His Eyes - Renee Carter

His Eyes by Reneé Carter

This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.

His Eyes All Rights Reserved. Copyright © 2009 Renee Carter V1.0

This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

ISBN: 978-1-4327-4213-3 Library of Congress Control Number: 2009928547

Author’s Note Thanks to God for giving me the ability to write and to my parents for their unending encouragement to pursue my dreams.

Prologue His eyes, mirroring the blue of the Arizona sky, focused ahead. His muscles tensed as he felt the powerful movement of the black horse beneath him. He sat straight in his saddle, his dark jacket smooth, his breathing shallow with anticipation. This competition was harder than he had expected and he needed to win; desire pumped wildly through his veins. He knew his time was good and he had cleared eight fences without error. There were only two left. “High over the center, high over the center,” he whispered and began to lean forward. He watched as the square oxer fence rapidly approached. It happened in an instant. Ever so slightly, he felt the gelding twitch. Then the horse’s ears, which had been cocked forward, snapped back. He caught a movement out of the corner of his eye—the sand shifted. No, it was just a twig. No—a tan-toned snake! By the time the realization hit him, the horse had already planted his hooves and shied. He spoke quickly, “Easy, easy,” but the gelding panicked when the snake darted past his legs. The horse reared and flipped backwards before the rider could react. Time slowed. He saw the bright sky arc above him and he felt the rush of the warm wind on his skin. He heard the far-off screams of the crowd and sound of a body crashing to the ground...then his world faded to black.

Chapter 1 “I broke down and started looking for a job. I’m actually on my way to an interview. Don’t roll your eyes at me—I’m a girl, so I can multitask.” I stopped writing and glanced at the road, making certain it was as empty as before. Sure enough, there was nothing but a long line of pavement ahead. I looked back down at the piece of notebook paper I had pressed against the middle of my steering wheel. “Anyway, the ad said they needed a sitter for a boy to start ASAP. When I called, the mother sounded pretty desperate. She said I can work weekends now and do full time once it’s summer.” As I drove over a bump in the road, my old car radio gave a hiss of protest and fell into static. I frowned, holding my pen in my teeth, and jiggled the knob. The static grew louder and finally broke, giving way to the awesome power of The Who. Classic. My little ’89 Toyota Camry continued to bounce its way down the road. I tossed my letter onto the passenger seat and sang along. The sky overhead was bright blue and cloudless. I’d rolled down—manually rolled down—my windows to let in the breeze. The wind was surprisingly gentle for May in Grayfield, Illinois; I was used to driving in a gale force wind, which made me battle with my steering wheel. I checked the note written on the back of my hand, confirming that I was supposed to find “100 Edmund Road.” But, where was it? I hadn’t seen any houses on this street, only trees. In fact, I hadn’t seen a single sign of—whoa. I let off of the gas and stared, open-mouthed. The street led right to an impressive rod iron gate. This was a private road, which explained the lack of mailboxes. I pulled up to the gate opener and turned down my music in case guard dogs hated Roger Daltrey—not that I’d seen any guard dogs, but if I’d ever expected to see one, it was now. I hesitantly leaned out of my window and pressed a call button on the box. After a moment, the speaker on the gate opener crackled and emitted a female voice. “Hello. Who is it?” Balancing precariously out of my car to get my mouth close to the box, I shouted, “Hi! I’m Amy Turner! I’m here for an interview!” The gate gave a loud buzz and then swung open. I urged my car forward and onto the long driveway. The cobblestone caused my little car to jive side-to-side, but I hardly noticed because the sight before me was amazing. The house was huge, insanely huge—it was easily ten times bigger than the hovel my parents and I called home. Made of tan brick and glass, it was the epitome of modern chic with sharp angles and vaulted ceilings. I pulled up to the entrance, which consisted of a short staircase leading to a giant glass door, and winced as my car screeched to a halt. Stupid old brakes. Licking my dry lips, I left my car behind, taking the steps two at a time. Before I had a chance to ring the doorbell, the door swung open. I was disappointed when the person standing in the doorway wasn’t a suit-and-bowtie-wearing butler, but a middle-aged woman in khakis. I smiled, however, and held out my hand. “Hi! I’m Amy Turner.” The woman shook my hand. “Hello, Amy. I’m Mrs. Edmund. I believe we spoke on the phone?” “Yeah, that was me.” Mrs. Edmund stepped back so I could enter. I followed her through a vast foyer and into a den the size of one of my high school’s classrooms. I felt guilty with every step my dirty red Chucks took on the pure white carpeting. She offered me a place on a stiff, flower pattern couch. As I sat, she took a seat across from me and curled her hands into a nervous ball on her lap.

