Boot Camp

15: Old Version

"Summer has been lonely without you."

I grin as Mina appears on my phone, recounting to me her past few weeks. Apparently, she won second place in her tennis championship to a four-foot-nine fifteen-year-old and has successfully avoided Willow's mother all summer—so far.

"It feels weird not seeing you every day. I can't remember the last time this ever happened."

"Never," she answers. "But anyway, tell me what's going on with you. I hate the unknown, Whitney."

I sigh, not knowing where to start. "I met a guy?"

Her eyes widen, and her jaw drops. "Wait, you did what? Like is he Jonah status or actually good?"

I cringe as she mentions Jonah. "He was all your fault."

"I've apologized before, okay? I'm sorry."

"Let's not go there," I say. As I look closer at the screen, I notice she is sitting on a familiar brown wooden chair. "Mina, are you at my house?"

"Uh...yes?"

I crinkle my brow in confusion. After all, since I'm not there, why is she sitting on my patio? "Why?"

"Well, when I bought a coffee early this morning, I saw your sister. She asked if I still played tennis. I said yes, and she invited me join her for doubles with Levi and your dad. I decided to stay at the Carmichael residence afterward. Oh, come on, your mom makes the best sandwiches."

I'm silent at first. Not because Mina is lounging on my favorite chair on the patio enjoying my mother's food. It's because my best friend spent a nice morning with my father and sister before I could this summer. Maybe she was more fun than me. I would have probably replicated last time's disaster if I was there.

"Whitney, is something wrong?"

I shake my head. "No, nothing is wrong," I answer. "Actually, I'm late for an event at camp. We'll talk another time! Miss you!"

I end the video call and get up from my bed. Maybe I am exaggerating the whole ordeal, but I can't overlook it. It's like the cherry on top of the melted ice cream sundae of a relationship I have with my father.

I don't think I ever recall a time he and I were close. Aside from providing my basic necessities, he's never cared to form a real relationship with me: to get to know who I am and appreciate the things that make me me, not hate the things that make me different from my sister.

My mind flits to Axel. He doesn't have a father anymore, which makes my heart wrench. Maybe it could always be worse.

The door creaks open, and Martina walk in, throwing herself onto her bed. Her hair's a mess and her cheeks are flushed, the aftermath of a grueling workout.

"Hi," I say, breaking the tension. Since a couple of days ago, when I asked about her tattoos, we've been rather awkward with each other.

"Hi," she answers hesitantly. Her fingers fiddle at a loose string on her running shorts, her eyes pointed at the ground.

"Martina, I don't know why we're acting like this."

She glances up and a small smile spreads onto her lips. "I'm sorry. I don't know either. I got way too defensive last time." I walk over and pull her into a hug despite her sweatiness. She squeezes me back.

"Look," she says, turning around and pulling her thick tank top strap to the side. I see a tattoo of a purple butterfly with intricate wings.

"It's so pretty," I remark, my own hand moving to my shoulder. I've never really been interested in tattoos.