Chapter 15 Playlist Main Character Energy
TWO DAYS BEFORE THE Fourth of July, I get a text from an unknown number.
I stacked the oranges all by myself today, but I did it more like an oval instead of a pyramid.
I know who it is right away, obviously. Still, I say, Who is this?
Gregory: Really? Are you stacking oranges with someone else?
Gregory: I thought that was our thing
Me: How did you get my number?
Gregory: Your dad
Me: WHAT
Me: You did NOT ask my dad for my phone number!
Gregory: hahahahahaha
Gregory: Calm down, I got it from Sandy in the bakery. It cost me seven minutes of stories about her grandkids.
Me: I’m… not sure that’s better. She definitely thinks something’s going on between us now.
Me: Oh God, no wonder she was smiling at me all weird yesterday!
Gregory: I think she’s already planned our wedding cake
Me: OMG
Gregory: I’m joking!
Gregory: It’s not as fun to mess with you when I can’t see your face.
Me: Do you work today?
Gregory: No.
Me: Have you spent time with the ocean yet?
Gregory: It’s not like… a person
Gregory: So, no
Me: Meet me at the pier in 30 minutes. Then you can see my face while I force you to bond with her.
Gregory: Do I have to?
Me: Yes. Bring snacks.
Gregory: What kind of snacks?
Me: Good ones.
“I ask for good snacks, and you bring me nuts?”
It’s a gorgeous summer day with a bright blue sky and not a single cloud in sight. It’s starting to get warmer—in the low eighties today—but the water’s still a little chilly, so I told Gregory not to worry about a swimsuit.
I get the feeling I’m gonna need to ease him in.
He showed up at the pier in navy-blue shorts and a white T-shirt, with a black backpack slung over his shoulder and a wary look in his eye.
I pointed him to the beach, and we walked until I found a less-crowded section I was happy with.
I’d spread my tie-dye beach blanket on the ground and had just finished tucking sand into the corner pouches to keep it in place when Gregory began unpacking his bag.
He holds up the paper bag, the word “NUTSACK” printed across it in bold, black letters. “This is the best snack.”
“Where’s the watermelon? Potato chips? Popsicles? What kind of person, while hanging out at the beach, thinks ‘Mmm, a handful of walnuts would really hit the spot right now’?”
Gregory’s hand shoots up into the air.
I sigh.
Arm still raised, Gregory says, “For your information these aren’t walnuts.”
“What are they?”
“Pecans.”
“Oh my God.”
“Will you put away that judgey face and just try one, please?”
“Fine,” I say, and hold out my hand.
Gregory smiles and nods once, like he’s won something, and opens the bag. He shakes a few pieces out into my palm, and I put one into my mouth.
Dammit. They’re good. Really good. Crunchy and lightly salted and oddly satisfying.
I eat the other two and put my hand out again with a huff.
Gregory grins and gives me more. I half expect him to say, Told you so, but he just shakes some pecans into his own hand and tosses them into his mouth.
“Is this an Arizona thing?” I ask.
He nods as he folds the top over the bag and tucks it into his backpack. “It’s a local company. And they were my dad’s favorite.”
“Well, now they’re my favorite too.”
His smile grows. “Really?”
I hold up a finger. “Favorite nut. I still maintain that watermelon is the superior beach snack.”
“Didn’t have any.”
I shrug. “Now you know for next time.”
“Fine. I’ll bring a Nutsack and a watermelon.”
At that exact moment a woman and a young boy walk past. He looks like he’s around five years old, and he looks up at the woman and loudly asks, “Mom, what’s a nut sack?”
With a glare in our direction, the woman scoops him up and hurries off, whispering to him in a low, urgent tone.
I glance over at Gregory with wide eyes, one hand over my mouth.
He whips around to hide his face, but his shoulders are shaking and a loud cackle bursts out of him. I dissolve into giggles.
Once we’ve recovered, we plant ourselves in the middle of the blanket. Gregory sits with his legs bent, forearms propped on his knees. I pull out a wireless speaker and queue up a playlist on my phone, then lean back on my hands, tilting my face to the sun.
“So, what are we doing?” Gregory asks.
I keep my eyes closed. “This.”
“Just this? We’re not going to, like, fly a kite? Throw a football? Bury ourselves in the sand?”
“We’ll do all of it, don’t worry.” Except there’s no way he’s burying me in anything.
I tried that when I was nine and had sand in various body crevices for days.
“Today’s orientation, so we’re just going to observe.
We’ll sit here for a while and listen to the sound of music mixed with the waves and watch the tide come in.
And eat pecans, apparently. We can look out on the expanse of water and talk about how insignificant we are, or we can just be silent.