“So, you’re in high school?” she began. “Yep, I’m a senior.” “And you like it?” “Well, it’s school.” I laughed, but noting the worried look on her face, quickly added, “But I’m going to graduate soon. I’m going to college.” Mrs. Edmund offered a tentative smile. “Oh, where?” “Uh....” Less than two weeks from graduation, I should’ve known the answer to that question. The fact was, I was accepted to two colleges: Illinois University—big, public, cheap—and Evanston College—small, private, ungodly expensive. The first, my parents knew about and were thrilled. The second, well...that was my secret. I knew my parents could never afford it, but I’d taken out my savings to reserve my spot just in case, somehow, I could go. Their journalism program was to die for. I answered reluctantly, “Illinois U.” “So, you’re a serious person?” she asked, eying my shirt suspiciously. Maybe Led Zeppelin wasn’t the best choice for an interview, but it’s not like I’d known I would be babysitting in a place like this. I sat up straight and smiled disarmingly. “Yes.” “Good.” Mrs. Edmund seemed to come to the conclusion that I wasn’t a drug-addicted psychopath and nodded approvingly. She looked intently into my face. “How do you feel helping someone who’s blind?” My eyes widened in alarm and I choked, “What?” “Oh dear,” she dropped her eyes to the carpeting, “you must have gotten Friday’s version of the ad. There was a typo...the newspaper forgot the word ‘blind.’” Right. No biggie. “Amy, is that all right?” Mrs. Edmund prompted. I blinked, realizing that I’d forgotten to say anything. I tried to sound convincing as I replied, “Oh, sure. That’s just fine. How long has your son been blind?” The woman again looked at the carpeting. She explained, “Just two months. It was a horse showjumping accident... Tristan won’t talk to any of the specialists. Actually, he refuses to do much of anything. I thought if he had someone his age, just to coax him out a bit, that it would be for the best.” I squeaked, “He’s eighteen?” I heard the sound of two children giggling from down the hall. My throat tightened at the thought: exactly how much was left out of this ad? Noting my expression, Mrs. Edmund quickly said, “Don’t worry; I take care of Marly and Chris.” Her voice rose slightly. “You’re to stay in the kitchen, dears!” After the giggling retreated, she sighed. “Amy, I can pay you $10 an hour.” Watching a recently-blinded boy my age?! I began to shake my head. “I don’t know—” “$20 an hour!” Mrs. Edmund cried. “Please, you’re the only one who’s come.” I was probably the only one who hadn’t asked about the details ahead of time...but $20! I quickly did the math: $20 x 40 hours = $800 a week! $3200 a month! Insane. This was my perfect chance! With that much money, I would be able to pay for my dorm at Evanston! My eyes glittering, I said, “Yes, I’ll do it.” Suddenly, I heard little feet pounding down the hallway. Mrs. Edmund jumped up and yelled, “Please don’t bother your brother!” but it was too late. By the time we made it to the hallway, the two kids had dashed up a winding flight of stairs and disappeared around a corner. “Mom just got you a babysitter! She had to pay her a ton to stay!” When we reached the second floor, the little boy already had jammed his mouth against the crack under a closed door and was doing just what his mother had told him not to—of course. Gotta love little boys. He looked about nine years old and had a puff of blond hair. The girl, who looked about five, knelt next to him.

