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Me: Are you sure you’ll be okay without me? A text bubble with three little dots pops up immediately. Helen: Aren’t you on the plane by now? Me: There’s an emergency exit. Helen: You millennials and your theatrics. I lived through a war and never shed a tear. Me: That… that’s concerning, Helen.
The first thing I notice is that he’s taller than me, which doesn’t impress me much. Dad always says boys grow faster because their bodies need more room to hold all their stupid.
“Do you like animals?” “Um…” I glance at my dad, who gives me a reassuring nod. “I like cats. I have one at home named Cheddar.” “Why would you name your cat Cheddar?” “Because my cousin’s name is Brie, so that was already taken.” When he doesn’t laugh, I get all flustered and my face gets hot.
“But you can’t be disappointed when you realize I suck,” I point out. He runs his hand over my head, eyes filled with tenderness. “I’ll be proud of you no matter what you accomplish in this life. You lock that away in that pretty little head of yours, okay?”
“Uh… talking?” I whisper. “Whisper.” “Secret.” “Best friends.” He notices I’m no longer smiling. “What’s wrong?” “Um, it’s just kind of hard to come up with a word from that, I guess. I don’t have any best friends,” I explain. Ambrose turns back to the enclosure, smirking to himself like he’s in on some secret. He tears a blank page from his notepad and pulls an extra pencil from his pocket before handing it to me. “For now.”
I look away quickly, blinking back tears. Ambrose notices and concern quickly replaces any anger he carried just a few seconds ago. “Hey, talk to me.” His soft voice drapes over me like silk. “I have so many questions; things I need to know. Where have you been, how long are you here for—are you okay?” The back of his hand brushes against mine and just for a moment, I savor the feeling. Being touched by someone can feel meaningless until you’re touched by the right person.
“Take care of yourself, Mara.” Cuts. Cuts everywhere and I’m bleeding out.
“Before I forget,” I say, changing subjects, “my dad said he can take us to Lake Bonnie next weekend if you guys want.” Cat sighs. “We can’t. We’re leaving next week.” In only a matter of seconds, my body shifts into panic mode. “Leaving?” I squeak. “B-but you just moved here. Where are you going? When?” Ambrose places a gentle hand on my arm, his expression pinched with concern. “To Lake Tahoe. We’re visiting family. It’s not for good, we’ll be back in two weeks.” “Oh.”
When people walk away from me, I have a hard time believing it’s temporary. I watch their backs and pray with everything in me that the world won’t snatch them up and deposit them elsewhere. Sometimes I even hop on my bike and follow my dad’s work truck for blocks when he heads off to a construction gig,
I shocked everybody by licking the wall of the tree house for five seconds and Ambrose brought tears to our eyes when he admitted that the dumbest thing he’d ever believed was that stepping on a crack really would break his mother’s back.
I squeeze my eyes shut. The last thing I want to see is Dean’s mouth coming at me. I wait. And then I wait some more. I’m no expert in kissing, but I don’t think it’s supposed to take this long. There’s a loud scrape against the floor and my eyes fly open just as Ambrose grips Dean by the collar of his shirt, holding him away from me. “This game is over now,” he grits. None of us move.
“It’s not that I didn’t want to kiss you.” I stop moving. “I just didn’t want to do it like that.” My heart trips up. “Like… that?” “No, no,” he blurts out. “What I mean is, um…” Fingers rake through his tousled hair as he struggles to express himself. “I guess I just, I don’t expect you to—” He smacks his hand against his forehead.
Con amor para siempre. “What does it mean?” he asks, leaning in. “It means always reach for new heights,” I lie.
“Wait,” he says, reaching for my hand. When he lingers, my face begins to warm. Then he leans in and brushes his soft lips against my cheek, just long enough for me to inhale a breath. “That’s how I wanted to do it.”
There’s no way I’m washing my cheek clean tonight. You couldn’t even double-dog dare me.
The woman no longer stands in the driveway and the automatic light shut off, but I can make out Ambrose’s body angled toward my house. And he’s staring right at me.
Matty’s voice drifts across the yard before they get out of earshot, asking something that gives me pause. “Is that the girl you played Truth or Dare with?”
“Wait!” Ambrose calls. We pause at the doorframe. “You both understand where I’m coming from, right?” Cat’s spine straightens with confidence and I follow suit. “No. But maybe you can explain it to us when we’re older.”
