Chapter 50
Next week, the sky is as blue as a brand-new pool.
Whitley finishes packing the last of her things into my truck bed while Bennie, injected with a fresh rabies booster vaccine and finally able to move at a near-normal pace, sniffs through the boxes.
“Is that everything?” I ask.
Whitley nods, then slams the hatch closed. “Whatever we don’t have, we can buy on the road.”
“This isn’t fair,” Xander says from the curb, his arms crossed. He wears an orange bucket hat that shades his frown and big, round sunglasses. “I finally appear, and everyone has to leave.”
I reach for his hand. “Are you sure you don’t want to come? I know we planned our visits, but we can still change it.”
He rubs slow circles into my palm with his thumb. “Yeah, I’m sure. I’m just messing with you. You’ve worked so hard for this. This is your and Whitley’s dream. And . . . I need to be here to spend time with my mom.”
I smile. “You’re right. That’ll be so great.”
Maggie Pomers stands a few yards behind us, her eyes never straying from her son. She hasn’t let him out of her sight since his unexpected return, hovering like a protective force, just like the news cameras clicking in the distance.
Dad placed lawn chairs at both ends of the block to keep the reporters from getting too close, but they don’t seem to be giving up anytime soon.
After ten years of chasing Xander’s mystery, they’re obsessed with tracking him now, desperate to know where he’s been, what happened, and where he’s going.
We talked about whether telling the truth or spinning a lie would attract less attention.
Xander knows from his years of reading true-crime cases that staying silent makes the story die faster.
I know from my podcasts that the news cycle moves quickly.
Another case, mystery, or person will replace him soon.
We’re committed to playing the long game, something Xander has perfected over the last decade.
Mom storms out of the house with two bags of groceries.
“These are just snacks to hold you over,” she says as she stomps across the yard.
“You can’t live off what’s in these bags for your whole trip.
You hear me?” She drops the bags next to my truck.
“You need to stop for meat, vegetables, and fruit every now and then. Do not arrive at college skinnier than you are now.” She whacks my arm.
“Don’t forget this,” Dad shouts. He emerges from the garage, balancing a case of beer on his shoulder. Mom crosses her arms with a huff. “Don’t drink this while driving,” he mumbles.
I laugh, shaking my head.
County precedent excluded me from its traditions. I wasn’t supposed to leave. My broken promise on the Ardor Tree was meant to trap me here. My grades were supposed to go unnoticed, and my cross-country achievements were meant to be forgotten. But my parents helped rewrite the rules.
“Also,” Mom says, lifting a finger. “Can we keep this one?” She grabs Xander’s shoulders, shaking him with a growl. “He’s so mature for his age.” Then pulls him closer. “And so stinking cute.”
I laugh. “I plan to.”
Xander blushes.
“Good,” Mom says. “Don’t fall for those college temptations.”
Maggie crosses her arms. “He’s all mine for the time being.”
Whitley loads the food into my truck before climbing into the passenger seat. Bennie hops in the back, panting. I move toward the driver’s side but skip to Xander instead for a final goodbye.
Every kiss with him is unlike the last. I don’t know his body movements as well as I know Murray’s.
I hesitate, sometimes unsure if I’m pleasing him or doing something wrong.
His legs move more than Murray’s when we kiss, maybe because they tingle like mine.
He touches my face more too, and I’m learning I like that.
I usually trace his jawline in return. His curls are fun to grab, so different from the close buzz I’m used to.
I memorize these things like our own secret language. Because kissing someone without regret makes me never stop wanting more.
His hugs are different too. His hands press against the center of my back, while Murray’s were always near my hips. I have to hunch my shoulders when I nuzzle into him, whereas with Murray, I had to rise onto my tiptoes.
But I like it all. It’s new and promising, and something to hold on to rather than push away.
When our lips separate, Xander digs through his backpack. “A few more things,” he says.
“What is it?”
He unpacks a green Polaroid camera and holds it out in front of us. He quickly removes his bucket hat and sunglasses.
“Smile,” he instructs. We look at the camera, but right before he takes the picture, he turns and kisses me on the cheek.
I giggle. “Hey!”
The camera clicks and instantly prints out the photograph. Xander shakes the film in the air before handing it to me. “The first picture for your bulletin board in Tennessee.”
I glance at the photo, and it captures both of us.
Xander is there. Clear, colorful, and present.
I swallow hard. “I’ll need more than one.”
Xander grins. “If you insist.”
We take a dozen more photos, all while making silly faces, sticking out our tongues, throwing up peace signs, and landing more stolen kisses.
“Guys, it’s cute,” Whitley says from the truck. “But I’d like to get on the road before dark.”
Xander laughs. “Sorry, Whitley! One more thing.”
She sighs.
“More?” I ask.
He reaches for the shark-tooth chain around his neck and unhooks it. “I want to give this to you.” He dangles it between us. “So you can have something of mine. It’s not much, but I wore it all summer, when it was just the two of us, when time stood still.”
I take it from him, my fingers shaking. “It’s everything.” I fasten it around my neck. It falls against my chest, warm, like the weight of one of his tightest hugs.
“It suits you,” he says softly.
A small, closed-lip smile spreads across my face. I take in his fire-emblem eyes one last time. He winks before lifting his sunglasses back onto the bridge of his nose, then blows me a kiss.
“Watch the truck, Xander!” Maggie calls from the yard as Whitley starts the engine.
“I’m about to run y’all over just to wrap up this goodbye party!” she shouts from the passenger seat.
Maggie tugs Xander back toward the grass.
I climb into my truck. The engine rumbles beneath me. As I begin the long drive to Tennessee, I glance in the rearview mirror one last time.
Mom, Dad, and Xander don’t stop waving, even as Whitley and I descend the hill and disappear.
I never thought I’d look back when I left. But just like Penango’s mountains are ever present and unchanging, I know my friends and family will be too.