As Long As We're Together Read online

  “Someone stole my bike!” Buffy added.

  “Mine’s still here,” Andi said, relieved at first—but then, as the gravity of what had happened to Buffy and Cyrus sank in, she turned to face her friends. “But…someone stole your bikes.”

  Andi staggered over to the rack and grabbed the green plastic-encased chain that was supposed to have kept Buffy’s bike safe. Someone had cut straight through it. Andi’s heart sank. How was she going to salvage their perfect day when someone had violated her best friends this way?

  “Let’s just call Bex, ask her to pick us up,” Buffy proposed as the three friends stood there by Skidboot and the broken locks. “She’ll take us to the slide, I can get my T-shirt—”

  “No!” Andi interrupted, staring down at the remains of Buffy’s chain and shaking it in protest. “That’s not our day. We’re re-creating our day!”

  “We’re already in new territory,” Cyrus pointed out, his voice shaking.

  “We can still get back on track,” Andi insisted, pasting a less-than-convincing smile on her face.

  “How?” Buffy scowled.

  Andi’s face fell, and she sucked in her breath. Was Buffy right? Should they just call Bex? No! Andi wasn’t going to admit defeat. She would not give Bex the satisfaction of being right—of predicting that Perfect Day 2.0 would be as disappointing as reheated meat! Andi spun around and looked at Bex’s old bike—the banana seat, the high handlebars. It could totally work!

  “This is kind of roomy,” she told her friends, flashing a slightly more authentic smile as she wrapped her fingers around one of Skidboot’s white handlebar grips. “I bet we can all fit.”

  The look on Buffy’s face suggested she was far from persuaded. “And ride it all the way to the slide?” She shot a you-cannot-be-serious sideways glance at Andi.

  “We should…um…at least try!” Andi clapped her hands, mustering almost enough enthusiasm for the three of them.

  “I call basket,” Cyrus said with a shrug. At least he was sort of meeting Andi halfway on the eagerness front.

  Although Buffy still felt hesitant, she also knew she was outnumbered—and, besides, she wasn’t one to give up without a fight. That said, the moment they all climbed on the bike, Andi could barely keep it balanced with Buffy in front of her on the banana seat and Cyrus looking nervous and wobbly on the basket.

  “Anyone want to trade?” Cyrus stammered, clutching the handlebars behind him so tightly that his knuckles turned even paler than the rest of him. “I’m sorry I called basket!”

  Buffy ignored the request and prepared to start pedaling. “Okay, ready?” she asked, briefly squeezing her eyes closed and shaking her head before taking a deep breath. “Here we go. One…two…”

  But Buffy didn’t even make it to the count of three before Andi leapt from the seat and Cyrus bailed from the basket.

  “Nope,” Andi yelled.

  “Never gonna happen,” Buffy had to agree.

  “We are not these kids,” Cyrus concluded.

  Andi puffed out her lower lip. Now what? She could already hear Bex saying, I told you so.

  No! the voice in her head repeated. Maybe they weren’t the kids who could all fit on an ancient bike, but they also weren’t the kids who would let one tiny obstacle—or even two big stolen obstacles—get in the way of re-creating their perfect day.

  About an hour later, the three friends were walking along the dirt road that would lead them to the Alpine Slide. As leaves fell from the trees overhead and carpeted the ground, Andi wearily pushed Skidboot with Buffy walking next to her and Cyrus lagging several yards behind.

  “How far have we gone?” Cyrus called out.

  “We’re almost to the slide,” Andi assured him.

  “Are you lying to me?” Cyrus asked.

  “Yes,” Andi admitted.

  “Thank you,” Cyrus replied, looking down at the ground. “At least I wore my adventure shoes.”

  “You have adventure shoes?” Buffy smirked as she and Andi both glanced back at Cyrus and smiled.

  Cyrus shrugged. “They don’t get out much.” But then, hearing something buzzing around, Cyrus screamed and raced ahead of Buffy and Andi. “The bee! He followed me!”

  “He?” Andi asked. “How do you know it’s the same one?”

  “Trust me, it’s him—bees won’t ever leave me alone,” Cyrus insisted as he ducked and screamed yet still managed to explain. “My bubbe says it’s because I have sweet blood…but my doctor says it’s because I sweat more than most boys.”

