “I’ll come see you in Toronto, and you’ll come to Kingston—whenever we can.” There was a stinging in my nose, like I had eaten a spoonful of wasabi.
“Four years apart is a long time,” I whispered, playing with my bracelet.
“For you and me? It’ll be nothing,” he said softly, and before I could ask, he hooked his index finger around my bracelet and gave it a gentle tug. “I swear,” he said. “And besides, we’ve got time. We’ve got all summer.”
But he was wrong. We didn’t have all summer at all.
SAM READ SCHOOL textbooks—for fun!—in his downtime and landed a full academic scholarship to one of the most competitive programs in the country, so obviously I knew he was smart. But finding out that he had the highest GPA in his class rocked me.
“So you’re, like, smart-smart,” I said when he called to tell me the news. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I study and school comes pretty easy to me,” he replied. I could almost hear him shrug. “It’s not that big of a deal, really.”
But it was that big of a deal. Having the top marks in his graduating class meant Sam was its valedictorian and therefore required to give a speech at his graduation.
I drove to Barry’s Bay the day of his grad ceremony, which was also the night of the big after-party, the strapless white dress Delilah and I picked out at the mall hanging from a hook in the back of the car.
My graduation—a sweltering uneventful affair held late afternoon on the school’s soccer field—had been a few days earlier.
When I got to the cottage, I had just enough time to shower, change, put on a little makeup, and fix my hair in a side braid that hung down over one shoulder.
I had made Sam find out what kind of footwear the girls wore to a fancy bush party, so I headed to the Floreks’ in a pair of silver flip-flops with rhinestones on the straps.
Charlie was already home from his second year at Western, and Sue and the boys were sitting on the porch with sweaty glasses of iced tea when I walked down the driveway.
The three of them together at home early on a Friday evening in summer was a rare sight.
Sam rose from his wicker chair and walked across the porch to greet me, wearing a black suit, a white shirt, and a black tie.
He’d cut his hair, and he looked like a teenage James Bond.
I can’t believe he’s mine, I thought as I ran my hands along his shoulders and down his arms, but what I told him was, “I guess this will do.” He gave me a smile that said he was probably aware of how well he cleaned up and a chaste kiss on my cheek before Sue had us pose for photos.
From the moment we stepped inside his school, it was clear Sam wasn’t just a brain, he was well-liked.
It wasn’t a surprise, exactly. I knew Sam was awesome—I just didn’t know everyone else did, too.
Guys threw him high fives and handshake/back-pat combos, and several girls threw their arms around his neck with sighs of I can’t believe it’s all over, not bothering to look in my direction.
I knew Jordie and Finn a little, but this whole other world he was a part of, maybe was at the center of, was totally foreign to me.
In some ways, Sam had remained in my mind the scraggy boy I first met, a kid who had trouble relating to his classmates after his dad’s death and then a teenager too busy to party unless I pushed him.
But watching him stride onto the stage in his cap and gown to the cheers of his classmates was like seeing his metamorphosis happen in an instant.
He delivered his speech in a deep, clear voice—he was self-deprecating and funny and hopeful; he was completely charming.
I was transfixed and proud, and as I stood with the rest of the audience applauding him, a seed of dread sprouted inside me.
Sam had been tucked away safe for me in Barry’s Bay, but in September, he would be part of a much bigger world—one that was sure to sweep him up in its infinite possibilities.
“You okay?” Sam asked quietly as Charlie drove us to the grad party, the three of us wedged into the front bench of his pickup.
“Yeah. Just thinking about how fast this summer’s going to go by,” I replied, watching the bush grow thick around the road we were headed down. “At least we still have two more months.” I gave him a small smile as Charlie coughed something under his breath.
“What did you just call me?” I snapped.
“Not you.” He looked at Sam from the corner of his eye, but neither said anything more.
We had been driving for almost twenty minutes, when Charlie turned down a dirt road that cut through the brush and then, without warning, opened onto giant rolling fields.
The sun had already set, but it was bright enough to make out the old farmhouse and barns perched at the top of the driveway.
Dozens of cars were parked in lines on the grass, and there was a small stage with lights and a DJ booth set up at the edge of one of the pastures.
Charlie pulled up in front of the farmhouse, where two girls sat behind a folding table with a cash box and a stack of red plastic cups.
Twenty bucks bought you entrance and a cup to fill at the keg.
“I’ll pick you up at one right here,” he said as we climbed out, then peeled away in a cloud of dust.
The air smelled of fresh grass and Axe body spray.
There were way more people milling about the fields than the students that made up Sam’s small graduating class.
As promised, the girls wore flip-flops or sandals with their dresses, some of them in floor-length prom-style gowns and others in more casual summer cotton.
Most of the guys were in dress pants and button-down shirts, but a few, like Sam, wore jackets.
We filled our cups and then tried to find Jordie and Finn, but the only lights were the ones on the stage, and unless you were standing in front of it, you had to squint to make out faces in the fading blue light.
Every few minutes, someone would come up to Sam to tell him how fantastic his speech was.
We made our way to the stage, watching other drunker people dancing with their arms linked around each other’s shoulders.
Several beers in, I noticed that there were no porta potties and that girls were sneaking away to squat in the bushes.
I slowed down my drinking after that, but eventually was forced to break the seal among the leaves like everyone else.
“That was a unique experience,” I said to Sam when I got back. The red lights of the stage illuminated his four-beer grin and hooded eyes.
“Dance with me,” he said, circling his arms around my waist, and we swayed together slowly even though the music was a pounding club song.
“I know a million people have already told you this tonight,” I said with my fingers twisted in the hair at the nape of his neck.
“But your speech was kind of incredible. I thought I was the writer in this relationship. What other secrets are you keeping from me, Sam Florek?” The smile slipped from his face.
“What?” I asked. He pressed his lips together, and my stomach dropped. “Sam, what? Is there something you’re keeping from me?” I stopped moving.
“Let’s go somewhere quieter,” he said, taking my hand to lead me away from the stage and toward a clump of boulders. He pulled me behind the rocks and ran his hand through his hair.