Roses are red
Violets are…something that rhymes with sapphires?
Flat tire?
Bonfire?
This was bad. I scribbled again but then quickly scratched that out too. I decided I wasn’t great with the whole tortured love poetic thing he had going on, and I went in a new direction. I left the book propped against the tree and went home with this on the top page:
Roses of night
Violets on the ground
I don’t like to write
’cause words need sound.
That day started our slow friendship. He never had too much to say. It didn’t stop him from coming over and asking me to hang out every day. We’d mostly waste time. I chatted, stringing wishes together until we finally used the last one that spring brought. The best thing we did was pass that notebook back and forth. He always had something new he’d written, and I always had something sassy to comment back.
Things were routine until midsummer. The day started with a shopping trip with my friend, Bre. She was my only school friend, and I hadn’t seen her all summer. Even though we enjoyed each other’s company, our friendship had always been one of convenience in that we only had each other at school. Iwas one of those curvy girls who developed way too soon but then never stopped. Bre was small, like the runt of the runtiest litter. Our size discrepancy made all the mean kids refer to us as Pooh and Piglet. I don’t think I looked even close to Pooh, but Bre had these pale blue eyes. Plus, she appeared so timid all the time. I couldn’t help but think she resembled Piglet, and I was protective of her. I did my best to stick up for her, but most of the time that resulted in me being bullied. It was a lose-lose situation we tolerated—together.
“So, are you looking for anything special?” Bre asked before wrapping her lips around her straw and loudly slurping the remnants of her blueberry-lime Italian soda while we passed the decorated windows of the trendy boutiques on Main Street.
“Yeah,” I said thoughtfully. I had a budget that required me to use almost all the babysitting money I had saved. “I need some makeup and a new shirt. If I can find a pair of pants that doesn’t make me look like I’m stuffed sausage, that would be great, too.”
“Ugh.” Bre stuck her bottom lip way out and blew a stream of her breath up, making the tips of her bangs waver. For the record, I had told her not to cut bangs in the summer. I knew they’d stick to her forehead, but she hadn’t listened. “It’s too hot to wear makeup this time of year. Don’t you think so?”
“I want to try something new.” I smiled coyly. “Maybe try to look a little older.”
Shooting me a suspicious glance, she asked, “Are you trying to win Riley back?”
Almost shuddering at the mere suggestion, I firmly stated, “No.” Then I motioned to the salon on the corner. “I think they have makeup samples right in the front of the store.” Taking my lead, she followed me through the glass door. The air was now densely permeated with perfumed scents that tickled my nose. I scanned the displays along the counter, reading all the names of fruity lip-gloss. That’s exactly the thing I would have normallyshopped for, but today I strolled past this counter to the section of full coverage lipsticks. I carefully selected a peachy-nude matte color like the ones I always saw in fashion magazines paired with smokey eyes.
Bre didn’t join me in shopping for makeup, but instead loitered by the checkout stand, flipping through a magazine. “Look, you should read this one.” She held up one cover, flashing the headline at me. “The Top Ten Rules of how to be a Great Kisser.” She flipped it open, fanning through the pages until she found the advertised article. I didn’t reply, but she continued to read, “Number one, check that your breath is not offensive.”
I snickered, not because I had any experience with kissing, but that seemed like a no-brainer.
“Number two,” she read on, “once you have their attention, lean closer. Number three: close your eyes. Number four—”
I interrupted her, “Let me guess.” I paused, considering what would be the next most obvious thing. “Don’t burp in their mouth.”
She giggled, sticking her tongue out in disgust. “No, it says to make sure you tilt your head so you don’t bump into each other’s noses.”
“Psh, seriously?” I reached out, ripped the magazine from her hands, and replaced it on the stand. “That article is dumb. Who doesn’t know all that?”
“Ah, a girl who has never been kissed.” Her eyes were wide, possibly embarrassed. Which is the precise reason I’d taken the article away from her. I didn’t want to hear about all the things I didn’t want to know about. And besides, I had my makeup and was ready to leave.
When I walked through the door that night, my mom greeted me with her good apron on—the one with pink lilies. She usually reserved it for Easter or other important dinners. “Bertha had an accident.” Her voice was hushed. “She’s in thehospital. Everything’s mostly fine, but she has to wait for a hip replacement. Graham was up there all day, but I invited him over for dinner. The poor boy hasn’t eaten a meal all day.”
Her words sent a lightning bolt right through my ears to my gut that ricocheted back up, making my eyes round out. “Graham is coming here. Tonight?”
“Yeah.” Her eyes paced my face as if searching for clues, and she pinched her lips together. “It seems like you two are getting along. You’re meeting at the park every day.”
I hated it when my mom pinched her lips. Pinching told me she meant something way different than what was actually said. I could tell she was assuming, but she wasn’t one to ever come out and ask. We never had that kind of chatty mother-daughter relationship. To throw off her assumptions, I tossed an annoyed shoulder in her direction, trying to appear like I couldn’t care less. “He’s fine.”
Perfectly on cue, a rapid knock sounded on the front door, and my mom spun on her heel and called, “Come in.” The door slowly opened. Graham appeared, hovering on the threshold, unsure of what to do next. Mom made a grandiose gesture waving him farther into the house. “You’re just in time.”
He carefully closed the door behind him. “Thank you so much for the invitation,” he said without a hint of a smile.
