Grant
9
Completely Hijacked
Paint fumes drove me out of the house Wednesday morning. After running errands, I came home and saw Scott’s truck at the curb. A mower roared from the back yard. I put the groceries away, grabbed my iPad and a cooler with bottled water, and headed out to my swing.
My interest in Scott was hard to categorize. He’d moved here in eighth grade—short, cute, and shy. Today, he had the same dark hair and eyes, the same perfect features, the same dazzling smile. But he’d grown four inches taller than me and packed on lean muscle. Scott Fuentes was hotter than ever.
Although we’d had at least one class together all four years of high school, we’d never had much interaction outside of school. That is, until the night of my brother’s graduation party. I’d been a mess, and Scott had taken care of me so sweetly. Talking when I was tired of being silent. Dancing with me when I didn’t want to be still. Always nearby when I was out of sorts and couldn’t figure out what to do next. It became clear that I’d been wrong about Scott. He wasn’t shy. He was quietly observant.
Scott had earned my eternal gratitude that night, and I’d never told him. I wasn’t sure how to do that after all this time had elapsed, but I wanted to try. When he finished the yard, I’d find a way to thank him.
I opened my book and read with marginal concentration for the next half-hour, through the remainder of his lawn care routine. I glanced up a few times, but Scott’s goggled face never seemed to be looking in my direction.
The leaf-blower noise had been gone for several minutes before I felt a presence standing before me. I raised my gaze. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Scott smiled. “Are you waiting for me?”
I stared at him hard. What should I say?
“It’s an easy question, Sara. What’s taking so long?”
“I’m trying to decide whether to tell the truth.”
He laughed.
“Okay, I was waiting on you, but in a purely friendly, non-stalker-ish way.”
“So noted. Does this mean you’d like some company?”
“Yes, it does.” I scooted down the swing. “Want to sit?”
“Let me put away the equipment first.”
I pointed at the cooler near my feet. “I brought water.”
“Thanks.” He swiped the sweat from his face with his sleeve. “Be right back.”
I’d hardly gotten the bottles out of the cooler before he’d returned.
“When did you cut your hair?” he asked.
“Yesterday.”
“Looks nice.” He eased down beside me as he took a long gulp. “Do you sit out here a lot?”
“After my brother was diagnosed last summer...” I paused. Scott was wearing shades with reflective lenses, and I wished I could see his eyes. “Whenever I’d get upset or angry or just too sad for my brother to see, I’d retreat to this swing. It calmed me, as much as I could be.”
Scott took off his shades and hooked them into his shirt pocket. “Is this where you feel closest to Sean?”
“Yeah. We never fought in the backyard, like it was truce-land.”
“How often did you have to come out?”
“Not much at the end.” I shook my head, my throat aching. “He was really into astronomy. When we were little kids, we’d lie on the grass and stare at the sky. He’d tell me what we were seeing.” It was a lovely memory, filling me with peace. “I took your advice, Scott.”
“Always a good idea. Which part?”
