How to Quit Your Crush Read online

  “And if I see a snake and it doesn’t slither away?”

  “You back away. Slowly.”

  “What if it bites me?”

  “You pull out your phone and you call for help.”

  “You don’t cut open the wound and suck out the venom?”

  “Not unless you’re in an episode of Gunsmoke or Little House on the Prairie.”

  She smiles. “I used to watch Little House.”

  “Yeah, I did, too. My mom read us the books when we were kids.” I realize I’m grinning again. I step back and let her hand go. “You should check Google for more current information. In fact, you should read up on snakes. The more you know, the less you’ll be afraid.”

  “Fear of the unknown,” she murmurs. She turns toward the enclosure, arms across her chest but knees steady. Chin up. I hate that I keep seeing things in her to admire. The snake’s head shifts as if it’s studying Mai, too. “I wonder what snakes are afraid of,” she says.

  I shrug. “Hawks. Eagles. Owls. Everyone’s afraid of something.”

  She turns to face me, eyebrows raised in challenge. “Including you?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Mai

  He’s quiet for so long, I don’t think he’s going to answer. He takes a few steps to the next cage. He stands with his legs braced apart like nothing can knock him over.

  Or maybe like anything might knock him over.

  “I’m a little different,” he finally says, his voice low. “I’ve already been through the worst.”

  “Your dad,” I say. He never talked about it—never wanted to. But of course I knew.

  “Before he got sick, I worried about all the usual stuff. School, baseball, college. Then none of that seemed important.”

  I speak around a heart-shaped lump in my throat. “I’m so sorry about your dad, Anthony. I don’t think I ever said that.”

  “It’s okay. It happened a long time before I met you.”

  “The summer before sophomore year?”

  He nods.

  “It’s not like that ever goes away, though, does it? I mean…” I wet my lips. “I sometimes wonder if my birth parents are alive or not. Even if they are, it’s like they’re dead. Or gone. Lost. All the things people say when someone dies.”

  He traces a line of condensation down an enclosure window. “Lost is what it feels like to me. You lose so much more than the person, you know? You lose the life you would’ve had.”

  I do know. He’s repeating thoughts I’ve had myself. “You never want to lose anyone again.”

  Our eyes lock. I see understanding but also the question he wants to ask. “I have new parents now. A new family. I’ve always been afraid that I could lose them, too. The day I wandered off…it made it all real. I was alone, again, and what if they didn’t find me?”

  My voice chokes on words I can never say out loud.

  What if they didn’t love me enough to want to look?

  It’s a thought that’s haunted me over the years. My birth parents didn’t die like Anthony’s dad. They left me. Why shouldn’t adoptive parents leave me, too? Anthony would say it’s another irrational fear. And it is. But it doesn’t make it any less real. My parents did come, and they said they would never leave me—but I wanted to make sure they never did. I wanted to be so good they wouldn’t want to.

  “So you stopped wandering off,” Anthony says.

  “I realized I didn’t want to,” I tell him. “I had these amazing parents—why was I getting into trouble in the first place? I didn’t want to disappoint them.” I lean back against the cool cement of a wall. “I still don’t.”

  “You could never disappoint them. Look at you. You’re going to have an incredible future.”

  “You know that, do you?” I smile at the certainty in his voice.

  He walks past another enclosure and points. “An anaconda. Want to see?”

  “No, thank you.”

  He grins and walks back to me. “I don’t like thinking about my future, but I like thinking about yours. Picturing you with Petri dishes and eyedroppers like in middle school.”

  “Can they be really good Petri dishes—not the plastic ones?”

  “They’re primo Petri. And you’re working late one night, and all of a sudden, you stand up and cry, ‘Eureka!’”

  “I have never once in my life cried ‘Eureka.’”

  “Quiet. This is my vision.”

  “Fine.” I gesture for him to continue. “What have I done?”

  “You’ve cured cancer. All kinds of it.”

  “In one Petri dish?”

  “I said it was a really good one.”

  “That’s quite the vision.” But I’m smiling because it really is. “And where will you be?”

  “Like I said, I don’t like thinking about my future.”

  “Give it a try.”

  He shrugs. “I don’t know. A mountain somewhere. Sitting near the clouds, a yellow moon above me.”

  “Anyone beside you?”

  He pauses. “Nah. Just the moon.”

  “And what did you do all day?”

  “I hiked through a creek. Came across a family of beavers, broke up some ice around their lodge.”

  “You saved a family of beavers?”

  His dimple appears. “I read that in a book once. Sounded pretty cool.”

  “Well, we have one thing in common.”

  “Really? How do you figure that?”

  “We both see a future where we’re saving a world.”

  He busts up laughing. “If only we lived in a fantasy, we’d live happily ever after. You and me.”

  “And the beavers,” I say.

  It’s a silly joke, but beneath it, I feel a tug of longing. As if I’m missing something, even though I know it isn’t real. There are no beavers. Only deadly reptiles.

  Anthony’s muscles bunch and flex as he slides his hands in his pockets. “What are you thinking about?”

  “Nothing.” I shake off my odd thoughts. “Your arms,” I add for something to say. “I like them.”