We can get excited when we see a white cap, mistaking it for a dolphin.
The disappointment will hit, but five minutes later we’ll do it all over again.
If we get too hot, we’ll put our feet in the water or go get ice cream.
Then we’ll walk a little, and see if we can find anything cool. ”
“Like what?”
“Shells, sea glass. Shark teeth.” I glance over at him then, and he looks so delighted, I realize I need to set expectations. “Those are rare, though. I found one by chance when I was, like, six, and have never seen one since.”
“I don’t care. We’re not leaving until I have a shark tooth. My school does a time capsule for each class. Can you imagine what a hit I would be, throwing a real-life shark tooth into the mix next year? And not even one I bought at a gift shop!”
I push off my hands and lean forward, stretching to meet my toes. I can’t see his face anymore. “So, it’s decided, then? You’re going back to Arizona?”
“Yeah, right before school starts.” He pats my shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll write.” His eyes go wide. “We can be pen pals!”
“Or we can just text like normal people,” I say, not altogether sure whether he’s serious.
“No way. We’re gonna write actual letters. With a pen and some sort of fancy stationery. Put a stamp on it and drop it at the mailbox and everything.”
I consider teasing him more, but then I remember that I’m saving up all my hard-earned money to buy a relic from the letter-writing era myself. Maybe there’s something to the way people used to do things back then.
“Okay,” I agree. “We’ll write.”
I love the Fourth, and I spend it almost exactly like I did last year.
Except instead of Kat, Shelby’s by my side.
Pearl’s is closed for the holiday, so we’re free to do whatever we want.
We sit on the curb downtown and watch the parade in the morning, grab fish tacos for lunch, and have been lying in the sun on a (very) crowded beach for the last hour.
My hair is salty and wavy from when we waded into the water to cool off, and today I chose an emerald bikini that brings out the green in my eyes.
I brought a book, like I always do, but I haven’t read a single page.
It seems like my entire school is here, and people keep stopping to chat.
Shelby has taken particular interest in a lifeguard working the stand today and is giving a running commentary of their inevitable love story.
My phone chimes, and my belly flutters when I see it’s Myles.
Myles: what are you up to?
Me: At the beach with Shelby and the rest of Kingfisher High.
Me: Where have you been all day?
Myles: family always comes in for the 4th, but my cousin and I made a run for it
Myles: headed for the volleyball courts, can you come?
Me: We’re right next to them.
Myles: awesome
Myles: see you soon
I toss my phone onto my towel and tell Shelby, “Myles is coming.”
She gives a high-pitched “Ooooh” like we’re in fifth grade.
“Shut up,” I laugh.
“Just calling it like I see it. You’ve got it bad for that guy.”
“Who doesn’t?” I like that I have someone I can admit it to. Anyone from school would be a bad idea, for obvious reasons.
“He’s gorgeous,” she agrees. “And such a nice guy. Too young for me, clearly, but I love that for you. Has anything happened between you two yet? We’ve got a bet pool going at work.”
“No you don’t!”
“Okay, fine, we don’t. But I might suggest it, because it’s just a matter of time.”
I scrunch my nose and smile. “You think so?”
“Girl, yes. Myles Ford has plans for you.”
Her words lift the hair on my arms. Myles Ford has plans for you.
It’s almost too much to comprehend that he might have it bad for me too.
Myles and a slightly younger-looking guy show up ten minutes later and are immediately surrounded by people.
I stay where I am, lying on my stomach with elbows propped up, and marvel at how genuinely adored he is.
He’s looking around while he talks, like he’s distracted, but then his gaze lands on me.
A smile breaks out across his face, and he immediately extracts himself and heads straight for us.
“Hey,” he says.
I look up at him, shifting to one side so I can shield my eyes with the other. “Hi.”
He gestures to the guy who followed him over. “This is my cousin Brady.”
“I’m Amelia,” I say. “And this is Shelby.”
She’s on her back, sunglasses on her face, and just lifts her arm in a wave.
Brady’s expression sort of flickers with recognition when I say my name, and he glances at Myles. “So this is the gir—”
Myles clears his throat loudly and elbows Brady in the ribs. “Wanna join the next game?” he asks quickly as pink spreads up his neck.
“How about I just lie here like a bum and cheer for you?” I suggest.
Shelby lifts her arm again with a thumbs-up. “Me too.”
Myles laughs. “Sounds like a deal.”
“Will you give him a special reward if his team wins?” Brady asks.
“Brady,” Myles barks. “God. I can’t take you anywhere.”
“If he wins, Amelia will give him a congratulatory kiss,” Shelby says.
“Shelby!”
“What?”
Brady nods solemnly. “We accept this offer.”