How My Summer Went Up in Flames (18 page)

“This is my Monsters of Rock Guitar medley.”

“You’re really good,” I say. “How about playing me something I know.”

Without even thinking about it, he launches into the chorus of “Rosalita.”

“Am I that predictable? A New Jersey girl who likes Bruce?”

“Predictable?” He shakes his head and chuckles. “No.”

“Can’t deny my love for Bruce.”

“Nothing wrong with that. He’s a genius. Anyway, I know you’re named after the song.”

“Matty,” I say.

“Talks about you all the time. You know—”

I hold up my hand. I’m feeling embarrassed, for me and Matty. Spencer is about to tell me something that, on some level, I’ve always known. “I don’t think I should hear this.”

“Got it. No words. Does that apply to my brother, too? You do know why he’s acting this way, right?”

What about Avery? I want to say. But really, I don’t want to delve into Logan’s or Matty’s or even Avery’s psyche. I’ve already made a mess of my love life. No need to enter into a love rhombus. Instead, I take the guitar from Spencer. “Do you think you can teach me to play this thing?”

“For real?”

“Yes, for real. I want you to show me what you showed Matty. I want to be able to play a song.”

“Okay, then. Let’s start with a G chord.”

Spencer puts the guitar on my lap. He takes my left hand and places it on the guitar’s neck and drapes my right
hand on the body. Then he carefully manipulates my pinkie, middle, and pointer fingers into the correct positions on the nylon strings.

“Push down on these three strings. Careful not to touch the others.”

I push down as hard as I can. It’s not easy to hold them down, though.

“Good,” Spencer tells me. “Now, take your thumb like this—” He grabs my right hand. “And strum.” He guides my hand across all five strings.

“That sounded like crap,” I say.

“It did. Playing guitar is harder than it looks.”

“I can’t keep the string down and strum at the same time. This is very uncomfortable.”

“I hate to say this. . . .” Spencer trails off.

“What? You don’t think you can teach me?”

“You may not want to learn when you hear this: The fingernails must go.”

“What?”

“You must suffer for art.”

I look down at my hands and the pretty gel manicure I got with Avery. My nails aren’t super long and I don’t wear acrylic tips or anything, but still. I like the length and how
they look with polish. Do I want to sacrifice my happy hands?

I let out a deep breath. “I don’t have a nail clipper.”

Spencer pulls his keys from his pocket. Of course, he’s got one dangling from the ring. Right next to a pocketknife.

“Hand it over,” I say. I clip all ten nails extra short and dust the shavings onto the ground.

“I’m proud of you,” Spencer says. His face looks so sweet when he smiles. “Ready to try the G again?”

“I’m all yours.”

I struggle but keep strumming. Spencer coaches me. “Nice and even. That’s it.” And then on about my fifteenth try, it sounds like something.

“There’s your G!” He’s all excited. “Now keep going. Once you master that, I’ll teach you the D.”

My left hand is getting sweaty, so I wipe it on my shirt and then realize I’ve forgotten where I’m supposed to put my fingers. Spencer takes my fingers and gently places them where they belong.

“What’s it feel like?” Spencer asks.

“Guitar strings?”

“No, being in love. Is it worth it?”

It’s an interesting time to ask this. I’m sitting on the trunk of a Taurus, guitar in my hand, taking lessons from a
guy who, six days ago, was a complete stranger to me, and why? Joey. Still, I do my best to sift through the bad stuff in my brain and find those golden moments—the ones I hope to feel again someday.

The right corner of my mouth turns up as I remember the rush and excitement of falling in love with Joey. Those first days, weeks, months, were amazing. I thought about him all the time. I had no appetite and dropped seven pounds without dieting. I hardly slept but was never tired and woke up before my alarm most mornings. I couldn’t wait to start a new day even though Joey and I didn’t go to the same school. That part was hard. We couldn’t see each other between classes or at lunch, but every text and phone call gave me a rush. Going to different schools heightened the thrill of seeing his car in my school’s parking lot after the dismissal bell. And no matter how often I saw him, it never felt like enough. Back then, I never could’ve imagined hating him. I never wanted to let him go. I certainly couldn’t have predicted the events that led me to this moment in New Mexico.

Spencer, who has been waiting for an answer, misreads my silence. “I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have brought that up.”