  Hearing another buzzing noise and now convinced the bee was about to go in for the kill, Cyrus screamed even louder and took off running faster than he had ever run in his life.

  “Serpentine! Serpentine!” Buffy shouted. It was an obscure reference to a hilarious old movie, but thankfully Cyrus got it and began to run in an evasive zigzag pattern. Until, that is, one of his feet sank into a deep mud puddle that had been concealed beneath all the fallen leaves on the dirt road.

  Cyrus’s screams echoed through the trees as his entire leg disappeared into the ground. “Help! I’m stuck!”

  In almost as much of a panic, Andi and Buffy abandoned Skidboot and rushed over to help Cyrus. They each grabbed him by an arm and began to drag him out, but he went completely limp, making it ten times harder for them to move him.

  “Cyrus, you could help a little,” Buffy muttered, mud flying everywhere as she struggled to save him.

  When Buffy and Andi finally did manage to get Cyrus back on his feet, Andi looked down and noticed something was missing. Again. “Where is your shoe?” she asked Cyrus.

  Cyrus shook his head, defeated. “It belongs to the quicksand now.”

  Buffy rolled her eyes. “Oh, for Pete’s sake.” Then she plunged her hand into the mud all the way to the elbow, feeling all around before finally pulling it back out, her arm dripping in slop, with no shoe to be found. “It’s gone. Like, literally disappeared.” She stood up and stared into Cyrus’s eyes like she was in the middle of an Unsolved Mysteries TV marathon. “How do these things happen to you?”

  “If I knew…” Cyrus frowned. “Well, for one, I’d still have a shoe.”

  Buffy couldn’t help laughing, but Andi was starting to worry. “Now how are you going to walk?” Andi asked.

  “I guess someone’s just going to have to give me a piggyback ride,” Cyrus quipped, choking out “Buffy” under his breath. “Or use the fireman’s carry. I’m not picky.”

  Buffy shook her head and smirked. “Yeah, I’m not doing that.”

  That was when the sound of a police siren echoed around them. They all spun around and, with jaws dropped, discovered a patrol car pulling up beside them.

  “You guys okay?” a woman in a light brown deputy’s uniform and hat asked, stepping out of the vehicle with a look of motherly concern on her face. “Need a ride somewhere?”

  “Yes! You’re a lifesaver!” Buffy’s face was positively glowing with renewed hope and Cyrus nodded giddily, while Andi offered a reluctant—albeit slightly relieved—smile.

  Cyrus turned to Buffy. “Do you guys mind if I’m dropped off first?” Then, looking at Andi, he pleaded his case: “I survived quicksand!” Finally, he looked at the deputy and began to shout his home address to her.

  But before Cyrus could finish, Andi interrupted and called out, “To the Alpine Slide!”

  The officer looked surprised, especially considering the three of them were completely covered in mud. Still, much to Andi’s delight, she agreed and told them to come on.

  “Thank you!” Andi smiled, grabbing Buffy’s arm so she could help her retrieve Skidboot from the side of the road and load her into the back of the patrol car.

  Andi could tell that her friends were disappointed—that they wanted to go home, that they were completely over the whole notion of re-creating their perfect day. But there was no way she was going to allow this to be Buffy’s final memory of their time together, let alone of their friendship. And it wasn’t about proving Bex wrong. It was about proving that, as long as they were together, Andi, Buffy, and Cyrus could accomplish anything.

  Right around the same time that Andi, Buffy, and Cyrus were getting a lift from the local sheriff’s deputy, Jonah was continuing to get his own version of a lift from Bowie. After flawlessly playing the basic three-chord tune that Bowie had just taught him, he looked up and smiled.

  “Yeah!” Bowie nodded, his mouth dropping open as he marveled at Jonah’s obvious natural talent. “You’re really good.”

  Jonah rolled his eyes, assuming Bowie was just being nice. “Sure,” he said with a shrug.

  “No, seriously—I’ve never seen anyone pick up chords that fast,” Bowie insisted, thinking back on his own early experiences with learning to play and how much of a struggle it had been for him. Man! He’d had to work so hard to get the fingering just right. It had taken Bowie weeks to get as good as Jonah had already gotten in under an hour.

