“Thanks.”
He peered out the larger window on the opposite side, looking down towards
the back fence. “Man, the snowball fights we used to have.” He pointed to a black burn mark near the window. “Shot a rocket from here one night when my
parents weren't home.”
He wasn't sure, but he thought he saw her flinch at the word rocket. Stupid,
Peter.
“Look, Kate…” He stopped. Go on, get it over with.
She was looking at him, her brown eyes liquid, her hair falling in a flowing
river over her shoulder.
He swallowed. “I want to apologize. For the whole Scholarship Fair thing in
high school.”
She shook her head. “No, it's not necessary.”
He shook back. “No, please. I know it hurt you. A lot. Not getting that scholarship, and my experiment destroying your mobile. You'd worked so hard
on it. I can't imagine how you must have felt.”
Kate looked down, but she had a small smile. The evening sun arced through
a crack in the treehouse, lighting her hair with even more gold. Not fair.
“It's not a big deal,” she said. “Besides, you did me a favor.”
“How's that?”
She gestured with her hands. “Well, if I had gotten that scholarship I would
have gone to some place like Mason and gotten a degree in art, instead of graphic design. I'd probably be sitting at some abandoned gas station trying to sell velvet Elvis paintings right now.”
“That's probably a little extreme.”
She held up her hands, fingers out. “Trust me, one of my friends has an art
degree, and he's still living with his parents. Makes wind chimes out of those tiny liquor bottles you get on the airplane. He spends his weekends trying to sell them to bored housewives at flea markets. A graphic design degree has gotten me a far better job, thank you.”
“Hmm,” was all he could think of to say. “Sounds like a very practical approach.”
“I'd like to think so.” She wasn't looking at him anymore. The sun had dropped further, and she was in shadow again.
It struck him then. She'd moved on. She'd said as much. Living in Chicago,
climbing the corporate ladder. Fiji water and Armani. She wasn't a Golden Grove
kid anymore. Like him.
Kate pulled her knees up and brushed some dust from her jeans. “Didn't we
used to come up here to do homework?”
“Mmm-hmm.” He glanced at her. “It's also where…” He stopped. Don't do
it. “Never mind.”
“What?” When he hesitated, she reached over to swat him. “C'mon, what?”
Now that he brought it up, he knew she'd never let him off the hook.
“You know. The night a bunch of us went to see Toy Story 2? In seventh grade? After the movie, I was up here looking at stars with my telescope. You came up and brought me some Oreos.”
“Yeah?” Kate pushed some hair back from her face nonchalantly.
Peter's shoulders dropped. She was going to make him say it. “Okay, the kiss, remember? Our first kiss?”
She nodded as if she just remembered where she'd left her car keys. “Oh, that. Yeah, sure I remember. I think.”
“You think? You don't remember your first kiss?”
“Well, yeah.” She cleared her throat. “Sure I do.”