“No, it’s fine. At first, it was the greatest feeling in the
world. The anticipation of seeing him. The buildup to our first date, our first kiss. But then—”

Do I tell him what’s it’s like when that’s over and heartbreak settles into the place where all those good feelings used to live? How the days seemed so, so long and I couldn’t sleep at night but I didn’t want to get out of bed because nothing felt as good as when I was with Joey? TV, magazines, even talking to my friends, all seemed tedious. I was uptight and distracted. All I had focused on for the past nine months was Joey, and I wasn’t sure what to do once he was gone.

But I don’t tell Spencer any of that. He’ll have to find out for himself. Not that I wish it on him; I don’t. But we all have to go through it at least once, don’t we? Instead, I just look at Spencer and say: “Well, you know what happened. Here I am, right?”

“It hasn’t been so bad, has it?”

I look at Spencer and wonder if he’s ever been kissed. “Can I ask you something?”

“I guess,” Spencer says.

“Have you ever—” I stop. I don’t want to embarrass him. Not Spencer.

“What?” He nudges me.

I reach for his hair and comb my fingers through his
super-straight bangs so they look more tousled and less like his mom cuts his hair. “I was just gonna ask you if you’ve ever thought of using some product. Here, let me get some gel.”

Spencer surprises me and moves his hand up to meet mine. “No, you weren’t.”

And then I shock myself. I slide my fingers to his cheeks and then, without thinking, I lean my face close, which isn’t easy with this guitar in my lap, and kiss him on the lips.

Impulsive. It should be my legal middle name.

I pull back for a second. He’s one of the good guys and deserves it. Not that I’m saying he deserves me, but he deserves to be kissed.

And while I’m mulling over all this, Spencer catches me off guard and kisses me back. A real kiss this time. It’s soft and sweet and makes me wish I could fall for Spencer, but I can’t. When it’s over, I realize I’m holding my breath and my knees are shaking. The boy’s got some skills.

“You’re really good at that,” I say.

“
Cosmo.
Great for research.” Spencer smiles.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I probably shouldn’t have done that. I can’t explain why I do anything lately and—”

“Don’t take this the wrong way. I’m thrilled to have that first kiss out of the way, and it’s not that you aren’t pretty,
because you are. You totally are. But I can’t say I exactly . . .”

“Felt anything?” I offer.

“You either, huh?”

Relief. It passes over both our faces. I can tell.

“Yeah, but that’s okay. Save that research for a girl you’re really crushing on.”

Despite the fact that we’re both cool with what transpired, I bite my lip and worry about what I’ve just done.

“Rosie, relax. He doesn’t have to know about this.”

“Who?”

He shrugs.

“I don’t know what you mean. It doesn’t have to be a secret or anything.”

But Spencer knows that I know he’s got me all figured out. It’s nice that I’ve pretty much exorcised Joey from my heart, but it’s getting crowded in there. I think I need to reserve some space near my aorta or something. The last thing I want is to arrive back in New Jersey more confused than when I left. Spencer points to the guitar.

“Back to work,” he says. “Two more chords and you’ll be able to play ‘Free Falling.’”

And then he starts singing about a good girl who loves horses.

I don’t know why, maybe it’s the sweet sound of Spencer’s voice, but my eyes brim with tears.

Spencer stops. “Rosie? Are you okay?”

“Can you teach me something edgier? Maybe something by Pink? ‘Free Falling’ is too sad.” The way Spencer looks at me makes the words pour out. “I used to think I was a good girl. But the truth is, I did a bad thing. I keep trying to justify it by blaming Joey for being a cheating asshole, but he didn’t make me feel this bad. I did this. I’m humiliated, mortified, disappointed, and disgusted with myself. I mean, he cheated on me, right? So that’s a pretty good indication that he didn’t love me anymore. Maybe he never loved me. And what did I do? I could have played it cool. Let him have his jailbait and kept my dignity. But I practically announced to the whole world how badly he hurt me. How much I still loved him. Why did I do that, Spencer, why?”

I jump off the trunk and stand there on the side of the highway and throw my arms in the air in a giant V, the guitar still hanging around my neck. “I shouldn’t have lost control,” I wail. “And now Joey’s telling lies about me, saying I did things with him that I’ve never done with anyone. Look at where being Rosie has gotten me.”

