How My Summer Went Up in Flames Read online

  “My dad says admission to Dollywood is on him. I can put it on my emergency credit card.” I’m cringing inside at my lie. The karma police are coming for me soon.

  What else can I do? If I don’t want to spend extra time at some strange girl’s house, I need to secure our diversion to Dollywood. Admittedly, I care less about the theme park and more about screwing with Logan’s plan. Plus, I don’t want them to know I was talking about my lawyer. “Oh, and my mom says to thank Logan for taking such good care of her daughter. Just like you said you would.”

  Matty raises his eyebrows. He knows when I’m up to something, but I know he wants to go to Dollywood. In my head, I silently promise God I’ll pay back my dad.

  “Awesome,” Spencer says, and pulls out his iPhone. “I’ll see if I can get some deets on Dollywood.”

  Spencer’s kid-in-a-candy-store approach to life is very endearing.

  My own phone makes the new-text-message noise. I look at Matty. “Am I allowed to read it?”

  “Let me see who it’s from first.”

  My stomach does a flippy thing. I don’t even want to let myself hope that it’s Joey. I’m hurt and mad, but I still want to talk to him. I need closure. It would make me feel so much better if he reached out to me. And then it hits me—can a TRO be violated in reverse?

  “Lilliana,” Matty says, and hands me the phone. I look at the screen.

  YO. GOT INFO. CALL WHEN YA CAN. L8TR. L.

  “Can I call her?”

  Matty dials and hands me the phone only after Lilliana picks up. What does he think? I’m devious enough to program Joey’s number under Lilliana’s name? Okay, I am. I just didn’t think of it in time.

  “What’s up?”

  “Joey’s been talking shit about you,” Lilliana says.

  “What kind of shit?”

  “He’s been telling everyone how you put out on your first date.”

  “What? How do you know this?” I keep my voice even and turn toward the window. I feel Matty, Logan, and Spencer listening. I don’t want to give away how upset I am as the state of Virginia passes by in a blur of blacktop and green.

  “My brother’s working at ShopRite for the summer. He’s worked a few shifts with Joey. Says he brags about all the crazy shit he does with the slut. He’s been telling everyone you were easy, but she’s better.”

  In our town, at some point everybody either works at ShopRite or knows someone who does. Sometimes, Eddie hangs out with Lilliana’s brother. I hope this disgusting lie doesn’t get back to him.

  I don’t say anything for a few seconds. I’m afraid to talk. I don’t want to cry. I am trapped in this car with my anger and I can’t do anything about it. What a sleazy thing to do, although I guess I can understand Joey bragging about his exploits with my slutty replacement, but why drag me into it? Is this revenge for his car? I’m shocked he wants to hurt me like this.

  “You okay?” Lilliana finally asks.

  “I’m good. Call you later.”

  “Sorry. I thought you’d want to know.”

  “I did. I do. Thanks.”

  I disconnect and hand my phone back to Matty without looking at him. I’m helpless. As my life in New Jersey falls apart, I’m hundreds of miles away and relying on Lilliana to tell me what’s happening. I’m so confused. Is that all Joey wanted all along? To get in my pants? I thought it was enough for him to be with me, not be with me.

  None of this makes sense. Joey had always been completely respectful. Never tried to push me into anything I didn’t want to do. He let me initiate things, and mostly, it was just kissing. He seemed fine with that. On Valentine’s Day, after we’d been together for about five months, he worked it so we’d have his house to ourselves for a few uninterrupted hours. He ordered out from my favorite Italian restaurant and bought me gold heart earrings. We messed around on the couch for a while. Joey is the best kisser. He has this way of doing things with his mouth that makes a girl want to do more. So, yeah, it was me who said we should go upstairs. I thought I was ready, but once we were actually in his bed together, on the verge of crossing that line, I pulled the plug on the operation. You don’t spend two-and-a-half years in an all-girls Catholic school without developing some sense of guilt.

  Joey was wonderful about it. He just wrapped his arms around me, turned my chin so he was looking straight into my eyes, and said: “I love you. I’ll wait.” Then he added, “Your first time should be special. Even if it’s not with me. Remember that, Rosie. You are worth it.”

