The Season of You & Me by Robin Constantine Page B

with disabilities surf,and they were going to be visiting a nearby town to run a program for a weekend. I’d checked out the website, and had to admit it looked cool and all, just not for me.
    Surfing had always been my time to chill, let my thoughts wander. I couldn’t see myself doing it assisted. Couldn’t imagine that it felt the same way. Having Wade carry me out to the water. People watching my every move. I wasn’t ready. Maybe someday, or maybe never, but I wanted it to be my choice. My terms. My board. Not because it was an inspirational thing to do.
    I wanted to do it for me, not them.
    I didn’t feel it yet.
    “Maybe when you get rid of that thing on the top of your head,” I joked. Tori raised her hand. I slapped it.
    “Do not dis the top knot. I think the benny chicks are gonna dig it.”
    “Not the ones with taste,” Tori said. “That has surpassed man bun into rat’s nest. Do you wash it?”
    “I will have you know, I take extremely good care of it. My sisters turned me on to coconut oil. Twice a week,” he said, taking out the elastic and running a hand through his hair. He leaned over the table and held the ends out for Tori to inspect. I covered my drink with my hand. Tori shook her head, but leaned toward him and touched it.
    “Take a whiff,” he said. She laughed and brought the lock of hair up to her nose and sniffed. Wade looked at me.
    “Ah, no, dude, I’ll take your word for it.”
    Wade turned back to Tori, who still had his hair up to her face, like a bizarre fake mustache. They both laughed. Their eyes and mouths were inches apart, and there was this moment: a flash sort of exchanged between them that made me feel like I’d walked in on something I shouldn’t have. It was only a second. Tori let go, and Wade sat back, gathering his hair in a top knot again.
    “Yes, smells nice,” Tori said. Her cheeks flushed pink and she took a slow sip of her slush. I was thankful when the guys came back over on their way out to the parking lot, balancing out the weird vibes with their loudness.
    Nick straddled the bench next to Tori and held out his slush.
    “This is the Nick Bardot, want a taste?”
    “You’re going to have to name it something else,” Tori said, wrinkling her nose.
    “C’mon, Tor, it’s pretty cool,” he said.
    “Sure, it’s cool. You win,” she said.
    “Tell Mom I’ll be in late,” he said, getting up. He acknowledged Wade and me with a nod. Matt slammed my change down in front of me as he passed.
    “See ya,” he said.
    As they walked by, heading to the truck, so much envy bubbled up inside that I could feel it collecting in the back of my throat. I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the way theymoved: able-bodied, tall, sauntering along like they had all the time in the world—the way I used to, the way I’d taken for granted. Watching them had made me restless, itchy, wanting something to start. Whatever that meant. The summer felt thick with possibilities.
    I just wasn’t sure what ones were for me.

SEVEN
CASSIDY
    “ARE YOU SURE EVERYTHING’S OKAY? YOU STILL sound so sad.”
    The moment I heard Mom’s voice during my weekly check-in call, I got teary. I don’t know why. I wasn’t sure what my mother expected; it had only been a week. When I was in camp, busy, I barely had any time to think of home or Gavin, but the weekend brought with it long hours of staring-at-my-ceiling time, which made me miss home, Ems, the way things used to be.
    “No, I’m fine. Promise. I just . . . you know, I miss you guys, my stuff, that’s all.”
    “Cass, you’re at the beach—or maybe I should ask, why aren’t you at the beach?”
    “I know I’m at the beach, Mom, but it’s different than being on the beach. We don’t really go there with camp. It’s crowdedon the weekends. Dad and Les keep saying we’ll go, but it’s been busy; that magazine article has really helped business.” I don’t have anyone to go with.
    “Haven’t you met any kids your own