Page 103 of Merritt and Her Childhood Crush
Since the last text Merritt sent while I was on the way to the hospital, there’s been no contact.
Which is entirely on me. Have I reached out to ask why she went to New York? No. I haven’t.
I’ve practically written a dissertation’s worth of messages before deleting them all. Because what do I even say?
Come back.
I miss you.
Sorry I ditched you to help Cassidy.
I want you to stay. Forever.
When will you come home? Why did you go?
Why didn’t you tell me you were going?
Everything sounds cheesy or stupid. And I can’t stop picturing the last look I saw on her face, which was deep disappointment. Maybe hurt. Probably both.
Which matches how I felt when I got her text that she was going to New York. No reasons why. No telling me when she’ll come back. It’s like we’re in a fight, but one without words.
And … I’m not sure what exactly we’re fighting about. Only that things have an uncertain feel to them.
A gnawing restlessness has been rising up in me. An energy I don’t know how to dispel. It doesn’t help that Cassidy is home from the hospital, which means Isabelle is with her now. So I’m not just restless, I’maloneand restless.
Even more so when I allow myself to consider that it might not be awhenbut anifMerritt comes back.
“My family is leaving. I’m leaving.”
I squeeze my eyes closed, remembering.
Her eyes are bright but cold. The expression doesn’t suit her, and I can’t understand it. I don’t understand her words either. It’s only July. She and her sisters always stay until August. It already felt like the end was too close. This summer, we finally became more than friends. Officially. And I’ve been dreading the time she leaves every day since.
But leavingnow?
“I don’t understand.”
“Plans changed.”
“Talk to me,” I plead.
This makes no sense.
Merritt shakes her head, then takes down her hair only to tie her ponytail tighter. Higher. Every loose strand accounted for.
“This will be my last time on Oakley Island,” she says.
“Until next summer.”
I make it a statement, not a question. Because she always comes back. And for the last few years especially, the time in between has felt painfully long and pointless.
I live for summers. Only this year, I realized what I’m really living for is Merritt.
“No.”
Her single word is like a blade to my gut.
“I won’t be back,” she continues.
