And the answer glared him in the eye. He shook with it, curling his fingernails into his palm.

  Maybe the best person to ask wasn’t his mother, Daphne’s father, or even himself. Maybe the best person to ask was Daphne. All he could do was speak the truth, and she’d either like him or hate him for it in the end.

  He’d simply have to learn to live with the result.

  ***

  My mom turned at the sound of my weeping, and arms extended, rose from Dad’s side and embraced me. I buried my head in her chest, breathing in the smells of soap and lotion, and the potpourri she kept in her clothes.

  “What is it, sweetheart?” she asked. “Is it Carter?”

  So okay, my parents weren’t dumb. I think all teens fall into this trap. They think good ‘ole Mom and Dad don’t actually know what’s going on, when all along they do. They’re simply biding their time for the right moment to say so.

  I was too heartbroken right then to deny it. So I gave a nod and sobbed harder.

  She held me tight, rocking me gently back and forth. “Did he say something?” she asked.

  “No,” I choked.

  “He was rude to you then?”

  I shook my head.

  “He forgot something? Or … or what?” She was flustered like she gets when I’m making no sense.

  I sagged in her arms and choked out the words. “He … just … left ….”

  “There, there,” she patted my back. “He’s a nice boy. I’m sure you’ve misunderstood.”

  My dad cleared his throat. “I had a talk with him.”

  This brought my mother’s head over her shoulder and mine up from her chest.

  “You did?” my mom asked. “About what?”

  “Well, he had some questions. I think he has doubts about himself. Reminds me of myself a lot at the beginning.”

  I pulled myself free of my mom and moved to the couch. Sitting, I crossed my legs beneath me. “Wh-what did he say?” I rubbed my damp cheeks. My breathing was snotty, so my mom handed me a tissue.

  Dad smiled. “He said he likes you a lot.”

  “He … he said that?”

  Dad nodded. “Yes, said he wants to fall in love with you, but what if he can’t?”

  “He … he …” I couldn’t say it. Carter wanted to fall in love with me? Then had he meant all those things he’d said? He hadn’t lied?

  “What did you tell him, Howard?” my mom asked.

  She would ask that. She was always practical.

  “I told him to relax and give in. That I think he just hadn’t had time to realize how he really felt.”

  “But he hasn’t come all day today, and so I thought …”

  “Daphne, dear.” Mom petted my head. “It’s pouring outside. Maybe he simply needed some time to think. You’re making a mountain out of a molehill, as the saying goes. You get that from your father.”

  “I do not do that,” he said, his voice growing deep.

  “Yes, you do. All the time. Why you’re the one who thought the Pederson’s didn’t invite us at Christmas because we ate too much, when all along it was only because their daughter was sick. And you thought we didn’t get into the Club because our income was too small. But they simply weren’t taking members until they got into the new building.” Mom made a broad gesture. “I always say look positive about things, and this is no different. It’s raining. The boy’s had a lot on his mind, and he needed to work through it. The sun will come out tomorrow.” She said that almost in a sing-song way to the familiar tune. “And he’ll come back, and it’ll all work out. I feel it in my bones.”

  “Well then,” my dad said. “If you feel it in your bones, then it’s true. I’ve always trusted your bones.”

  This made me giggle, and I covered my mouth. Then Dad’s lips curved up, and my mother began to laugh.

  CHAPTER 8

  “Hi.”

  “Hi.”

  I stood in the doorway, facing Carter unsure what else to say. “You … want to come in?” I asked.

  He looked past me and then at the landing. “I was thinking we could go for a walk. Talk, you know.”

  “Okay.” I glanced behind me and Mom smiled and waved a “shoo” gesture. I closed the door.

  I stuffed my hands in my pockets for lack of anything else productive to do with them. Carter started walking, and I followed. We didn’t talk until we’d reached the pool. A rather large lady in an immense black swimsuit floated in the deep end, looking to me like a giant jelly donut. It would’ve been funny, except I was so nervous.

