The 12 Dares of Christa, page 19
“Maybe,” I say, and then come clean. “Okay, yeah, I did, but you’ve got to have already noticed, right? Logan is mega into you.”
“He is?” Kylie looks genuinely surprised, and then really pleased. “Are you for real?” She darts a glance up at Logan, who is goofing off with Colby, tossing a baguette back and forth like it’s a football.
“Totally.” I elbow her in the ribs. “I can’t believe you’re so oblivious. Colby’s helped him plan this whole thing, because Logan wanted to do something special for you.”
“Um, I don’t think Logan is the only one he did it for.”
“What do you mean?”
Kylie points over at the guys. “And I don’t think I’m the only oblivious one either.”
I see that the boys have unpacked everything, but not into one long feast. Instead, Logan has set up his picnic basket on one end of the compartment, and Colby is at the other, waving me over with a big smile on his face.
And in that moment, I get it. It all makes sense—the funny feeling in my stomach, why Colby was so nervous every time he talked about this, why he sometimes acted all strange around me, what he meant about asking me what someone should do when they like someone else. It all clicks into place. Colby’s not into Kylie. He’s into me. Colby and . . . me. Me and Colby. My stomach does that odd twisty thing again, and I feel my cheeks grow warm. Colby likes me? Like, like likes me?
I walk over toward him as he pours me a little plastic cup of sparkling cider. He has a nervous, shy smile on his face. Colby, who’s become one of my best friends. Colby, who looks super cute with his floppy hair and his nice eyes. Colby, who I just maybe might feel the same way about.
“So,” he says nervously. “I’ve brought all your favorites from the different places we’ve been. “Florence,” he says, producing a little box of cheese pizza and an ice-pack-wrapped dish of vanilla gelato. “Paris.” He pulls out a thermos of hot chocolate and buttery croissants. “And, of course, London.” Chips, which are really fries, and the same tin of biscuits we got back at Harrods.
I can’t believe that he’s gone to all this trouble. None of the food is gross. Or scary. I can’t believe he’s paid this close attention to me. I glance up and see he’s watching me.
“Wow,” I say, and then immediately feel stupid. “I mean, this is really cool, Colby. Thank you.”
“I’m glad you like it,” he says happily, fixing up a plate to serve me. “Bon appétit.”
We munch our food while the London Eye slowly crawls toward the top, where we can look out into the pink-streaked beginning of a sunset. All of London sprawls below us, a bustling city full of people going about their ordinary business on an ordinary day, unaware of the extraordinary events unfolding in a glassed-in compartment far above them. “I’m never going to forget this,” I say.
“I hope not,” Colby says meaningfully, and I look back over at him. He’s leaning forward, half eagerly, half nervously, and he clears his throat. “Someone I admire very much said once that if you like someone, you should just go ahead and tell them. I think it’s good advice.”
I hold my breath. I know he’s talking about what I said. I know he’s trying to tell me he likes me, and I have absolutely no idea what to say back. In all the times I’ve imagined this kind of moment, I’ve always thought that I’d know what to say. That I’d be smooth and witty and cool, but all I feel is sweaty-palm awkward.
“I once heard her tell her dad that we were just friends,” Colby continues. “But I’m kind of hoping we might be more than that.” He takes a deep breath. “So, Christa, what do you think?”
“Um,” I say eloquently, scrambling to think of what a normal person might say, but normality has abandoned me. I’m stuck with plain old me, and so I go with the truth. “I like you, too, Colby. Not just as a friend.”
“Really?” He smiles at me, that slow half smile, the one I’ve come to know so well. The one that is absolutely gorgeous. He scoots a bit closer so we’re sitting next to each other, side by side, facing the breathtaking view. All over London, lights in the city are twinkling on, glimmering little spots in the darkening sky. Ordinary house lights and streetlamps brighten up the buildings, red and green streaks paint the facade of Big Ben, and the Tower of London itself has red spotlights shadowing its turrets. Far below us the white glow of the Frostival shines brightly around the skating rink.
