Page 2 of Faking Forever 1
8
SEASIDE
Sometimes, things are better left unsaid, but I wish I could read his mind. I could do without the indecipherable facialexpressions and sarcastic comebacks. Still, I miss that the most, I think.
His dad owns Stillman’s shop—home of surfboards, boating equipment, and fishing supplies. When the divorce happened, Josh began working there immediately in an attempt to help the family business. Once I’d realized he wasn’t quitting any time soon, I joined him. However, it didn’t take his dad long to find another hobby to replace his mom. As soon as high school was over, Josh had unenthusiastically broke the news to me, saying “Dad’s joining politics. Crazy, ain’t it? Now I haveto be the Mayor’s perfect son.”
I knew it crushed him. More was expected of him and continues to be to this day. Over time, I asked my mom to tell me any details she could. What Ireallywant is for her to tell me he hasn’t lost his mind just yet. So far, she’s shared details that include Josh going away to a surfing camp or just him lingering around my house as he accompanies my little brother, Tate, in playing video games. It’s not weird when I think about it thoroughly, but I guess I just expected him to forget my family existed after I left. I now know that thought is way out of pocket.
My mom is earnest about stressing that Josh seems like some lost puppy dog without me. It’s funny to gas the idea, but if he genuinely felt that way, you would think he would reach out. She says he’s in denial of his feelings. That idea makes me cringe, but it’s also being delivered to me by a woman who believes Josh is theperfectman for me. Contrary to her belief, it is perfectlydisgusting inevery way possible. I mean that in 9
FAKING FOREVER
the most amicable manner. Josh is great, but he’s also the most annoying, boy-like figure I have ever endured.
Then there’s my other best friend, Sierra. All I want to hear is her in my ear, mumbling about any andeverybothersome detail that she can come up with, mixed with sarcasm. I used to hate it and even chastise her for being negative. Now, with turned tables, I wish I could listen to her all day down to every stupid joke. She was forward but true to herself. I need that right now.
The word is that Sierra joined her family’s flower business and now is a waitress at a nearby diner on the boardwalk. She calls me when she can, but with school and a full-time job, I’m never offended by the time we haven’t spoken. After all, it’s more of any excuse that Josh can give. Indeed, that part stings even more than admitting how sick the distance has made me. No wonder I’m grasping every chance to return to New Jersey. It’s a thought that only heaven knows I’ve held at the forefront of my brain since I left. I don’t care how weird, awkward, or unpleasant it is. All I care about is feeling like myself once in a long time. I plan on soaking it up as much as I possibly can.
The reason I’m going back is not only due to summer break but because my first year finally ended. They give us all from mid-April to August to spend time doing whatever we want—
unlessyou get picked for a particular program or decide to transfer. During this time, they pick fifteen students to go to London to finish their schooling for the second year, but it’s said that they’re highly tedious with who they select. Only the best of the best. If youaren’tpicked, it’s basically them telling you how shitty you are. They say the second year is 10
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much better, even if it doesn’t involve an overseas trip, but I find that impossible to believe. Who wouldn’t want to go to London?
They do this picking every year, and someone great comes from it each time. I’ve seen some people get to do magazine interviews or photo shoots. One kid even cooks for Oprah now, so the opportunity is pretty grand. I considered telling everyone and making a big deal, but after thinking about it for some time, the thought of surprising Sierra and Josh seemed more appealing. Both of them surely will have unpredictable reactions—unpredictable but good.
Of course, my parents know, and so does my brother. They are already beginning to question every thought I have about my future. I’m not sure how long I can pretend going to London wouldn’t be the most remarkable thing on Earth, but dwelling on it will prepare me for disappointment. Therefore, I’m just living life as if my second year is already planned out and will already take place in Denver. In my head, I keep hearing my dad saying, “There’s never any sense in getting ahead of yourself.”
My desire to get back to my hometown is more profound than anything in my life, except for the sheer five percent of me that feels like it’ll be nothing I’m expecting. Considering certain past events, there are chances that the whole town has this tainted idea of who I am. For that, I’m blaming only one person. Someone I once thought I could never see as a rival. That person is my ex-boyfriend, Nick Thatcher.
At one time, I thought I would never have to search for anyone else to call my partner potentially. Childish, I know.
While that may sound dramatic, it was a true eye-opener for 11
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me. You don’t get to have your first time over again. You only get one shot. Knowing thatallyour shots were used up on someone who never took you seriously makes a girl feel about as small asa grain of sand. I’m much more significant than a piece of dirt that’s not even the size of a dust particle—alotcooler, too.
* * *
The humidity from the Jersey air smacked my face as I exited the plane to walk through the jet bridge. This made my stomach flutter with excitement and my heart pound like three big bass drums at once. The more I guided myself toward the gate, the greater my mom’s smile grew. Her dirty blonde curls shook around as she bopped her head from side to side at the sight of me.
“Look at my tiny shaker and mover! She’s all grown—Joey, she’sallgrown!” she reiterates to my dad, who was standing beside her, waiting for the theatrics to subside.
“She looks the same as she did a year ago, Sue. Would you tame yourself for once?” he chatters, delighting me with his thick New Jersey accent that kindly hid his mutual excitement.
I am mostdefinitelyhome.
“C’mon, Daddy, admit it. Mom’s right. Ididage by ten years at least.” I grin, taunting him with my mother’s ideology.
He rolls his eyes, taking my bags without question, “We need to get to baggage claim. I’m not paying that damn bill they wanna charge me for parking. Seventy dollars for less than two hours, can you believe?”
Icouldbelieve.
I almost forgot how overpriced and unfair it was to live in 12