  At that moment, he felt like a best friend and a boyfriend. I loved having the excitement of “someday” to hold on to and couldn’t imagine my first time being with anybody but him. He would wait for me. I didn’t realize he meant until someone willing came along. Maybe if I hadn’t put the brakes on, we’d still be together. My head hurts. I close my eyes and lean back against the seat.

  I don’t know how much time passes before I open my eyes again, but when I do, I meet Logan’s gaze in the rearview mirror.

  “You aren’t getting carsick, are you, Catalano?” Logan asks in his usual, caustic tone. His eyes tell a different story. It’s weird, but I can tell he’s concerned. Weirder still? The thought of him worrying about me is oddly appealing, making it hard to think of a snarky comeback.

  “I’m fine,” I say. And leave it at that.

  As we’re leaving Virginia, we pass a pristine white post fence that seems to go on forever. I try to peer beyond it, looking for an enormous farmhouse or mansion in the distance, and that’s when I see them, four gorgeous horses on a ridge near the side of the road. One is black with white around its hooves. Two are a coppery brown, and one is a whitish, silvery color—she looks almost iridescent. And I say “she” because, despite her rippling muscles, she has a girly look about her. The horses make me think of Pony, and home. I wonder if my parents are following me on some website, like the airlines do, charting my progress with the GPS.

  We pull into a motel in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, around seven. Dollywood closes in an hour, so we agree to go first thing in the morning when the gates open. It’s obvious this unplanned stop is making Logan uptight, but he thinks we can still be on the road to Nashville by sometime tomorrow afternoon and then push on to Memphis the next morning. He’s trying to make up time for the Dollywood stop so we can still spend two nights in Dallas. Either he wants to win as much as I do or he really, really likes this girl. Or worse, maybe underneath all the nice talk, he’s just like Joey and only after one thing. I hope that’s not the case, but if it is, that’s more incentive to sabotage Logan’s Texas side trip.

  The motel room has two double beds. It seems like a waste of money for me to get my own room, and truthfully, I’d be scared. I don’t do “alone” very well. I’m relieved when Logan says: “Who wants to find out about getting a roll-out bed?” As much as I hate to admit it, I like the way he handles things. Even though he’s bossy, I feel safe with Logan leading this trip.

  “Me and Spencer can,” Matty says.

  “Anyone else starving?” Spencer asks.

  “Why don’t Logan and I make a food run?” Did I just say that? I can’t believe I’m offering to spend time alone in the car with Logan, but I don’t feel like sticking around here and trying to wrap my brain around the fact that I’ll be spending tonight in a motel room with three guys. Boy, I sure know how to make my parents proud.

  It stinks to be back in the car so soon—literally. I didn’t notice the boys’-locker-room scent while I was immersed in it. Boys are smelly.

  “Let’s get Wendy’s. I like their salads,” Logan suggests.

  What’s up with this guy? Egg whites. Salads. Hasn’t he heard of the Baconator? I want to say, Get a penis. But I stick to the topic at hand.

  “Fine. But I’m getting a burger and fries. I may need a Frosty, too.”

  “Emotional eating will get you in trouble.”

  Now I’m angry that I didn’t insult his manhood over the salad.

&
nbsp; “Listen, Dr. Phil. I’m hungry. I haven’t eaten since that waffle hut, which seems like it was yesterday,” I only got, like, two Cheez-Its in my mouth before the Batman attack.

  “It’s just—you seemed pretty upset after you talked to your friend.” We’re at a red light and he turns to look at me.

  “Glad I could provide some added entertainment. What? Tired of listening to your country music station already?”

  “I wasn’t trying to listen,” he says quietly. “Forget it.”

  He sounds hurt. Maybe that’s why I decide to spill.

  “My ex is telling people that I’m, ya know, that we—”

  “Didn’t you?”

  My eyes bug and I whack him on the arm.

  “Ow. That hurt, Catalano.”

  “It works both ways. Whataya mean, ‘didn’t you?’”

  “I’m surprised, that’s all. I’ve seen Joey around school . . . and Matty said you were together awhile.”

  “So you’re surprised I’m not slutty?!” Has that been his impression of me from the start? Is it because he knows the kind of girls Joey dates?