She looked up at me from under light brown bangs and promptly began sucking her thumb. Sometimes I have that effect on kids. “Chris, come now,” their mother said sternly. “I told you to leave your brother alone.” “Aww, Mom!” The boy looked up from the door, his face scrunching into a pout. “And Marly, dear,” said Mrs. Edmund in soft tone, “please take your thumb out of your mouth. Remember, we talked about how big girls don’t suck their thumbs?” Marly nodded and slowly pulled the offending digit from her mouth. “Christopher John, please go to your room,” Mrs. Edmund again addressed her son, who was busy examining me with sharp blue eyes. Chris dragged himself dramatically to his feet and, tossing a casual “Fine,” over his shoulder, and retreated down the hall. His sister scampered after him. Mrs. Edmund smiled and then turned to go. “I’ll leave you two alone.” Who? Me and the door? Yes, we were bonding quite well. I frowned and, before she could make her escape, I asked, “Uh, where is Tristan?” She laughed lightly, as if my question was silly. “Oh, he’s in there. It’s a walk-in closet. It has—” She stopped like the words had gotten stuck in her throat. After a moment, she managed, “Well, I’m sure Tristan will tell you. I’ll be back to check on you in a minute.” Why wasn’t that reassuring? I watched while she fled and then I turned back to the door. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, a nervous habit of mine, and placed my hand on the door handle. Tightening my fingers, I tried to turn it. Nothing happened. My mind sluggishly came to the obvious cause: he had locked the door. He had locked the door! I was supposed to be babysitting an eighteen-year-old blind, rich kid and he had locked himself in a closet! Honestly. I remembered once having to coax a little girl I was sitting out from under her bed in order to give her a bath. It had taken an hour and an Oreo cookie. That wasn’t such a comforting memory, but I did exactly what I had done with her—well, minus the cookie—I sat on the floor and began to talk. “I guess you’ve heard about me. I’m Amy Turner. Listen, why don’t you come out so we can meet properly?” I paused, but there was no sound, not even a rustle, from inside. Apparently my power of persuasion hadn’t miraculously improved. I shifted so my back was against the door and, with a dull thud, rested my head. I continued, “If you want, I can just sit here.” Suddenly, something hit the door hard enough to make a loud bang! and scare me half to death. After my heart had fallen back into my chest, I yelled, “Hey, your choice! Your mom’s going to pay me either way!” “Get back!” The shout sounded so close that I jumped again. I scrambled away from the door just in time, as it came swinging open. The figure of a teenage boy towered over me. Sandy blond hair brushed down over black designer sunglasses. With one hand he gripped the doorframe and, with the other, he reached out uncertainly into the air. Before I had a chance to do anything, he took a step forward and tripped on my beloved sneakers. To my ears, his crash to the carpet was deafening. But, amazingly, no one came running. He lay still. The thought flashed through my mind that I’d killed him. Killing a blind person; there’s a quick ticket to Hell. I scooted forward and gasped, “Tristan, I am so sorry!” My brain slowly registered that I must have merely injured his pride because he was breathing steadily. He didn’t speak, but his hand reached out and patted along the floor. Seeing that his glasses had fallen nearby, I picked them up and pushed them against his hand. He snatched them from me and, rising, turned his head away while he pushed them back on. He growled, “Get away from me.”

I made a fumbling attempt to catch his hand and offered, “Let me help you to your room.” Feeling my movement, he leaned away from me and sneered, “Do you even know where my room is?” I stood, dumbfounded, while he walked slowly down the hall. He braced his hand tightly against the wall and paused at the corner, grasping onto the point. Then he was gone. A moment later, I heard a door slam shut. I continued to stand still, feeling completely humiliated. Why had I taken this job, again? Sensing my thoughts, or perhaps because of the door-slam, Mrs. Edmund appeared. She tried to smile. “Oh, Tristan will come around. I’ll talk to him tonight. Why don’t you come back in the morning?” My expression blank, I nodded in reply. Sure, everything would be better in the morning. This wouldn’t be such a bad job. The first day is always the worst. Of course, this wasn’t a day...it was barely even ten minutes. I pulled my fingers through my hair and sighed at the thought. As I exited the home, a strong wind smacked me in the face. But who believes in omens, anyway? *** After turning off my car, I sat for a minute and stared at my family’s home. It stood in all of its chippedsiding, ranch-style glory. Compared to the Edmunds’, our house was like a little box. Funny—I hadn’t noticed before. I shrugged, grabbing my purse and my crinkled letter from the passenger seat. As I walked up to the front door, I could already smell patchouli incense burning. “Amy! Is that you?” Who else would know that our house would be unlocked in the middle of the afternoon? I laughed as my mom skipped from the kitchen, a paintbrush in one hand and drips of yellow down her arms. Her dashiki dress was coated in an array of colors already dried and flaking off of the cotton like rainbow snow. Her hair was in a loose braid that she’d tossed over one shoulder. Quickly stuffing my letter into my purse, I asked, “You redecorating?” “Of course.” She kissed me and I could feel wet paint smearing onto my cheek. “Next Friday is the anniversary, so I’m adding a sun to the wall in the living room. The house has to look nice for your brother. ” Charlie. My older brother who’d left home right before his high school graduation and had never settled down. Supposedly that was his big act of rebellion. I knew from the letters he secretly sent me that he was okay, but he wasn’t ever coming back to Grayfield. No way. No matter how many times Mom set a place for him at dinner. But she didn’t want to believe it. “Sure,” I said and offered her a smile. “How’d your interview go?” I winced and tried to slide past her, toward my bedroom. “Oh, good... Uh, I got the job and....” Every way I thought of describing what I’d agreed to sounded awkward, but I plowed ahead anyway. “He’s blind and my age.” She cocked her head to the side. “The boy you’ll be sitting?” “Tristan. Yeah.” I nodded. “I’ll be taking him places, hanging out with him, that kind of thing.” Without a moment of hesitation, my mom smiled. “Oh, a new boyfriend. How wonderful, Amy!” I clenched my teeth. “That’s not what I—” “Do you think this yellow is too daffodil for a sun?” Mom was already distracted, frowning at the tip of her paintbrush. With a hand on my purse, I said gently, “Let me put this in my room and then I’ll help you paint,” before slipping past her. I love my mom to death—I really do—but she’s always had this ability to live one step away from reality. One step away where she can believe in the romantic dream that Charlie will come home and rave about her newest mural. If I could bottle that kind of optimism, I’d be set for life.

