Nine years old
“You’d better be home before dark, missy, or I’ll have to keep you locked up all weekend, you hear?” my mama chided from the front porch of our small cottage, which sat among an acre of wildflowers and long-forgotten gardens and crops.
“I will!” I leaped down the stairs, jumped on my bike, and followed the dusty dirt road for a few minutes until I reached the entrance to the Burnell’s property.
They were technically our neighbors, though if I were to walk, it’d take me ten minutes to get there. Their farm was huge. Quinn’s daddy was a dairy farmer, and the fields were littered with livestock and hay bales as far as the eye could see.
Waving at Quinn’s mom, who was sitting on the porch with her book and a cup of tea, I rode around the side of their house until I reached the ladder.
Quinn had put it there a little over a year ago, making it easier for me to come and go when I pleased.
His dad wasn’t impressed and told him I should just use the front door. But then his mom gave him a look that had him affixing it to Quinn’s window so there was less of a chance for me to fall.
Sticking my feet in the rungs, I climbed and then stopped just as my head neared the top.
His window was cracked open, just enough for me to hear him gently humming something and the sound of repetitive whacking.
Leaning up farther, I looked in and saw him lying on his bed, his football flying over his head before landing back in his palm. Over and over.
I pushed the window all the way open. “Boo!”
“Knew you were there,” he mumbled without turning his head.
Tumbling to the rug on his floor, I tilted my head, watching him, before getting up and sitting on his bed. “Why so glum, chum?”
Taking the football from him, I frowned at it when I threw it and missed catching it.
“Butter fingers.” He chuckled, rolling over to get it from the floor beside his bed. “And I’m not glum. Just tired.”
I scooted over farther until my back met the wall and my legs rested sideways over his shins.
“Tryouts?”
He nodded, swinging those hazel eyes to me. “I don’t know if I’ll even make the team this year.”
Scoffing, I poked him in his hard stomach, making him smile. “You’re full of it, Q tip. You know you will. Just wait, you’re going to get drafted as soon as you get to Gray Springs.”
He hummed. “Better not, you promised you were coming with me. So I’ll be busy waiting for you.”
My heart leapt into my throat at hearing the familiar promise we’d made a few years ago when we barely knew what college was. In fact, if I was being honest, I still didn’t really understand it. I just knew it was where I had to go. “You’d better be.”
“You know I will.” He grabbed my hand, tugging it closer and peering at it. “Drawing in math again today?”
Confused, I glanced at my hand. He ran his finger softly over the charcoal smudges on my palm. “Quit.” I giggled, my face reddening at the fluttery feeling that erupted in my stomach from his touch.
He frowned as I tugged my hand away, but let it go. “What’d you draw?”
You. I didn’t say that, though. I had drawn many things over the years, but the easiest was always him. Mama teased me by saying that creating something was always effortless when the heart was involved.
“Frederick,” I lied, glancing away.
“Quinn! Daisy!” his mom hollered. “Alexis is here.”
I smiled at Quinn’s scowl, knowing he wasn’t in the mood for any company this afternoon, but he didn’t get a choice with me. Besides, we hung out so much that our parents joked about us becoming part of the furniture in each of their homes. So I didn’t think I really counted.
Alexis swung open the door, her dark brown hair pulled tight into a bun and her blue eyes glittering with her smile. “Hey.” She closed the door and took a seat on the floor, pulling out her homework.
We didn’t talk about it, but we knew the Brooks family wasn’t one that went unnoticed.
Alexis’s mom worked at the bar in town, and her dad stayed home, drinking away all her mom’s hard-earned tips.
Regardless, Alexis was popular at school. She was too pretty not to be. Sometimes, I got the feeling she hung out with us because we knew about her home life and didn’t judge. No, instead, our moms would send her off with snacks and a belly full of whatever meal she’d arrived in time to eat.
She could be a bit blunt, but she was our friend and always stuck up for me if someone tried to give me trouble and Quinn wasn’t around.
Shoving my glasses farther up my nose, I asked, “Math?”
Alexis groaned. “Yes. I swear, they taught us this crud last year.”
“Highly likely,” Quinn surmised, tossing his football into the air again.
Leaning over him to his nightstand, I tugged the drawer open and pulled out my sketchpad and pencil that I kept there. If they were going to be boring, I’d draw.
My mom always said that as soon as I could hold a crayon, I’d decorate any surface available. They chalked it up to me getting bored easily. I agreed, in a sense, but really, I just didn’t like to sit idle with nothing to do. I was never much of a reader or one for too much TV, so drawing and painting it was.
“Where’d you put that picture you made me last week?” Alexis asked a while later.
Glancing up from the smudged lines of the football I’d been sketching, I blinked. “What?”
Alexis stretched her legs out then crossed them again. “You know, the one you drew of me.”
“Oh.” I vaguely remembered slipping it inside one of her books at recess and told her as much.
Her blue eyes seemed to glaze over with sadness, her chest heaving with a quiet sigh.
“What’s up?” I asked. Glancing over at Quinn, I saw that he was sound asleep. Huh, he really must’ve been tired.
“It’s nothing.” She picked up her sheet of paper, inspecting the answers she’d finished. Alexis was smart, but she had to earn it rather than it coming naturally. She took school so seriously that one time Quinn told her it was only elementary school and to maybe take it easy while she still could.
She’d met his eyes with a hard look and told him that she’d be better equipped for high school if she wasn’t completely clueless.
That shut him up.
But I couldn’t let it go. Something about the melancholy that passed over her face had me wanting to discover its source. I climbed off the bed and took a seat beside her on the floor, the sound of Quinn’s soft snores filling the room.
Taking her hand in mine, I gave it a gentle squeeze. She eyed the stains on my hands but didn’t pull her hand away. “Tell me.”
Tucking her lip between her teeth, she met my eyes and said quietly, “My dad spilled his bourbon all over my English book last week.” My brows furrowed. I felt annoyed on her behalf. She continued, “You said you put the picture in one of my books.”
“Oh,” I breathed, wincing apologetically. “Crap.”
“Yeah, it was soaked, so I had no choice. Threw it right in the trash.”
“I’ll draw you another one.” I nodded eagerly, willing to do anything to erase the disappointment that radiated from her in harsh waves.
Her eyes watered. “You’d … you’d do that?”
I released her hand and shoved my glasses up the bridge of my nose again. “Ugh, I’m going to have to get these refitted.”
Alexis giggled. “In order to do that, you’d need to actually remember to ask your mom.”
I shrugged. “True.”
Smiling, she reached over to gently situate my new purple frames on my face properly. “I like these glasses. They make you look …”
“Smart?” I waggled my brows. “Mature and wise beyond my years?” Shoulders slumping, I murmured, “Or just plain stupid.”
I’d been getting purple frames for years. I knew I should stop it at some point because I wasn’t a little kid anymore, but I couldn’t.
“Never stupid.” Her smile was soft and followed by a wink. “But maybe, they do make you look smarter.”
Grinning, I breathed out a laugh, then quickly glanced at the bed to make sure I didn’t wake Quinn. “I’ll bring you in a new picture tomorrow. Okay?”
Alexis just stared at me, but after a moment, she threw her arms around my shoulders. We fell to the floor giggling until we heard Quinn’s mom, Amy, calling us down for dinner.
We both stood, and I looked at Quinn. “Should we wake him?”
Alexis looked over at him, too, then back at me with a smirk and swung her arm around my shoulders. “Nah.”