“Do you think,” Colby begins, and he sounds nervous, “maybe, could I kiss you?”
I lean my shoulder into his, wanting to pause this moment. Okay, I admit I’ve never been kissed. Sure, I’ve imagined it a million times, studied the way the girls and boys kiss in my favorite movies, wondered what it would be like when it happened to me. And really, even if I had planned it out as much as my usual tree-decorating diagrams, I couldn’t have picked a more perfect moment.
“I’d like that,” I say, holding my breath a little as he leans in closer. I close my eyes, and his lips touch mine, sending little flares of electricity all through me. It’s over all too soon, and I inch closer. “Maybe we should try that again,” I say with a grin. “You know, for extra practice.”
He laughs and scoots closer, sending those same warm sparks from my head to my toes. I cannot believe this is really happening. But then, before we have our second kiss, it all grinds to a halt. Like, literally. Our compartment jolts to a stop with a lurch that can’t be normal, and fluorescent lights pop on above us with a bright glare that blots out the dreamlike landscape around us. The mood is broken.
“What’s going on?” Kylie asks from the other side, and I twist around to look at them. I’d completely forgotten that they’re there. She and Logan are sitting awfully close together, and Logan’s doing some cheesy thumbs-up gesture to Colby, which I guess means things are going well on their side of the compartment, too.
A beeping sound breaks the stillness as a voice comes through the overhead intercom. “We are experiencing technical difficulties,” a woman says in a crisp British accent. “Please stay calm and don’t panic. Repair crews are working on the problem, and it should be fixed shortly. I repeat, please stay calm, and wait for further updates.” The voice bleeps off, taking with it the fluorescent emergency lights and the last vestiges of our perfect moment.
I dart a scared look over at Colby, feeling an animal-like wave of panic grip me. That whole thing I said earlier about not worrying? I take it back. I’m worried. It is so not cool to hear that the machine that’s got you dangling hundreds of feet in the air is having technical problems.
“Chris?” Colby asks, reaching for my hand. “It’s going to be okay.” He squeezes my hand, and I grip his back. Hard. I hope he’s right.
“Well,” Logan says, seemingly unperturbed. “That’s weird. I wonder how long we’re going to be stuck up here.”
“Who cares?” Kylie laughs. “It’s not like we have something better to do. Tonight’s a free night, remember?”
Kylie’s words remind me that I do have something else I need to do, even if it isn’t better. “But I’m supposed to see the play!” I gasp, feeling my panic ratchet up a notch.
Kylie shrugs. “For, what, like the ten millionth time? They won’t miss us.”
Logan chuckles. “Yeah, I could practically be an understudy I know the lines so well.” He starts acting out what must be one of the scenes in the play, and Kylie joins in.
Even Colby joins in, and I realize that they’ve not just seen the show back in Paris when it was on the itinerary but multiple times. Probably during their free time. I bet I’m the only one who hasn’t. I’m the only kid who has totally bailed on their parent, and I think, with a sinking feeling in my stomach, the only one who’s about to majorly screw up again. I look at my phone. It’s four thirty. Unless the London Eye crew whips this thing back into shape in the next few minutes, we’re not going to meet up with the rest of the group on time.
No one else seems to be bothered by it.
“I’ll text Miles,” Logan says. “So he and Madison know what happened.”
“Good idea,” Kylie says. She pulls out her own phone and begins to take a video. “At least we’ve got a good view while we wait.”
But the view that once felt so beautiful now feels overwhelming. My knees tingle as I think of how very far down the ground actually is. I look at my phone and think about texting Mom. But what am I going to say that isn’t going to sound like another lame excuse for ditching her play? I turn the power off, hoping that it won’t matter anyway, and I’ll still be able to make it to the performance.
“Try a slow breath,” Colby says, gently putting an arm around my shoulder and leaning my head against his. “In and out, to help calm down.”
I do as he suggests, willing my body to relax, to not cry, to not ruin what was up until a few minutes ago the best night of my life.
“How about some water?” Colby asks, handing me a bottle, and I take it gratefully.