  “You wanna sit here or go down to the beach?” he asked.

  “The beach,” I said. I didn’t like the thought of donut lady hearing us.

  He opened the beach gate and we padded into the sand. We were both huffing and puffing too much for conversation until we’d reached the water. Then he let me set the pace and fell in at my side.

  “I’m sorry about the other night,” he said. “I shouldn’t have freaked on you, but I want to explain.”

  I stooped to pick up a sea shell and rolled it around in my palm. “Go ahead then,” I said.

  He took a deep breath. “I’ve had these doubts, about me, I mean. What if I’m like my dad, and I hurt you? I couldn’t stand that.”

  I came to a halt. The sun was in my eyes, so I squinched up one side of my face.

  “But probably that isn’t fair to think because I might not be like him at all. I talked to my mom, and I think it helped. But I gotta be honest, I’m afraid.”

  Afraid? Carter was afraid? Yet hadn’t my dad said that last night? I waited.

  “I’m afraid I can’t be all the things you think I am.”

  But he didn’t see. I squeezed the shell harder. “You … you can’t not be all those things,” I said.

  His brow furrowed, and he scratched his neck. “I don’t understand. You think I’m so perfect, but I’m not. I am sensitive, like Carrie said, and …”

  “You’re perfect to me.” I broke into his thoughts and stepped closer. “All I want is someone to like me for who I am, stupid mistakes and all.”

  “Just like?” he asked.

  My face heated, and I glanced away.

  He captured my chin and tipped it forward and up. “Don’t you see? The problem I’m having isn’t with you; it’s with me. I want more than liking you, Daphne. I want to fall in love. Head over heels crazy in love … with you. And …” He paused. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

  I could see he was about to say something big, something he’d been working toward for a while, so I kept quiet.

  “And I think I’ve already started. That’s what scares me the most.”

  He’d lowered his hands, and we were about a foot apart. I moved closer. I would touch him, let him know it was okay to be scared because he mattered to me. Let him know that just like he’d keep me outta holes, I’d keep him from doubting himself.

  But right then something slimy snaked across my palm, and my chest closed up. I opened and shut my mouth, a scream wanting to emerge but lack of oxygen preventing it. Then I dropped the shell and the sight of a slimy creature crawling over the sand completely took my breath. Gasping for air, the darkness swam around me, and next thing I knew, the lights went out.

  I awoke to a brilliant blue sky, not a cloud in it, and I turned my head. The donut lady floated in the pool. I watched her butt bob up and down, thinking if you let the air out of her she’d deflate and sink.

  Then the seat beneath me moved, and the steady thrub-thrub of Carter’s heartbeat entered my brain, and the feel of his chest and smell of his skin. The strength of his hand cradling my neck.

  I twisted to see his face, and he was looking down at me.

  “I’m alive?” I asked.

  He smiled. “Yes. You fainted.”

  Fainted. Why? A shiver rustled through my frame. The slimy thing.

  “What was that?” I asked. “I thought it was just a shell, but it wasn’t.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know, but trust you to find it.”

  I laughed then. “I did. Didn’t I?”

  He nodded.

  And it came to me we were at the pool. “Did you carry me here?”

  “Yes, you were heavy, too.”

  I giggled. “That’s because of all my parents fed me yesterday. There wasn’t anything else to do and my mom hates waste. ‘Waste not,’ she always says. We have to eat every crumb before we leave. The only thing she’ll ever leave behind is mayonnaise. After all, who can eat an entire jar of mayo in a week?”

  “Henry,” Carter said.

  I stared at him. “An entire jar?”

  “Yep. He uses so much, the meat slides off the bread.”

  This made us both laugh. We quieted eventually, and I had to ask, since I’d fainted during our conversation. “Are we … I mean … what are we?”

  He pulled me to him and laid his cheek on my head. “We’re Carter and Daphne, and I have one more day to kiss you.”

