The Summer I Gave Up Boys: Isaiah's Story

The Summer

I Gave Up

Boys:

Isaiah’s Story

Kassandra Kush

The Summer I Gave Up Boys: Isaiah’s Story

Kassandra M. Kush

Copyright © 2014

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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ALSO BY KASSANDRA KUSH

Guardian

Protector

Messenger

The Things We Can’t Change Part One:

The Prologue

The Things We Can’t Change Part Two:

The Struggle

The Things We Can’t Change Part Three:

The Healing

The Things We Can’t Change Part Four:

The Love Story

The Things We Can’t Change Part Five:

The Epilogue

The Lightwood Legacy

The Summer I Gave Up Boys

The Summer I Gave Up Boys: Isaiah’s Story

ONE

I’m not a person much given to believing in fate or signs. I believe hard work brings you what you want, not the alignment of the stars. I’ve seen evidence of this every day on the basketball court.

But when I found myself standing on an airplane in front of Kaliyah Simon for the second time within an hour, it was really hard not to believe that fate was playing a game with me this summer. And even though Kaliyah was glaring daggers at me, I couldn’t really complain about it.

She groaned and I could only smile at her, unable to believe my luck—if luck and sitting next to a girl that hated you were one and the same thing.

Let me see your ticket, Kaliyah demanded, hand outstretched. I do not believe for a second that you were actually assigned the seat next to me by chance.

I handed over the ticket without hesitation, since it undeniably placed me in 34B, directly at Kaliyah’s right. I guess it was just meant to be, baby.

Kaliyah examined the ticket, even holding it up to the light as though she thought it was a counterfeit and she actually had the ability to detect this. Eventually, she had to admit it was legit and threw it back at me.

"I cannot believe this. Don’t speak to me. Don’t even look at me." She rapped out the orders, plugged her headphones furiously in her ears and pointed a no-nonsense finger at me.

I held up my hands in a placating motion. Hey, take it easy, killer. Do you think I wanted such a boring seatmate? I’ll just take a page out of your book. Sitting down, I pulled out my own iPod and headphones, plugging them into my ears a lot more gently than Kaliyah had done her own.

Sitting there, I could practically feel the annoyance and anger radiating off her in waves. Kaliyah and I had established our enmity way back in the ninth grade, when she’d moved from Ohio to Florida and shown up to school in an OSU shirt. This hadn’t exactly caused her to melt into the background at Lemon Bay High School, and with my single joke about Ohio State University’s basketball team, the hatred was established and our relationship had become infamous throughout the school. Despite almost seven years having passed, nothing much had changed, even as we both had gone to Florida State University.

Correction: nothing much had changed on Kaliyah’s side, so far as I could tell. Things on my side, however, had taken a twisted turn sometime in high school. I’d come to realize that stupid line between love and hate was as thin as everyone claimed. I’d gone from admiring Kaliyah’s smart mouth to admiring, well, everything else about her.

I’d fallen for Kaliyah Simon, and she, quite obviously, still hated my guts. At least, if our argument ten minutes ago in the waiting terminal was any indication, and her continued displeasure to find herself sitting next to me now. And yet here we were, forced to sit next to each other for the next hour on our flight. Perhaps this was fate. Maybe it was a sign. Maybe this summer was the summer. The one to change how Kaliyah felt about me.

Eyes closed, I drummed my fingers against the armrest and considered this. Was it even possible to change how Kaliyah felt about me? I glanced over and saw she was glaring at me from the corner of her eye. The outcome: unlikely. But I decided then and there it would be for lack of trying on my part. I just had to come up with a plan, be the playmaker I knew I was, and put it into motion.

Cracking my eyes open to glance subtly at Kaliyah once again, I watched as she snapped her book shut, her cheeks tinged pink, and shoved it underneath her seat. Then, in a truly un-Kaliyah-like action, she didn’t pick up a new book, only stared out the window. I hit pause on my iPod, unable to resist the chance to both speak to her and bother her. It was my automatic urge where Kaliyah was concerned.

Doth mine eyes deceive me? Have I actually just witnessed Kaliyah M. Simon discard a book she hasn’t yet finished? It really was unusual. I knew Kaliyah kept a book blog, and nine times out of ten when I saw her, she was either carrying, reading, shopping for, or talking about a book.

She slowly turned from the window to give me an acid glare. My eyes are tired.

You should probably rest them. What’s the book goal this summer?

Her answer was almost pleasant, if a little distracted as she thought about it. I think I can do eighty-five. Five a week, roughly. Last summer was seventy-seven, but I didn’t take a vacation. We’ll be driving up to Minnesota for a wedding in August right before school starts, so the car ride should give me the extra eight.

I gave a low whistle, this whole idea being inconceivable to me. I wasn’t against reading or anything, but the constraint on me was time. I couldn’t recall the last thing I’d read for pleasure that wasn’t sports-related. You know, you read more books in one summer than I did in four years of high school.

I know, Kaliyah said, sounding bored. She’d undoubtedly heard this line a hundred times. But that’s okay. You have a jock stereotype to maintain. If you got nerdy, the statistics would get totally off kilter.

The jock line. She always went straight for it, even though we both knew I was far from stupid. Still, I put a dramatic hand to my heart, humoring her. Must you always go for the jock thing? It’s all I’ve got going for me, and I’m sensitive about it.

Jocks aren’t supposed to be sensitive, either, she replied, pretending to ignore me as she studied her iPod playlists.

Deciding to rile her a little bit, I said in my most innocent of voices, I heard you broke up with Andrew because he was too sensitive.

"That is not why we broke up! Kaliyah said loudly. Everyone in the plane craned their necks toward us and Kaliyah lowered her voice to hiss. I broke up with him because he cheated on me with some chick from California."

I couldn’t keep my lips from twitching, recalling the Youtube video of Kaliyah and Andrew my teammates and I had watched a dozen times before school let out. Basically everyone at FSU has heard about it. It’s turned into a huge deal. You have to admit, the breakup was pretty ugly.

Kaliyah gave the headrest in front of her a dark glare. He’s lucky I didn’t castrate him after the book hit him. I should have thrown it harder. Dirty, rotten, no good, low down-

Easy, easy, I interrupted, covering my own family jewels at the mention of castration. Talk about harsh. Still, I’d been ecstatic at the breakup of Andrew and Kaliyah, because it meant she was finally single again. I could only hope—and try to trust in this newfound belief in fate—that Kaliyah didn’t have someone waiting in the wings already. It seemed like every time I’d seen her lately, she’d been dating someone. But we were about to be home together all summer…

So, are you gonna find a rebound guy for the summer? I only charge ten bucks a date. Twenty, if you want me to feel you up.

Kaliyah rolled her eyes. "Ten bucks? You must be going through a dry spell. Besides which, I would not pay you to feel me up. And thanks, but no thanks. I’ve sworn off boys."

I laughed, hoping I shouldn’t take this seriously. What?

Kaliyah made a slashing motion in the air with her hand, looking a little too serious for my tastes and plans. "No boys this summer. I’m focusing on moi. On my reading, my blog, and my tan. No drama, no boys, no cheating, nothing."

I pursed my lips and gave her a skeptical look, wanting to feel out exactly how intense this