Chapter 2 Buzzing along in my Camry the next morning, I could see the sun lazily poking its head out from behind a puffy gray cloud. I squinted at the sky and willed the day to be bright. My moccasins—I’d indefinitely grounded my Chucks to my room—pressed on the gas. It was nearing 11:00 a.m., so I still considered it morning, but I hoped my new employers would agree. Just as I pulled up to Edmunds’ gate, it swung open. I found this pretty alarming and I fairly flew from my car to the front door. Chris stood in the doorway and said too nonchalantly, “Mom’s waiting in the den.” “Thanks, kid.” I brushed a hand over his invitingly-fluffy head when I passed. I heard him stomp his foot and whine, “Hey,” but I was already plastering a large smile on my face as I met an anxious Mrs. Edmund. I began, “I’m sorry. I should’ve come soon—” “Oh, that’s fine.” Her smile wavered and she gestured toward the couch. “Why don’t you have a seat?” I did and she continued, “I spoke with Tristan. He can be very stubborn. He’s set against you, I’m afraid. He was the same with everything else, the specialists and books and all....” I frowned. There was no way I was losing my chance at Evanston over some brat! “Wait. You mean, he’s been blind two months and he hasn’t learned how to adapt at all? He’s just been moping around here?” Mrs. Edmund shifted uncomfortably. “Well, he is an adult....” “Then he shouldn’t be allowed to weasel out of things like a child!” I said a little too enthusiastically. Checking myself, I spoke firmly, “Just this once, don’t listen to Tristan. You hired me for a job; let me do it.” “You want to baby-sit my brother? What’s wrong with you?” Chris asked, leaning into the den from the hall. I shot eye-daggers in his direction. “Christopher John, this doesn’t involve you!” snapped Mrs. Edmund. Once the little imp had moved from view, she said slowly, “I think you have a point. Even if you just sit with him, he won’t be alone....” “Great!” I jumped to my feet before she had a chance to change her mind. “Where is he? In the closet again?” “No,” grumbled Chris, who stood in the hallway with his arms crossed, “he’s in his room ‘cause he thought you wouldn’t come back.” I followed him while he headed toward the stairs and mused, “So, the closet stunt was because of me?” I could feel the boy rolling his eyes. “No. He does that whenever he’s mad or depressed—which is a lot. ” This kid knew quite a bit. As I climbed the stairs, I wondered how else he could help me with Tristan. Chris and I passed the infamous closet door, which was once again closed, but still gave my stomach the nauseous feeling. We turned the corner where I’d seen Tristan disappear. Chris stopped at a doorway down the hall and waved his hands frantically, as if I wouldn’t realize whose room it was. Suddenly feeling like I was intruding, I tiptoed up to the doorway. Glancing down at Chris, I pointed inside and mouthed, “Are you going in?” The boy’s face split into a malicious grin and he swept his head back and forth in a resounding “No