Ambrose King dons a black jumpsuit with cardboard attached to his chest resembling a piece of paper. Ambrose came as paper. And he looks incredibly ridiculous. Reading my mind, he smiles in earnest. I take a mental snapshot, storing the image away for safekeeping. My mouth curves upward. “Nice costume.” “Yeah, yeah.” “What are you supposed to be?” “Very funny.” His hand shoots out to tickle my side and I squeal with delight. I flick the cardboard on his chest. “What will your friends think of you?” “I don’t know. But I realized I care what you and Cat think of me a lot more.”
I still don’t know what breed Cheddar is and I’ve had him for two years.” “He’s a Maine coon,” he replies with a grin. “And animals are easy. It’s people who are hard to figure out.” “Am I hard to figure out?” “No.” He shakes his head forcefully. “I know you like I know myself.”
“Mara,” I say. “Pretty.” We both go still. He looks at me in a way I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look at me before. Something blooms inside of me and I want to water it every day and let it grow because it’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever felt.
“It’s okay if you’re sad, Mara,” he whispers. “It doesn’t scare me.” I sniffle, running my hand down my face. “You aren’t alone. You have your dad and Cat. You have me. I’ll never leave you.” “You promise?” “I swear.”
He lies back down, resting his hand—palm up—on the side of my mattress. Not allowing myself to overthink it, I weave my fingers through his. It’s the first time we’ve ever done something like this and I’m suddenly convinced that my hand was made to fit perfectly inside of his. I don’t want to let him go. And I promise myself in that very moment that even after I fall asleep when he climbs out that window and breaks our physical connection, I never will. I’ll never let Ambrose King go.
“I don’t know… I just think it says a lot about him that he stayed.” Bony fingers interlock with mine. “Mara, after what happened between you two that night, he stayed.” His words suck up all the oxygen in the room. I start to pull away, determined to retreat from the discomfort but his grip tightens.
While I stand there like someone just threw ice water on me, Ambrose continues toward the car, flexing the hand that touched me.
“I saw the woman at your house. I guess I thought… I thought you were all… together.” His Adam’s apple bobs around his coffee. “You saw his mom. We were together for a while, but it got complicated. The same thing kept getting in the way.” “What?” Heated eyes bore into me. “Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.”
“Does he know as much about animals as you used to when you were his age?” “He knows more.” He purses his lips, considering. “But I still try to teach him something new every once in a while so he doesn’t think I’m completely useless,” he adds with a grin. “What are you teaching him about now?” Ambrose looks at me, a flicker of something resembling affection there one second and gone the next. “Hummingbirds.”
“You and I both know why you weren’t there today. Don’t play stupid, Anya.” Anya? Why does that name sound familiar?
Oooof
And it’s not until I’m twisting the key in my front door that I realize I just came face-to-face with Laura’s little sister.
“And I’m tired of getting picked on for the hair on my arms—” “Who’s doing that?” He frowns. My cheeks heat. “Amy Leeman.” For someone who rarely gets upset, I’m surprised to see his face reddening. “Yeah, well, Amy Leeman’s dad doesn’t pay taxes so she shouldn’t be saying shit.”
“Be kind. Be funny. Be interesting. That is where you will find your power.”
Cat takes a measured step forward, eyes narrowed in on Sasha. “You may have everyone in this town wrapped around your pretty little finger, but I see right through you.” Sasha’s face goes sheet white. “I would rather stab my eyes out with a hot poker than spend even ten minutes in your presence. You’re a big bully, Sasha Baker. But you’re an even bigger bitch.”
“I can’t believe you just did that,” I wheeze. “I know,” she says between breaths. “Don’t tell my mom.”
can’t stop the giggles that escape my throat. “What are you doing?” “I’m making you dance! This is how you’re going to remember me!” She pulls on my arms, whipping her head back and forth to the nonexistent music.
Oh no
“Why do people give up on the ones they love?” The question shakes me to my core. It’s one I’ve asked myself more times than I’d like to admit. “I don’t know. I wish there was an answer, but I’m not sure there is.” She gives a defeated nod. “Promise me something.” “Anything.” “Promise me we’ll never leave each other. No matter what happens, no matter how many fights we have along the way… we’ll never abandon each other.” I reach for her hand, wrapping her delicate pinkie around mine. “I promise.”
