"Tay, get your ass out of bed!" Travis grabs my blanket and yanks it out from under me, effectively rolling me off my bed.

"Lord, what did I do to deserve this?" I mumble as I close my eyes again.

"Hey, it's Sunday. Don't use the Lord's name like that."

Sunday? I shoot up, practically vaulting myself off the floor. My church clothes are by my closet, and I miss them once before snatching them off the hanger and running into the bathroom to get ready.

"Dang, man, I think you broke a record," Travis comments when I come back into the room. "You didn't have to get dressed so fast, you know."

I know. But today is my shot at earning a date with Emori, and I want a head start. Plus, I want to look nice. Ma will drag me back into the house by the ear if I don't look nice enough for church.

"Whatever. How do I look?" I don't want to look bad, and it's not like I can see what I look like.

My hair tickles my head as it's ruffled and then patted down. Travis fluffs it up one more time then says, "You look like shit."

"Asshat," I say, shoving him. My left hand misses, though, so it feels more half-hearted. "What time is it?"

"Uh... Nine seventeen," Travis replies.

Good. Church doesn't start until ten, so we have a few minutes before we need to leave. I grab my phone from my bedstand.

"You're gonna describe the baskets to me, right?" I'm counting on Travis's help today. Maybe Emori forgot that I'm blind, or she has a lot of faith in Travis's ability to describe things. The latter is probably more accurate.

"Yeah. But it's up to you to be able to tell which is Em's." His footsteps shuffle around the room before stopping near the door. "Let's head to church. We need to if we're gonna get to sit down."

I nod and follow him downstairs to the truck.

Any hope we had of getting seats is immediately squashed when we pull up to the church. I don't have to see the inside to know that there are a lot of people. Travis spends enough time trying to find a parking spot that it's even more obvious by the time we make it to the seating area. The chatter inside is almost deafening, as well. This has to be the largest number of people that have been in this church in years.

It's hot, too. A few fans whir as they try to cool the room down, but it's unsuccessful. By the complaints and temper tantrums of children, I can tell other people have noticed as well.

Reverend Abel stands at his podium and raises his hands, calling for everyone to be quiet. "I know it's hot, so I'll make the sermon short today. The air conditioning is broken, and I apologize for the inconvenience."

Despite Reverend Abel's promise, the sermon ends up no shorter than usual. By the time it's over, my shirt is thoroughly soaked, and my hair is bordering after-shower dampness. I'm sure other people are experiencing the same thing.

Travis nudges me after we leave the church. "Hey, I grabbed us extra shirts to slip on. I hope you don't mind me borrowing one."

I shake my head. It will probably be a little tight on him, but I've borrowed too many of his shirts in the past to be annoyed. "That's fine. Thanks for thinking ahead." I try to pat his shoulder. "You can be smart sometimes."

"Ha-ha. You think you're so funny, don't you?" He grabs me and ruffles my hair.

The closer it gets to the start of the auction, the larger the pit in my stomach grows. What if I pick the wrong basket? I probably won't get another chance with Emori after this if I fail. The sound of the crowd is just as loud out here as it was in the church, and that worsens my anxiety. The smell of the food in the baskets surrounds us, and the fact that I didn't eat breakfast makes it nauseating.

After we get changed and the baskets are set up, Travis grabs me by the forearm and pulls me toward what I assume are the tables for the baskets. Travis goes down the line, describing them all to me, but none of them seem quite right.

"Oh, here's a nice one," Travis says. "It's a brown wicker basket with blue bows and blue trim."

"No, that's not it." My fingers brush velvety fabric, and I gesture toward the basket it belongs to. "What does that one look like?"

Travis is silent for a moment as he looks it over. "It's a beige-painted seagrass basket with white and red-checkered bows. It's a really simple one."

That's it. Emori once told me that beige is her favorite color because it's simple and underrated. Red was her father's favorite color. That can't be a coincidence. "This one."

"This one? Okay, man. I think I'm gonna go with the brown one I just told you about. Let's just hope you're right about yours."

If I remember correctly, the brown one is Lottie's, but I'm not gonna tell Travis that. At least I know it will probably be him that buys it and not some random person who might kidnap her. As unlikely as that seems.