way!” I glared at him and, still trying to keep silent, peered into the room. Tristan’s bedroom was easily three times the size of mine. Leaning solemnly against the wall to my right was a white cane—the long, skinny kind that I’d never before thought of belonging to someone my age. There was something barren about this room. The glaringly-white walls didn’t have a single picture—who doesn’t have any decorations on their walls? His bed was a king-sized black monster whose head rested against the left wall and whose feet protruded into the room. I was so overcome by its size that I didn’t initially realize that there was a body lying on it: Tristan’s body. In one moment, my breath caught—he must have seen me staring!—and, in the next, I nearly laughed at the impossibility. Then I felt guilty for thinking such a rude thing. Tristan was lying on top of the comforter with his back propped up by pillows. He was breathing steadily, so I deluded myself into thinking that he was asleep. With this belief, I calmly slid into the room and observed him more clearly than from my previous on-the-floor vantage. He was dressed nicely enough, with a black t-shirt and expensive-looking jeans. He was like a statue of an Abercrombie & Fitch model...not that I was ever one to lose it over a guy’s looks. For no reason at all, I wondered if he smelled good. Then the statue seethed, “It’s you, isn’t it?” and the innocent thought was smashed hard and ground into the floor until it was nothing more than a smudge. I jumped, literally jumped, about three feet into the air. His head turned with horror-movie slowness in my direction and I did the first thing that popped into my head: I waved. I waved at him, a blind person—I waved at a blind person! And what happened? Nothing. Of course, nothing. I moved onto plan-B, talking. “Actually, my name is Amy.” The head returned to its forward-facing direction and made no reply. I swallowed and looked around the room for something to spark a conversation. Facing me was a large desk, which only held a small stack of books and CDs. They appeared untouched and the topmost book read BRAILLE in large, bold letters. I asked, “So, you’re learning Braille?” Silence. “Well, yeah....” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Are you thirsty? I’m thirsty. I’m going to get something to drink, all right?” Predictably, he didn’t reply as I made my quick, awkward retreat from the room. Chris stood in the hallway, bent over in a fit of silent laughter at my plight. I clamped my fingers onto his shoulder and pulled him toward the stairs, hissing, “We have to talk. I’m assuming you know where the kitchen is?” Chris led me through the foyer which opened into the kitchen. The kitchen was beautiful and immense...of course. It had a wall of cedar cabinetry, a large marble topped counter to the left, and stateof-the-art appliances in brushed silver to the right. Without noticing any of this, Chris wrenched from my grip and, while making a futile attempt to keep the grin off of his face, asked, “What do you want?” “I want—Do you have any pop?” I gestured toward the refrigerator and he nodded. “I want you to tell me about Tristan. I mean, as appealing as sitting in silence all day may be, there must be something he’ll want to talk about... I take it he’s not in school anymore?” “No.” Chris handed me a Coke. “Mom let him stay out. I think the doctor gave him a note or something. ” I took a sip from the can and cocked my head to the side. “Hey, what’s inside of the closet?” “Oh, all of Tristan’s old stuff: posters, books, music, computer... Mom put it all in there after the accident.” That explained the emptiness of his room. I swallowed hard and shuddered. How terrible! He was sitting in that closet all alone, with his stuff around him, collecting dust. I recovered awkwardly, “Well, um, can you think of anything for me to talk about with him?” “Horses.” The tiny voice came suddenly from behind me. I turned to see the wide-eyed figure of Marly.