“Do you have your map?” I think of how Colby’s coping strategy helped me make it through the Chunnel. “We never finished planning out our trip.”
“You bet,” he says, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out the crumpled paper. “Where were we?”
24
COLBY AND I PLAN THREE different trips around the world when the intercom voice comes on again.
“The repairmen are nearly finished,” the woman says, in a little bit of a less-calm voice this time. “We hope to have you down within the hour, and offer our sincerest apologies for the delay. Thank you for your patience.”
I give a helpless laugh. Like we’ve had any choice. It’s after ten o’clock. We’ve not only planned world tours, we’ve finished all our picnic food, told jokes, replayed moments from our trip, imitated M&M in their worst moments, and now we’re all just plain tired. Even Kylie has lost some of her enthusiasm. The play is over by now, and my panic over being stuck at the top of the London Eye has melted into constant worry over how upset Mom is going to be, until even that has been dwarfed by the fact that I really, really need to pee.
Finally, the compartment lurches forward with a groaning noise, and Logan cheers, doing a one-handed flip in the center of the compartment to celebrate.
“Okay, guys, everybody scrunch together for a selfie,” Kylie says, directing us to squeeze into a lump on the bench. “So we can remember this moment forever.”
“How could we ever forget it?” I start to giggle, relief flooding my body at the fact that we’re actually going to be on the ground soon. “It’s unbelievable. Who gets stuck in the Chunnel and on the London Eye?”
“Us,” Colby says, laughing. “Only us.” We’re all a bit giddy, worn out by the waiting and the emotional roller coaster of the past hours. I’ve gone from ordinary girl having a horrible day to magical moment; from never-been-kissed to kissed; from just me, Christa Vasile, to (maybe?) somebody’s girlfriend. But none of those things has prepared me for what we find when we get off the London Eye.
Reporters are everywhere, camera bulbs flashing in our faces like we’re celebrities. Somebody shoves a microphone in front of us. “What was it like to be stuck on the London Eye for six hours?” a man asks. “How did you cope?”
Kylie is the first to answer. “It was an adventure,” she says, tugging Logan forward by the elbow. “We had fun.”
The reporter turns to face a camera, where he’s making a live update. “An adventure, ladies and gentlemen,” he says in his perfect accent. “There you have it.”
“Whoa,” I say to Colby. “I guess this is a big deal or something.”
“No kidding.” He points at an ambulance parked a little way away and a first-aid tent set up nearby. EMTs are there handing out water bottles and checking one lady’s blood pressure.
“Wow,” I say. “I never thought about how lucky we were to have all that food.” I’m delighted to see that next to the first-aid tent is a little row of Porta-Potties, and we all beeline over there. I guess I’m not the only one who’s been dying for a bathroom break.
After we come out, there’s a police officer standing by with a form we’re supposed to fill out. He explains that they need a way to get in touch with people in case of a lawsuit.
“This is such a bigger deal than I thought it would be,” Kylie says as we sit on folding chairs to complete the paperwork.
“Totally.” I speedily fill out the form. Now that we’re down on the ground again, I’m back to reality. All the feelings have returned—not just the good swoony Colby ones, but also the ones from this morning and the big fiasco with my parents. At this point, all I want to do is get back to the hotel. Mom’s going to think I’ve blown her off again, and I really, really don’t want things to get worse between us.
First there are more hoops to jump through. An EMT looks us over, taking our temperature and blood pressure before making us fill out another form. Then a representative from the London Eye offers us a formal apology and hands us her business card. Finally, we’re through the gauntlet. The area around the entrance to the London Eye is roped off, with only emergency personnel and reporters allowed inside. Now I notice that there’s a whole crowd of other people pushing up against a makeshift barricade, trying to get closer, and right in the front row is Mom, waving her red scarf like a flag in the air.
“Christa!” she calls over the others. “Over here!”
“Ohmigosh, Mom!” I shout, running toward her. I’m half expecting her to still be upset with me, but as soon as I’m within arm’s reach she grabs me and squeezes me so tight. When she pulls away, I can see that she’s been crying, her stage makeup a smudged ruin all over her face.