  His slow smile erases the sadness. “They like you, too.”

  “I’m objectifying you, Anthony. You should be insulted.”

  “I am. Do it some more.”

  Lord, I would like to kiss him right now. Instead, I check my watch. “We should get back.”

  He slides his phone from his back pocket and checks the time, too. “Yep. Library closes soon. Wouldn’t want to make your parents suspicious.”

  We walk back through the zoo, the lighted path leading us toward the exit. Each step puts more distance between me and the Reptile House, and the strange part is I wish we could have stayed longer.

  We’re quiet on the drive back. I’m not sure what to think about tonight. Except that I know I will think about it. About him. But not like I expected.

  He slides his car into the spot next to mine but leaves the engine running. That’s good. Anthony and me and long good-byes are never a good thing. I unsnap my seat belt as he turns to me. “So did you have a terrible time?”

  He’s so perfect with his wavy hair and flashing eyes and the way his arm drapes over the steering wheel like some movie star from the fifties. If this were the spring, we’d be kissing across the console right now. My heart leaps.

  My heart is so untrustworthy.

  “The snakes were terrible,” I say, answering his question. “But you were a little too nice about the whole thing. Having good intentions and all that.”

  “Yeah, that was a mistake.” He shakes his head wryly, hiding a smile. “Should I say something annoying now just to even things up?”

  I brighten. “Would you? That would be excellent.” I face him. “Make it good. I mean, bad. I mean.” I shrug. “You know what I mean.”


  He thinks for a second. One of his slow smiles lifts the corner of his mouth. “I don’t want to have an address.”

  “What?”

  “I want to have a PO Box, not a real address, because I move around so much.”

  My eyes go wide at the thought. “I would hate that. I could never live that way. No address?”

  “Not all who wander are lost,” he says with a shrug.

  “I’ve never liked that saying.” I lay my hands over my heart dramatically, but I really am relieved. “All good feelings are now gone. Thank you.”

  His smile turns into a grin. “Any time.”

  I reach for the door handle. “It’s my turn tomorrow night.”

  “I’ll be dreading it,” he says.

  “You should be.” I close the door behind me and walk back to my car. I have to force the smile from my face and the uncomfortable realization that tonight wasn’t nearly as horrible as it should have been.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Anthony

  We start out this morning with trash bags, a few trash-grabber tools, and a wheelbarrow that’s filled with the branches we cut yesterday along with a sealed bucket. When Mallory asks what’s in it, Amber gives her a mysterious smile and tells her she’ll find out at the top of the trail.

  Mai and I exchange looks while we’re pretending not to look at each other. I’m keeping my distance, but it doesn’t matter. She’s in my head. I can’t stop thinking about last night. I shouldn’t have had such a good time.

  I distract myself by taking charge of the wheelbarrow. It’s heavy, and I’ve got to muscle it up over boulders. I always hated running during baseball practice, but I like hiking. There’s no one holding a clock and telling you to go faster. And there’s nothing to look ahead to except the next step.

  Up at the top, Amber gives us a few minutes to walk the clearing and check for spur trails. I wipe sweat off my forehead with the edge of my tee and take a drink from my water vest. I packed it with ice this morning, and already the water is lukewarm. I see why Community Cares scheduled this project right after the end of school. The early mornings are hot in May, but in another month, they’ll be scorching.

  In less than two weeks, I’ll be watching the sun rise over the mountains up north. After that, I’ll be somewhere along the west coast. I hiked most of the way with Amber, and it was hard going with the wheelbarrow, so I let her do the talking. She spent a summer in Oregon and told me about some of the biking trails Dad had highlighted. I want to get home and check his maps against the places she mentioned.

  Mai hiked with Grant. I know I shouldn’t let it bother me. Grant, or someone like him, is Mai’s real-world guy. College boy. Suit and tie guy. Parent approved. After last night, I get why that matters so much to her. She doesn’t want to disappoint her parents. I’m sure that’s why I never met them in the spring. Why I’m a secret now.

  Mai is circling the open area, her shoulders hunched by her ears, her arms folded across her chest. Is she worrying about snakes? Or something else? Does Grant even notice? He’s babbling to her about something.

  “You can see there are a lot of trails branching out from here,” Amber says, calling out, since we’ve spread ourselves along the ridge. “Most of these have been created by hikers and bikers, but the ones heading north and south are official park trails. We’re going to block the spur trails today, try and encourage people to use these others.”

  “What’s that trail down there?” Grant points over the side of the mountain. I take a few steps forward and see what he means. There’s an obvious trail down at the base, winding around the mountain we’ve just climbed.

  “That’s a city trail that leads to the visitor’s center. If you ever got stuck up here and you had to get down another way, you could head for that.”

  “Where does it start?” Grant asks.

  “Right where you’re looking.” Amber takes a few steps down a narrow path. “Hikers call this the rock hop because there are ledges of rock you climb down to pick up the trail. It’s like that most of the way. Trail, rocks, more trail.”

  Mallory shudders. “Why would anyone want to rock hop?” She looks to Ben for confirmation.

