Page 81 - My FlipBook

T R A I L O F C R U M B S

“What about his girlfriend, the redhead?”
“Angela? That’s over. You interested?”
Was that even a question? “Maybe.” She’d tried out one of
Rachel’s coy looks.
“You should come to his basketball games. Matt plays on
the team too.”
“When’s the next one?”
“Tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up.”

So she had sat with Rachel in the bleachers, red marks on
her arm from Rachel squeezing it when the score was close.
Watching how great Dylan’s biceps looked in his basketball
jersey, feeling a burst of something every time someone called
his name. Rachel drove Greta home afterward, with Matt in
the front and Dylan in the back seat next to her. He did an
impression of their coach that made her laugh. They swapped

stories about their stepparents. Dylan’s stepdad wore a pair
of socks at least three times before throwing them in the
laundry. Greta told him about Patty’s toilet-paper rationing.
On the drive home after the second game, Dylan had
stretched one arm behind her and slid his other hand onto
her knee. The only light glowed from the dash. In the front,
Rachel and Matt skipped between radio stations. Dylan
leaned in and kissed her on the cheek but didn’t pull away
again. He kissed her mouth, his arms, his body, around her.

When they’d stopped in front of her house, he’d said, “Matt
got the key to his parents’ cabin at Pigeon Lake. Want to come
to a party on Saturday night?” She’d said yes before he’d even
finished the sentence.

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