Eliza was their mother’s assistant in all things, from the administrative duties for Anne Lancaster’s charity work to assisting with the events themselves, as she was tonight. Now she regarded Julia’s mud-splattered knees and shook her head. “Lucky for you, your mother is dealing with the jazz band, who was also late. Better hustle.” She winked.
“Sorry, I lost track of time.” Julia raced for the stairs. Up in her room, she kicked off what her mother still referred to as her “play clothes” and ran into her adjoining bathroom.
In the mirror, a wild-haired woman-child stared back at her. Julia’s eyes were as dreamy blue as her mother’s but almond-shaped like her father’s: discerning, he liked to say. Her hair was another story. Blond and thick but prone to tangled rivulets, like the streambed she’d just abandoned. She swept it impatiently from her face with a brush, wondering if Sam was standing by the stream waiting for her right now. Or if he hadn’t come at all.
It wasn’t like they were an official couple, she reminded herself.But what she and Sam shared was so much more than what the other girls at school, who hadrealboyfriends, talked about. Those couples went to movies and out for pizza. Sometimes they went to a party, which meant dealing with beer and maybe weed. Sometimes they hung out at each other’s houses to watch Netflix, which was also code for alone time. And then there was the question about whether there’d be pressure to fool around and, if you did, whatthatwould mean.
Julia and Sam did not do any of those things. And yet lately, it was starting to feel like they did so much more.
It had started only one month ago. Sam Ryder was like any other boy from school, unremarkable in the way boys you’d grown up with since kindergarten were. By the time you graduated, you’d seen just about every boy pick his nose, fall down in PE class, or lose his lunch during the spelling bee. Sam was smart enough to take honors classes, though probably not as smart as she was. He played baseball. He was quiet. To be honest, she’d never paid him any mind. There was no reason to. Until Miranda Bennet opened her big mouth.
Julia had been sitting in the high school cafeteria with her best friend, Chloe, and some other girls. That week a new girl had arrived at Saybrook High, a lacrosse player, like Chloe, and Chloe had invited her to join their group lunch table. Miranda seemed nice enough, if a little loud and dramatic. Despite how much she followed Chloe around, Julia wasn’t worried. Theirs was an impenetrable friendship. It was well known that Chloe and Julia were like one. They didn’t do anything or go anywhere without each other. That day, when Miranda joined them at the table with her lunch tray, she let out a low long whistle. “Okay, so who is that?”
Julia looked up. Sam Ryder was making his way through the maze of lunch tables, headed for the baseball team table. His floppy hair hung across his eyes, and as he went past, he looked up at the girls and flipped it out of his view. He was wearing one of his typical checkered flannel shirts. But the breadth of his shoulders beneath was wholly new to her. It was like seeing him for the first time.
Chloe stirred her chocolate milk with her straw. “That’s Sam. He’s a sophomore, too.”
Miranda grinned at them. “Someone needs to introduce me. He’s hot.”
Julia was shocked to hear Chloe go along with her. “Pretty much.” Not that she disagreed with Chloe but because neither of them had ever discussed Sam before. How had she not noticed him?
As the other girls considered the shade of Sam’s blue eyes, Julia remained silent, studying his retreating figure. When had his shoulders gotten so broad? Had he always walked with such confidence?
Suddenly, Sam was everywhere. Julia passed him in the hall between algebra and bio. It turned out they shared a study hall, something she hadn’t paid any attention to before. He’d always ridden her bus, as they lived just a mile apart on Timber Lane, but usually, Sam stayed after school for sports. Now that the baseball season was over, he was back on bus two, and when he plopped down in the seat in front of her, she found she couldn’t take her eyes off his wheat-colored head of hair the whole way home. Worst of all, Sam, who had always smiled and said hello in the past, didn’t seem to notice her one bit anymore.
By the last week of school, during study hall, Julia couldn’t take it anymore. Summer vacation started in a matter of days, and who knew when they’d cross paths next. Before she couldsecond-guess herself, she rose from her desk and headed across the room. She’d pretend to get a piece of paper. Maybe a tissue. As she passed his desk, she glanced down. She didn’t need an excuse anymore. “Oh, wow.”
Sam looked up. There were those eyes, under that straw-colored flop of hair. He squinted. “What?”
“Your painting.” She indicated the small watercolor on his desk. “It’s… amazing.”
“Oh.” Sam sat back and regarded his work. It was a landscape of a green field, with a large hillside rising on the horizon. Through the peach-colored sunset she could see the faint lines of his original pencil sketch. “Thank you.”
Julia stood a moment longer, entranced by the watercolor. He was really good. “I didn’t know you were into art.”
Sam shrugged. “It’s just something I like to do. This is for my open studio final. I’m kind of behind.”
Julia stared at his lips as he spoke. Then caught herself. “When’s it due?”
Sam smiled. “Yesterday.” He didn’t seem concerned.
“Oh, well. Then I should let you get back to it.”
Sam nodded as if that was probably a good idea. Feeling suddenly awkward, Julia turned on her heel and made a break back toward her desk. She realized too late, after sitting down, that she hadn’t gotten herself either a piece of paper or a tissue.
On the bus ride home, she sat near the rear, knees tucked against her chest. When Sam boarded the bus and walked by, she hunkered down. He probably thought she was an idiot. Worse, maybe he’d forgotten about her comments altogether. To her chagrin, he sat in the seat right behind her, and he didn’t say a thing.
They were almost home on what seemed like a painfully long hot ride when Sam leaned into the aisle and tapped the back ofher seat. Julia almost jumped. “Did you recognize the view?” he asked.
Julia blinked, confused. She looked out the bus window. “The view?”
Sam shook his head and smiled. “No, dummy. My painting. Did you recognize it?”
“Oh.” Julia was taken aback by his playfulness. Before she could say anything, Sam reached into the leather portfolio between his knees and pulled out a flat board canvas. He tilted it toward her.
“Oh my gosh. Is that…?”
Sam nodded. “Your place, White Pines. It’s the view from my house.”