  “You … you do? You … are?”

  He smiled. “Yep, and I can’t wait.”

  This surprised me. He’d gone from doubting himself to wanting to kiss me?

  “But … I thought.”

  “I’m going to do it,” he said, as if I wasn’t speaking. “I’m letting go and flying wherever this takes me.”

  I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but evidently it was symbolic to him somehow, so I assumed it had to do with his fears and didn’t remark.

  “And that means you want to kiss me?”

  “I’ve always wanted that,” he said. “I wanted to do that on day one.”

  “Y-you did?” My mind was spinning round and round.

  “Yep. But you wanted me to feel something. Remember?”

  I had said that. He was right. I widened my eyes further. “Does this mean you do feel something?”

  “This means …” He stood to his feet, swinging me into his arms. I threw one around his neck with a squeal.

  “What are you doing?”

  “This means … look out below!” And with that he took a running leap toward the pool and we both plunged in.

  ***

  It was something from a dream. Carter Pruitt liked me, genuinely liked me, and had no wish to ever be any different. I couldn’t believe it. How had this happened? Something so wonderful and grand, and only in the space of seven days. Well, six because he’d decided he liked me on Thursday. But when Friday rolled around, I knew the truth of it because we’d stayed up super late Thursday night, ‘til almost midnight. Then he was back early Friday morning.

  We spent the entire day together, never leaving each other’s side. We went swimming until my skin was burnt and my hair stiff with salt. We drank way to much soda and ate too many fatty snacks (that half was my mom’s fault because she kept pushing them off on us.)

  Come late afternoon, I was getting nervous because he’d said he would kiss me, and I’d asked for sunset. I knew he’d keep his word. What I hadn’t counted on, however, was an audience. The one night I wanted the beach all to us, to be kissed with complete abandon by the cutest boy I’d ever met, and my parents decided to come outside, along with Carter’s mom and her boyfriend. Worse yet, they decided to follow us down to the water. Of all things.

  Carter didn’t appear to notice or care. He simply held my hand and dragged me toward the edge, standing by my side beneath the florescent colors of the sky and wrapping an arm around my shoulders. The sun turned orange, a giant ball, and slipped lower and lower. It was beautiful. Stunning even. If I wasn’t expecting anything else, I’d say it was the perfect ending to the perfect week with the perfect guy, but I was, so I glanced at him.

  He turned to me then, taking my hands in his. “I’ve thought this out,” he said. “I prayed even, and asked for the prettiest sunset ever, just for you.”

  My heart filled.

  “And look,” he jerked his chin toward the water. “He answered. It’s a sign.”

  “Of … of what?” I asked, conscious our parents were back there and could probably hear him.

  “Of the future. People say you can’t fall in love in a week. They say two people who’ve walked past each other all the time can’t see each other different in a few days. They say romance is dead and things take time and life is a struggle. ‘Nothing comes easy.’ But, Daphne, they’re wrong.”

  He moved his hands to my face, turning it towards him. “So wrong. I want to ask you something, and I want you to say yes.”

  “Okay,” I whispered.

  “Will you go out with me Monday? On a real date. I’ll pick you up, we’ll go to eat and then play putt-putt, just like we planned, and we’ll do it in front of everyone. Say yes.”

  “Yes,” I choked.

  “And then will you go out with me as much as possible for the rest of the summer, and be my girl next year? Mine.”

  I couldn’t speak. There weren’t any words left in me for what he was saying. So I nodded.

  He brought his mouth closer. “You wanted me to feel something, and I didn’t know if I could. But I was wrong. I’m crazy about you. Crazy, out of my mind crazy.”

  And his lips met mine, a gentle brush, then an insistent pressure, one which sent me flying to the highest place. My arm about his neck, I pressed to him, and he returned the motion. He tasted of salt and sweat and sea. I tasted of sun and lotion and tears. Tears which I couldn’t stop, which flowed between us, and fueled this magic.