  Logan actually looks somewhat embarrassed. His cheeks flush and he backpedals. “No. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with it, I just figured—”

  Thankfully, we’re at Wendy’s. “Right. I’m glad you’ve got me all figured out.” I open the car door, slam it hard, and leave him sitting there for a few seconds. Eventually, he catches up with me in the fast-food-line maze. I’m looking up at the menu board as if I don’t have it memorized. Logan inserts himself into my line of sight and smiles at me. My stomach goes all spacey. I chalk it up to hunger. He’s got a small dimple on the right side. I hadn’t noticed. Probably because he hardly smiles.

  “I don’t have you figured out. I’m sorry. Really.”

  I avert my eyes from him. I want to stay pissed, but I can’t. Especially since he said he was sorry. That’s more than Joey ever did. Even when we were together and had our little spats, he was never quick to apologize. “Fine. Buy me a blended chocolate Oreo Frosty and we’ll call it even.”

  “Emotional eating,” he says.

  I get burger combo meals for me, Matty, and Spencer and then turn Logan over to the Wendy’s lady. I smile when I hear him tack my blended Frosty onto his order. He wordlessly hands it to me as we head for the car. I pop the straw in and lean it toward his mouth like I used to do for Joey.

  Logan raises one eyebrow as he leans toward me to take a sip, holding my gaze longer than expected. “Aren’t you afraid I’ve got cooties?”

  “Cooties don’t scare me.” But the way my heart speeds up when he looks at me with those honey-colored eyes? That’s a different story.

  Chapter 6

  It’s two minutes after nine on Sunday morning and I’m in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, standing inside the front gate of Dollywood. I should be more excited. I would be if I were here with Lilliana and some girlfriends, or even my family. But my reason for this road trip won’t exactly win me a spot on Ms. Parton’s next TV commercial. “I just got served with a TRO. I’m going to Dollywood!” I wish I were here under happier circumstances. Wait until my dad sees how much admission for four adults costs. I felt light-headed with guilt when I handed over his Visa.

  I unfold my park map, and Spencer and Matty peer over my shoulders. Logan stands apart from us, reading the schedule in front of one of the theaters. I guess he really does love country.

  “I say we start with the Thunderhead or Tennessee Tornado,” Matty says.

  “Or Blazing Fury,” I say. “That sounds interesting.”

  Spencer points to the map’s attractions list. “Ooh. What about Star Trek Live? I want to leave time for that. It’s a Mad Science presentation. Remember Mad Science camp, Matty?”

  I don’t question how Star Trek fits into a Dolly Parton theme park. I can’t argue with the Dollywood logic; so far this place has something for everyone. It’s like the Magic Kingdom of the Appalachians.

  “Where’re we headed?” Logan asks as he rejoins the group. He’s in a surprisingly good mood.

  “The Thunderhead,” I say.

  The dark scruff Logan’s got going on makes him look very rock star. For a few seconds, my mind slips into hotguy fantasy mode, but then Logan makes that annoying lasso motion with his index finger and says: “Let’s get moving.” I can almost hear my dream bubble pop.

  We wind our way through the maze for the Thunderhead. There is this girl with ginormous breasts in a spandex tank top about ten people ahead of us. Put those away! I want to scream. I know I’m not one to talk, but I keep my curves tastefully covered. We pass her every time the line moves. If these three morons don’t stop gaping, I’m gonna push one of them so hard he’ll fall into that cleavage canyon. Finally, we arrive on the platform, where the line splits up and people pair off to wait in cattle chutes for the next coaster to arrive. Spencer and Matty want to ride in the front car. The line for that car is, like, three times as long.

  For once, Logan and I agree—we’re not waiting. The downside is that I’m now crammed into a tight car with Logan. Our thighs are touching out of necessity, and I try to convince myself that the only reason my heart is yammering away is because I’m anticipating the first big drop. Thankfully, I love roller coasters, so I know I won’t go all girly on Logan and grab hold of his arm or anything. The coaster begins its slow ascent, clackety-clacking along the metal tracks. I look off into the distance. The scenery is lush—Tennessee has beautiful rolling green hills. I’m watching some kind of bird with a huge wingspan circle above the treetops when the bottom drops out from under me and we careen straight down, pivoting into a sharp turn at the bottom. Adrenaline rushes through me, and I throw my arms in the air.