“Thank God you’re okay!” She crushes me in another hug, and I can barely squeak out any words.
“I’m fine, Mom,” I say, and I realize my half laugh is also a half cry as all the emotions finally catch up with me. “I’m so sorry I missed your play. I wanted to go tonight, I really did.”
“Oh, Christa,” Mom says. “I wasn’t even there. As soon as Nic told me what had happened, I left the theater. The London Eye people wouldn’t tell us anything, and I’ve been going crazy down here wondering what it was like for you stuck all the way up there. I tried texting you, but I guess none of them went through.” She smooths my hair back from my face. “I’m so glad you’re all right.”
I know she’s talking about my anxiety, and I tell her it was okay. “Colby helped me through it,” I say, and she pulls him in for a quick hug.
“Thank God for you, Colby.” She gives him a watery smile. “Your dad is right over there.”
“Really?” Colby sounds surprised. “But what about the final performance?”
“We canceled it. You think any of us could do our jobs when our kids were stuck hundreds of feet above the Thames?” She points behind her, and I see that Todd is also here, as well as Logan’s mom. Beyond them, Madison and Miles are huddled on a bench next to Sasha and Owen and their parents. Nic, who is talking animatedly into his cell, spots Colby then, and drops his phone back into his pocket.
“Dad!” Colby hurries over to him, leaving Mom and me alone.
Mom rummages in her bag for a tissue and wipes fruitlessly at her eyes. “I’m so sorry about this morning, hon. While you were stuck up there all I could think about was how I said such awful things to you and how horrible it would be if—”
“Mom,” I cut her off. “I said a lot of stuff I didn’t mean this morning.”
“Me, too, honey. Me, too. No matter how complicated it gets, always remember that I love you.”
“I love you, Mom.” I busy myself with a tissue, since apparently I’m about to get all teary. All we need to make this the ultimate happy reunion moment is some sappy music or a slideshow of family photos, or—a familiar voice is calling my name.
“Dad?”
Mom holds up her cell phone. There’s Dad, his face creased with worry.
“I’ve been so worried about you!” he says as we all gasp out apologies and explanations and relieved laughs.
Dad’s face peers through the cell screen. “Are you okay, honey?”
“More than okay,” I say truthfully.
“I wish I could have been there,” Dad says. “I wish we had done this differently. That we had figured out a way for us all to be together for this first Christmas after the divorce.” He runs his hands through his uncombed hair. “You were right, Chris. Things have changed. A lot. And it’s hard.”
“I know,” I say. “You were right, too, though. Things might be different, but that doesn’t mean they have to be terrible.” Thank you, Kylie, for that one. I look up at Mom. “Besides. It’s okay to try new things. Maybe Christmas in Europe will become our new thing, right, Mom?”
Mom squishes me into another bear hug. I look over and see that my friends are having similar sappy moments with their parents. Colby catches my gaze, and I give him a little wave.
“So Colby was with you, huh?” Dad’s voice says. “Your friend, right?”
“Yeah,” I say slowly. “And maybe something a little bit more.”
“Oh, really?” Mom leans in close. “We do have some catching up to do.”
“See?” Dad says. “The unexpected can lead you someplace you were always meant to go.”
“Oh, Dad, come on.” As Mom and I walk to join the others after saying good-bye to Dad, I realize that he was right. Everything about this trip has been different than I expected it to be, but looking around the group, I see how it’s taken me to some really great places after all.
Miles knows about a breakfast restaurant that’s open late. He and Madison lead all of us—Todd and Kylie, Colby and Nic, Sasha and Owen and Logan and all the parents, and me and my mom—over to Ossie’s Cafe. On the way, Mom asks me how the last dare went.
“I didn’t even look at it,” I confess, thinking of the rumpled envelope back on the hotel bed.
“There’s still time to finish the scavenger hunt,” Mom says with a grin. “The twelfth dare is to find the beauty that’s present all around you.”