  He stopped at last, and breathless, we both stared at each other.

  “That was the first,” he said. “Get used to it.”

  I collapsed against him, my cheek to his neck, and my parents caught my eye.

  Mom had a hand over her mouth, where I could see a smile, and Dad, he was beaming. I then glanced at Carter’s mom and her boyfriend. They were holding hands. She smiled and nodded sharp.

  I closed my eyes. “It won’t take much,” I said.

  He ran a hand through the tangled mess of my hair.

  “What won’t take much?” he asked.

  “To fall in love.”

  He chuckled. “No, it won’t.”

  ***

  The restaurant was a hangout for kids at our school. On any night during the summer and on weekends during the school year, you could find a crowd of people there you knew. Monday night was no exception. The place was packed. The lot full. The tables inside even fuller.

  Carter took my hand and led me through the double doors, and I swear you could hear the crowd give a collective gasp. A giggle rippled through me, but I stifled it. No need to look silly.

  He took me by the shoulders and steered me toward the front. “What do you want?” he asked.

  I studied the order board. “I’ll have the number two value meal,” I said. “No onions.” I couldn’t recall us talking about onions, but we’d talked about everything else.

  He nodded. “You sure this is where you want to go? We could go somewhere nicer.”

  I smiled at him. “I’m sure. We’ll do that next time.”

  His lips turned up at the phrase next time.

  “Hey, Daphne.”

  I twisted my head around and looked into the face of a couple girls I knew. I glanced back at Carter. “Can you order? I’m going to go talk to them.”

  He inclined his head, so I slipped away.

  I came to a halt before the girls; Sherry and Karen were their names. “What’s up?” I asked.

  Sherry looked past me at Carter, then back at my face. “You and Carter are … going out?”

  I smiled. “He’s crazy about me.”

  Their faces changed, eyes growing wide. I know that found that hard to believe. I still did, too.

  “How did that happen?” Sherry asked.

  “Well,” I said. “I really should write it all down because it’s the strangest story. It all began with the absolute worst day of my life.”

  “Do tell,” Karen said.

  “It’d take too long,” I said. “But I’ll think about it.”

  Sherry leaned over Karen and lowered her voice. “Is it true … what Carrie said about him being … you know, moody?”

  That kinda made me mad. I didn’t like rumors, and especially not about Carter. So I wanted to squelch it right away. “You can’t believe her. I mean, look. Carter Pruitt likes me? Me, Daphne, trips-over-her-own-feet, Merrill? Does that sound like he’s moody to you?”

  “You have a point,” Sherry said. “She always was kinda desperate, I thought.”

  “True,” Karen said. “But did he really say he was crazy about you?”

  Carter came up to us just then, a tray in his hand.

  “Ask him yourself,” I said.

  They were all embarrassed at that, their faces turning red.

  “Ask him what?” Carter asked.

  “If you’re crazy about me.”

  He gave a laugh. “I can prove that.” He set the tray down on the table and swept me backward in his arms. He then kissed me soundly.

  I stood back to my feet after, a little discombobulated. I hadn’t expected him to do that.

  He picked the tray back up. “I’m hungry, Daph. Let’s find a table.” He took my hand and tripping after him, I glanced over my shoulder. They were still staring at us, eyes popping.

  I raised and lowered my shoulders, then catching up with him, slipped into a booth. He scooted in beside me. But he hesitated before passing out the food.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “No,” he said. “That’s not right.”

  “What’s not right?”

  “That kiss. That’s not how crazy I am about you.”

  “It’s … it’s not?”

  He faced me and gripped the sides of my head. “No, this is.”

  Lord, help me, that was the best kiss ever.

  FROM THE AUTHOR

  This story was birthed out of the title. I saw the words, with “worst day” crossed out, in my head one morning before rising. Then I wrote the first portion, Daphne falling down on her face at Carter’s feet, and left it alone for quite some time.

 

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