7. Casey
seven
Casey
M ay 25
After nearly two months of working with Matt and Sutton, I shouldn’t have been nervous. Should I? I yanked out my phone and scrolled through my text message chain with them. They both seemed excited by the progress we’d made towards the arts program.
My stomach flip-flopped. What if I was moving to the wilds of Washington only for Matt to suddenly decide all of my ideas were bad?
“It’s a good thing Mom and Dad have a basement, because you guys have way too much stuff.” My older brother, Simon, set one final box into our parents' garage and brushed off his hands. Behind him, Oliver slammed the U-Haul's back door with a clattering crash.
"Yah!" I yelped, fumbling for my phone.
Oliver raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you’re ready for this move, Casey? You seem jumpy."
"Excuse you, I'm not jumpy. I’m focused. No one expects loud crashing noises while reviewing very important business messages.” Okay, maybe I was also a bit nervous, but my brothers didn’t need to know that.
“All right, all right,” Oliver said, laughing. “Sorry to scare you. Good news from camp?”
"The music room is already halfway done! Can you believe that? It’s all so exciting. And Matt says our cabin is ready to go. I can’t believe we get to spend the summer together!"
A grin spread across Oliver's face. "Wow, you're getting really invested in this summer camp you supposedly hate."
Heat crept up my neck. "I don't hate it. I just have a healthy skepticism of outdoor activities. And insects. Also sunshine," I mumbled. “Besides, you can’t make fun of me, you’re just as invested in your science thingy.”
“The Eagle Ridge Conservancy.”
“Sunshine?” Simon butted in. “You’re afraid of sunshine?”
“I don’t spend a fortune on Korean skincare just to go out and spend my days getting sun damage.”
Simon fixed me with an exasperated look. "Well, there's no sun in the basement, so why don't you focus less on your emails and more on carrying all this crap down the basement stairs? Or if that’s too much for you, you could help Ollie return the U-Haul."
My eyes darted to the hulking U-Haul, then to our stuffed-to-the-gills Prius.
"Oh hell no," I blurted. "I can't drive either of those death traps."
"Casey," Simon sighed, "you're 21. You need to learn how to—"
"Nope!" I sang, spinning on my heel. "I know how to operate a car, I just choose not to. I choose life, thank you very much.”
“That’s our car,” Oliver said. “If you think it’s a death trap, why do you make me drive you everywhere in it?”
“Because it’s only a death trap with Case at the wheel.” Simon's laughter rang out, sharp and teasing. "Casey, your driving skills are about as developed as your ability to carry boxes. Which is to say, nonexistent."
I felt my cheeks burn, a witty comeback dying on my lips. But before I could wallow in embarrassment, Oliver stepped in, his voice steady and firm.
"Simon, that's enough. Why don't you return the truck? Your car is at the U-Haul office, anyway. Casey and I will carry the last few boxes down. We need to get on the road to Washington." He paused, his tone softening, as if he felt guilty for snapping. "And thanks for everything, Si, really. Casey, say thank you to our big brother."
“Thank you to our big brother,” I said, sticking my tongue out at Simon. He and I had never gotten along — he was 24 years old and already working a big job in finance, and was too wrapped up in money and the trappings of success to really get me. But he was always available to help when I needed it, so I supposed there was something to appreciate about him. So I gave him a hug. “Love you, big brother.”
My mom poked her head into the garage, beaming at the three of us. “You all done? Don’t worry about those boxes, Dad will handle them later! You’d better get on the road before it gets dark.”
My dad walked up behind her, frowning down at his watch. “Dark? It’s 11 a.m.”
I turned to my parents, giving them both a big hug. "Thanks for letting us use the garage. And for not yelling at me about my fabulous new hair color."
Dad chuckled, ruffling my pastel purple locks. "It's... certainly eye-catching, son."
"That's the idea," I winked, giving them one last squeeze before bouncing towards our packed Prius.
As Oliver and I settled into the car, a comfortable silence fell between us. The familiar streets of Portland began to blur past, and I found myself lost in thought, absently fiddling with my phone.
After a while, Oliver cleared his throat. "You know, Casey, you don't have to listen to Simon. It's okay if you're not comfortable driving."
I glanced at my younger brother, a wave of appreciation washing over me. "Thanks, Ollie," I said softly, offering him a genuine smile. "I know I can be a bit... much sometimes."
"A bit? Try a lot." Oliver snorted, but his eyes were kind behind his glasses. He reached out and ruffled my hair. "But that's what makes you so fun to be around. Stop stressing; clearly, the guys at Eagle Ridge must like you, or they wouldn’t have hired you. You have good ideas, and you’re bold enough to change things that need to be changed. Embrace that.”
My phone vibrated again, and I pulled it out, smiling down at it.
“More emails from the boss man?” Casey asked.
"Even better. Sutton sent the updated schedule," I explained, my eyes scanning the detailed plan. "And I hate to admit it, but... it's kind of perfect? Like, the kids get to explore their interests sometimes, but they’re also being pushed to try new things. Sutton is brilliant.” I sighed, thinking about how handsome he was.
“I thought you and Matt made that schedule?”
“But Sutton put on the finishing touches.”
Oliver rolled his eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. "Seriously, Casey? Why do you always go for guys who are taken?"
I gasped, clutching my chest in mock offense. "That's not true!" But even as the words left my mouth, I felt a creeping sense of doubt. "I mean... is it?"
“James Tsung. 10th grade. And Armand Lacroix in the freshman dorms?”
My mind raced through my romantic history, and realization dawned. "Oh shit," I muttered, slumping in my seat. "And there was that math TA, remember? The one with the wedding ring I conveniently ignored? How did I never notice this before?"
Oliver nodded, a knowing smirk on his face.
"And... fuck, what about Jake? The high school football player?" I groaned, covering my face with my hands. "He had a boyfriend of like, three years!"
"Bingo," Oliver said, reaching over to pat my knee consolingly.
I peeked through my fingers at the passing scenery, my mind whirling. Had I been subconsciously sabotaging my own love life all this time?
"What the hell is wrong with me?" I wondered aloud, my usual bravado faltering. "I mean, I'm Casey fucking Kim. I'm an activist. I'm bold. I'm... I'm..."
"Terrified of actually connecting with someone?" Oliver supplied, his voice gentle.
I shot him a glare, but it lacked heat. "Shut up, I connect with plenty of people."
"Sure, but how many of them actually get to know the real you? The one behind all the glitter and righteous anger?"
I shook my head vigorously, my hair flopping into my eyes. "No, that's ridiculous," I declared, my voice regaining its usual pep. "I'm not afraid of anything, especially not love. That's just... that's just stupid."
Oliver glanced at me, his eyebrow raised skeptically behind his black-rimmed glasses. "If you say so, Casey."
"I do say so," I insisted, straightening up in my seat. "In fact, I bet I'll find the hottest, most available guy at Eagle Ridge and sweep him off his feet. You'll see."
Oliver chuckled, shaking his head. "So, Matt?"
"Matt? Matt is not hot," I grumped, even as my traitorous mind wandered to Matt’s broad shoulders and fit body. “Not that hot. Besides, what I need is a hot camp counselor, my own age. An outdoorsy type who can teach me about, like, tent poles and stuff, and I can play the guitar for him.”
“Tent poles, huh?”
“Yeah, like which poles go in which holes…” I realized a bit too late why he was laughing so hard. “Oh my god, holes in the tent. Tents have holes, right?”