Catch Twenty-Two (Westover Prep 2)

“Listen,” I sigh, closing my eyes.

I want to bad-mouth the foreman, tell her that’s he’s bad for her, demand that she stop spending so much time with him, but where does that leave me?

I’m not able to make her smile the way he does.

I’m not capable of forgetting about what I have to go home to every night, which makes it impossible for me to be light and carefree.

As much as I hate to admit, Rowdy is perfect for her. The six-year age difference is a little creepy to me, but who am I to judge?

But one night, this night, I want to just let go of everything. Let go of the pain, the anger, and the guilt that swims in my gut for leaving my mom alone all day only to leave again to go to the fair.

I just want to toss it all out the window and just be carefree for a couple hours.

“What, Zeke?” When I open my eyes, I find Frankie’s searching. I don’t know what she’s looking for, but I seize the moment and reach for her hand.

“Can we just forget everything that’s happened between us?”

“Everything?”

“All the bad stuff,” I clarify. “Just for tonight let’s just be Zeke and Frankie, two teenagers wanting to have a good time.”

“No insults or snide remarks?”

“None.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

She nods, a small hesitant smile pulling up the corner of her mouth.

After putting the truck in gear, I reach for her hand again, and just like the first time she allowed it, I feel blessed that she’s letting me touch her. Our combined hands rest in the center of the seat the entire drive to the county fair.

“Wow,” Frankie says, awe filling her voice as she leans forward to look out the windshield. “It’s much bigger than I thought it would be.”

I’ve been coming here every year for as long as I can remember. Mom and Dad would make a point to spend at least one night here letting me eat junk food and waste money on carnival games, no matter how many times the rigged games left me empty-handed. The last two years, I spent with friends, too old to suffer the embarrassment of tagging along with my parents.

This year, I didn’t even bother calling any of my buddies from school. Hell, I haven’t spoken to anyone really since summer break started unless I ran into them while I was getting supplies in town. It’s nothing personal on my end or theirs. Summer is filled with long hours and exhaustion for most of us. We’ll pick right back up when the fall semester starts.

I can’t imagine what all of this looks like to Frankie’s fresh eyes, but she seems excited, the glint of the flashing carnival lights reflecting off her eyes.

“Ready?” I squeeze her hand to urge her into motion.

She grins, a wide smile that transforms her face from the sullen girl that approached me when I first pulled up in the driveway into the happy girl that grinned at me while we were working together before Rowdy made his appearance.

We keep close, but after we round the front of my truck, she doesn’t reach for my hand again. I like to think it’s because she’s too busy taking in the sights and sounds of hundreds of people enjoying the pop-up fair that mere hours ago was nothing but an old, dusty field.

“What do you want to do first? Food, rides, or games?”

Her eyes widen, darting back and forth as she moves her hands from the front of her jeans to the back pockets.

“Crap,” she mutters, her cheeks tinting pink.

“What’s wrong?” I take a step closer, but she takes a step back. I thought we’d made progress earlier, if anything calling a truce for the night, but she can’t seem to want to get away from me fast enough.

“I didn’t expect you to show.”

“Yet, here I am.” I spread my arms at my sides, trying my best to get her back to smiling and looking forward to our night.

“I didn’t think you’d show,” she repeats. “I didn’t bring my wallet.”

“Frankie,” I sigh.

“We don’t have to leave. I don’t really want to do any of that stuff to begin with. I can just watch you.”

She grins to reassure me but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“This is a date, pretty girl.” Taking a chance, I run my knuckle down her cheek until she’s looking up at me. “Even if you had brought money, I wouldn’t let you spend it.” She blinks up at me. “Is that how guys treat you on dates back in Colorado?”

She snorts, an unladylike sound that makes my own lips curl up in a smile. Despite the distance between us lately, Frankie doesn’t pretend to be anything other than herself around me.

“Dates?” She rolls her eyes. “I’ve never been on a date, unless you count the class field trip in third grade where Mr. Monroe forced me to safety-partner up with Chandler Cooper as a date.”