  “This is awesome!”

  “What?” Logan screams.

  “This is awe—” But I don’t have time to finish before we’re falling again.

  After a few more fast twists and turns, which press me up against Logan and Logan up against me, the car finally screeches to a halt.

  “Looks like Spock and Bones are still waiting for the first car,” Logan says. He offers me a hand out of the coaster car. “Bet we have time to ride this one again. You in?”

  I try to ignore the tingle when I put my hand in his. “Sure.”

  • • •

  After the Thunderhead, we go on the Tennessee Tornado, the Blazing Fury, and the Timber Tower, which looks like a giant circular free fall but falls over like a giant tree, hence the “timber.” Spencer shrieks like a thirteen-year-old girl and later explains that he gets vertigo on anything that spins. We end our day at Dollywood with lunch, followed by a show called Dreamland Drive-In, which makes me almost appreciate country music. There’s a tell-it-like-it-is raw emotion that I find appealing. It’s heartbreak music.

  “Three chords and the truth.” That’s what Logan says when I share my thoughts with him as we leave the show. “Harlan Howard said that.”

  “Are you sure it wasn’t Bono?” I’m being serious.

  Logan shakes his head, disappointed. “Let’s go. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”

  Unfortunately, Spencer isn’t feeling much better as we leave the park and head for the car. Poor guy, I was hoping food and the air-conditioned theater would help. Spencer is very delicate, I’m learning.

  “The only way I’m not going to get carsick is if I drive,” Spencer says.

  “Knock yourself out, little bro,” Logan says. “I’m going to sit in the back and sleep.”

  “Shotgun!” Matty and I yell in unison like two ten-year-olds. Logan grimaces and takes a quarter out of his pocket.

  “Heads or tails.” He looks at me.

  “Heads.”

  Logan flips with his right thumb and slaps the coin down on his left forearm. He peeks underneath without revealing the coin.

  “Heads.”

  I wonder if he’s being nice and letting me win, or if he doesn’t want to be in the backseat with me. Matty
scowls. I expect him to demand to see the coin, but he gives in.

  “Fine. But if she’s sitting up front, we’re listening to my tunes. I put a lot of work into Matty’s Playlists for the Road, and we haven’t listened to them yet.”

  Then Logan does his lasso finger motion again. He’s not going to be happy when I reach over and bend that finger backward.

  “What’s on here?” Spencer asks as he hands Matty the cord so he can hook up his iPod to the car stereo.

  “The tunes range from epic to apropos of location,” he says. “Like this one.”

  Matty taps the screen and cues up a song. Banjo, upright bass. “Country,” I mumble.

  “Not just any country,” Matty says. “Cash.” We roll down the windows. The afternoon sun is still blazing, but Spencer claims he needs fresh air so he won’t puke up his veggie kabob. Enough said. I’ll put my hair in a twist and deal with the aftermath later. We drive in silence as we head toward the interstate. The air smells flowery and the sky is cloudless. I lean my head out the open window and look at my distorted face in the side-view mirror as I listen to the song about love and burning, fire and desire.

  I turn and glare at Matty. “What?” he says, all innocent. “Johnny Cash lived near Memphis.”

  “We’re on our way to Nashville,” I say.

  “A place he helped to define. He was the youngest living person inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame,” Spencer adds.

  “Right . . . so this has nothing to do with me?”

  “You flambé one car and now you think every song with fire in it is about you,” Logan says. “Get over yourself, Catalano.”

  “Apropos of location,” Matty says. “And epic.”

  • • •

  Spencer pokes his head into the backseat and looks back and forth between me and Matty as he speaks. His stomach has settled and Logan is driving again. “Here’s what we’ll do,” Spencer says. He flips to the page in his trip itinerary titled Nashville in One Day. Due to our unscheduled stop at Dollywood, he’s modifying the plan to fit what’s left of today and part of tomorrow and calling it A Taste of Nashville. “As soon as we arrive, we’ll head over to Ryman Auditorium to see if we can get tickets for the Grand Ole Opry tonight because we can’t be in Nashville and not go to the Grand Ole Opry. Then we can probably make it over to the Wildhorse Saloon for line dance lessons and dinner before heading back for the show. Tomorrow—”