They’re both much more awake than I am. “I’ll be ready in five.”
“There’s no hurry,” Kevin calls as I retreat to my bedroom.
When I come out, Mrs. Mednikov tells me he’s outside warming up the car. “I like your young man,” she says.
“He’s not my—” She thinks he’s the guy I’m spending my evenings with, an assumption I don’t want to correct just yet. “Yeah, I like Kevin, too.”
Kevin’s got the Kia’s motor running, and he’s even stuck a pillow in my seat so I can sleep. “Front seat’s pretty cramped, but—”
“Trust me, I can sleep anywhere.” I settle in and prop the pillow against the door. “A two-hour drive? This had better be worth it.”
“I can’t promise, but I think you’ll thank me when we get there.”
When I wake up, the sun’s up and I’m stiff from leaning against the car door. Kevin brushes crumbs off his jeans. “You’re awake.”
“Almost.” A sign along the highway says we’re in Santa Barbara.
“You weren’t lying when you said you could sleep in the car.”
I freeze for a sec before I remember our conversation. “Ugh. Was I snoring?”
“I wouldn’t say snoring. More like snorting.”
I bury my face in my hands. “Embarrassing.”
“Nah. I’m just jerking your chain. You don’t really snort—it’s more like a snuffle.” He imitates me, snuffling delicately like a cartoon character.
“You tease your sisters a lot, don’t you?”
“All the time. And that’s why I’m their favorite brother.”
“Aren’t you their only brother?”
Kevin smiles, and I harrumph and reach into the crumpled paper bag between us. It’s almost empty, but a few prune pastries are left. “I guess you liked the kolaches.”
“Especially the poppy-seed ones. I haven’t had any that good since I was in Poland.”
“Of course you were in Poland.” I lick jam off my fingers and the last exit in Santa Barbara sails by. “We’re not stopping in Santa Barbara?”
“No, but we are minutes from our destination. Be patient.”
“I’m not patient.”
“Clearly.”
Kevin turns up the music. It’s guitars and mandolins, folky and contemporary at the same time. The sky is clear and hills rise up on the right, dry and yellow, aching for rain. I crack the window and cool air blows across my face.
In a few miles, Kevin turns off the highway and I glimpse the ocean as we turn onto an access road. We pass a few scattered houses before Kevin pulls into a gravel parking lot. “We’re here.”
We get out of the car by a grassy lot. There’s not much to see. A group of trees a little way off. An elementary school across the road. “O-kay.”
“It’s worth it, I promise.” Kevin pulls a backpack out of the trunk. “This way,” he says, and heads for the end of the parking lot.
We follow a dirt path into a grove of eucalyptus. The path dips up and down, and our footsteps are muffled by dust. Seagulls cry overhead, and I smell the ocean even though I can’t see it.
We walk for about a mile before Kevin slows and holds up a finger. Sun filters through the trees, striping the yellow-gray bark. Bright blue sky fills the gaps between the trunks. Everything is hushed and even the gulls are silent.
As beautiful as this place is, I wonder why we drove two hours to get to it. Then an orange butterfly wobbles into the sunlight. I follow the monarch with my eyes as another flutters into the clearing, then another.
Kevin taps my arm and points to a nearby branch, and I gasp and walk forward. This branch, and every branch nearby, is weighed down with butterflies—hundreds, maybe thousands of butterflies.
Their wings are folded, exposing tan undersides veined with black. Still and silent, the butterflies look like leaves, until one stretches, and then ten more pop orange.
“Do they live here?” I whisper.
“Just for the winter. They come down from Canada.”
A dozen paths wind through the grove, and we explore them silently. My heart slows, matching the rhythm of the place.
Mom would have loved this. I picture her, sitting cross-legged on a fallen log, humming a melody under her breath, her fingers picking out chords on an invisible guitar. I glance at Kevin, grateful he feels no need to speak.
We stay until we hear the squeals of excited children, then we walk out of the grove, not speaking until we reach the cliff’s edge and see the ocean below. The water is gray-blue striped with green. White foam swirls and sloshes below the cliff.
“My mom would have loved this place,” I say.
Kevin’s quiet, as if he’s waiting for me to tell him more about her, but instead I ask, “Why did you bring me here?”
He blows out a breath, and I’m surprised by how different, how much older he looks from two months ago. How did I not notice?
He’s smiling, but not happily. “Caltech messes with my head, and sometimes I need to get out of there before I lose it.”
“But you’re so smart.”
“Everyone in my class was valedictorian of their high school. One of my roommates interns at the Jet Propulsion Lab and the other won the Intel Science Fair.”
“I don’t know what either of those is, but they sound really impressive.”
“Yeah. They are. The competition is…” He shrugs. There are no words.
I wrap an arm around his waist and he leans into me. “I didn’t know it was that bad at Caltech. When you’re at CALINVA you act like everything’s cool.”
“Everything is cool at CALINVA. But if I don’t get my engineering grades up, you’re not going to see me around next semester.”
“No! Why not?”
“The only way I could get my dad to agree to let me enroll part-time at CALINVA was to promise I’d get A’s in my classes at Caltech.”
“And?”
“It’s not looking good.”
“Oh, Kev, I’m so sorry.” I look into his face, and our eyes connect, and what I see is an opening, an opening to more.
I drop my arm from his waist and grope for something to say. I knew Kev liked me, and I should have been more careful not to give him the wrong idea. “Maybe you’ll surprise yourself and ace the finals.”
Kevin’s eyes flicker as he registers that I’ve pulled back, but he acts like what just happened didn’t happen. “Yeah, it’s not impossible if I put in the hours.”
The tone of his voice has changed. He could be talking to anyone.
A sadness I didn’t expect washes through me, and it takes a moment before I grasp what it’s telling me: I care about Kevin more than I realized.
I’ve been so caught up with Adam, I’ve been blind to what I have or could have with Kevin. And now I’ve hurt him even though I didn’t mean to.
Kev’s silence feels endless. “You want to head back?” I ask.
“Sure,” he says, patting his stomach. “I could use something to eat.”
We walk back to the car. I hate to imagine CALINVA without Kevin making me laugh and keeping me from flying out of orbit.