The Only Exception (11 page)

Nineteen

“Two cherry/blue raspberry Icees and a Sour Patch Kids,” Sawyer orders at the movie theater snack bar, without even needing to ask. He carries the drinks and candy into the theater and follows me to a pair of seats in the middle of the dark room. Only a few other people are here, as most movie watchers likely came to see
Three Hours Too Soon
a month or more ago. It is Saturday night, however, so I assumed the theater wouldn’t be totally empty.

“Can I tell you something?” Sawyer asks quietly as the previews begin. I nod and he kisses me by surprise.

“I wanted to do that the first time we saw this movie,” he whispers as we pull apart. I grin and lace my fingers in his as he turns back to the screen, leaning my head on his shoulder.

Two and a half hours and lots of tears later, the lights in the theater come up and he takes me home. I wave goodnight to him from the doorway, and as soon as I am inside, I close the door, lean against it and sigh happily. Then I hear something that makes me curious. It’s a light, loud, happy sound that I haven’t heard authentically in a long time.

I enter the living room to see my mother doubled over in laughter on the couch without a speck of makeup on her face. Her hair is in a ponytail and (horror of all horrors) she’s wearing sweatpants. My mother owns sweatpants?

My face must look pretty funny, because my grandmother laughs heartily and says “Close your mouth, dear, it’s not becoming.” I close my mouth and blink a few times to make sure I’m not hallucinating.

“You own sweatpants?” I ask in disbelief.

“They’re your grandmother’s,” she replies. “But I am buying some as soon as I can. I don’t remember when I’ve been this comfortable.”

“Well, you’ve never looked more beautiful,” I assure her truthfully. She smiles.

“So tell me,” she starts excitedly as I collapse onto the couch beside her. She sits up eagerly, crossing her legs indian-style and leaning forward. “I want to hear all about Sawyer and your date.”

“I want to know how you went from not speaking to dating,” Grammy adds.

I launch into the many ups and downs of our relationship, from the day he kicked me in the face to the moment he dropped me off a little while ago. Both my parents and grandparents laugh and generally enjoy themselves throughout the whole story, and by the end, my dad says “It sounds like you picked a good one.” A thought that has been present at the back of my mind comes to the tip of my tongue at that moment.

“I wish I could just stay here,” I let slip. My mom glances at my dad in a funny way. “What?” I inquire.

“We were talking while you were gone,” my dad begins.

“And we decided that if you’d like to, you can finish school here,” Mom continues. My mouth drops open in disbelief again.

“And,” my dad adds, “you can stay here afterwards if you want. You don’t have to keep going back and forth. You can pick one place and stay, just so long as we can visit you whenever we have time.”

“Are you serious?” I ask in disbelief.

“There’s no reason not to,” Dad replies.

“You’re obviously happiest here,” Mom agrees. “You’ve got Grammy, Papaw, McKayla, Sawyer and all your friends here. You don’t have to make the decision now, but I can stay and help you find a place over the next week if you’d like.”

“I can’t imagine anything better in the whole world,” I state. “And I would miss both of you lots, but you’re welcome to visit anytime you like.”

“Then it’s settled,” Dad announces. “You can stay here for your last year of school and see where this crazy road takes you from there.”

I shower and change into pajamas after bidding everyone goodnight, but before I fall asleep, I text Sawyer. “I need to talk to you tomorrow. I have big news :-)”

“Alright then. I’d better get some sleep. I have something to tell you too ;) See you at breakfast tomorrow? My house?” he replies a minute later. I smile and text “Okay. Goodnight :-)” to which he replies “Goodnight beautiful :-)”

The next morning, I ride Gertrude over to the Hensleys’ house. Melissa greets me at the door, and Julia waves from the table. “Morning,” I yawn, smiling and waving back afterwards. As I cross to the table, Sawyer runs down the hallway, yelling at the top of his lungs, with Daniel on his tail. Daniel is carrying a pillow above his head like a club. “What the…?” I say, trailing off into laughter.

“Little boys never grow up,” Melissa states, shaking her head and smiling.

“Oh, hi! Andrea! You’re here!” shout Sawyer. “My brother’s trying to kill me!”

“Okay,” I reply nonchalantly. “I’ll say some nice things at your funeral.”

“‘Kay, thanks for the help, love you too,” he replies sarcastically, ducking behind my chair at the table. I laugh again and my heart flutters a tiny bit upon hearing him say “love you.”

