back. His feud with Old Man Lewis was still running strong and he’d somehow managed to drag half the town into it. True to his threats, he’d set up a bait stand in his driveway complete with at least a dozen “Screw Dale Lewis” signs lining the main road and a scarecrow dressed in a clown costume wearing a Lewis Tractor Repair, Bait, and Booze T-shirt. It was a small-town elderly TKO at its finest.
It had been a while since I’d really sat down and thought about Camden Cole. In some ways, it seemed like it had been a million years since we’d played in that creek together, laughing for hours on end. But as the summer started and I once again found myself sitting at the edge of the water every day, it also felt like it had been just yesterday when he had been there, sipping a Coke and grinning over at me with those vibrant baby blues.
I was still hurt, but while time had not healed the jagged gash Camden had carved in my heart, it had at least allowed it to scab over so the ache was no longer devouring me.
Nevertheless, I was a ball of nerves when I arrived at the creek for the first time that summer. Just a year before, Camden had appeared with a wicked grin and a bucket of worms. He obviously didn’t care about me, but money was money and selling worms to Mr. Leonard was as easy as it came. I didn’t know what I’d say to him if he showed up again. Fuck off seemed appropriate, but I had a whole lot of pent-up What the hell happened to you? that I wouldn’t have minded having answered, either.
It was all moot. He didn’t show up that day, and the most confusing mixture of earth-shaking relief and heart-wrenching disappointment rocked me to my core.
I didn’t care about Camden.
Fuck him. Fuck his stupid life in Alberton. Fuck every single thing about the boy who didn’t even care enough about me to say goodbye.
I hated Freaking Camden Cole.
Or so I’d thought.
The very next day, while I sat with my toes in the water halfway through Seventeen Magazine’s “Does he really love you?” quiz, the deep rumble of three words changed my life forever.
“Catch anything good?”
I had been in town for approximately two minutes and eighteen seconds—or however long it had taken me to jump out of the car before it was in park and sprint directly to the creek. I was sweating and panting and had nearly died stumbling over a pile of fire ants, but when I saw her long, brown ponytail hanging down her back, none of that mattered anymore.
Swallowing hard, I wedged a hand into my pocket only to nervously switch to the other hand for maximum coolness. She hadn’t heard me walk up, so I had the element of surprise. I’d briefly considered scaring the crap out of her, but I’d spent nine long, excruciating months waiting to see her again. I wasn’t chancing that she’d punch me in the first thirty seconds.
Quietly clearing my throat, I smoothed down the front of the collared shirt my dad had forced me to wear. Luckily, I’d well past grown out of the penny loafers from last year, but I didn’t think she was going to like my boat shoes any better. Whatever. Changing clothes would have meant wasting time getting to her.
I sucked in a deep breath and then spoke through the perma-grin I’d been sporting since my parents had agreed to let me come back to Clovert for the summer. “Catch anything good?”
Holding my breath, I waited for her reaction. I was betting on a scream, though there was a strong possibility I might even get a hug out of this reunion.
Grinning, I stared at her back, waiting for her to recognize my voice. It was a little different from the last time she’d heard it though—everything was different, actually. Eighth grade had been good to me. I’d been growing fast, topping out at a mountain of five six. Dad had told me I was even taller than he was at thirteen, so I had high hopes that I wouldn’t be the runt of the family forever. Thanks to the seven-a.m. basketball drills Dad had forced me to do year-round—a small price to pay to avoid his precious football field—I was starting to fill out. Everyone in the school still hated me, so nothing had changed on that