Summer Cooper:Well some of us had to get up at 5am to work at the coffee shop only to then be given a concussion while volunteering at the pumpkin patch.
I wince.
Me:How IS your nose?
Summer Cooper:it’s fine. I’m just giving you a hard time.
Summer Cooper: But I am going to get some sleep. Just wanted to check in on you. I’ll see you tomorrow?
Me:yeah.
Summer Cooper:Enjoy ogling Donnie.
I laugh out loud.
Me:Will do.
Summer Cooper:Night, Mitchell. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.
Summer Cooper:But if they do, get a shoe, and beat ’em till they’re black and blue.
I let myself grin at the silly rhyme he used to say to me all those years ago, when he was the last person I’d talk to each night.
Me:Sweet dreams, Coop.
Chapter Thirteen
As the town gathers in the square the next day for the pumpkin carving party, gray clouds blanket the sky, hiding the afternoon sun like a secret. Plastic tablecloths, disposable aluminum cooking tins, and paper towels are placed at each station, with carving tools and paint and brushes. Music pours from large speakers inside the gazebo as everyone claims a spot with their friends and family.
“You want to go shopping for a homecoming dress on Wednesday?” Sloane asks as we plop down on the tablecloth where we dropped off our pumpkins last night. “Preeti and I are going to venture to the mall after school.”
“Oh. Yeah, sure.” I haven’t really given any thought to homecoming since I talked with Jake on Friday, but I guess I will need a dress.
“Awesome,” she says, stabbing the carving knife into to the top of her pumpkin. She carves a circle, then pulls the stem to take off the top. I copy her and stick the jagged edgeof my carving knife into the top of my pumpkin.
“Hey, Coop,” she says, looking over my shoulder.
I nearly cut off my finger when she says his name.
“Jumpy today?” Cooper says from behind me.
“Stop sneaking up on people,” I mutter without turning around. I don’t know why I suddenly feel antsy around him.
After texting with him last night, my mind was an endless carousel of thoughts and confusing feelings that made my insides hum with boundless energy I desperately needed to burn off. So, instead of watching a movie, I pawed through the donated clothes in the attic. I uncovered an entire box of flannel shirts, which aren’t exactly the dress shirts I’m used to working with, but the general structure was familiar enough. Before I knew it, I was taking the collar, yoke, and cuffs from a black-and-white buffalo-plaid shirt and splicing it together with the front and back panels of a blue-and-black buffalo-plaid shirt. I ended up wearing it today, since I didn’t really bring anything I’d want to expose to pumpkin guts. I like it more than I expected—the softness of the material is different from the stiffer cottons I used to sew with, but it makes for an extra-cozy wearing experience.
And piecing together a shirt is a heck of a lot easier than trying to piece together how exactly I’m feeling about the boy sitting down next to me right now.
I finally turn to him, and I nearly stop breathing. He’s wearing glasses. Thick black frames that somehow make him even hotter.
Since when do I have a thing for glasses?
He tosses a green cookie in my lap. I let go of my carving knifeand pick it up to examine it, mostly because I need to peel my eyes off him.
“Are those Fruity Pebbles?” I ask of the familiar colorful rice cereal on top.
“Yep.” He holds out a cup from the Caffeinated Cat. “And a harvest spice latte.”
“For me?” I ask, surprised.