She was staring intently up at me and repeated, “Horses,” before popping her thumb into her mouth. “Horses, okay.” I turned back to Chris. “Your mom said Tristan went blind from a horse riding accident?” The boy nodded. “Yeah, he used to ride all the time. There’s a place near here. It’s called, um...Legacy Stables. Aeris is still there.” “Aeris? He owns a horse?” I gasped. “Yup, but Trist hasn’t ridden since—you know.” Chris shook his head and said, “And I wouldn’t try to get him to ride.” “Okay, but maybe I could just bring him there to, I don’t know, hang out?” I raised my eyebrows at Chris, who shrugged skeptically at the idea. “Don’t suppose you know how to get there?” “Get where?” Mrs. Edmund walked out from the living room, a magazine tucked under her arm. “Legacy Stables. I thought Tristan and I could go there—someplace familiar.” She frowned, but nodded slowly. “If you think so, dear. The accident happened out of the state, so there shouldn’t be any bad memories...but just getting him out of this house would be a miracle.” “A miracle?” I laughed. “Well, I’ll try my best.” “All right. Now, just let me find a pen....” Chris, seeing his mother busy opening and shutting drawers, gave me a sneaky look and dashed toward the stairs. “Hey! Where are you going?” I shouted, but he didn’t look back. Mrs. Edmund fished a pen out of a drawer and began to hurriedly scrawl directions onto a small notepad. She sighed. “After everything that’s happened, Chris has been working extra hard to get Tristan’s attention. I’m sure gossip about you is doing the trick.” Weird, I never was the girl who everyone gossiped about. I didn’t usually attract that much attention, positive or negative, and I couldn’t help but wonder what Chris was saying about me. Taking the directions from Mrs. Edmund, I sprinted up the stairs and down the second floor hallway. When I turned the corner, I faintly heard a male voice. Realizing that Tristan was talking in his room, I pressed myself against the wall and crept up to the doorway. The voice stopped and was replaced by Chris’s higher tone. “I dunno. She looks okay for a girl, I guess.” I rolled my eyes at the comment and leaned closer. “Her hair’s kinda long, longer than her shoulders, and it’s curly at the bottom. It’s the color of, um, caramel.” Caramel? That was a new one. I’d never really liked my hair. It was neither red nor brown and it also couldn’t decide whether to be curly or straight. One thing was for sure: my hair never ever wanted to cooperate. For years I fought against it using the strongest sprays and the hottest irons. The result? I’d surrendered and basically let it do whatever it wants. “What about her eyes?” Tristan asked in a calm voice he hadn’t used with me. “I dunno, Tristan!” Chris whined. “She’s ‘okay’? You’ve got to give me something better to go on than that!” he growled. I smirked. That was more like it. “Fine. I’ll go look,” the boy grumbled. “She’s probably up here, anyway.” “No! Wait!” Tristan yelled. As I greatly doubted Chris’s ability to listen to anyone, I charged back down the hall, scrambled around the corner, and quickly positioned myself on the stairs as if I’d just made it up. In the next moment, my suspicion was confirmed when Chris found me panting, with a death grip on the railing. He gave me a look like he thought I was crazy and asked, “What’s wrong with you?” I gulped air and snapped, “Nothing!” Chris raised his eyebrows, “Okay,” and squinted to get a good look at my eyes. He then disappeared down the hall to report to his brother the dark blue color he’d seen. I slowly made my way back to Tristan’s room, so that Chris was leaving before I reached it. The kid had

the nerve to whistle casually while he walked past me, but I resisted the urge to throw my shoe at him. I found Tristan lying calmly on his bed as if he hadn’t done a thing since I’d left. Taking two bounding steps into his room, I landed, with a bounce, in a sitting position on the edge of his bed. Entrances are important. Startled, Tristan gasped and his head snapped to face me. “What the?” I said with fake enthusiasm, “Your mom’s downstairs, so I guess we could fool around...” It was Tristan’s turn to look at me like I was crazy, but at least I knew he was listening. “...or we could go somewhere.” He gave a short, humorless laugh and said sarcastically, “Sounds great.” Why couldn’t he just play along? I folded my arms and said, “You know, Tristan, this is just pathetic. When was the last time you left your house?” His face hardened at my words and he spat, “I’m pathetic. Yeah, thanks for the morale booster. I can tell why my mother’s paying you as much as her shrink.” I felt a familiar cold shower of embarrassment, but I shook it off and replied, “Well, if she’s going to get her money’s worth, we’d better hit the road.” I stood up and watched him. I wished that I could see him without his glasses, so I could tell what he was thinking. There was a long, long moment of awkward silence. I nearly passed out from holding my breath. Then Tristan abruptly climbed off of the bed and stood. I hesitated, wondering if he would let me lead him, but he began walking on his own, with one hand outstretched. I moved out of the way and followed him while he progressed down the hall. When he came close to the landing, I asked, “So, you’re okay with stairs?” Lots and lots of stairs winding in a circle?! “I’ve gone down these stairs a million times,” Tristan said sullenly and began his descent. He gripped the railing tightly and tested the distance of each stair with his foot, but he made his own way down. He scared me nearly to death, but he made it. If it was me? If I was blind...man, I wouldn’t have been a pretty sight on those stairs. Once Tristan and I were in front of my Camry, I smiled proudly at my little car and proclaimed, as much to it as to him, “We’re here!” before opening the passenger door. Feeling along the doorframe, Tristan was able to slide inside. I shut the door and hurried around to my side. I turned the ignition and Sting’s voice immediately flowed from the speakers. “What are you listening to?” Tristan yelled over the music. I grinned wickedly. One dose of music education coming right up!

