Tastes Like Winter by Cece Carroll Read Free Book Online Page A

her and
scream, “My parents aren’t fighting over dirty dishes, Gen! My dad slept with
another woman! And my family will never be the same!” but I can’t bring myself
to be so cruel. It’s not her problem—it’s mine, and I’m better off
keeping it all in.
    I pull on a pair of soft cotton shorts and a tank top and fall against
my pillows. The mixture of emotion churning inside me has settled into a deep
nausea, low in the pit of my gut. Hours ago, I felt a different flutter in my
stomach, one of anticipation. The thrill of a cute boy, perhaps, but it’s more
than that. Around Jake, I’m not thinking about home, about being the grown-up
to parents that are acting like children. I can forget about them and feel
lighter.
    Jake’s smile plays across my mind, and a little bit of the weight
lifts. I crawl across the bed to turn off the lights then lean down to the
ground, searching in the dark for my bag. I pull out the worn book and run my
fingers across the creased cover, seeing if I can bring back any of the warmth
he brings out in me. After a moment, I settle back into the mattress’s
softness, clutching the book to my chest.
    I close my eyes and try to breathe into my knotted muscles, to find
some release. When it comes, I whisper to the darkness. “Thanks for this,
Jake.”
    ***
    The next morning during our drive to
school, I tell Genna the news, and as predicted, she gives me a long hug and
tells me not to worry because everything will work out. She insists on an ice
cream date night to allow me to eat away my feelings about the now-official
divorce, but those plans change during the day. Instead of ice cream, she is
now dragging me to a party tonight, quite against my will. She apologized for
screwing up our night but promised that instead we can talk while we get ready
at her house.
    She wanted to make an appearance tonight because “Everyone who plays a
sport will be there.” Also, a bunch of older kids who already graduated and are
now playing college league will be attending, and she wants to get advice on
the recruitment process. She’s hoping to continue playing when she graduates
and would like all the help she can get. She expertly pulls at my heartstrings
by insisting that all the extra knowledge will increase her chances of getting
a scholarship. Her explanation is fifty percent true concern and fifty percent bullshit,
but I let her have her way.
    As soon as I arrive at her house, she
and her parents greet me at the door, pulling me into a group hug with well
wishes and more promises that things will get better soon. Genna slips a Ben
and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia bar into my hand with a wink and leads me upstairs. I
don’t want to talk anymore, so I nibble on my frozen treat and watch as Genna
picks out outfits for us. To further distract her, I allow her to do my makeup
and hair and smile at all of the appropriate times so that she knows I am okay.
    An hour later, we pull up to Ryan Mickleson’s house and park behind a half dozen other cars.
Despite being early to the party, I see the festivities are already in full
swing. Lights illuminate the yard, spotlighting a few partygoers. Ryan is High
Beach High’s quarterback, and he comes from an ancestral line of High Beach
football players. His older brother was the last QB and passed on the title
when he graduated a few years ago. Everyone loves Ryan and his brother. They
are relentless on the field, but otherwise they're big teddy bears, round faced
and always laughing. Because of their widespread popularity, this party is sure
to reach capacity.
    Instead of going for the front door, we walk around the side yard,
following the sound of music to the back. At Genna’s insistence, I’m wearing
dark skinny jeans and a peach tank top that has a sheer overlay and hangs open
in the back. She forced me to leave my sweatshirt behind, and I am already cursing
her because October in New England is cold, and tonight is no exception. At
least I got away