“Okay, we’re done,” Melissa calls, putting a stop to the ruckus. Daniel chucks the pillow at the couch in the living room and drops into a chair at the table. Sawyer collapses next to me, laughing.

“For the record, I do love you. A lot,” I tell him, pecking his cheek.

“I know. I love you too,” he replies, lacing his fingers with mine. “Now. Awesome news you texted me about last night?”

“Right,” I remember excitedly. “So, while we were at the movies last night, my parents were talking, and they decided that instead of going back to New York for the whole school year and going to the college of my mother’s choice and all that, I’m only going back for a week or two.”

“Okay, that’s cool,” he replies. “So… why are you only going back for a week or two?”

“Well, that’s the next part,” I continue. “I’m only going back to New York for a week or two just to say goodbye to some friends, pack up my things and send them here.”

“Say goodbye? Pack up?” he repeats, puzzled.

“Yeah, so I can come live here,” I answer. “Mom and Dad said I can finish high school here and stick around as long as I like.” I bite my lip and wait for his reaction.

“Wait, wait, like, you’re not leaving? You’re staying here? Forever?” he says, mouth slightly open and eyes wide.

“Yes, Sawyer. I’m staying here. Forever,” I answer, laughing. Instead of answering, he smiles wide and kisses me, right there in front of everyone. When he pulls back, I giggle. “I take it you like the news.”

“It is the best news I’ve heard since I don’t know when,” he laughs, leaning his forehead against mine.

“Ugh, do you have to do that in the kitchen?” Daniel groans. “My brother, the lovestruck goof. Who would’ve thought?”

“Hey, I think it’s cute,” Julia interjects. I smile at her and suddenly remember the flowers.

“By the way, thank you for painting my board,” I tell her. “It looks amazing.”

“You’re welcome,” she replies shyly. “Painting is just something I love to do.”

“Well, you’re great at it,” I compliment honestly. “Maybe I should get your autograph.” I wink at her and she beams.

“So who’ve you told so far?” Melissa asks.

“Just you guys, my parents and my grandparents know,” I answer. “I have to go tell McKayla soon.”

“Are you going to stay with your grandparents?” Sawyer inquires.

“Actually, my mom is staying a few extra days to help me find my own place and get things sorted out,” I respond.

“You’re own place,” Daniel repeats. “Sweet. Sounds legit.”

Totally off subject, but this is yet another concept I simply do not understand. Why take a word like “legitimate” and turn it into some stupid slang term? Literally, what you are telling me is that it sounds lawful for me to have my own place. Whatever. Misuse the english language all you want. It’s not like anyone actually pays attention to it anymore.

“Are you going to get an apartment or a house?” Sawyer inquires. “And why not stay at your grandparents house?”

“I have absolutely no idea for the first one and the second, I’m getting my own place because my parents want me to ‘be independent’ or something like that. I figure I’ll need to have my own workout space anyway,” I reply. “After all, a professional surfer has to have appropriate training equipment. Plus, a friend of mine from New York will definitely come stay as often as she can, and I’m considering finally getting a pet. Grammy likes animals, as long as they’re not in her house. I have to go start working out the details with my mom, but I have to tell Mac first. Do you all want to come over for dinner tonight?”

“Definitely,” Sawyer replies. Melissa nods. “But— rewind there. Professional surfer?”

I nod. “I sent the forms in today to apply for an ASP membership. If I get accepted, I’ll make my ASP debut at the Pro Curl in January.”

“What a coincidence!” Sawyer smiles devilishly. “Mum, could you get my letter for a second?” Melissa hands him an opened envelope. “You see, I just so happened to get a letter back yesterday from the ASP. I applied on my birthday for membership.” He holds out the unfolded papers.

Dear Mr. Hensley,

Thank you for your application and congratulations on your many amateur wins. We look forward to seeing similar results from you in the Association of Surfing Professionals…

I stop there because the rest of the letter details regulations, member information, etc. I look up at Sawyer, open-mouthed. He bites his lower lip, smiles and raises his eyebrows in question.

“What?!” I finally choke out. “Oh my gosh, Sawyer, this is amazing! Congratulations!”

“Thanks,” he says modestly. He takes the letter back and hands it to his mom. “I’m pretty stoked about it.”

