“Plus you have me for company.” He grins, and I can’t help but smile back.
By the time we’ve made it to the stairs, I’ve laughed more than I have since we moved to Cypress Beach, and Bambi’s paws are dragging through the sand. I’m about to tell Ryan he’s welcome to tag along next time we walk, but as we reach the top of the steps, my attention’s drawn to the grove of picnic tables where I sat with Mati yesterday.
Today, I’m living an alternate reality with an alternate boy, and it’s a little disorienting. I turn on the spigot to let Bambi drink and end up spraying my feet with water.
Ryan chases my stare to where it lingers on the tables. “Did you want to sit?”
“No, thanks.” I fasten Bambi’s leash to her collar and say, “I should get home.”
We move down the gravel path, but I can’t resist a last look over my shoulder. My gaze lands on the table Mati and I shared and… There’s something sitting on top of it. A bit of folded paper pinned down by an egg-size stone, planted purposefully.
My fingertips go tingly. That piece of paper, thatmessage… It’s meant for me.
I stop, giving Bambi’s leash a little tug so she’ll heel. I make a show of patting my leggings’ nonexistent pockets through the knit of my long sweater. “Oh no,” I say. “I must’ve dropped my lip balm.”
Ryan turns around. “Do you have more at home?”
“Yeah, but this one’s my favorite. I’m going to check to see if I dropped it on the stairs.”
“I’ll help you look.”
“No, that’s okay. Go on ahead.”
“But—”
“Seriously. I’ll be two minutes behind you.” I give him anencouraging nod, praying he’ll cooperate. I can’t unfold that piece of paper with his peeking over my shoulder.
“You’re sure?” He knows something’s up—lip balm? who cares?—but it appears he might let me get away with my weirdness if I give him a gentle nudge.
I paste on a smile. “I’m sure. This was fun, though. Let me know if you want to walk with us again.”
“Yeah. See y’all later.” And then he turns and lopes away.
I feel a momentary pang of guilt as I hurry to the stairs. I’ve dismissed him, though he’s done nothing wrong. I’d like to make a friend my age, yet I just treated a super nice guy like he’s litter ripe for tossing.
Still, I don’t go after him.
I fake a quick search of the stairs (just in case Ryan doubles back), then hurry to the picnic tables. Bambi follows, mystified but up for adventure. My heart’s racing as I lift the stone and toss it aside. Clutching the message, I sink onto the wooden bench, praying it’s from Mati, hoping I’ve been granted a second chance, and then, carefully, I unfold the paper.
MATI
I said the wrong thing.
I must have,
because your manner changed,
and my heart stumbled.
I would take it back if I could,
but I wonder if it is
the quintessence of
me
which upsets you.
