The Distance from Me to You - Hardcover

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Marina Gessner (www.ninadegramont.com) is the pen name of Nina de Gramont. Nina is a writer, teacher, and mom, not necessarily in that order. Her work has appeared in Redbook, Harvard Review, Nerve, and Seventeen. She lives in North Carolina with her husband and daughter. Follow her on Twitter: @NinadeGramont

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***This excerpt is from an advance uncorrected proof***

Copyright  © 2015 Marina Gessner

McKenna couldn’t believe it. Maybe her ears were malfunctioning. Or her brain was playing tricks on her. Either option—deafness or  insanity—seemed better  than  believing the words coming out of her best friend’s mouth.

“I’m sorry,” Courtney said. She started to cry and put her head down on the table.

McKenna knew this was the moment to reach over and pat Courtney’s head, say something comforting. But she couldn’t. Not yet. Because not only was Courtney getting back together with Jay, she was also backing out of their trip.

McKenna and  Courtney  had  been planning this trip for over a year—a two-thousand-mile hike down the Appalachian Trail—and they were supposed to leave in less than  a week. They’d deferred their college acceptances. They’d spent their life savings on camping gear and trail guides—McKenna had, anyway; Courtney’s father had footed the bill for hers. Hardest of all, they’d talked their parents into agreeing to the plan: two girls hiking the entire length of the Appalachian Trail, from Maine to Georgia.

And now Courtney was changing her mind. For the lamest possible reason: a guy. And not just any guy, but a guy they’d spent the last four months ripping to shreds. Honestly, Mc- Kenna was so sick of talking about him, she could barely get his name out.

All around  them,  the Whitworth  College Student  Union buzzed with conversations and clanking silverware. McKenna’s parents were both professors here, and she had been eating lunch in this cafeteria since before she could remember, the surrounding tables as familiar as her own living room. It was a bright day in early June, sunlight pouring in through  the atrium windows, and McKenna knew that Courtney must feel the same urge she did, to get away from the places they’d seen a million times, to go out in the world and live under that sun. “But Courtney,” McKenna said, keeping both hands firmly

in her lap. “Jay?”

“I know,” Courtney mumbled, her face still buried in her arms.

This trip, this plan, had been McKenna’s dream for as long as she could remember. And now, so close to when they should have been leaving, Courtney  was bringing the  whole thing crashing down.

“Courtney,”  McKenna said again. Even if it  weren’t for the hike, this would be terrible news. She couldn’t stand the thought of Jay breaking her friend’s heart. Again.

“Don’t say it,” Courtney said, finally sitting up. “I know, I

know all of it. And I forgive him. I love him, McKenna.”

What could McKenna say to that?

“I’m sorry,” Courtney said again, her voice calmer after the declaration of love. “I know how much you wanted to do this.”

“I thought you wanted to do it, too.”

“I do. I mean I did. But it’s just too long to be away from him right now. You know?”

McKenna didn’t know, not at all. Even with her eyes red and her face puffy, Courtney looked beautiful. She was the last person who needed to change her life for a guy, let alone Jay. Courtney had shiny blond hair that McKenna—being the only brunette  in her family—envied. Both girls were on the track team, but Courtney was the star, running the mile in under six minutes. Both girls took riding lessons, but Courtney was the one who usually won ribbons when they showed. Most import- ant, Courtney was a loyal friend. In other words, she was worth a thousand Jays, ten thousand Jays, a million.

“Courtney,” McKenna said, fighting to keep her voice steady. “Jay will still be here when we get back. You can text or call him from the trail, send him postcards. It’s only a few months.”

“Not a few. Five months, maybe even six. Things are frag- ile right now, McKenna, we’re only just back together. I can’t march off into the woods and leave him. Not right now.” She sounded like she’d practiced her argument, as if she’d antici- pated everything McKenna would say.

Because he’d probably spend the whole six months hooking up with other girls, McKenna thought.

“You’ll be leaving him if you go to Wesleyan,” McKenna

pointed  out.  Jay was going to Whitworth,  here in Abelard, the most boring and predictable of all choices. What was the point of even going to college if you weren’t going to leave your hometown?

“Wesleyan is barely an hour away,” Courtney said. “And anyway, I’m not going till next year. I deferred, remember?”

“You deferred to go on our trip,” McKenna said, finally let- ting herself sound as petulant as she felt. “Not to date Jay.”

“I know,” Courtney admitted.

“Well, what are you going to do next year, then? Bag your first-choice college for a guy? Stay here and go to Whitworth?” McKenna glanced around the Student Union meaningfully. Going to Whitworth would be like going to college in her own house.

“Jay is not just ‘a guy.’ And a camping trip isn’t college, either.”

“A camping trip?” How could she reduce their plan to those two words, make them sound so trivial? McKenna drew in a strengthening breath and said, “Maybe being apart will make your relationship stronger. Like with Brendan and me . . .”

“You can’t compare you and Brendan to me and Jay.”

Well, that was true. Brendan would never cheat on Mc- Kenna. He just wasn’t that kind of person, not a player, but sweet and  honest  and  serious. They’d been  together  three months,  and  Brendan  was headed  to  Harvard  in  the  fall. Would McKenna ever try to stop him from going to the school of his dreams so they could be together? Of course not—not

any more than he would stop her from hiking the Appalachian Trail. They had a mature relationship and they supported each other. McKenna said as much to Courtney, who rolled her eyes. “McKenna,” Courtney said, “you guys are about as roman-

tic as a trail map.”

McKenna ripped her chopsticks apart with a splintery crin- kle. Their sushi sat untouched between them. McKenna poked at the spicy tuna roll but didn’t pick it up. If romance meant giving up your dreams for some undeserving guy, Courtney was welcome to it.

“There are different ways to be romantic,” McKenna coun- tered. “Maybe to you romance is a candlelight dinner. But to me—” She broke off, afraid she might cry if she said it aloud.

To McKenna, romance was a night  under  the  stars. She didn’t need a boyfriend with her to make it romantic. She just needed clean air, the scent of pine. No sounds except crickets and spring peepers and the wind in the trees.

Courtney  reached out  and  touched  McKenna’s hand.  “I know how much this trip meant to you,” she said. “And I’m sorry. I don’t know how many times I can say it to make you understand that I really am.”

A hundred  arguments still swirled in McKenna’s head. Forget Jay. She could remind Courtney of the forms for the two-thousand-miler  certificate they’d pinned on...