The Trail Rules Page 4

  The best part about this time of day is there are no people. I’m not like Evan and Cally, who get energized being surrounded with people. I need downtime. Alone.

  How was today?

  I laugh at myself. Okay, so I don’t mind when Cally asks. Okay. I’m doubled up on Snow Bunnies in first and second.

  Egads!

  This time I genuinely laugh out loud. And I’m grateful she doesn’t pep talk me. That was pretty much my reaction. I flop onto the couch and turn on the TV, but mute the sound. They’re both in History, then just Bri in Ethics.

  There’s two words I never thought I’d see together.

  Should be interesting. How was your day. I HATED not seeing you.

  Pretty standard. I have Blake in English again so <3<3<3

  Barf.

  My phone fills with kissy-face emojis. How was Chem with Evan? Did sparks fly?

  Double barf. How do I explain the uncertainty I’m suddenly feeling? Maybe it’s best if I don’t. At least for now. It’ll be good. He’s way better at that stuff than me.

  Don’t be so hard on yourself.

  It’s okay. School’s not really my thing.

  There’s a pause in our rapid-fire conversation. The little bubbles that indicate she’s typing bounce, then disappear, then bounce again. It’s not like Cally to not just spit out what she’s thinking.

  I run my fingertips over the TV remote. A 90s sitcom with six way-too-attractive friends is on and without the sound, it’s just a lot of arm waving and eye rolling.

  So what is?

  I have to scroll up to figure out what she’s talking about. Uhhh… I should probably know that, right?

  We’re sixteen. We don’t have to have it all figured out.

  Easy for you to say. You have skiing.

  But I won’t do that forever. And I don’t know what else I want. You’ve got time.

  Tell that to my parents.

  Want me to write you a note? Mike is excused from all life decisions for another six months.

  My stomach drops. Only six months?

  Well… SATs and all that stuff’s coming up. College. You know.

  That’s the problem. I do know. And I just can’t seem to get excited like everyone else. Can’t I just ride and ski for the rest of my life? But I’m not even that good at those. I just like the freedom I feel when I’m outside and can think—or not think—without anyone telling me what to do.

  That depends.

  On what?

  What Evan’s planning to do. You’re gonna need a sugar daddy!

  Ha ha. I’m glad she can’t see my face because it’s anything but ha ha. I better get started on homework.

  Don’t stress about this.

  Yeah… An idea strikes me. Hey, you have a bike, right?

  I thought you’d never ask.

  So you’ll go?

  Let’s go tomorrow!

  This time I fill her screen with party hat and bike and mountain emojis, feeling lighter than I have since homeroom. Thanks Cally.

  She sends the fist bump emoji and I toss my phone on the cushion next to me.

  I’m halfway through my Ethics homework and the fifth episode of the sitcom when the garage door opens. The vibrations carry through the kitchen, followed by a door opening and closing and the steady click of heels on tile.

  Mom.

  “Hi, sweetie,” she calls from the kitchen.

  “In here,” I respond. Our house isn’t as big as Brianna’s but it’s got four bedrooms and enough lounging rooms, as Dad calls them, that we each have our own space if we want it.

  Mom kicks off her heels as she enters the living room and curls into the arm chair closest to me. I get my sandy blond hair and blue eyes from Dad, but my personality is all her. She has to dress up for her job as a controller—a fancy type of accountant—but we’re both more comfortable in yoga pants and a t-shirt. “How’d it go?”

  My reflex is to shrug and say okay, but that won’t cut it in the Westin household. “Decent. I have a couple classes with Brianna, so that was weird. But otherwise I think it’ll be a good year.” Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.

  A gentle smile softens her face. “Do you think you’ll work things out with her? You’ve been friends for so long.”

