Chapter 4 #3
The second the older man was out of sight, I snorted, and the laughter started over.
“Come on,” Casey said eventually. “I’ll check you out.”
I followed him to a register and he began scanning my items. It should’ve been nothing.
Except, I felt him look at me. Then look away. On the third time, I couldn’t help it. “What’s up?”
He sighed, his shoulders dropping in his uniform polo. “Nothing. Just. Are you mad at me?”
“What?” The question caught me by surprise.
“Did I do something? If I did, can you tell me? Because I think you’re pissed at me or something.” He scanned the can of soup that had fallen into my cart, then looked at me intently.
My mind emptied.
“No.” I shook my head. “I’m not mad at you. Why would you think that?”
He shrugged. “Seems like we’ve been, I don’t know, off or something. If it’s about the kiss—”
“Stop.” My entire body felt as if it might ignite.
I kind of wished it would. Just burn me up in the middle of the Piggly Wiggly, because that would be infinitely better than listening to him talk about that mortifying party game.
The urgent kiss with my teeth bumping against his before I ran. “I mean, no. Um. It’s not…not that.”
“What is it, then? And don’t say ‘nothing.’”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I have a lot going on.
” I scrambled for something to tell him, anything besides how I actually felt.
I didn’t think telling him I wanted to grab his hand and never let go while standing in the middle of his workplace was the right move.
“I think… It’s just, well, Frances,” I blurted out.
“Frances?” He tilted his head to the side.
“Yeah. She’s been acting weird lately. She’s been avoiding me, and it’s just this whole family drama thing, and, uh, oh God, I guess school is a mess.”
“School? But you’re good at school.”
“I know—but Mr. Fortenberry called me out in class today and I mean I get why everyone thinks he’s hot with his dark hair and…whatever, but I don’t know, he just gives me the creeps and…” I petered out, realizing I was rambling.
Casey’s smile was almost cocky in its tilt. “Okay.” He nodded. “Good. I thought…” He sighed.
“What?”
“I thought you were mad at me for asking you to the dance after you were forced to kiss me at the party. For what it’s worth, I hate spin the bottle.
Hated it in fifth grade. Hate it now.” The scanner beeped as he dragged my loaf of bread over the sensor.
“I was going to tell you, if you are, upset with me, I mean, we don’t have to go together. ”
An alarm sounded in my head.
“You don’t want to go with me?” I blinked quickly. If I cried, I swear to God I’d find the nearest cliff and walk right off it.
Casey’s eyes widened. “No. No I do want to go with you. Mill, it’s all I want. But… I just meant… Forget it.”
“Tell me,” I said.
He bit his bottom lip. “I meant, if you’ve changed your mind, I’d rather you tell me and us be okay than for you to be upset.”
“Casey. That’s…” Sweet. Kind. Mature. “That’s so dumb. Of course I want to go with you.”
He heaved a sigh. “Okay. Good. There’s one more thing.”
“Shoot.”
“So… You know about the senior bonfire?”
Of course I did. Everyone knew about the annual homecoming bonfire, but my stomach plummeted at the mention.
The social scene in Puddle Creek revolved around bonfires and pasture parties.
Pickups parked in random fields, a fire, and passing around whatever booze someone pilfered from their parent’s liquor cabinet.
Sometimes a keg if someone’s older sibling felt charitable.
After my humiliation at the last party, I didn’t care if I ever attended another one. But this was homecoming…not a bonfire. The bonfire. Still. I’d been planning on skipping.
But Casey was bringing it up…
“Yeah?” I looked down at my ratty cuticles and chipped polish.
“You want to go? With me? I mean… I’d have to meet you there because, you know, all I have is my bike. But, you know what I mean.” His gaze dropped and I realized…the blushing, the fidgeting, the weird way he’s talking…
This, this thing between us wasn’t one sided. A smile, wide and bright, spread over my face. “Of course. Yes. I’d love that.” I said “love.” Oh God.
“Cool.” He grinned.
I slid Hattie-May’s debit card into the machine, then waited as the register spit out my receipt, all while trying to remember how to be normal.
“Casey?” a deep voice called out. We both looked in the direction of the soup aisle.
“Well.” Casey grabbed a pack of cinnamon gum and slid it into my bag.
The gesture was sweet. He thought it was my favorite because I’d chewed so much of it when preparing for our first, planned kiss in sixth grade, when we’d pressed our lips together to see what all the fuss was about, then declared kissing stupid. It sure didn’t feel stupid anymore.
He said, “I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”
“Casey! Here. Now.” The voice boomed again. Casey shrugged, and I watched as he walked away.
Sometimes I think, even with Frances being all mad, even with everything feeling on uneven ground, that moment was the last time I was ever happy.