Chapter 13 #2
Neither of us have acknowledged what happened between us on Sunday since then.
I wait anxiously to see what Caleb will say in response.
It’s underwhelming. He just nods, not providing me any insight into what he’s thinking.
And we’ve reached the entrances to the locker rooms, so I have no more time to analyze his expression.
“See you, Lennon,” is all he says before disappearing into the boys’ one.
After I’ve changed back into my usual jeans and sweatshirt, I head to the newsroom for our meeting.
I’m anxious about it. This is the first paper meeting since I handed in the draft for my article about Caleb to Andrew.
I didn’t want to write it in the first place, but the stakes have risen exponentially since I received the assignment. In a way I definitely didn’t expect.
“Hey,” Julie greets when I take a seat at my desk next to her.
“Hey,” I reply, glancing around the newsroom. “No Andrew yet?”
“Nope,” she replies. “Joe said he was here earlier. Was muttering something about you and then left.”
“Oh. Great .”
My anxiety increases.
I have almost every sentence of the article memorized. I run through the words I spent hours agonizing over, trying to figure out what might have caused Andrew to be late for a meeting for the first time ever.
The newsroom door flies open a couple minutes later, announcing our editor’s presence.
“You’re late,” Joe calls out to Andrew.
“I know,” Andrew replies. He looks almost…giddy. Julie and I exchange a quick glance, trying to figure out what’s going on. She shrugs. Maybe this isn’t about me?
“Well?” Joe prompts.
“I had to talk to the printer,” Andrew says. “And up our order for the next issue to two thousand copies.”
Julie’s mouth literally drops open. That’s a hundred times our normal order. A quarter of Landry’s population. More copies than students who attend Landry High.
“What? Why?” I ask, unable to keep my mouth shut. No one else is saying anything.
Andrew grins. “Funny you should be the one to ask, Lennon. I read your article in study hall earlier. One of the best things I’ve ever read, and I’m not going to be the only one who thinks so.
Everyone else, pay close attention to my notes on your articles.
This will be the issue people read. Make sure it’s your best work. ”
He pulls a packet of papers out from under his arm and starts distributing them around the room. He drops Julie’s article draft down in front of her, dotted with red ink. Mine falls next. Without a single mark. That’s never happened.
Andrew continues moving around the room, dropping off articles and sharing feedback. I remain seated, in a state of shock.
“Can I read your article?” Julie asks.
“Uh, yeah. Sure.” I slide the papers over toward her.
My pen taps against the surface of the desk, trying to reconcile the last few minutes with the berating I was bracing for.
Two thousand copies? I should be flattered, and a part of me is.
But I also know the more people who read the article, the more attention the student body will pay to me and Caleb.
I’ve spent the last three and a half years being defined by my so-called hatred of Caleb Winters.
Now I’ll be known as the girl who wrote the article about him.
It’s an upgrade from being judged for my parents’ mistakes, but it still has nothing to do with me .
“Wow. This is really good,” Julie comments.
“You sound surprised.”
“No, I’m not,” Julie insists. “I just…based on how you reacted to getting it assigned, I thought…”
She trails off, but she doesn’t need to finish her thought. I already know what she is trying to say.
“Yeah, well, if I decide to do something I don’t see any point in half-assing it,” I respond.
Julie laughs. “Clearly. But I hope you know this is going to seriously boost his reputation.” I must look confused, because she laughs again. “I mean it. I like him more after reading this. The fact that you wrote it? People are going to give it way more credence.”
I replay her words for the rest of the meeting and the walk home. Caleb can already do no wrong in the eyes of Landry. Why would one semi-complementary article change that? That implies people care about what I think or say, which is not an impression I’ve ever gotten.
The paper meeting ran longer than usual, and I have a pile of Calculus problems waiting for me, so I rush through the evening chores.
I hop off Dusty’s back just after dark and lead her back to the barn. Its lights are shining like a beacon, visible for miles. Untacking her only takes a few minutes. After I finish brushing her, I release Dusty into her stall.
When I turn around, Caleb is leaning against the adjoining stall’s door, just inside the barn’s entrance.
My heart stutters, then picks up in double time.
“You said I could come over whenever,” he reminds me.
“I know. I just didn’t think you would.”
“No?” Caleb straightens. Steps closer.
“Did you win?” He’s still wearing his baseball uniform, and I really wish he weren’t. Especially now that I have the memory of all those muscles pressed against me.
“Yeah,” Caleb responds, then smiles.
I tilt my head. “What?”
“I threw a no-hitter.”
There’s a buoyant note to his voice, some barely restrained excitement. “That’s good, right?” I surmise.
His smile grows. “Yeah. It’s good.” He takes a few steps toward me.
I suck in a deep breath. Caleb doesn’t stop until he’s only a few inches from me. I can see the darker flecks of blue in his eyes. The shadows beneath them.
“I’m really good at blocking distractions out,” he tells me.