  I never told my parents the full story about why we’re no longer friends, mainly because they never knew the real Brianna. On the surface—especially with adults—she’s sweet and caring and says all the right things. But that’s not the real her. Sometimes I wonder if I even know what really makes her tick. When we were friends I accepted her the way she was, even when I was ashamed about the way she treated people. But admitting it would have meant admitting that I was okay with it. It’s like insisting you’re not racist, but not speaking up when people tell racist jokes in front of you. Tolerating bad behavior is just as bad as doing it yourself.

  “I don’t think that’s gonna happen.”

  “Going to,” she corrects me.

  “Going to,” I parrot automatically.

  “Well, I worry about you. You haven’t seemed as happy lately.”

  That’s just depressing. I should seem happier than I’ve ever been, but if my parents can’t see that, I must be doing something wrong. “I’m fine. And I have Chemistry with Evan, so that’s cool.”

  Her brow furrows. “Is that going to be a distraction?”

  Does she honestly think we’re going to make out in the middle of class? “No, Mom. He’s actually really good at science and that kind of thing.”

  “Like I said, I worry about you—we both do,” she glances in the direction of the garage like Dad will walk in any minute and I get the feeling this ‘chat’ has been planned. “And, it’s junior year. Time to buckle down.”

  “Buckle down?”

  “We understand that high school is a time for making friends and testing the dating waters—”

  “The dating waters?” Apparently I’m going to keep repeating everything she says.

  “—but it’s time to decide what you’re going to do for the rest of your life.”

  “Now?”

  She raises her shoulders like this should be obvious. “When else?”

  I’m at a loss for words. It was one thing to joke with Cally about my lack of ambition, but Mom and Dad take planning for the future seriously. My sister Madison is a prime example. She decided to be a financial analyst midway through high school and never looked back. Now she’s “crushing it”—her words—at a firm in downtown Denver. Did they sit her down then like Mom is now? Knowing Madison, I doubt it. She’s always known what she’s wanted and like magic, it happened. It’s not going to be that easy for me.

  Mom stands and stretches her arms over her head, the casual movements contrasting with her harsh words. “We can talk about this more over dinner.” She leaves me sitting on the couch with my mouth hanging open.

  What am I going to do now?

  Dad gets home a little while later and I race upstairs to hide in my room before he can corner me.

  Trail Rule #2: Some obstacles need to be avoided.

  I lay in the middle of my queen-sized bed surrounded by throw pillows and stuffed animals that I no longer play with but don’t have the heart to banish to the basement. The posters on the walls are from years ago too: horses running near a river, bunnies in a bed of flowers, and the rogue Zac Efron poster taped to the back of my door where Mom won’t notice.

  I text Evan. Might need to escape earlier than planned.

  Wanna come over for dinner?

  I gaze out the window in the general direction of his house. As much as I’d love to avoid whatever they have planned for me, I know I can’t leave. They might kill me.

  That bad?

  Tonight is Let’s Plan Mike’s Future night.

  Want me to come over?

  My parents do love Evan. As charming as you are, I don’t think that’ll help.

  Worth a try. ;)

  I’ll text when I know what I’m doing
with my life.

  So next year.

  Ouch. I know he’s teasing, but that comment cuts a little deeper than he realizes. Ha ha. ttyl.

  When Mom calls me down for dinner, I head there like it’s my execution. To think, this morning I was actually excited about the new school year. But the fact that whatever they have planned needs a tag team means it can’t be good for me.

  They’re already at the table in the dining room, waiting for me. I force a bright smile and take my seat.

  “How was your first day?” Dad asks.

  We’re not even waiting to eat? I take a sip of water, then repeat what I told Mom, but he doesn’t waste time reflecting on my friendship—or lack thereof—with Brianna. Nope. He goes straight for the kill.

  “Your mother and I are worried that you don’t have a plan for the future. By the time Madison started her junior year, she’d locked in on her career and had already selected which universities she planned to apply to.”

  Yes, but as lovely as she is, my sister is a freak of nature. “I guess I haven’t found that one thing that really speaks to me.” We’ve flirted around this conversation enough that I know the right words, but can I hold them off long enough to get through dinner?

