The Distance Between Us

different.
    “Your mom approves of him and you’re worried she wouldn’t approve of me?”
    “Mason’s friends have never called me a stray. So is that so hard to believe?”
    “What?”
    “I heard what your friend called me.”
    He gives a single, bitter laugh. “That’s why you left? You should’ve eavesdropped a little longer because he was referring to my shirt. He calls flannel the ‘dog-catcher fabric.’”
    My chest tightens and I think about saying sorry, but that’s not the only thing that bothered me tonight. “Well, thank goodness you’ll never have to wear it again.”
    He pulls his keys out of his pocket. “Bye, Caymen.”
    “Bye.” I don’t look back over my shoulder even though I want to so badly. I want him to stop me from walking away. And I’m angry with myself for wanting that.
    He doesn’t stop me.
    Back in the stockroom Henry is packing away his guitar and Skye is wrapping a scarf around her neck.
    I don’t want to be left alone. My stomach hurts. “Where is everyone going?”
    “Henry doesn’t like the offerings.” Skye points to the food on the table. “We’re loading up on some real food at the corner mart.”
    “Real food as in nachos and day-old corn dogs?”
    “Exactly,” Henry says.
     
    I carefully add three seconds’ worth of Mountain Dew to my cup then move to the Powerade.
    “What’s she doing?” I hear Mason ask.
    Skye laughs. “It’s her special mixture. She spent all last summer on this experiment. She has now discovered the perfect formula of soda fountain mixture.”
    “I’ll have to try it,” Mason says, the owner of the gas station trailing behind him as he walks. The owner doesn’t trust teenagers and he always follows us around telling us the “deals of the day” in a veiled attempt to make it seem like he’s not watching us. Right now he is telling Mason about the sale on beef jerky and Mason is messing with him by asking if he can mix and match different items. The only one amused by this is me. Skye is pumping mustard onto an oversized hot dog.
    I finish up my last add-in and take a sip. Perfect. Skye may make fun of me but this was an experiment worth the effort. “How much would you pay for a shirt?” I ask suddenly, thinking of the hundreds of dollars Xander was about to spend on a replacement shirt for his “important customer.”
    “I got this one for fifty cents at the Salvation Army,” Mason announces proudly, pointing with a stick of beef jerky to the band logo on his T-shirt. The owner intently follows the movement of the jerky with his eyes as if Mason is going to slip it up his sleeve.
    “That’s awesome even for a thrift store,” Skye says with a nod, clearly impressed.
    “Five bucks for these jeans,” Henry says. “I would’ve been willing to pay six though.” He lifts his shirt to show us a full view of his butt.
    I laugh. Including the overly suspicious gas station owner, these are my kind of people.
    Mason points and blinks at the same time, giving a loud “Aha!” that makes me jump.
    “What?” I ask.
    “That’s where I recognize him from.”
    I turn slowly, following his finger to a Starz magazine on a rack behind me. In the corner on the front page is a picture of Xander.

Chapter 20

    I probably shouldn’t have bought the magazine. I’m already irritated enough at Xander. But I did and now I sit alone on the couch in my living room, waiting for my mom to get home, and read the lame article again. All it says is that “The Prince of Hotels” was spotted in New York last week to oversee the reopening of one of the family’s hotels.
    No wonder why he was confused I didn’t know what his family’s business was when we first met. He probably thought I was pretending not to know who he was. I blame it on our lack of cable. I may not have known exactly who he was, but I always knew he was a somebody. An article reminding me of the fact doesn’t change anything. I crumble up the thin magazine and throw it at the glowing television. Two seconds later my mom walks in the front door.
    “Hi,” she says when she sees me on the couch.
    “That appointment took forever.” It would be really obvious if I pick up the magazine so I leave it there and hope she doesn’t notice.
    “Sorry. I ran some errands when I was done.”
    I point over my shoulder. “I made you a sandwich. It’s in the fridge.”
    The lighting changes as my show goes to a commercial, and I notice my mom’s eyes are red. I sit