  Jonah sighed, genuinely grateful. “Thanks. This was really fun.” Then, realizing it was probably about time for him to head out, he glanced down at the guitar and asked, “Where should I put this?”

  “You’re not gonna buy it? But you came in to get a guitar…right?” Bowie narrowed his eyes and studied Jonah’s face. Of course, he’d already realized that Jonah hadn’t really come into the shop to buy a guitar—but now that he’d witnessed the kid’s incredible raw talent, he was hoping he might actually go through with the purchase. Especially considering how it seemed to have helped him get over whatever had been bothering him when he’d first stumbled in.

  Realizing he’d been caught in a lie, Jonah frowned and shifted his eyes to the floor. How was he going to explain this one away? Seeing how flustered Jonah was becoming, Bowie asked, as gently as possible, what was going on with him.

  “Nothing,” Jonah replied, trying to smile, his voice barely a whisper as he bit down on his lower lip. “It’s just…sometimes I get kinda stressed and I can’t catch my breath. No big deal.”

  Bowie nodded—he had several friends who had described similar experiences to him through the years. “Jonah, that kind of sounds like a panic attack,” Bowie pointed out with paternal concern.

  “Yeah, that’s what Cyrus’s dad called it, too,” Jonah admitted.

  “And he’s a doctor!” Bowie was relieved—at least Jonah was getting some kind of professional help. “That’s great that you’re seeing a doctor.”

  “I’m not.” Jonah shook his head and exhaled loudly. How had he gotten himself into this mess? What was he doing there, opening up about all his problems…and to Andi’s dad, no less? “He was just there, the way you were just here. I really don’t want to keep having them…but I guess it doesn’t matter what I want.”

  Bowie pressed his lips together and searched for the right words. He wanted to reassure Jonah, to let him know that he didn’t need to feel alone in what he was going through. “If there’s anything I can do—”

  Jonah’s face brightened slightly. He was sort of afraid to ask, but he also felt like he had to. “Yeah, there is,” he said slowly, his blue eyes pleading with Bowie as he tried to conceal the desperation in his voice. “Don’t tell Andi?”

  “I won’t,” Bowie assured him with an empathetic pout. “I think she’d understand, but I won’t.”

  Jonah grinned, relieved. “Thanks.”

  He was about to get up and leave, but before he could, Bowie stopped him. “Jonah, I know this was a weird way to discover it, but you’ve got a real talent for playing guitar.”

  Once again, in spite of the stressful conversation he’d just had with Bowie, Jonah felt like all his worries were melting away. “Well,” he acknowledged with a sheepish grin, “I know it’s really calmed me down.”

  “So, maybe you should think about playing more,” Bowie proposed. “I can give you lessons!”

  Jonah nodded. “I’ll think about it. Thanks.”

  Bowie smiled and nodded back. “Yeah, man.”

  Then, as they bumped their fists together, it was as if they were making a pact to crush Jonah’s anxiety…together. And for the first time since he’d started having panic attacks, Jonah realized that he might have more power over the situation than he’d thought—that maybe, eventually, everything would turn out okay. But he also knew he might not be able to do it by himself.

  He now knew that for things to get easier, he would probably need to ask someone for help. He just hadn’t realized that someone might be Bowie…or a guitar. But at least things were looking up. Things were definitely looking up.

  Things were starting to look up for Andi, Buffy, and Cyrus, too. After loading Skidboot and their bags into the back of the patrol car, and with Cyrus already in the front passenger seat, Andi and Buffy climbed into the back seat of the vehicle.

  “Okay, ready!” Andi told the deputy, eager to get to the Alpine Slide and erase any hint of Perfect Day 2.0 being anything less than…perfect.

  But then Buffy looked out the window and did a double take, realizing there were two teenagers riding along the dirt road on bikes that looked extremely familiar.

  “You guys, look!” Buffy shouted. “Our bikes!”

  “Deputy Bartlett,” Cyrus chimed in, somehow maintaining a completely calm demeanor as he turned to look at the officer, “we’d like to report a crime.”

  “Those bikes are ours!” Buffy added, eyes lighting up and a hopeful smile crossing her lips. “Can you arrest them?”

  “Probably not,” the officer replied somewhat wearily. “But I can stop them.”

