Read Online How to Keep Rolling After a Fall by Karole Cozzo - Free Book Online Page A

“Stop it. Stoooop it.”
    â€œNo joke.”
    â€œWas it rigged? Because your great-grandfather was a local big shot?”
    â€œNo! I happen to get really impressive tan lines.”
    Pax swallows hard and turns to stare toward the water, but I think I notice a touch of color in his cheeks.
    I shake my head quickly and frown. “Nothin’ to see anymore, though. I didn’t get to go to the beach all summer.”
    Our car passes by the loading dock. The ride operator is playing with his phone and appears to be allowing us an extended ride. We swoop skyward again.
    â€œHow ’bout you? Did you always live around here?”
    â€œYeah, over in Breakwater.” He flashes my favorite smirk again. “On the po’ side of the bridge.”
    He’s referencing the first town across the causeway, composed of strip malls and narrow streets of mostly cottage-style homes. It’s true there’s a body of water between our towns, but kids from Ocean Isle and Breakwater still mix occasionally.
    â€œThe towns are more alike than different,” I say. “We both get really fun summers and really boring winters.”
    â€œI’m pretty sure that’s why we got into so much trouble.” He chuckles, spreading his arms along the top of our car. “My friends—actually all the kids at school—were pretty big partyers. Good thing we had sports to keep us out of trouble at least part of the time.”
    â€œGuys party.” I roll my eyes. “Girls create drama when they’re bored. Girls can stir it up even when there isn’t an excuse for any in the first place.”
    Maybe if we lived in a normal sort of town, none of it would have ever happened.
    â€œYou planning to get out of here someday?” Pax asks me.
    My stomach drops, and it has nothing to do with our being hoisted high up in the air again. “I used to think so.” Now I don’t like thinking about it at all. “You?” I ask instead.
    â€œI got my GED when I was in recovery. At the time, I had no idea whether returning to school was going to be a possibility, and it just seemed like the easiest thing to do.” He shrugs. “Guess I’ll think about college at some point again. I just need some time to recalibrate. Think about what I’d really want to do there if it’s not going to be water polo.” Pax stares into the distance, out at the dark, flat Atlantic Ocean. He blows a breath through his lips. “Man, I miss the water sometimes.” He looks at me, almost apologetic, and tries to muster a smile. “Sometimes I just need to admit it out loud.”
    Sometimes I really miss standing in front of the crowd in my cheerleading uniform on Friday nights.
    Sometimes I really miss the stage and the applause.
    Sometimes I really miss all of it.
    I don’t say it out loud, though. Instead, I think about reaching for his hand, which is only inches from mine now. So he doesn’t feel bad about having an “I miss it” moment. So he knows he’s not alone in having them.
    But our car has reached the loading dock and is slowing to a stop. Reluctantly, I pull my hand back and gather my purse and poster as Pax wheels out of the car.
    It’s dark when we leave Buccaneers’ Landing, and when I glance up at the clock with the animated fairy-tale characters on the park’s outside wall, I realize I need to head back if I don’t want to blow my new curfew. Which I don’t. I want to believe that nights like tonight will be an ongoing possibility. The breeze is light and the air is cool and refreshing, and I want to feel this way again.
    Just before we cross from the wide, brightly lit portion of the boardwalk that houses the shops, restaurants, and arcades over to the narrower, rickety portion that leads all the way up to Thirty-Fourth Street, Pax gestures toward the last shop in the row. “Some frozen custard for the road? My