What If

I don’t bother to ask when I bend down and scoop her up, sleeping bag and all.

I carry her as quickly as I can to the truck and set her in the passenger side.

She doesn’t make a sound other than a low hum through her chattering teeth.

My entire body is painfully numb and stiff when I rush back out onto the dock to get her clothes and my sleeping bag.

I feel like I’m outside of myself and the only thing keeping me moving is staying focused on what I need to do to get out of here.

I toss her clothes in the bed of the truck and shed mine down to my boxers.

I actually feel warmer being practically na**d in the winter air than I did with the wet clothes on.

Wrapping my sleeping bag around me, I climb into the truck.

Nyelle is buried deep within her sleeping bag.

I can’t see her face, but I can still hear her shivering.

I need a minute, not sure I can actually drive shaking this bad, although sitting here isn’t warming me up any faster.

When I’m finally able to function, I turn the truck around and drive us in the direction we came.

I take a guess which way to go when I reach the main road, since I was asleep when we turned into the camp.

After a minute, I see a sign I recognize and veer down a road that leads back to my apartment.

The heater finally starts blasting hot air, and I slowly begin to defrost.

At least my hands aren’t cramped around the steering wheel anymore.

But the cold has seeped into my bones, and I can’t stop shivering.

I glance over at Nyelle, who has the sleeping bag wrapped around her head with big blue eyes peering out.

“I’m sorry I chose the Titanic to go across the arctic water,” she says quietly.

I can’t help smiling.

“And I didn’t even get the chance to declare myself the king of the world.

I kind of feel cheated.”

“Yeah, we missed all the fun stuff—posing nude, steamy sex in the back of your truck.

Although we did get almost naked.” She glances at me out of the corner of her eye.

I know she’s smiling underneath the sleeping bag.

And yes, I’m very aware that she’s wearing just her bra and underwear.

Not all of me is frozen.

“Go ahead.

Keep messing with me.

It’s going to come back to get you eventually,” I warn with a grin.

“How are you doing? Any warmer?”

“I’m a Popsicle,” she says, making me laugh.

At this point, the sun is up, but it’s still before the rising hour of any sane college student on the weekend, unless they’re just getting home.

The parking lot is deserted when we pull in.

“Can you walk?” She nods.

“Okay.

Ready?” I hand Nyelle the keys to my apartment, and she rushes to the door.

Her bare feet poke out from under the black fabric of her sleeping bag as she runs the short distance to the entrance.

I grab our clothes with one hand, cinch my sleeping bag around my chest with the other, and follow after her.

When I enter the apartment, I hear the shower running.

I toss our clothes in the stacked washer/dryer and dump some detergent in.

Realizing Nyelle doesn’t have anything to change into, I find a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants for her to wear.

I knock and slowly open the door to the bathroom.

“I’m putting some dry clothes for you on the counter.

Okay?”

“Thanks,” she says from behind the curtain.

I don’t linger.

But it’s hard not to think about her behind that curtain, without the bra and underwear that are now lying on my bathroom floor.

I shake off the thought of her na**d before it can fully torture me.

I stay wrapped in the sleeping bag until she comes out with her damp hair twisted in a pile on top of her head.

And… she’s wearing my clothes.

I grin.

They’re way too big, but she makes anything look good.

I could get used to seeing her in my things.

“Your turn,” she says, crawling into my bed and pulling the covers up to her nose.

“Feel better?” I ask.

But her eyes are already closed.

I smile and head to the bathroom.

When I get out of the shower, she’s snoring lightly with just the top of her head visible.

I throw our clothes in the dryer, figuring I’ll take her back to her dorm when they’re done.

My entire body still aches.

I don’t remember ever feeling this tired in my life.

I slip under the covers on the other side of the bed.

A slow smile spreads across my face at the sight of her hidden under the comforter, breathing deeply.

Rolling over and wrapping myself in the blanket, I’m very aware of the warmth of her body along my back, even though we don’t touch.

As my eyes slide shut, I’m thinking about second chances, knowing that the one I wished for tonight is lying next to me.

RICHELLE July—Before Fifth Grade “I think I should be the singer.

Richelle, you sound like a dying cat,” Rae says from behind an old drum set that’s held together by duct tape.

I know she’s just trying to make me angry so I’ll give up being the lead singer.

Never going to happen.

“Drummers don’t sing,” I argue, holding the hairbrush that is also my microphone.

Cal leans against the wall with his plastic guitar, waiting for us to stop arguing, or until he has to say something to make us stop.

“I brought new music today too,” I say, plugging my iPod into the radio.

“If it’s Britney Spears, I’m going to throw up,” Rae complains, making gagging noises.

“And if I can’t sing, then I get to pick the music.”

“Your music doesn’t even make sense,” I tell her.

“It’s just screaming.”

