Chapter 16
Sixteen
Oh how far Callie Carter’s standards have fallen.
Instagram caption by @briellewilliamsplus.
My mood is dampened as we drive to our next destination, even with the square of Gosanko’s Fudge in my belly.
Oh my gosh, that fudge. It’s dangerous. I tried to have only a teeny tiny piece but ended up eating the whole square.
It’s sooooo good. And there’s something about being around Zeke that makes me want to let my guard down.
It’s scary.
I check my posts while Zeke drives. People are already commenting, even some from our school who are normally outside my circle of influence, so I consider that a great start.
I’ve also got a follow from @carolineharriscoolmom, and I smile and follow her back.
She’s commented on several of the pictures, so I hold up the phone and show Zeke.
He glances at the phone briefly and smiles. “Perfect.”
“Park there,” I say, pointing.
Zeke parks the car on the side of the road. We exit, and I gesture for Zeke to follow me up a rocky hill. Cars zip across the freeway overpass above us. The ground is loose, and my lavender and off-white sneakers slip and slide. The air still smells slightly damp from the earlier rain.
“So . . . this troll,” Zeke says. “What is it?”
“You’ll see. You’re not a true Seattle-ite until you’ve seen the Fremont Troll.”
We walk the rest of the way in silence, and I wonder if my mood is affecting Zeke. I wonder what he’s thinking. I wonder if this is a comfortable silence for him or if it’s awkward. For me, it feels awkward.
But we’re not friends so . . . who cares?
I keep thinking about that picture Brielle took. What will she do with it?
“You okay?” Zeke asks, climbing over a group of boulders then turning around to take my hand and help me up. His touch is light as a feather, his skin warm.
“I’m good, thanks.” We continue our walk up the rocky hill.
“What’s that girl’s name?”
“Brielle.”
Zeke frowns. “She’s something.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Something.”
“And by something I mean a total jerk.”
I laugh. “Yeah.”
“There’s one in every school,” Zeke says, stooping to pick up an interesting rock and then tossing it aside. “Someone who thinks they’re better than everyone else.” Zeke studies me. “Why would you go to her party if you hate her?” Zeke asks.
I shrug. “Everyone goes. People will talk if I’m not there.” I hesitate. “You should come with me. If we want it to look like you’re in my friend group, people will expect it.”
Zeke shrugs. “Didn’t Brielle say I wasn’t invited?”
“It’s such a big party she probably won’t even notice us.”
“I’ll think about it,” Zeke says. “So this is it, huh?”
The stone troll looms before us. “Yep.”
A huge stone head, shoulders, and hands emerge from the rocky hillside, reaching towards onlookers.
The fingers are knobby ridges with sharp edges, and one eye is covered by a curtain of rock moss or hair or something.
The other eye is blank and white, pupilless.
It looks like he’s pulling a stone car out of the ground. It’s eerie but cool.
“The detail is amazing. What’s the story here?” Zeke asks.
“Well, in 1912 a bunch of engineers took their handmade tools and chiseled him out of the stone.”
Zeke looks at me in surprise. “Really?”
I giggle. “No. I have no idea what the story is.”
Zeke throws back his head and laughs. “I totally believed you. We should look it up though. This is amazing!”
“And so random, right?” I smile. “You can climb on him if you want.”
Zeke’s eyes light up, and he clambers on top of one of the blocky hands.
“Cheese!” I say, holding up my phone. Zeke smiles, and I snap the pic. We appreciate the troll for a little longer before turning around to head back to the car.
My phone buzzes, and I check the text. It’s Suzy, inviting me to Korea House for dinner.
I hesitate only for a second before I shoot back a quick text, asking if Zeke can come too.
He’s got to become a part of my friend group if this is ever going to work.
Suzy might be suspicious of my intentions, though.
She knows me the best. I hope I can hide this fake friend thing from her, even though I feel guilty about it.
“So random,” Zeke says. “And awesome.”
“That’s Seattle for you,” I say, my fingers tapping away to post more of our pictures to Instagram. “Have you noticed the abstract art sculptures everywhere?”
Zeke nods and hurries to my side of the car to open the door for me before I can get there. I just smile and shake my head as I clamber inside. The car smells faintly fishy from the salmon Zeke bought at Pike Place.
“Yeah, what’s up with that?” Zeke asks.
“It’s cool,” I say. “Makes the city unique.”
Zeke starts the car and pulls away, and when I get Suzy’s affirming text I say, “Hey, do you want to try Korea House for dinner? Suzy’s parents’ restaurant?”
Zeke side-eyes me. “We’ve fulfilled our contract, right? You don’t have to invite me to dinner.”
And there’s that reminder. That we’re not really friends, that none of his gentlemanliness or teasing is real.
I clear my throat. “Right.” I study my phone, feeling awkward.
“But . . .” Zeke says. “I’ve never tried Korean food.”
I look up at him with a tentative smile.
“We can drop off the salmon at my house on the way.”