“Yeah! You’re an ASP member! You should be stoked!”

“Don’t act like it’s some gigantic deal,” he says, smiling. “You’re going to get the same letter in a month or two.”

“It is a gigantic deal, though,” I counter. “And it’s not for sure that I’ll get in.”

“Of course you’ll get in. Who could say no to skilled
and
gorgeous surfer girl?”

After Melissa’s scrumptious toast, bacon and egg breakfast, I bid everyone goodbye until tonight, ride back home and cross the street to McKayla’s house. Mrs. Atwood answers the door and informs me that McKayla is in her room, sleeping in. I make my way through the hall and into her bedroom quietly, then pounce on her. “Wake up sleepyhead!” I shout. She starts to yell and then realizes it’s me.

“What the heck was that for?!” Mac exclaims.

“For sleeping in when I have the biggest news ever to tell you!” I cry.

“What news?” she gasps, sitting up.

“Big announcement number 1: I’m moving!” I yell.

“Okay…” she says unsurely.

“Here!” I finish. Her mouth drops open.

“Like… for real? You’re moving here permanently?” she inquires, dumbstruck. “Going to school and everything?”

“Yep.” She grins and tackles me in a hug. “Wait! There’s more!”

“Really?”

“Big announcement number 2:” I continue. “You kinda… sorta… just maybe… might have been a little bit right.”

“Okay, say that again in normal english,” she replies.

“You were right,” I repeat. “Sawyer did like me. He loves me.”

“Wait, ‘loves?’ Present tense?” she clarifies hopefully. I purse my lips, trying to hide my grin and nod. She squeals, then laughs and hugs me again. “I told you!”

“I know, I know,” I reply. “I was wrong. Thankfully, I realized it before I made a giant mistake.”

“I need details.”

I laugh and start from the beginning of the fight yesterday. She’s a good listener, and she sighs, laughs and gasps in all the right spots of the story. At the end, she just grins wide and repeats her earlier statement: “I told you so.”

A moment later, my phone rings. “Jerkface” is calling me. I laugh at the caller ID, which I haven’t changed since the day he put it in. “Hello?”

“Just out of curiosity, if you were going to buy a dog, what kind would you get?” Sawyer inquires. “Like, big? Little? Medium? Long hair? Short hair?”

“I don’t care about the hair length as much, but I would want one that would be easy to groom,” I reply. “And not a Chihuahua, but no bigger than a Border Collie. Why are you all of a sudden curious about this?”

“No reason,” he responds casually. “I just remembered you said you wanted one and wondered what kind.”

“Okay then. See you later.”

“Love you. See you at dinner.”

“I love you too. Bye.” I hang up and McKayla’s grin says it all. I roll my eyes. “Yep. You definitely told me so,” I admit.

Later that day, I check my email for a few of the real estate links my mom sent me. Scrolling through, I notice an email from my english teacher back in New York, Mr. Clarke.

“Dear Miss Maverick,

Earlier today, I received my finalized class lists. You seem not to be on any of them. I recall you saying you would be back unless something drastic happened before you left. I expect a five page narrative essay on what happened, so as to have an answer when Miss Carver begins to question me.

Sincerely,

Mr. Clarke.”

I laugh, but before I can respond, my phone begins to sing. “Hello?”

“Okay, this summer officially blows,” Amy greets depressingly.

“Uh-oh. What happened?”

“Logan’s a freaking idiot, that’s what.”

“Ah.”

“He started going out with Sarah Durst.
Before
he dumped me. I walked in on them kissing and he gave me the most cliche line ever— ‘it’s not what you think’— and I smacked him. So, yeah, we’re over.”

“Woah, woah, back it up— you smacked him?” I repeat incredulously.

“Yeah,” she admits. “He deserved it.”

“You won’t hear me arguing,” I reply. “So…” I try to think of how to approach what I was going to call and tell her anyway.

“So how has your summer been?” she inquires.

“Good,” I begin. “Actually, that’s a lie. It’s been fantastic and awful.”

“Um, okay… Explanation please?”

“Well, my first day back, I got kicked in the eye when I was surfing by this guy named Sawyer,” I launch into my tale. “I thought he was a total jerk, but then we sort of became friends, then I realized I liked him and people kept telling me he liked me and I was jerk to him and we quit talking, then after a giant blow-up at my parents, I was on the beach, crying and he came and told me he still loved me.”