“You don’t even know what real music is.” I’m about to tell her that it wouldn’t be on the top forty if it weren’t good, but I notice what time it is and don’t bother.

“It’s time to get Nicole.

I’ll be right back.”

“Why doesn’t she just come over? I don’t understand her weird rules.”

“You know her mom says she has to be invited first,” I say with a sigh.

Rae can be so frustrating.

“What is she, a vampire?” Rae laughs.

“Rae,” Cal scolds.

“Knock it off.” This shuts Rae up.

When Cal speaks up, it usually does.

I run off down the street and press the Bentleys’ doorbell, out of breath.

I ring the bell the same time every day, and every day Mrs.

Bentley answers it like she doesn’t know why I’m here.

“Hi, Richelle.

What can I do for you?” I want to roll my eyes, but I don’t.

I smile and say the same thing I said yesterday, and the day before yesterday—as far back as the first day Nicole moved into the neighborhood.

“Hi, Mrs.

Bentley.

Can Nicole come out to play?” But today I add, “And can she sleep over at my house tonight?”

“Yes, Nicole can come out.

But I will have to call your mother and check with Mr.

Bentley about sleeping over.” Nicole is standing behind her mom like she always does when I come to get her.

As soon as she hears she can play, she lets me take her hand.

“Be home by five thirty, Nicole,” Mrs.

Bentley says as we skip away.

“I’ll have spoken to your father by then.” I don’t know why she has to ask him if Nicole can sleep over.

She’s done it every Friday this summer.

“Okay, Mom,” Nicole calls back.

We skip together all the way to Rae’s.

Nicole still doesn’t run, but at least I got her to skip.

It’s better than walking, even though it still feels too slow for me.

As we approach, Cal is walking across the yard to his house.

“Where are you going?” I ask.

“Rae had to go pick up Liam with her mom.

And I have to get ready for baseball.

I’ll see you guys later.” Rae’s brother lives with his dad.

And he comes over every other weekend, except we never really see him or Rae when he does because her mom wants them to have family time.

And Cal plays on a baseball team Tuesday and Friday nights with Craig and Brady.

“Oh,” I answer, disappointed.

“Well, I guess we can go to my house.” We play fashion models in my backyard with an old camera my dad doesn’t want anymore.

Nicole is allowed to sleep over, just like I thought.

We eat pizza and watch a movie before we’re supposed to go to my room to sleep.

But we don’t sleep.

We’re too hyper, which makes us laugh a lot.

“Can I tell you a secret that you have to promise not to tell anyone ever?” I whisper in the dark.

Nicole is on the bottom bunk.

My sister, Kara, and I used to share a room.

But when she started middle school last year, my mom and dad let her have my mom’s old office.

She even gets her own TV.

I don’t care because I got to keep the bunk bed.

I hang my head over the side, holding on to the edge so I don’t fall.

“I promise not to tell anyone, ever,” Nicole whispers.

I smile before I say, “I’m going to make Cal my boyfriend this year.”

“Really?” Nicole asks with a giggle.

“Are you going to marry him too?” I know she says it to be funny.

But I mean it when I say, “Yup.

When we grow up, we’re going to get married and live in a big white house.

I’m going to drive a Mercedes and he’s going to drive a BMW.

I’m going to sell houses, and he’s going to be a rock star.” Nicole giggles.

“Well, I’m going to go to college at Harvard and be someone respectable like my daddy wants me to be.”

“Why do you want to go to Harvard?”

“Because my mom and daddy want me to.

They’ve been putting money in the bank since I was a baby so that I can go there.

It’s where important people go, and my daddy wants me to be important.

He says I have to be the best in school before I can go there.

And I have to be a good person that everyone will like and listen to.”

“But you don’t ever say anything in school,” I say, confused.

“I guess I haven’t found anything really important to say yet.”

“My mom and dad tell me they want me to be happy.

Besides, college is so far away.

I can’t think about that.”

“But don’t you get married after college?” Nicole points out.

“Yeah, but that’s just pretend,” I defend, feeling light-headed from hanging upside down for so long.

“Except I am going to make Cal my boyfriend this year.”

Chapter Seven

I peek out of one eye, undecided whether I really want to be awake.

It’s after two in the afternoon.

Then I remember Nyelle and roll over.

She’s not here.

All that’s left are my sweatshirt and sweatpants folded neatly on top of the pillow.

I sit up when I hear a cabinet door shut.

“Nyelle?” I call out.

I listen.

There’s footsteps, but no answer.

“Nyelle?”

“Who?” It’s Eric.

I let out a heavy breath.

She left.

I’m not surprised, but I can still feel the weight of disappointment in my chest.

“Forget it.” Eric pokes his head in my room.

“What happened to you last night? Did you leave with that cute brunette I saw you talking to?” I yawn, twisting to stretch my back.