- Conversation between Lola, age 11 and Roman, age 17
I shutthe lid to the laptop a little too hard and slump onto my back on the bed. “Ugh. There’s nothing. The next nearest orchard is over fifty miles away and the cost of transporting the apples would mean I may as well be buying them at full price.”
Skyler dips the paint brush into the can and swipes it along the skirting board. “You knew that already.”
I roll onto my stomach and plant my chin in my palms, watching her coat the grimy white walls of my apartment in a soft blue Henry had left over from his baby to be’s nursery.
“You don’t have to do this, Skyler. You’ve been here all day.”
She sits back on her heels and points the paint brush at me. “I’m getting apple fries, correct?”
I pull a face. “If I can find any goddamn apples.”
“If only you had a really close family friend who owns an orchard.” She gives me a look so dry I shrivel. “Oh wait, you do.”
I ball up the scrap paper I was using for my calculations and throw it at her.
It bounces off her forehead, but she remains unmoved.
“You are the least sympathetic person I’ve ever met.”
“It’s hard to be sympathetic when you won’t tell me what happened between you two.”
I open my mouth but she holds up a hand. “I get it, and you don’t have to tell me anything. I’m just saying, this isn’t the disaster you think it is. You have a solution.”
Skyler goes back to painting. I know she doesn’t want to be at her place right now, without Leda there, and secretly I’m glad she’s here because I don’t want to be alone after the message I got earlier. I haven’t heard back from Max and other than staying far away from roads and hiding out of sight I don’t know what to do.
But I still feel kind of bad Skyler’s spending her evening decorating my crappy apartment, so I climb off the bed and grab a second paintbrush.
I kneel down, starting at the opposite corner by the fridge so that we can meet in the middle.
I’ve only ever told Scott the full story of what happened the night of my eighteenth birthday. I couldn’t tell my family and although I was close with a couple of girls in my class, my name was already doing the rounds at school and I didn’t wanteveryone knowing the reason I went off with Carson in the first place.
The bristles of the brush whisper against the wall, the sound calming my senses. I watch the gray disappear behind the blue and I can’t help wishing it was that easy to paint over my past.
That’s one of the reasons I loved traveling. When I was out there, I went to a new place every month and I could start fresh. No one knew the mistakes I’d made. No one expected me to mess up. People got to know the me I was now. Not who I used to be.
I got the same thing with Skyler. She was new to town, so my name didn’t come with the baggage it usually does. Part of me wants to keep it that way but Skyler has shown me her messy. She trusted me with what’s going on with her and Leda. I moved into what is essentially a glorified storage room and she’s here helping me paint the walls in her free time.
Sure, it was good not to be judged for my past by people who didn’t know it. But what I really want is for someone to know everything, to know all my messy and still not judge me for it. I guess I had that with Scott, but I left him on the other side of the world.
I chew the inside of my cheek. I can’t tell Skyler everything that went down six years ago. I shouldn’t have even told Scott, but he’s been sworn to secrecy. I can, however, tell her what happened with Roman.
I dip my paint brush into the can, then scrape the excess paint off on the edge. It runs down the inside of the tin, rippling as it pools with the rest of the paint. “I’ve had a crush on Roman since I was eleven and he gave me a stuffed whale he won at the harvest festival.”
Skyler stops painting mid stroke and looks over at me. “Do you still have it?”
“The crush or the whale?”
She grins. “The whale, duh.”
I snort. “He’s called Spout and no.” I screw up my face. “I threw him away after the night that the thing happened.”
“The thing?”
I quirk an eyebrow and give her a bitter smile. “The big bad thing.”
“Ah, one of those.” Skyler nods and continues painting but her eyes darken in a way that makes me think she has her own big bad thing.
