“Big trouble?”
Another pause before, “I got grounded.” One more beat of silence then, “You went hiking?”
I glanced up at him and smiled. “I did. I went to Piedra Falls. I got roasted.” The whole thing had felt a whole lot farther than a half mile. I’d started bitching about five minutes in, at how thirsty I was and how much I regretted refilling an old bottle I’d found on the floor of my car so that I wouldn’t have to carry the entire gallon. I’d had a harder time breathing than I would have expected, but it was practice. So I wasn’t going to beat myself up too much about how much I’d been panting and sweating while going through a canopy of trees lining the trail.
But I decided I was going to have to start doing some other kind of harder cardio because, holy shit, I’d die doing one of the ten-mile trips I wanted to take—if I stayed and could.
After the shit show that yesterday had been at work, I wasn’t totally sure if things were going to work out… but I still hoped they did.
No one really missed me in Florida. They loved me, but they had gotten used to me living away for so long that I knew it had to be weird that I’d come back. My aunt and uncle had gotten used to living home alone, even though they’d accepted me with open arms and nurtured me back to a healed heart. Or at least a mostly healed one. My cousins all had their own lives too.
And my friends cared about me, but they had three thousand things going on as well.
“How’d you get burned?” he asked after another moment of silence.
“There was a couple there who had gotten lightheaded right at the base, and I hung out with them until they felt good enough to hike back to their car,” I explained.
The boy didn’t say anything, but I could see his fingertips tapping along the border of his Nintendo as I finished cutting through the leaf. “Sorry.” He was focused on his console. “About Dad getting pissed. I should’ve told him, but I know he would’ve said no.”
“It’s okay.” I mean, it wasn’t, but his dad already bitched him out, I was sure. Something could have happened to him if he’d rented the place out to the wrong person. But you know, I wasn’t his mom, and his sneakiness got me this place I liked, so I’d be a hypocrite to give him a hard time. “Did you get grounded for a long time?”
His “yeah” was so disappointed, I felt bad.
“I’m sorry.”
“He deposited the money into my savings account.” One slim finger picked at a hole in his sweatpants. “Can’t use it anytime soon though.”
I winced. “Hopefully your parents will change their mind.”
He made a face aimed at his console that told me he wasn’t holding his breath.
Poor guy. “I don’t want to upset your dad any more; I’ll let you get back to your game. Thank you for letting me get some aloe. Yell if you need something. I have the windows open.”
He glanced at me then and nodded, watching me head back down the deck and across the gravel toward the garage apartment.
I thought about Kaden and his new girlfriend for a split second.
Then I shrugged that loser off.
I had better things to think about. Starting with this sunburn and ending with just about anything else.
*
A week went by in the blink of an eye.
I worked—crashed and burned half the time was more like it—and slowly started to get to know Clara again. Her niece, Jackie, came in and helped a few days a week;, she was nice but she kind of just stuck to herself and listened to Clara and me when we had time between customers, and I worried she didn’t like me even though I’d brought her a Frappuccino and tried to share my snacks with her. I didn’t think she was shy from the way she spoke to customers, but I was still working on her.
Clara, though, was a good boss and worked harder than most people, and as much as I knew I was terrible at my job, I kept trying because she needed the help. No one new had come in to apply for a job while I was there either, so I was well aware that didn’t help.
I started jumping rope a little longer every day.
When I was “home” and wasn’t in the middle of reading or watching something I’d downloaded onto my tablet, I spied on my neighbors. Sometimes Amos caught me and waved, but most of the time, I got away with it. I hoped.
What I’d learned was that his dad, who I’d confirmed was Mr. Rhodes because I’d used binoculars and read the name embroidered on his uniform shirt, was gone all the time. Literally. His car was missing by the time I left, and he usually wasn’t back until seven most days. The teenager, Amos, didn’t leave the house ever—I only saw him on the deck—and I guessed that was because he’d been grounded.