  Mom smiles, and it’s not her fake smile reserved for clients and neighbors she doesn’t like. It’s real, which means she fully believes what she’s about to say.

  In other words, I’m screwed.

  “Like I said earlier, it’s time to put one hundred percent focus on your studies.”

  My gaze drops to the table. “I am focused.” Sort of.

  Dad clears his throat. “Do you truly believe you’re trying your absolute hardest?” I don’t answer, and he keeps going. “If it’s a matter of getting you a tutor to help with the more difficult subjects—”

  My head snaps up. “I’m not an idiot!” My voice comes out sharper than I intend, and I quickly dial it back. “I mean, thank you, but that’s not necessary.” I’m really not stupid, school just doesn’t interest me the way it does Madison.

  “Then prove to us that you’re committed,” Mom says, taking the baton. “You don’t have to decide on a career path this second, but by the end of this semester we expect you to have a clearer idea of your future.”

  Three months. They’re giving me three months. I can do this.

  “But in the meantime,” Dad says, and I can see the hammer about to drop. “Some of your extracurriculars might have to be side-lined.”

  My head is spinning. “Extracurriculars?” I’m not in any clubs. My only after-school activities are—

  Oh no.

  They wouldn’t?

  Mom rests her hand on the table like she’s reaching for me and I clench my fists in my lap. “We’re glad you’ve had fun going for bike rides this summer, but…”

  Bike rides? Is that what they think I’ve been doing? I mean, yes, I’ve been riding my bike, but it’s so much more than that. I’ve learned to overcome my fear of trees—well, almost—and I’ve realized how strong I can really be. And until this exact second when it might be ripped away from me, I didn’t realize how important it’d become.

  “…not saying you can’t exercise, but it’d be better if you just ride around the neighborhood.”

  For the second time this evening, my mouth hangs open. They have no idea. Since I don’t speak, they drop the next bomb.

  Dad catches Mom’s eye and she nods, a move so subtle I almost miss it, and he twists the knife, finishing me off. “We also think you should lighten up on the dating.”

  The dating? “I don’t date. I’m in a relationship.”

  “Yes, we understand that, dear,” says Mom. “And we like Evan. But like we said, we’re worried you aren’t devoting enough time to your schoolwork.”

  Blood roars in my ears. I haven’t done anything wrong! How can they take away everything I love? “Evan is not a distraction. In fact, we have Chemistry together and he’s already promised to help me.”

  A smirk crosses Dad’s face. “I thought you said you don’t need a tutor?”

  I cannot believe this. “He’s not—I—” I take a breath. “He’s not my tutor. He’s my super smart boyfriend who, in addition to being a sweet and fun guy, is really good at science.” And pretty much everything else he touches.

  “Mike, we’re not saying you need to break up with him, just—” Mom waves her hand like she can snatch the words out of thin air. “Adjust your focus. School first, and everything else on the weekends.”

  Dad picks up his knife and fork and cuts into his chicken breast, the attack complete.

  I stare at them. Any defense now is pointless.

  When Mom starts eating, I go through the motions, counting the seconds until I can flee.

  Chapter 7

  Evan opens his front door as I turn off the car, and I finally exhale. After the tag-team at dinner, I wasn’t about to ask for permission to leave, and even though I walked out the front door while they were both distracted in the other room, I feel like I snuck out a window.

  Hazy twilight surrounds us. We walk toward each other, meeting on the sidewalk, and his arms are around me, pulling me into his chest. It’s still light enough to see but the chorus of buzzing insects says it’ll be dark soon. I’ve always hated that the first couple weeks of school still feel like summer outside, but right now I’m grateful for the warmth because I’m not ready to face another set of parents, even if the Tripps are the nicest people known to man.

  Evan trails his fingers up and down my back, and I relax into him.

  “You are magic,” I whisper.

  His other hand slides to my neck and tangles in my hair. I tilt my head back to look at him and my breath catches at the look in his eyes. We’ve been together practically forever in high school time, but he still looks at me like I’m the most amazing thing in the world. My heart pounds against his chest. I push to my toes, closing the distance between us until we kiss. The noises around us fade away, and our kiss grows deeper as darkness falls on the neighborhood.