Chapter 3 “This is Sting, when he was in the band The Police, back in the 70s. You know, Roxanne, Every Breath You Take? And then he went solo in the 80s....” I looked over to see if Tristan was listening, but his hands were busy inspecting my car. He stopped, probably realizing its truly sad state, at the foam-deep tear in his seat. It was a war wound from the post of a scarecrow my mom had impulsively wished to liberate. Really. As my Camry flew over a bump, Tristan braced against the door. I laughed, “Come on, you’ve ridden in a car before.” “This isn’t a car,” he grumbled. “This is how a Hotwheels feels when Chris rolls it down the stairs.” “Oh yeah? Well, what kind of car do you have?” Eh, probably not a good question, I realized after the words had left my mouth. “Great therapist,” he said sarcastically. I saw how his face tightened and I wondered if I’d pushed too much. Expecting no further response, I looked back at the road and startled when he said in a low voice, “Mercedes-Benz Cabriolet.” I had no idea what that was, other than it sounded expensive. I fumbled, “It must be nice.” He shook his head and scoffed, “You don’t even know.” “Hey, I didn’t mean to—” I began, but Tristan turned toward the window. Feeling uncomfortable with the music, I hushed Sting and we rode in an awkward silence. None too soon, I saw a large sign looming over a hill. In large, curling letters it proclaimed: Legacy Stables. The road was lined with trees and they gave way to acres of lush green. The grass was blocked off by white wooden fences and surrounded by woodchip paths. Beyond all of this, the pale blue stables were silhouetted against the sky. I pulled into the parking lot and turned off the engine. While I removed my seatbelt, I felt Tristan’s attention on me. I pushed a strand of hair behind my ear as he asked, “Where are we?” I hesitated and then blurted, “Legacy Stables.” He turned toward me and I swore he was glaring. He said coldly, “No.” I looked around the parking lot. There were only two other cars. I crossed my fingers and lied, “Listen, there’s no one here. We can just pretend it’s a park and sit on the grass or something.” Tristan frowned, disbelieving. “No one? On a Sunday?” I winced, but how would he know the difference? “Nope.” While he climbed out of my car, I hurried around it and I stood in front of him. “Wait.” Hearing my voice, Tristan adjusted his steps so he wouldn’t walk into me. Again, I moved in front of him and now I pressed a hand against his chest. He jumped at the contact and stopped, like I hoped he would. I said, “Listen, we have to figure this out. I mean, it’s practical for you to use me; I can see and you can’t.” Catching my drift, Tristan folded his arms. “I’m not holding your hand.” I rolled my eyes. I wanted to yell “Yeah, well, I’m not attracted to you either!” Instead, I snapped, “Can you handle holding my arm?” I thought I saw a smirk briefly on his lips. “All right.” I made my arm into an L-shape and caught his outstretched hand. His hand felt warm as his fingers