  He puffs up at the attention. “Countless people have plummeted to their deaths off of ledges just like this. At the Grand Canyon alone, 126 deaths have been recorded just from falls. That doesn’t include drownings, dehydrations, or cardiac arrests.”

  “Thank you, Ben,” Mai says.

  It sounds more like, Screw you, Ben. I take a step toward her and have to stop myself. I can’t even stand by her. Damn rules.

  “No one has died up here,” Amber says. “There’s solid footing in most spots.”

  “But probably more snakes,” Ben adds. “They like to curl up under rocky outcroppings. Good places to lie in wait and then strike.” He stabs the air with two fingers like they’re the fangs of a rattler. Mai jerks back.

  “All right, enough of that,” Amber says.

  Mai glances at me. I can’t read her eyes with her sunglasses on, but I know she’s worried. I give her a nod. You’re okay. You got this. I don’t get a smile, but her mouth relaxes a little.

  Last night, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Lying in bed, the dark around me, imagining what it would have been like for her as a kid, lost, in the desert. I knew Mai was determined. Focused. But it’s always been about school and career. This is different. This is tackling a fear she could avoid. Makes me admire her even more. Makes me want to help.

  I could start by shoving Ben’s finger fangs down his throat.

  “Let’s head up toward that big boulder at the top,” Amber says. “Before we start rearranging boulders, we want to clean the area, wipe away any signs that people belong. You all have a garbage bag, right?”

  I pull mine from my back pocket and shake it out. There’s a chorus of flapping black bags that startles some birds loose. I’m guessing there are lizards and other critters also making a run for it. I’m glad for Mai’s sake. She’s had enough lizards and snakes for a while.

  The group starts moving, a broken line of khaki and floppy hats. Mai is wearing the one I lent her. I like seeing her in it more than I should.

  There’s a rough patch of trail, and I watch Grant take Mai’s hand and help her over the uneven boulders. A knot of frustration settles beneath my ribs. I’m not her knight in shining armor. I’m no one’s. So why do I wish I could be?

  When we reach a large, flat boulder, Amber turns to the rest of us. “This is a popular party spot in the area. We’re going to close it off using boulders, cuttings from yesterday, and the bucket.”

  That gets everyone’s attention.

  She pops off the lid and shows us the contents. “Cholla balls.”

  I grin at what I always think of as the porcupine of cactus. Cholla plants have lots of short, stubby arms that are surrounded by needle-sharp thorns.

  “Don’t get too close,” Ben barks, throwing an arm in front of Mallory. “That’s jumping cholla.”

  “Thank you, Ben.” Amber sets down the bucket. “It is, indeed, jumping cholla. But cholla doesn’t actually jump. The arms aren’t connected very well to the body of the cactus, so they fall off easily, and because of the sharp needles, they attach themselves to whoever had the misfortune of knocking them loose.” She grins. “The nice thing for the Park Service is it makes it easy to collect what we call Cholla balls.”

  “You spread those around to keep people away?” Mallory asks.

  Amber nods. “A line of boulders doesn’t always stop people. Cholla usually does the trick. But first things first. Let’s get up all the trash.”

  Mallory and Ben take the area to our right. Grant and Mai head for the back of the boulder. That leaves me and Amber working our way around the front toward the left. There are a few Palo Verdes, green arms shooting up like fingers. I p
ick up chunks of glass, pausing when I see something glimmer from a shadowed spot under the boulder. I pull it free, but it’s only a rock with some lighter minerals that must have caught the sun.

  “Are you looking for something?” Amber asks.

  “Just keeping my eyes open.”

  Her bag clangs as she drops in more glass. “You make more than just cuffs?”

  “I mess around.”

  She smiles. “I’m guessing it’s more than that.”

  We work quietly then, the sun moving higher as we clear the area. Something else catches my eye, and I dig up the edge of a bottle cap. It’s bronze, warm from the sun and smooth from the gravel. I pull off my glove and turn it over in my fingers. It feels good. Interesting, though I’m not sure why. Not yet. I stuff it in the pocket of my jeans. As I do, I feel a prickle over my neck. I turn. Mai is watching me.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Mai

  What is he doing?

  I pretend to look for trash, but how can I concentrate when Anthony is doing mysterious things? Whatever he was looking at is tucked in his jeans pocket. Why do I care what he’s picked up?

  “Grant,” Amber calls, pulling me from my thoughts. “Help me move this boulder?”

  “Sure.”

  He heads her way, and I watch him go. He’s handsome. Smart. Nice. Ambitious. I should be thinking about him and not what’s in Anthony’s pants.

  Oh Lord. Even my thoughts are conspiring against me. The sooner I’m over this annoying attraction, the better. I allow myself a secret smile. Tonight should be good. He’s going to hate tonight.

  I wander down the trail looking for more trash. I’ve just used my grabbers to unearth a beer can when I realize I’m back to the ledge where Amber showed us the rock hop trail.

  The hillside is rocky, dotted with brush and cacti and stretches of green. It amazes me that grass can grow here. That anything can. The trail is a golden brown vein at the bottom, running straight and smooth. But getting to it?

  No freaking way.