  Deputy Bartlett moved to turn her keys in the ignition, but stopped short when a call came in over the radio: “Unit Forty-Nine from dispatch, could you divert to a stolen car in progress at Seventh and Main? Respond code three.”

  Deputy Bartlett spoke back into the handset: “Dispatch from Unit Forty-Nine, I’ll be ten-seventy-six to that location.” Then, turning to Andi, Buffy, and Cyrus, she added, “Sorry, guys. I’m going to need to drop you off.”

  Andi’s face fell. She couldn’t believe it! How was a stolen car more important than Buffy and Cyrus’s stolen bikes—and, on an even more pressing note, how were they going to get to the Alpine Slide if Deputy Bartlett didn’t take them there?

  “Buckle up,” the officer added, sending Andi’s heart sinking even deeper than Cyrus’s foot in a mud puddle.

  “Can we turn on the siren?” Cyrus asked excitedly.

  “No,” Deputy Bartlett snapped.

  Moments later, back in front of the cider stand, Andi, Buffy, and Cyrus stared sadly after the patrol car as it took off, sirens blaring. The three friends shivered in their mud-covered coats—partly because it was getting late and the skies were growing dark and cloudy, but mostly because Deputy Bartlett had let them down.

  “Well, that’s upsetting,” Cyrus groused, watching the red lights flashing in the distance. “She’ll turn on the siren for them, but not for us?”

  “You know what’s even more upsetting?” Buffy widened her eyes, which were still fixated on the rapidly departing vehicle. “We left our bike and backpacks in her trunk.”

  They all gasped, then started running after the patrol car screaming “STOP!”—even though the vehicle was already long gone.

  Finally, they slowed to a halt, defeated.

  “My phone was in my bag,” Andi said, tears beginning to sting her eyes.

  Buffy patted at the pockets of her puffy coat and panicked. “Mine too!”

  “Luckily, I still have mine.” Cyrus reached into the front pocket of his jeans and handed his phone to Buffy, who laughed happily…until she looked down at the screen.

  “You’re only at two percent!” Buffy reported.

  “I took a lot of selfies in the police car,” Cyrus explained with an innocent shrug.

  Andi widened her eyes at Buffy. “Turn it off!” she commanded. “Turn. It. Off.”

  “We have enough for one call,” Buffy insisted, holding the phone out to Andi. “Call Bex. Tell her to come pick us up.”

  “She’s going to say, ‘I told you so,’ ” Andi complained.

  “She did tell us so,” Buffy pointed out, pushing the phone toward Andi again.

  Andi reluctantly took the phone, sucked in her breath, and pressed the button to call Bex, whose voice came through the speaker almost immediately.

  “That was fast!” Bex said cheerily. “You’re at the slide already?”

  Andi gritted her teeth and replied wryly, “Yeah, we’re real speed demons—”

  “How was Skidboot? She give you any trouble?” Bex asked.

  “No, Skidboot was great—” Andi said haltingly.

  What are you doing? Buffy silently asked Andi with wide, shocked eyes, while Bex’s voice continued to come through the speaker.

  “Hey—I want to apologize for doubting you could pull this off,” Bex said. “I know you guys. When you want to make something happen, it happens.”

  Andi, Buffy, and Cyrus all looked at each other sadly, knowing deep down that they were no longer the kids Bex was describing. Maybe they never had been. Buffy nodded at Andi, pleading with her to tell Bex the truth—to ask her to pick them up. Immediately.

  Andi stared back at her friend, visions of reheated meat making her stomach turn. But she knew what she had to do.

  “Bex…” Andi began, as a little voice inside her head begged her not to give up. Not yet. Maybe it didn’t feel like she, Buffy, and Cyrus were the kids who could make things happen right at that moment…but maybe they still could be those kids! So, even with Buffy’s forceful glare fixed on her, Andi quickly changed her tune and spoke happily into the phone, “We’re about to get on the chairlift, we gotta go—”

  As Andi pressed the button to end the call, Cyrus screamed, “Nooo!” and Buffy shouted, “Bex!” while lunging for the phone.

  “We’re calling her back,” Buffy insisted, grabbing the phone and pressing one button…and then another, the heat slowly rising to her cheeks as she dropped her arms to her sides and narrowed her eyes at Andi, furious. “It’s out of power!”