Oh no :(
Where she goes, trouble follows. That’s just how it is with Anya. So, trust me when I tell you to keep your distance. No use in spending time around the things or people in her orbit.” Her subliminal warning is about as subtle as a freight train. I return to working on the stubborn nails with a heightened level of aggression. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “And I’m Beyoncé. Don’t think I don’t see you staring at that house all day long, pining like a teenage girl.” My mouth drops open. “I do not pine.” “Honey, you pine. She pines. Hell, even I pine. That man is someone worth
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“I hear you, Laura. Ambrose and I are just… well we aren’t even friends. We’ve just known each other since childhood, that’s all.” Laura cackles as she descends the stairs. Then she stops, turns to face me, and barks out another obnoxious laugh. “That’s all.”
“I can’t get it,” he grunts. “Just leave it,” I beg. “It’s not that bad—ow!” He angles my palm to get a better view before lowering his hot mouth onto my skin. Then he starts sucking. A small gasp escapes me and his shoulders go rigid but he doesn’t stop. He sucks at the meaty part of my palm and the sight of his full lips around my flesh… Kill me now.
One drink doesn’t make us friends or anything if that’s what you’re worried about.” Ambrose’s eyes trail down the length of me. Down the slope of my neck and over the curves and dips of my body. He takes his time and my jaw goes slack. When he narrows in on the wet patch of tank top clinging to my ribs, his jaw hardens. “I don’t want to be your friend.”
“When did you meet Anya?” “Two years ago, when Matty was four.” He searches my face. “I hadn’t been in a relationship with anyone until her.” Something deep within me cracks.
“What will you do?” “Nothing we can do. No matter how much you love someone, you can’t save them from drowning. They have to love themselves enough to learn how to swim.”
I never saw myself doing this kind of work but when I… when I missed high school graduation, I spent a lot of time distracting myself on my computer before the fall semester began.”
“Slow Dancing in a Burning Room” starts playing on the jukebox and my eyes search the bar, desperate for a way out of my discomfort. Ambrose slips out of the booth and holds out his hand. “Dance with me.” “I…” He moves forward and weaves his fingers through mine. “Dance with me, Mara,” he says gruffly.
As soon as he’s gone, Cat shrieks into my ear about stopping by the mall first thing after school. I love how happy this makes her. The bell rings and I collect my trash, casting one last glance across the room. Everyone is gone except for Ambrose, who leans back in his chair, arms crossed. He’s watching me. And his eyes are as clouded over as the storm raging outside.
His tongue runs along the seam of his lips and his gaze drops to my mouth. “Have you ever been kissed, Mara?” I consider lying. It’s not like he’d know the difference. But I don’t want to. I’m not afraid of him, which is why I lift my chin and lean in closer. “Not since I was eleven.” Something in his face softens.
I knew I should have brought a purse tonight. I could have snuck a book in there.
“You should get back inside.” I hold up a hand, thrown by the emotional whiplash. “Wait a minute.” My laugh is hollow. “What the hell just happened?” “Mara, please.” “If you would just—” “Go back inside.” “—talk to me.” “I don’t want to talk to you!” The words are a slap to the face and I immediately stumble back. Ambrose’s shoulders fall. He looks defeated. Exhausted. “I don’t want to talk to you,” he repeats, barely a whisper this time. With trembling hands, I smooth down the bunched-up tulle on my dress. “Well, then.” My voice shakes. “Thank you for laying it out so clearly.”
Turns out Mr. Moinyhan was right. It’s not homecoming without a girl crying in a bathroom.
“Oh. Before I forget”—I pull out the magazine tucked into my back pocket—“my dad’s still getting his National Geographic subscription even though I’m pretty sure he tried to cancel it years ago. You collect them, right?” “I do.” Mild surprise flickers through his eyes before he takes it and starts flipping through the pages. “Thanks.”
“Then why is he grabbing you like that? Doesn’t he know how to use his words?” Anya glares at me, but it fails to overshadow the fear she has of the man towering over her like a predator. His detached gaze lands on me and I stiffen. “I can use my words,” he slurs. “I can do lots of things with my mouth. Wanna see?” Ambrose growls through clenched teeth, “Don’t you fucking talk to her. Don’t even look at her.”
