Free Come What May (Heartbeat) by Faith Sullivan Page B

pieces?
    Adam is almost at the end of his recovery period. We go back to work on Tuesday, but I haven’t really spoken to him since our blow-up in the library. I passed my test, and I sent him a text thanking him for his help. He responded with a smiley face. That’s it. He’s still pissed at me for shutting him out, but he was unknowingly circling a topic I don’t want to talk about—what made me want to be a paramedic.
    Sitting on a metal bench, I observe a van pulling a trailer filled with brightly colored kayaks and canoes. The sun is strong, and I shield my eyes against the glare. It’s Memorial Day weekend and the outdoor adventure center is bustling with activity. On the spur of the moment, I hopped in my car and drove forty-five minutes to the banks of the Delaware River. A Saturday alone on the water is just what I need to clear my head.
    A group of boys no older than ten run excitedly across the parking lot with two fathers trailing behind them. They pay for their excursion and join me on the bench. Looks like we’re heading up river together. From their boisterous chatter, I make out that they’re a bunch of Boy Scouts. I don’t say much, and for the most part they ignore my presence. That’s okay. I have a lot on my mind. At least they’re a welcome distraction.
    A van arrives hauling a red kayak and two heavy canoes. My heart stops when the driver gets out. It can’t be. He removes his sunglasses, and I start breathing again. For a moment, I thought it was Adam. The guy looks so much like him—shaggy blond hair, chiseled jaw line, defined biceps. My face flushes and he throws me a curious glance. Way to draw even more attention to myself despite the fact that I’m apparently the only person of color on the premises.
    “Are you all here for the one o’clock excursion?” Adam’s clone steps forward, addressing the two fathers. He obviously thinks we’re together in one big group, even though we’re not.
    The boys bolt, leaving me alone. The driver consults his passenger list as they climb into the van. The ignition is still running and all of the doors are thrown open. I sling my pack over my shoulder and proceed toward them while still keeping my distance. No one seems too concerned about me. Once they’re all inside the van, the driver leaves me standing there while he counts out the appropriate number of lifejackets.
    “Excuse me? Don’t you need my name?” I’m a little annoyed. Damn it, I’m a paying customer too.
    “I wasn’t sure if you were with them or not.” He gives me a quick grin while loading the back of the van with more equipment. “I’ll be right with you.”
    I tap my flip-flop against the gravel as anger burns within me. This day is hard enough for me as it is, asshole. There’s no need to make it even harder. A little consideration would be nice. Especially since it’s the anniversary of my best friend’s death.
    ***
    Gloria was the one person in high school who was nice to me. She was kind of an outcast herself. So on the first day of freshman year, it was such a relief when she started talking to me after the opening assembly. Everyone else was chatting away. Many knew each other since grade school, but my mom was only able to get enough cash together to pay for my last four years—the ones that counted when it came to applying to colleges. So when I found out Gloria and I were in the same homeroom, it made things a lot easier.
    We were inseparable all the way through our senior year. Our lockers were in the same row. We chose our electives together so our schedules would match up. We joined clubs like yearbook and SADD, and Gloria would drive me home in her mom’s Volvo. Too bad both of us didn’t follow through on our sobriety pledge.
    After the homecoming dance, Gloria hooked up with Ryan, the tight end of the football team. I didn’t go to the afternoon game, but apparently Gloria hung out with a few of the cheerleaders on the sidelines. Their thermoses