Summer Break, Rising Sophomore Year, 2013

Few things could bring the steadfast operations of Plainview Heights Country Club to a screeching halt, but a family of snakes nesting on the sixth hole of the golf course was one of them.

"There's, like, a million of them," Richie, the maintenance manager, crowed over the walkie talkie. Shea could just imagine him with one hand on his hip and the other on his walkie, truly perplexed at the origin of the snakes. "Where the hell did they come from?"

"Can't you just move them?" Mark, the general manager of the bougie country club, asked, sounding a little exasperated.

"Okay, maybe you didn't hear me," Richie countered, "I said a million. I'm not touching them."

Mark's sigh echoed through the walkie. Shea smirked in the comfort of the front office—her door was closed, her iced coffee was sweating onto the desk, Facebook was up on the computer, her favorite punk tunes blared through her speaker… Yep, this was the life.

It was even better because she knew, somewhere outside her closed door, Rodrick was working the grounds. She had been lucky to avoid any and all encounters with him so far, but summer had barely begun.

In fact, if she was being specific, it had been seven months since they last spoke. He had unfriended her on Facebook after they broke up, so the only information Shea had on him was through mutual friends online. Her friends were right in that time was helping to make it feel less painful, but every time she heard his voice over the walkie talkie, she couldn't help but wonder what if…

"Can we take a few golf clubs and try to relocate them?" Mark asked.

"Hmm, maybe," Richie conceded. "If I get bitten, do I get workers' comp?"

"I can come out and help," he said. "Let's get the team on it. We should get some pictures too. I bet social media would love this."

Pictures? Uh oh. Shea didn't like the sound of that. She thought she heard Mark's heavy footsteps approaching in the front office. The only thing the office was missing was an escape hatch.

"Good idea. If my murder is on camera, I can sue the hell out of you from the dead," Richie joked. After a beat, he said, "Rodrick, get over here. We need more victims."

Her ex's voice filled her ears. "On the way."

And then, to her horror, Mark swung the door to her sanctuary open.

"Hey," he said brightly. "Grab your phone. Let's go move some snakes."

Shea wasn't sure if she was disappointed or relieved to see that, instead of a million, it was only four garter snakes. The snakes were hiding underneath a bush on the edge of the golf course. They blended in so well she was surprised that Richie even noticed them.

"That's it?" Mark said, disappointed. "What happened to a million, you big wuss?"

"Hey, if Indiana Jones can be badass and scared of snakes, so can I," he said.

"I'll give you that." Mark glanced around the area. "Okay, if we can pick them up on the golf club, we can move them to the forest over there. Where's Rodrick?"

As if on cue, Shea heard the familiar puttering of a golf cart. Her stomach flipped instinctively and her body stiffened. She watched, frozen in her spot, as Rodrick parked and then pulled a few golf clubs from the back of the cart.

Ugh, he was still handsome. His hair was a little shorter, but he looked exactly the same as he did while they were dating. She couldn't help but wonder if his hands were rough and calloused from working all year—how his fingers would feel against her soft skin.

Rodrick glanced around, drinking in the scene. When his eyes fell on Shea, he looked right through her, like she wasn't even there.

Ouch. That deflated her hope and pride. She gripped her phone a little tighter, pretending to act distracted so it wouldn't be evident she was hurt.

"Here," Rodrick said, offering clubs to Richie and to Mark. "Let's do this."

Shea melted into the background as the guys worked. She snapped as many pictures as she could while the men struggled to successfully wrangle and move the snakes. Rodrick even managed to pick one of the smaller ones up with his hand (prompting a sharp, "be careful!" from his boss). Shea zoomed in to get a good shot, her eyes lingering on his hands. They didn't speak a single word to each other.

It felt unfair that they were strangers after all they had been through together. But, as Priya would say, that's life.

After the great snake incident, Shea's summer felt as normal as possible. She went to work and skillfully avoided most interactions with Rodrick (save for a handful of moments where she needed to ask his location and/or tell him to fix something). He would reply with as few words as possible and never acknowledged her "thank you."

Shea used her new fake ID from Maryland to sneak into bars in Chicago with her friends. She spent hours with Priya and Sam, whether they were hanging out at home or causing debauchery out and about.

When she was in Plainview, it was impossible to not think about Rodrick. During the Fourth of July celebration at the country club, Shea almost approached him during the fireworks show in the evening. It was such a magical moment—the warm July night sky ablaze with spectacular colors and shapes, the crowd around them watching in awe. Shea's coworker had managed to nab some champagne from the kitchen staff, and the two happily sipped contraband mimosas during the show.

But instead of the fireworks, Shea's eye was drawn to Rodrick. Rodrick, who was mindlessly watching the show with his back against the country club wall, the lights reflecting in his eyes. The alcohol gave her undeserved confidence, and she considered going up to him and saying hi.

Just do it, Shea, the mimosas tempted her. Just do it, and you'll know one way or the other if he feels the same way you do.

As she was about to approach him, though, Rodrick slipped inside the building and disappeared.

Shea didn't need her therapist to tell her she needed to do SOMETHING to resolve all this stubborn angst with Rodrick. Without alcohol coursing through her system, she was too chickenshit to corner him and talk to him—what if she made him uncomfortable? What did she even want to say? So, Priya suggested writing him a letter and putting it in his locker at work. That way, she would know he got the message and that it was okay to respond to her if he wanted.

It took forever for Shea to write down what she wanted to say. Every time she started the letter, it felt too dramatic. Or too understated. Or not an accurate representation of what she was feeling or what she wanted.

Priya, Sam, her brother Bryan, and even Ben all told her she was thinking too much about it and to just write from her heart. But what did her heart even want from all of this?

