AGE FIFTEEN
"You have to do it if you want to make the squad," Sydney says as we walk down the dark street toward my house.
"Yeah, I got that. I'm rethinking how much I want to join the team right now."
"Come on." She bumps my hip. "We just finished Justin's house, and we didn't get caught. We both know London's not home. That's why you chose him, right?"
I stare down at the pavement and try to stick to the shadows, my mind focusing on anything other than Sydney's question, because the answer is pathetic. I've had a crush on London Hale since the day I moved into the house next to his, and for the past five years, we have been friends. I got to tag along on more than just fishing trips. If he was going somewhere, I was going. That day, when he said, "I'll be your friend," he meant it—at least for a while, anyway.
Things changed last year when he started high school. He stopped inviting me to grab ice cream on Wednesday nights at the Twisted Cone, and if he was hanging out with Fisher, he no longer asked me if I wanted to join him on the walk there, eventhough my new best friend was Fisher's sister. He also stopped going fishing.
"You still like him, don't you?" Sydney jumps in front of me and catches me by the shoulders stopping me in my tracks.
"Syd," I groan. "We've been over this. It doesn't matter. He doesn't see me that way."
"And how would you know that? You've never told him you like him."
"Pfft, okay…" I mock as I grab the straps of my backpack. "So that's what girls are doing these days? Oh, hey, I like you...let's date."
"Some do. That's badass. We don't have to wait for guys to make the first move. If you say it, and he turns you down, then you have your answer, and you can move on."
There's logic in what she's saying, but… "I don't know. It's not my style. I guess I'm old-fashioned in that way."
"Or chicken…" she offers as she tucks her arms and taunts, "Bawk, bawk, bawk."
I shake my head and roll my eyes. "I'm not chicken." Well, maybe a little, but that's not what is stopping me now. "It's not just that. Sydney, you know better than anyone. Making friends was never my strong suit, with my mom always following her career and the money. London is the longest friendship I've ever had. Heck, you and I may not even be the friends we are were it not for him letting me tag along when he came over to hang out with your brother." She exhales a heavy breath, and I know she can read the direction my thoughts are going. I don't want to ruin what I have, and that kind of confession feels like it could. I'd rather have him at a distance than not have him at all. "Plus, the ball has been in his court since the day we met."
That earns me a laugh. "You can't be serious. You're basing your future on a conversation you had when you were ten. I can promise you that boy doesn't remember a word from that day." I furrow my brow. She's probably right. Girls feel things differently. Words don't just stick. They cut deep, and in my case, they wereforever engraved on my foolish, young heart. "Hey, no doom and gloom. Look, I'm Team Laney. Whatever you want, I want that for you. All I'm saying is London Hale isn't going to make the first move—at least not with you, anyway."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I say as I look down at myself. I'm not stick thin. I have thick thighs, a tummy that says I enjoy food and don't starve myself like most girls my age do, trying to achieve a thigh gap, and I've always had bigger breasts, but I've never been ashamed of my body. I'm comfortable in my skin…or I was until about ten seconds ago.
"Oh my god, you took that wrong. I'm pretty sure I tell you on a daily basis I wish I had your boobs." She slaps my arm as we round the corner. "What I mean is you're too close. He's a year older and is best friends with my brother. He looks at you like a sister, and that's why he won't ever make a play. If he's anything like Fisher, he feels protective over you, so you can probably kiss dating goodbye too."
"Does this conversation get better or…"
She flashes me a mischievous grin. "That depends on you. He might see you like a sister now, but that doesn't mean you can't change his mind. You just have to make him see you differently."
"And how do I do that?"
"I have a few ideas in mind, but first…" She tosses me a toilet paper roll. "We have a yard to TP."
"Laney, catch," Mindy says as she tosses a roll over the big oak tree in London's front yard.
After she finished TPing the houses on her list, she and Skylar cut through the backyard two houses down to get home. They spotted us and decided to help. Needless to say, if they're handing out grades for the best TP job to make the cut, I have my spot in the bag. Every inch of London's front yard is covered, even the hedges.
"Guys, I think we're good. There's literally no green left in sight," I say, standing back to admire our work.
"Yeah, yeah," Skylar chimes in. "But we still have this roll to use up. Can't walk in the front door with evidence."
"She has a point," Sydney says, chucking her empty roll onto the lawn.
Skylar and Mindy snicker as they toss the last roll back and forth, wrapping the base of the oak tree.
"I wonder when he'll be back. School starts next week," I say to Sydney as I put on my now empty backpack.
I spent all my time hanging out with Sydney, learning dance routines in hopes of making the dance team with her. She's my best and only friend. For a while, I thought maybe she had taken me under her wing because London had asked her to, but even if that was true once upon a time, I know it's not why we are friends now. Let's be real: I'm not winning any popularity contests. It's been five years, and I'm still the new girl in a small town, and Sydney…well, she's Sydney Downs. A carefree, outgoing extrovert who can turn a complete stranger into a friend in seconds. We are polar opposites. I'm content being on my own. I'd be perfectly happy junk journaling in my room or reading a book on our porch swing. Sydney might push me, but I like the excitement she brings to my life. She is the yin to my yang—two peas in a pod who were always meant to be friends forever.
With her, the summer has flown by, as it always does. We were at the lake, soaking up the sun and listening to music, when we weren't practicing dance routines or driving out to her cousin Cooper's house to ride horses. It took me two weeks to notice that London and I hadn't simply been passing ships in the night, treading by unnoticed. Our windows look directly at each other. His blinds have remained open all summer, but no lights have flicked on, shadows haven't passed by, and his bed has stayed made. When I asked my mother if she knew what was up, she suggested he may have gone to camp or visited family, but after another month passed, I knew that wasn't the case. What camps literally last longer than six weeks?
