Page 69 of Face Me Off

I dig my toe in the sand and squint at the reflective sheen. Well, well, well, what do we have here? Smiling, I pick up thesmall conch shell. It’s about the size of a cigarette butt, but the spiral shell and delicate ridges are unmistakable. This is just what I need.

I interlace our fingers and gently tug for us to move. We need to get going to reach the spot I want to take her.

Once we take off, I ask, “You’re one hundred percent sure art is what you want to do?”

“Yes! Like every time I walk past the art building, I feel this pull. It’s as if I belong there.”

“And when you walk into the science building?” I prompt.

“I want to barf.”

“Then I think you’re making the best move, Toots.”

“Thanks. I think so, too. No matter how difficult telling my parents will be.” She lets out a small huff of air. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“About playing professional hockey.”

My jaw clenches. I want to mention the shitty offer her parents gave us, but I refrain. She has enough to worry about.

“It’s not my time yet.” Then I deflect, pausing our walk. “Are you sure you don’t want me there when you tell them? I’ve got your back. No matter what you decide.”

Her face softens, and I can tell she appreciates the offer. “Thanks, but I’ll be okay.

“Just keep in mind that sometimes the fear of not following your passion is worse than the fear of disappointing others.” As the words fall out, I ignore how close their meaning hits home.

“That’s actually pretty profound, Sorenson.” She nudges my side, and we resume walking.

“I have my moments.”

In the distance, a seagull cries out, swooping low over the water. This date has been perfect. But I’d like to give her a simple reminder that may prove useful.

“Here, see this shell? It’s perfect.” I place it in her open palm. “It’s a baby conch shell. Do you know what it symbolizes?”

She shakes her head while staring at the tiny shell in her hand.

“Tranquility. Keep it in your pocket when you talk to your parents. If you feel anxious, reach in and wrap your fingers around it. Use its powers to calm you down.”

The corner of her mouth lifts to a smirk. “That’s such a load of crap.”

“What?” I laugh. “You don’t believe in life’s balance?”

“No.” She laughs but squeezes the shell and places it in her pocket. Patting her hip, she winks. “Just in case.”

“Come on, Toots. I have a spot I want to show you.”

We pick up the pace until we arrive at the perfect spot. It’s an alcove that sets far enough away that I’ve yet to see people milling around the area. It overlooks the ocean, and the rocks are perfectly positioned for a spectacular sunset.

I pull out the thin blanket from the backpack and lay it on the sand. We settle onto the cover. Maddy leans back on her hands and fixes her gaze on the horizon. The fading sunlight catches in her auburn curls and sets them ablaze.

“This is nice,” I murmur, not wanting to break the moment’s spell.

Maddy hums in agreement, but that faraway look returns. Her fingers absently trace patterns in the sand.

I wish she’d tell me what’s truly bothering her, but we all have secrets.

“So, Picasso,” I nudge her gently with my shoulder. “How’s that masterpiece coming along?”

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