As time ticked down in August and Shea's days at the country club were numbered, she managed to scribe:

Hey,

I've been meaning to talk to you all summer, but I didn't know what to say. I wanted to tell you what's been on my mind since October before I left for school again.

I loved you. I might still love you. I don't really know. I guess that's why our break up still hurts.

I didn't want to break up with you, but I felt like it's what you wanted. I still don't know what went wrong. I've spent a lot of time thinking about it. I honestly thought we were going to be together forever.

I've heard through the grapevine that you've been struggling a lot, and I'm so sorry to hear that. I really am. I hope you've found some peace over the last several months, and I hope you're starting to feel better.

If you never want to talk to me again, feel free to burn this and go on with your life. But if you do want to reach out… I'm here. You know how to find me.

-Shea

It wasn't a work of art, but it got her point across.

She sealed the letter in a plain white envelope she found laying around her apartment. During an off hour, before the club opened to the public, she snuck into the employee locker room and slipped it into the cracks of Rodrick's locker.

Godspeed, little letter, she thought. And then, with a deep, calming breath, she went back to work.

It had been a few days since Shea had dropped the letter in Rodrick's locker, and the adrenaline of her boldness had worn off. Everyone she complained to—Priya, Sam, her friends from college, her dad, her brother—reminded her that she said her piece and now the ball was in Rodrick's court. But she hated the fact that she and Rodrick, once soulmates, were now strangers.

On her last day of work, Shea didn't do much of anything. Her manager Mark bought her lunch from her favorite vegetarian place down the road, and together they munched on sandwiches and veggie chips and talked about her plans for school. Shea would be entering her sophomore year at Towson University; she was registered to take a handful of education classes, which was exciting.

Shea would have laughed if you'd told her she'd be looking forward to going back to college, but she was definitely glad for a reprieve from Plainview. She told herself that, this time, when her plane took off, she would be leaving all of her negative energy behind. It was beyond time for a fresh start.

Mark let her leave work about an hour early. Shea took her time packing up the knick knacks on her desk and cleaning out her locker. The end of her work season always felt bittersweet, but this time, especially so.

She decided to take the long way to the parking lot by walking through the golf course in the sunshine. She had plugged her in ear buds and selected her "Tony Hawk Would Shred to This" playlist (full of glorious pop punk tunes). The sunshine was warm and welcome. Even if she never heard from Rodrick again, she told herself she would be okay.

As she was approaching the parking lot, already thinking ahead to dinner with her dad and his girlfriend, she felt something heavy clap her shoulder.

Shea yelped and spun around. She yanked the ear buds out of her ears and saw…

"Rodrick," she said breathlessly, her heart still pounding with adrenaline. As she caught her breath, her ex fully came into focus: he was panting, like he had chased after her, a light sheen of sweat on his face.

"Sorry. I was calling your name, but you didn't hear me," he explained.

"Yeah." Shea wanted to touch his arm to reassure him, but she quickly reminded herself he didn't belong to her anymore. She swallowed the lump of anxiety bulging in her throat and asked, "What's going on?"

"I, um," Rodrick took a deep breath through his nose and blew out the air through his mouth. "I read your letter. I'm sorry I haven't said anything sooner, but I just…"

"Just…"

Rodrick licked his lips nervously. Shea wondered if he had rehearsed what he wanted to say to her—she had imagined this conversation many, many times, and it was already off of her expected script.

"I was… am, I guess… depressed," he finally said, his cheeks reddening with the admission. He paused for a moment, as if to let her digest the information, and then stammered, "Everyone left, and I just… broke. I know how I handled it wasn't right, and I'm sorry. I really am. But trust me when I say everything that happened… it was all me, it wasn't you."

"You just stopped talking to me," Shea burst. She intended to sound more empathetic than she did, but all of her feelings from the last nine months were very suddenly bubbling over, threatening to take her over. "You gave me no choice."

"I know. I dug myself in deep. My therapist says I'm not good with emotions." He snorted. "Shocking, right?"

She forced a weak chuckle. "I'm glad you're talking to someone, though. Stick it out. It helps."

"I will. I mean, I am." Rodrick shifted the weight in his feet. "I know I hurt you, and you didn't deserve it. I'm really, really sorry for everything."

"I appreciate that," she said, and it was true. Finally, a sliver of closure.

"If you want, we could go out tonight," Rodrick offered, and her heart leapt with joy. "Have some dinner, catch up…"

Shea's heart swelled with hope, already envisioning them cozied up in a booth at home bar, nuzzling noses and laughing like nothing had changed. But, shit, she couldn't.

"I can't," she said suddenly; Shea watched the hope drain from his face. "I'm leaving tomorrow morning. I've got to pack and clean up and…"

"I get it," he said, looking a little wounded.

"I wish you had asked me earlier," she said honestly.

"I was nervous," he admitted, "but I'm trying not to be anymore."

Shea and Rodrick stood in silence. Around them, the sound of golf carts puttered by; in the distance, a whistle from the lifeguard blew. Despite longing for this conversation for nine long months, Shea was strangely sad now that it was happening. She guessed in the recesses of her mind that she hoped Rodrick would sweep her off her feet—maybe literally—and kiss her. They would go back to dating like normal and keep in touch throughout the school year.

But, Shea was now realizing, they couldn't go back to normal. And that was somehow harder to swallow than him not talking to her at all.

"I have to go," Shea said. "But I'm glad you're starting to feel better."

"Me too," he agreed. "Can I… Can I text you?"

She smiled. "Yes, I'd like that."

"Cool." His face was red, and she was sure it wasn't from the heat. "I'll see you around, Avril."

Shea barked a laugh at the old, inside joke. "See you, Gerard."

Later that night, just as she was crawling into bed, her phone vibrated with a new notification: a friend request from Rodrick Heffley. She couldn't help but smile as she accepted.