  I stretch my body against his, wanting more, but even if it is getting dark, it’s not that late and his front door is still open.

  As if on cue, a deep voice calls from inside the house. “What, were you raised in a barn?”

  I step back from Evan, my gaze fuzzy, lips still parted, as his yellow lab Dolly barrels into us. Evan’s wearing a similar expression, but still seems focused on me—not the fact that we just got busted making out or that his dog is trying to swallow my arm.

  I push her down, and that’s when I realize the voice is not his dad, but his younger brother Andy, who’s now doubled over in laughter on the front porch. “Got you!” he says, his voice back at his normal, non-baritone pitch. He points at us, then pretends to wipe tears from his eyes.

  A second dog, still yellow but shorter and with floppier ears, trots out the front door and sits next to Andy. Kita is five months old and one of six puppies Dolly surprised the Tripps with after a rendezvous with a Bassett hound up the street. Cally has one of the brown spotted puppies, a boy named Mosely.

  Evan rolls his eyes. “Andy’s been practicing the lower voice for weeks. Says it’ll impress the girls.”

  Andy’s one year behind us but if his current growth spurt is any indication, he’ll be taller and broader than Evan in another couple months. They have the same clear green eyes and smooth mocha skin that you just want to run your fingers over, but Evan’s jawline is more defined and there’s a maturity behind his gaze that has yet to reach Andy.

  I scratch Dolly behind her ear and she plops at my feet. “Andy, you know better than to interrupt people like that,” I tease.

  “People, yes. You two? Nah.” He waves his arm at us like that makes all the sense in the world. “Go make out in the basement and quit putting on a show for the neighbors.”

  I look around on instinct, but it’s doubtful anyone saw us.

  “You’re just jealous,” Evan says. He slips his hand
into mine and leads me to the house. “But thanks for the suggestion.”

  Evan’s parents are in the living room watching TV—some firemen drama with pretty actors and lots of explosions—and they both smile when they see me. “Hi Mike,” his mother says. “How was your first day as a junior?”

  I’ve spent enough time over here that I’m comfortable talking with his parents, but I doubt they want the insecurity-fest that is my brain right now. “It was okay. Evan and I have Chemistry together, so that’ll be fun.”

  Andy wraps his arms around himself and shakes his hips. “Looks to me like you already have chemistry.” He lowers his head so it looks like he’s kissing someone, and Evan shoves him.

  A flush warms my cheeks, and I’m grateful for the dim light.

  “Andy, knock it off.” Mr. Tripp’s deep voice is stern but he’s smiling, unable to be angry with his younger, sillier son. Evan and Andy are mini-me versions of their dad—the only feature they got from their mom is her crystal clear green eyes—but while Evan is more serious like his mom, Andy gets his playfulness from their dad.

  “We’re gonna watch a movie downstairs.” Evan squeezes my hand and butterflies dance in my belly at the promise of what’s to come.

  “Yeah you are,” Andy mutters as we walk by.

  Evan shoves him once more and I wave at his parents. “See ya.”

  The basement is neat for being a boy hangout. An old leather sectional sits in the middle of the room facing a giant flat-screen TV mounted to the wall. Cables snake from gaming systems to the couch, winding around the legs of the coffee table, but there are no dishes piled on the table or food wrappers littering the floor. Mrs. Tripp must have made Evan clean before I came over. French doors lead to the backyard, and Dolly curls up near the door. Since Kita joined the family Dolly claimed Evan as hers, so Kita sticks by Andy’s side.

  I stare into the darkness while Evan turns on the movie streaming app.

  “What are you in the mood for?” He’s standing in front of me manning the remote, and I let my gaze linger on his backside, then up his back to strong shoulders, down his muscular arms and—

  I flush, the warmth from our kiss outside still lingering. “Um…” You?