A hand grabs my shoulder, and I whip around, ready to protect myself.

"Hey, guys. How's it going?" Emori asks.

I stop my hand from moving away from my side. "You'd best start being more careful. You almost got yourself smacked scaring me like that."

She laughs. It's bright and warm and makes me significantly less annoyed. I hate that it has that effect on me, even though it should make me happy. I don't want her to see how much I like her in case she decides she doesn't like me in the same way.

"You wouldn't smack me," she says.

The church bell rings in the distance, letting us know there are five minutes before the auction starts.

"Well." She clicks her tongue. "I guess that's my cue to find Lottie. Good luck, y'all."

The other basket take as long to sell as the choir took to sing their songs - way too long. Most of the baskets don't go for more than twenty or thirty bucks. I've put back about a hundred, but it's starting to look like I won't need that much.

Travis scores Lottie's basket and seems pretty happy about it. He only has to pay twenty-five dollars, which isn't the cheapest but is still fairly good compared to some of the others. Lottie is good at cooking and baking, so it's a good price, in my opinion.

"Well, here's a pretty one," Alan, the park ranger - also the auctioneer for today - says as he comes across another basket.

Travis nudges me. "That's the one you want."

Let's get this started, then. I'm prepared to go as high as I need to get this basket. I'm not giving it up.

"Who'll give me five bucks?" Alan asks.

"Here," I call.

"How about seven? Anyone for seven?"

"Here," someone else calls in the distance. His voice sounds familiar, but I can't quite place it.

"Nine?"

"Here." Someone else bidding against me isn't that bad. I can still get the basket.

"Ten?"

Here."

Who is that?

"That blonde guy is really gonna fight you for this," Travis says. "Damn. Do you think he knows it's Emori's?"

Some random blonde guy? Oh, hell no.

"Fifteen?"

"Here!" If this guy thinks he's gonna get away with this basket, he's dead wrong.

The number keeps rising, and my patience is beginning to run thin. By the tone of his voice, Alan gets more surprised each time the number raises past forty bucks. The blonde keeps going, and so do I.

Alan chuckles nervously. "Seventy-five?"

"Here." I still have twenty-five bucks left to spend on this damn basket. I'm not letting it go.

"Eighty?"

Everyone remains silent in anticipation. Not a word whatsoever.

"Looks like he's finally done," Travis whispers.

"Eighty going once. Twice. Sold to Mateo Perez Junior for seventy-five bucks!" Alan says before he moves on with the rest of the baskets.

I smile in triumph and send Travis up to collect the basket. As soon as I pay for it, Emori and Lottie show up.

"Hey, guys. Congrats, Tay," Lottie says. "Looks like you're with me, Travis."

Unlike what I thought would happen, Travis doesn't whine or complain as he follows her away. Lottie laughs as he makes a joke. It doesn't seem like it will go wrong.

"I guess you know me pretty well, after all." Emori laces her fingers through mine as she starts walking.

I grin and take off running forward, dragging her behind me. She gives me a little shove to slow me down as we come across a hill. Tree roots jut out of the earth, and I almost trip on one as I try to navigate them. "You know, it shouldn't be a surprise I know you well. I mean, we've been friends since we were little kids. I know we haven't talked a lot until recently, but I'd like to think I still know you."

"Friends. Right." She stops and takes the basket from me. Something makes a cracking sound in the air, like a blanket being shaken. "So, listen. I've been told you've had a... whatever it was - let's say crush - on me for a while. How come you never did anything?"

I rub the back of my neck. "If I'm being honest, I was shallow. If that crash never happened, I probably still would be, instead of who I've become." I sigh. Most days I just want to stay home and never get out of bed. It's hard to get myself to stand up in the mornings. Before the accident, every day felt so exciting. "You wouldn't have wanted that guy. Hell, think of all the girlfriends I've ever had. It's not exactly something I'm proud of. You're too good for that."

"Hmph." She's quiet for a bit as she arranges everything.

I'm starting to get worried. Did I say something wrong? Or was my explanation not good enough? Damn this woman and the way she makes me second-guess my words. Since the very beginning, she's made me question everything I know about myself.

My ringtone goes off. The crack of a whip.

Not funny.