Don’t Make Me Turn This Life Around Pagán, Camille (best novels for teenagers .txt) 📖

last trip here? I could still remember him reaching for my hand as we stared up at the stars and realizing that my life was about to change in ways I couldn’t possibly imagine.

“No swimming? Lame,” Charlotte said from behind me.

I didn’t bother shushing her. It was lame. And judging from Shiloh’s tight expression, he thought so, too.

Isa, who was beside him, glowered at me. “You said this was going to be magical,” she hissed.

I sighed. “Just wait until we’re out there, okay?”

“Questions?” said the tour guide.

“Yeah—what do I do if I have to pee?” called Charlotte.

The guide shrugged. “Hold it until we’re back at the porta potties in the parking lot.”

“Of all the things he mentioned earlier, you’d think letting the kids know they won’t be able to use the bathroom for several hours would have made the cut,” Shiloh whispered.

“I know,” I whispered back. “But hopefully they’ll forget about their bladders once we’re out on the water. Remember my reaction?” Shiloh had taken me out on his own—a friend who ran a tour at the time loaned him a couple of kayaks—and hadn’t told me what to expect. When I first saw the water glowing, I’d been speechless.

His expression softened. “You’re right. I bet they’ll love it.”

That’s what I was counting on. But even more than that, I wanted us to love it.

The guide had stopped yapping and was directing us to a bunch of kayaks lined up at the edge of the bay. Finally, I thought, as Shiloh helped Isa and Charlotte drag their tandem kayak into the water. Then he and I got into our own single-seaters and began to paddle out toward the center.

“I don’t see anything,” Isa called to Shiloh.

“Why isn’t it glowing?” huffed Charlotte, who was in the seat in front of her.

Had these children not heard of patience? I was about to tell them to keep going when Charlotte swiveled around. “Isa, look!” she called. As she skimmed her paddle over the water, a bright blue-green line formed just behind it.

“No way,” said Isa reverently, leaning over the side of their boat.

I laughed with equal parts delight and relief. “See?” I called. “I told you it was amazing!”

“So weird!” said Charlotte, dipping her hand in the bay.

“But good weird, right?” I said, pulling up next to them.

“Definitely,” she agreed. “I can’t wait to tell Cecelia and LaToya about this.”

Still smiling, I ran my fingers along the water’s surface. Though the sparkling reflection was no longer a surprise, it was still every bit as incredible as it had been the first time I saw it. Warmth filled my chest. Even more than Vieques itself, this bay was where Shiloh and I had become . . . us. What had started as a conversation about stars—how the light we see in the present is really the remnant of an explosion that happened in the past—ended with us tangled up in bed, having what was the best sex of my entire life. But like Milagros had said, it wasn’t even about the sex; not really. It was about realizing that in spite of my grim prognosis and my inability to envision my life without Tom at my side, I still had a whole lot of living left to do.

When I looked up from the water, hoping to paddle over to Shiloh and tell him what I’d just been reminiscing about, I realized he was already several hundred feet away, and traveling fast.

Wait, where was he going?

I looked back and forth between him and the girls. If I tried to catch him, I’d leave Isa and Charlotte behind, and our guide was still near the shore, getting the final few tourists into the water. As I watched the glowing light on the front of Shiloh’s kayak grow fainter in the distance, it occurred to me that I didn’t want to have to tell him to spend time with us. Hadn’t he said he wanted to make this a special day?

But that was before he’d gotten the phone call on the beach. I didn’t know what or why or how, but that call had changed something.

And honestly, I was a little afraid to find out what.

The girls were splashing each other, but as far as I could tell, they were enjoying themselves for a change rather than attempting to mortally wound one another. So I leaned all the way back in my kayak and looked up. The last time I’d been here, the sky had been a carpet of stars. Now the moon was half-full, and the clouds were dark and heavy, so I could only see a few pinpricks of light. I stared at the ones I could see, wondering if my parents were up there somewhere.

I wasn’t sure when, but I’d begun to cry. And I don’t mean a few tears here and there—which was starting to be an everyday event for me, even if I didn’t like to dwell on that. No, this was the chest-heaving, twisted-up ugly face kind of cry. The only saving grace was that I was so busy gulping for air that I wasn’t actually making any noise, so I couldn’t freak out the twins or anyone else within earshot. I wasn’t even crying because Shiloh had abandoned me in the middle of what was supposed to be a rousing rendition of our greatest hit.

I just really missed my father.

My mother was always with me—not so much a voice in my head telling me which battle to choose and how to fight it, but rather a soft hand on my back, subtly guiding me in the right direction. The last time I’d been at the bay, I’d felt her looking down on me and sending her love. And I guess deep down I’d expected that, once I was out here again, my father would make the same sort of appearance. After all, I’d waited six whole months for some sign he’d made it to the other side, wherever that was.

Now I felt