asks.
“Yes!” I say enthusiastically. “Thanks for bringing me here. I’ve never done anything like this.”
“Really?” Matt asks. “There aren’t any rivers where you lived before? Where was it again?”
Everywhere , I want to say, but don’t.
“Frozen Hills, Michigan.”
“Sounds cold.”
“It was.”
We’re still holding hands. I can’t help but marvel at the fact that there’s nothing remotely strange about it. No sweaty palms. Neither of us holds on too hard or soft: Our hands instinctively know how to be together.
“Hey, thanks again for coming to get me in Kansas City,” I say. “That was really cool of you.”
Matt shrugs but doesn’t answer.
“I’m serious,” I say. “I don’t know anyone else who would have done that.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Matt says.
We walk in silence for a few minutes. A breeze picks up over the water and gives me goose bumps. I want to button my sweater, but I don’t want to let go of Matt’s hand. Instead, I walk a little closer to him.
“So, were your parents pissed about you leaving Kansas City?” Matt asks.
“No, not really,” I say. “My dad got it.”
“You never talk about your mom,” Matt observes.
“Yes, I do,” I say. “What do you want to know?”
“What’s her name?”
“Cassie,” I say.
“What does she do?”
“She’s a professional mom.”
“Like mine,” Matt says. “That’s cool. What about your dad?”
“He’s a psychologist,” I say, feeling a pinch of guilt in my side for the lie.
“He’s a shrink?”
“Sort of,” I say.
“Does he always try to figure you out?” Matt asks.
“Sometimes,” I say, laughing.
“And that doesn’t bug you?” he asks.
I shrug. “Not really. He’s all right.” I get the sense that Matt’s going to keep asking about my parents, so I abruptly change the subject.
“Hey, did you know that I’m an excellent gymnast?” I drop Matt’s hand and move toward the railing.
“Uh, no,” Matt says, curious and a bit confused.
“It’s true,” I say, kicking off one shoe, then the other. “I’m especially great at the balance beam.” Before Matt can reply, I’m up on the river-walk railing, crouched at first, then, when I have my balance, standing. I stretch my arms out to the sides and begin walking forward, my toes turned out so I can grip like a monkey.
“What are you doing ?” Matt shouts. I glance at him without moving my head; he looks genuinely afraid.
“I’m showing you my balance-beam skills, of course,” I say, taking two more steps. “Want to see my turn?”
“No!” Matt says harshly. “I want you to get down. You’re going to fall.”
“No, I’m not,” I say without meeting his gaze. “And even if I did, I’d be fine. It’s not that far of a fall. I’d just get a little wet. It’s not like I’m going to die or anything.”
I hear Matt stop. Carefully, I pivot to face him. Matt is not impressed by my skills. In fact, he looks pissed. I think I even see a trace of disgust. I lower myself into a crouch, then jump back to the walkway.
“What?” I ask as I walk back to my shoes and slip my feet into them. Matt shakes his head at me. “What?” I ask again.
“Is this how it is with you?” Matt asks. “Are you always this careless?”
I feel exposed by his words, and silly for showing off. I only wanted to change the subject, to lighten the mood. I didn’t think about what it might mean to him. I realize what an idiotic thing it was to do.
“Oh, Matt, I’m sorry,” I say. “Here I’m being flip while Audrey is sick. I didn’t mean to… I’m so sorry.” He stares at me, angry. “Do you want to go home?”
More staring, then finally, he speaks: “If you can manage to stay off the railing, I’m good with hanging out here awhile longer, if that’s okay with you.”
Relief floods through me, but I try to play it off.
“I guess I can handle that,” I say, moving to his side as he starts toward
“Yes!” I say enthusiastically. “Thanks for bringing me here. I’ve never done anything like this.”
“Really?” Matt asks. “There aren’t any rivers where you lived before? Where was it again?”
Everywhere , I want to say, but don’t.
“Frozen Hills, Michigan.”
“Sounds cold.”
“It was.”
We’re still holding hands. I can’t help but marvel at the fact that there’s nothing remotely strange about it. No sweaty palms. Neither of us holds on too hard or soft: Our hands instinctively know how to be together.
“Hey, thanks again for coming to get me in Kansas City,” I say. “That was really cool of you.”
Matt shrugs but doesn’t answer.
“I’m serious,” I say. “I don’t know anyone else who would have done that.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Matt says.
We walk in silence for a few minutes. A breeze picks up over the water and gives me goose bumps. I want to button my sweater, but I don’t want to let go of Matt’s hand. Instead, I walk a little closer to him.
“So, were your parents pissed about you leaving Kansas City?” Matt asks.
“No, not really,” I say. “My dad got it.”
“You never talk about your mom,” Matt observes.
“Yes, I do,” I say. “What do you want to know?”
“What’s her name?”
“Cassie,” I say.
“What does she do?”
“She’s a professional mom.”
“Like mine,” Matt says. “That’s cool. What about your dad?”
“He’s a psychologist,” I say, feeling a pinch of guilt in my side for the lie.
“He’s a shrink?”
“Sort of,” I say.
“Does he always try to figure you out?” Matt asks.
“Sometimes,” I say, laughing.
“And that doesn’t bug you?” he asks.
I shrug. “Not really. He’s all right.” I get the sense that Matt’s going to keep asking about my parents, so I abruptly change the subject.
“Hey, did you know that I’m an excellent gymnast?” I drop Matt’s hand and move toward the railing.
“Uh, no,” Matt says, curious and a bit confused.
“It’s true,” I say, kicking off one shoe, then the other. “I’m especially great at the balance beam.” Before Matt can reply, I’m up on the river-walk railing, crouched at first, then, when I have my balance, standing. I stretch my arms out to the sides and begin walking forward, my toes turned out so I can grip like a monkey.
“What are you doing ?” Matt shouts. I glance at him without moving my head; he looks genuinely afraid.
“I’m showing you my balance-beam skills, of course,” I say, taking two more steps. “Want to see my turn?”
“No!” Matt says harshly. “I want you to get down. You’re going to fall.”
“No, I’m not,” I say without meeting his gaze. “And even if I did, I’d be fine. It’s not that far of a fall. I’d just get a little wet. It’s not like I’m going to die or anything.”
I hear Matt stop. Carefully, I pivot to face him. Matt is not impressed by my skills. In fact, he looks pissed. I think I even see a trace of disgust. I lower myself into a crouch, then jump back to the walkway.
“What?” I ask as I walk back to my shoes and slip my feet into them. Matt shakes his head at me. “What?” I ask again.
“Is this how it is with you?” Matt asks. “Are you always this careless?”
I feel exposed by his words, and silly for showing off. I only wanted to change the subject, to lighten the mood. I didn’t think about what it might mean to him. I realize what an idiotic thing it was to do.
“Oh, Matt, I’m sorry,” I say. “Here I’m being flip while Audrey is sick. I didn’t mean to… I’m so sorry.” He stares at me, angry. “Do you want to go home?”
More staring, then finally, he speaks: “If you can manage to stay off the railing, I’m good with hanging out here awhile longer, if that’s okay with you.”
Relief floods through me, but I try to play it off.
“I guess I can handle that,” I say, moving to his side as he starts toward
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