Read Online Where I Want to Be by Adele Griffin - Free Book Online

heard her, either. Impossible.

12 — FAST FORWARD
Lily
    I watch the VW pull into the Small Farms parking lot. When Caleb climbs out of the car, my mind tries to snap a tourist’s picture of what other people, like Danielle Savini, might see. Today Caleb’s got on his washed-to-gray, below-the-knee board shorts and a bright orange T-shirt. With his black hair sticking up in uncombed points and his long limbs moon white in the summer sun, he looks part vampire, part rock star. But all I can see is a guy who is so hot that at first, I could hardly look at him without fussing with my hair or furtively rubbing on lip balm. He actually made me understand the sweaty reality behind the phrase “weak in the knees.” I couldn’t believe every other girl in the school didn’t feel the same.
    When Caleb first started dropping by the house, Mom asked me if he was on drugs. I burst out laughing.
    “Caleb doesn’t even wear leather,” I told her. “He’s the purest, most nontoxic person I’ve ever known.”
    “Oh, well. In that case.” Mom took an if-you-say-so breath before she smiled.
    “Finally,” Georgia says, slinging her messenger bag as we start walking to meet Caleb.
    “Hey, buddy.” I kiss Caleb when we get close enough, and in a rush of ownership, he’s my Caleb again. His lips have just enough give and just enough heat, and his hands press my shoulders with just enough weight. I try to make the kiss longer. Mint and sweetness, until Georgia hacks an exaggerated cough.
    “You’re late,” I say, more for Georgia’s benefit.
    “Yeah, sorry. I had to run a couple of errands after work.”
    “Next time, we fine you.” Georgia slingshots her hair elastic so that it bounces off Caleb’s chest.
    “Heya, George. Ready to roll?”
    “Like you don’t even know.” Georgia curls her bottom lip. “I am so over this job.”
    “You drive,” I tell him. “I’m tired.”
    When we get to the car, Caleb opens the passenger side door and flips the seat so that Georgia can climb into the back. I hop in front, and right away catch the scent of verbena. I lean forward for a deep lungful from the branch that Caleb has stuck in the built-in bud vase. Mmm. “My grandmother loved verbena.”
    Nobody answers, which makes me feel slightly dorky in front of Georgia. What is it about referring to grandparentsthat seems to reveal the depths of your uncoolness? Maybe because grandparents are the recipients of such overflowing doses of little-kid love, the kind of love that makes you feel almost ashamed of yourself when you get older. Like believing in Santa Claus.
    Then Georgia brings up what I was hoping she’d forgotten about by now. “So can I count on you guys to pick me up tonight for Alex Tuzzolino’s?”
    “What’s up at the Tuzzolinos’?” Caleb shoots a glance at me.
    “It’s her bon voyage cookout,” Georgia answers when I don’t. “Otherwise known as an excuse for an end-of-summer Tuzzolino blowout extravaganza.” She reaches an arm in between us to switch the radio station. “Jeez, Price. Only the biggest party of the summer. You and Eeyore need to get in the loop.” She makes a clucking sound.
    Caleb raises an eyebrow for my answer. I shrug.
    “That sounds all right,” he says slowly, “and I guess I’m in, if Lily is. Didn’t you say last night that you wanted to go out?” Turning to look at me deliberately. Knowing that I had and hadn’t meant it.
    “Yeah. Sure.” I say the words like I’m reading them off a road sign up ahead.
    “Like, eight-ish?” Georgia presses.
    “Yeah. Sure,” I repeat.
    “Don’t flake on me,
por favor
,” Georgia warns as we turnonto her street to drop her off. “There’s five more party days left before I go away to college. My social life is in your hands.”
    “Five days,” repeats Caleb.
    Once Georgia’s dropped off, I snap off the music, and the mood flattens. Usually I love these afternoons alone with Caleb, with work done and knowing that the