Float

Original Edition: Chapter Twenty-Two

I truly believe that every person on this earth has one special talent.

Some people are naturally gifted when it comes to athletics. Others are better at performance arts, or painting, or composing classical music. I once read a news article about a guy who recited, like, fifty thousand digits of pi. It took him three days. The Guinness world record officials wouldn't even let him go to the bathroom by himself incase he had the digits written inside his underpants or something. Sometimes I can't even remember my parents' cell phone numbers, so I sort of wish that I'd been born with a useful gift like that.

But no, my special talent is something far less helpful. My brain has the unique ability to calculate the exact combination of words which is least appropriate for a situation.

Basically, I'm really good at sticking my foot in my mouth.

Blake Hamilton blinked at me. The smile he'd had when he'd turned to face me from the driver's seat, still completely and utterly unaware of the verbal punch I was about to unleash on him, was still on his face. Only, it kind of looked more like a grimace than a smile now.

I'd never wanted to disappear so badly before in my life. I wanted to push open the Jeep door, army roll out of the vehicle, and hurtle myself over the nearest cliff.

Which, conveniently, was only a couple of steps away.

It felt like a small eternity had passed before Blake made a strangled noise at the back of his throat. He suddenly straightened his spine, faced forward in his seat, and flattened his lips into a thin, expressionless line. Then he reached out to turn the keys in the ignition and grabbed hold of the steering wheel.

He didn't look at me again as he pulled out of the parking space.

He didn't look me as we started down the street, either.

He still wasn't looking at me when we rolled up to a stop sign.

"Is that your second question?"

I hadn't been expecting him to say anything, so I jumped a little at the sound of his voice. My head snapped towards him, hoping to gauge his state of mind. He'd spoken in monotone, his words slow and deliberate, cautious even. His face didn't give away anything, either. I thought I could see a pinch between his eyebrows, but it was hard to tell when I was staring at his profile.

Please, don't do this, I pleaded in my head. Don't shut me out.

He'd been so open in the restaurant, so willing to welcome me in. Maybe, if I hadn't been so tactless with my last question, he'd still be smiling. I clasped my hands together in my lap, squeezing my fingers until the bones ached and my skin stung.

I shook my head, feeling breathless.

"That's not, um—I mean, I know she drowned, I just..."

Damn it. I was sinking like the Titanic here.

I squeezed my eyes shut, desperately trying to grasp onto any idea as to how I could close the distance I felt growing between Blake and me.

"I'm not here by choice," I blurted.

For a second, silence hung in the air.

"I didn't force you to come." Blake's tone was dark, somewhere bordering on angry, but his voice cracked a little.

"No, no, that's not what I meant!" I cried, clamping my hands over my face and sinking into my seat. "I meant I didn't ask to be in Holden this summer, to see Rachel. It wasn't my choice. I'm only here because my parents couldn't stop screaming at each other long enough to decide who got custody for the summer."