Spencer blinks. “I hope I’m so in love with a girl someday that her breaking up with me would make me want to blow up her car. Well, that sounded bad, but you know what I’m saying. It just means whatever you do, whoever you care about, you’re in it all the way. And that’s nothing to feel bad, or humiliated, about.”

“You really think so?”

“Yes. I do. I think you just need an outlet for all that . . . passion.”

“I am passionate, aren’t I? That’s what I tried to tell Matty.”

“And for the record, Joey cheated on you because he found a girl who would do what you wouldn’t.”

“I’m not so sure.” All this time, I figured it was because there’s something wrong with me.

“I am. I go to school with him, not that he would know that. I’ve seen him in action. If Joey wanted a girlfriend, he never would have broken up with you. So don’t be surprised.”

“About what?”

“If he wants you back.”

“I’m tired of surprises. Lately, things aren’t turning out the way I planned.”

“Good or bad, nothing ever does,” Spencer says.

“Fortune cookie?”

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “All me.”

 • • •

Logan and Matty finally return, gas can and water bottles in hand. They’re both bright red and sweaty. Logan promptly fills the tank and Matty raises his eyebrows at the guitar. If this surprises him, he should have been here twenty minutes ago. That would have given him an eyeball full.

“Spencer’s going to teach me to play ‘Free Falling,’” I blurt out.

“Glad you used this time to pursue your latent artistic urges,” Matty says.

“Spencer thinks I need to channel my passion,” I reply.

“How about you start by driving,” Logan says. He tightens the gas cap and walks around to the back of the car to face me.

“He speaks,” I say.

“I speak,” he says.

Logan lets his hand linger in mine as he gives me the keys, and I wish his touch didn’t make every last inch of me want to kiss him, sweaty and all. No more boys. Guitar. I’m going to learn guitar. He looks more relaxed than when he
left, and I hate to admit, but I’m relieved he’s not ignoring me anymore.

“Feel like driving us to the gas station?”

“Sure.” I lift the guitar strap off my shoulder and hand the acoustic to Spencer. “Let’s go. I’m starving.”

“You’re starving?” Matty says. “I just sweat off my last three meals.”

Logan pats him on the back. “Thanks for coming, man. Why don’t you take shotgun until we get to Arizona?”

Matty eyes him suspiciously. I can’t say that I blame him. What happened during that walk to make Logan so nice?

Heatstroke. That must be it. Logan has heatstroke.

My phone rings when we’re en route to the Grand
Canyon. I’m driving and have been since we stopped for gas in New Mexico. Matty checks the caller ID. “Lilliana.”

“Hold it up to my ear,” I say. Matty doesn’t move. “Please. Can you please hold the phone up to my ear?”

“Why, yes I can,” Matty says. “‘Please’ and ‘thank you’ are the magic words.”

Lilliana doesn’t even wait for me to say hello. “How does Joey know you’re going to be in Phoenix on the Fourth of July?” she demands.

I’m so shocked, I forget to censor what I’m saying. “How do you know that Joey knows I’m going to be in Phoenix on the Fourth of July?” It’s a good thing I’m driving so I can’t see Matty’s face, especially since I never answered him
when he asked almost the exact same thing in Texas. At the time, I thought it was possible Joey could have found out about my trip from someone else, but Phoenix on the Fourth, that’s all me.

“He sent me a message on Facebook last night,” she screeches. “He told me you sent him a message on Facebook a week ago, telling him to meet you there. He wanted to know if I thought you were serious. So are you? Serious? Why would you tell him that? Would have been nice of you to tell your best friend that you told your ex-boyfriend to meet you in Arizona.”

Ah. Facebook. I’m not usually one for social media. I don’t update my status with cryptic messages every twenty minutes. I hardly ever sign on. But that explains it. I don’t remember booting up my laptop during my antihistamine haze, but there ya go. Another brilliant move by Rosalita Ariana Catalano. Not to mention another TRO violation. Why didn’t I mention it to anybody? Because I was hoping that after all my mortifying and desperate acts in the last few weeks, that one wasn’t real. I was doing the guy thing. Ignoring it and hoping it would just go away.

“What did you tell him?” I ask.

“I wanted to talk to you first,” Lilliana says. She sounds
angry or maybe just annoyed. Either way, it’s disconcerting coming from her.