His warm, hard body is pressing against mine now, but I don’t feel trapped. I feel protected. Shielded. Safe.
“But do you know what I keep thinking about, Lennon?”
Caleb’s hand coasts down my side, landing on my waist.
“This.”
He kisses me first. But I’m expecting it. There’s no surprise or uncertainty. Shivers race up and down my spine as tentative touches turn hungry. Fierce. Ravenous.
I learn that when I suck on his lower lip, he groans.
We don’t pull apart until “Lennie!” echoes across the front yard. Caleb and I survey each other for a minute, both out of breath.
“Be right there,” I shout back.
“This mean anything to you, Matthews?”
“ I don’t go around kissing random people, Caleb.”
He realizes what I’m referring to immediately. “I wouldn’t have touched her, if I’d known you were coming that night. If I’d known you’d care , Lennon.”
“I never said I cared.”
“Right.” He glances down, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll see you later.”
Caleb is halfway down the barn aisle before I speak. “Do you want to stay for dinner?”
He slows. Stops. Turns.
“Okay.”
And that’s how I end up entering the kitchen with Caleb right behind me. Gramps gets over his shock quickly and starts gushing over Caleb.
Apparently, the fact he pitched an entire game without allowing the other team to hit the ball is kind of a big deal. Which explains some of Caleb’s amusement in the barn. My grandfather is more up-to-date on town news than I am.
Thankfully, dinner is one of Gramps’s better creations. He and Caleb talk easily, while I mostly observe. It’s not as strange as I expected it to be, having a third person sitting at the rickety kitchen table. Having Caleb sit at the rickety kitchen table.
And that’s sort of terrifying.
He wasn’t supposed to fit.
* * *
The next two weeks fly by. Caleb’s schedule grows more hectic thanks to baseball, and mine was already packed.
But he continues coming over to the farm, mostly at night, but sometimes in the morning, and we talk. About everything and nothing. The only thing we never discuss is the future.
I’m guessing Caleb never brings it up because he knows the entire school is eagerly trying to figure out which elite Division I university he’ll be pitching at next spring. And I have my own reasons for avoiding the subject.
“Caleb’s been spending a lot of time over here lately,” Gramps comments one evening at dinner, right after Caleb left.
“I guess,” I reply, thrown by his cautious tone.
“Just be careful,” Gramps warns. “The Winters, they…well, Elaine—”
A shockwave rolls through me at the sound of my mother’s name. “What about Mom?”
“The Winters family has been worshipped here for a long time,” Gramps says. “Caleb’s father, Austin—well, people treated him the same way they treat Caleb now. I’m glad you’re having some fun, but I don’t want you to get hurt, Lennie.”
Gramps reaches under the kitchen table and pulls a blue bundle of fabric out. He hands the roll to me.
“What’s this?”
“A sleeping bag,” Gramps replies. “Figured you could use it on the senior trip. It gets cold up in the mountains at night.”
“I’m not going on the senior trip, Gramps. I—”
“Yes, you are going.” There’s an undercurrent of authority I rarely hear from him.
“I let college drop—for now.” He gives me a stern look.
“Because you’re partially right. I don’t have any good options for taking care of things around here myself for that long.
But three nights I can handle. And, before you ask, I have friends coming to help out.
Go be a kid for a bit, darling. I know you had to grow up fast, and I’m sorry you did.
But life is short. You already know that. You’ll regret not going one day.”
I want to argue, but studying his weathered, wrinkled face, I realize this is for him as much as for me. He wants to do this.
“Okay.” I blow out a breath. “I’ll go.”
I stand to clear our empty plates, and then circle the table so I can wrap my arms around him, chair and all. It reminds me of the days I used to spend traveling around the farm on his shoulders.
“I love you, Gramps.”
He pats my arm affectionately. “Love you too, Lennie. Just no shenanigans with the Winters boy on the trip, all right?”
“Gramps!” I exclaim. My cheeks are burning, making me glad he can’t see my face right now.
He laughs and stands. “What sort of guardian would I be if I sent you off on an overnight trip without mentioning it? I was a young man once myself.”
“Stop talking! I’m going out for the night check now,” I inform him, still blushing.
Gramps’s chuckles follow me out of the house. The mare barn is still and quiet when I enter it, but the horses hear the door creak open and start rustling around. I head inside the tack room to grab the hay bags I already prepared earlier.
I divvy them out among the five mares the same way I do every night, and then feed the stallions.
It’s a clear, starry night. I stand in the doorway for a few minutes, looking out at the pasture and contemplating the end of another day. They all blur together, sometimes.
Senior year is speeding by, the end of high school drawing closer and closer. The only thing that’s been different lately has been Caleb. And now I have Gramps’s warning echoing right along with my own caution.
I thought this thing between us would fizzle out on its own. But it hasn’t. Now it feels like the longer it lasts, the harder it will be to end.
With a sigh, I head back toward the farmhouse.