wrapped around my left bicep, slightly above my elbow. Thankful that he couldn’t see my red face, I took a step forward. There was an awkward moment when his arm jerked at my movement; then we matched each other’s pace. But, oh did I feel weird. What kind of girl has a guy holding onto her arm? Honestly. We walked across the parking lot and onto the grass. I veered away from the sidewalk that led toward the stables and walked parallel to a white fence, heading up a gentle slope. I stopped at the top of the little hill, which overlooked a broad pasture. Tristan removed his hand from my arm and I plopped onto the soft grass. He hesitated before lowering himself next to me. I lay on my back and sighed as I looked up into the blue sky. The sun had decided to come out, after all. “This is nice.” Tristan propped himself up on his elbows. “It’s better than my room, I admit.” I rolled onto my side, facing him. Encouraged by his relaxed tone, I said, “You know, I heard your brother describing me. He didn’t do a very good job.” He gave a short laugh. “So, describe yourself.” There was nothing I hated worse than talking about myself. “Ugh, no.” “Well, some people can’t.” Tristan nodded smugly. I glowered. “Okay, I’ll describe myself: I’m a girl. There. Your turn.” “Let’s see... I was a champion show-jumper. I had the life everyone wanted. But I lost it all, piece by piece, and now even my old ‘friends’ won’t call me because I’m a loser.” Maybe that was a bad question. “Oh. Um, your family seems nice,” I said. “Well, I haven’t met your dad.” Tristan pushed his sunglasses up on his nose and said simply, “Maybe that’s ‘cause he died last fall.” Me: 0 for 2. My mind blanked and I curled my fingers into the grass. “I-I’m sorry.” Silence, my arch nemesis, returned. He danced around, making mocking faces at me, until I felt completely uncomfortable. Suddenly, I heard sounds of approaching hoof beats and my heart began to pound along with them. I saw Tristan’s face go pale with realization. He turned to me, his voice taut. “You have to hide me!” I gasped, “What?” “Cover me!” When I froze in confusion, his hand gripped my arm and pulled me roughly on top of him. My breath caught and I braced my palms against the ground just in time to keep my head from colliding with his. Because I was inches above him, my hair cascaded down around his face. I could see my panicked eyes reflecting in his dark lenses. I heard the horse stop near the fence below. The rider, obviously looking up at us, mumbled something like, “Get a room,” and then yelled, “Hey, this is private property! You can do that someplace else!” I felt Tristan wave at the person and, after a tense moment, the hoof beats receded. Tristan’s hot breath brushed my skin. He smelled like an intoxicating mixture of cinnamon and sandalwood. A strange shiver ran down my spine and I was caught in the realization of how close my face was to his. Then I was caught without breath when he shoved me off of him and my back hit the ground. He snarled, “That sure seemed like no one! That was Kristy Whitton. She’d love nothing better before the rehearsal than to tell all her little friends at Clarence how she saw me: ‘He really is blind! He was even being led around by some girl!’” Wait...rehearsal? Curiosity brought me out of my embarrassment. “You’re graduating?” “Yeah, next Friday.” Tristan gave a humorless laugh. “In other words, I was short a few credits, but good ol’ Mom bought all of the school board members new Beemers and, voilà, I get a diploma. This is my world,” he climbed to his feet, “and I’m going home.” While Tristan towered over me, I expected him to charge away, but he didn’t. It took me a second to

figure out why: he couldn’t find the car. He was standing there, fully indignant, but he couldn’t leave. To my eyes, he suddenly appeared less imposing. I stood up and realized that he wasn’t even that much taller than me, maybe a half-foot over my 5’5”. Feeling empowered, I took a step back when he reached out his hand and said, “In my world, I’d appreciate if you asked.” “Oh, this isn’t enough?” Tristan gestured at the empty pasture and then at the space between us. “All of this isn’t enough? You think I’m going to beg you to take me home?” I said sternly, “I think you could manage treating me like a person.” “You’re an employee!” he snapped. “My mother pays you, remember?” I sighed and rolled my eyes; we couldn’t seem to get away from that money thing. “Yeah, I remember.” I snatched his flailing hand and turned toward the parking lot. “Come on.” *** I pulled up to the Edmunds’ house and wordlessly went to the passenger door. The ride back was uneventful—cold and silent, but uneventful. The wind had picked up, so I was able to focus my attention on keeping my little car on the road. As we walked to the house, I thought it was strange that we looked like we were walking together, when I felt like we were miles apart. I wondered how long the next few months would last; at this rate, they would take a millennium. Chris was leaning over the railing into the foyer. He smirked impishly into my sour face and asked, “What kind of seeing-eye dog are you?” “Shut up,” Tristan snapped and let go of my arm to climb the stairs. Sensing the dangerous state of his brother’s mood, Chris fled to his room. I smiled at this and turned to leave, when I found Mrs. Edmund standing in front of me. I pried my lips into a larger smile and said cheerily, “Oh, hi! He’s back, all in one piece!” “Yes, yes he is.” Her face slid into a look of concern as she glanced upstairs. “Well, I guess we’ll need you on Thursday. I don’t suppose Tristan mentioned—” “The rehearsal?” I piped. Mrs. Edmund’s face brightened. “He told you?” In so many words. “Yes, he did.” “That’s wonderful! So, if you could be here around six thirty? Semi formal dress.” She looked briefly at my ripped jeans. “It is Clarence.” My smile wavered. “Oh, right.” Grayfield, Illinois contained only two high schools. The foremost, Clarence, was a posh private school that boasted the richest teenagers in the area. They lacked in numbers, having only a few hundred students in all, but proudly proclaimed how this resulted in “intimate class size.” The preps took the propaganda to heart and were proud of their polished confines and high test scores and state-of-the-art technology...but that’s beside the point. The second school, the public school, my school, was Grayfield High. We boasted 70s decor, somewhat up-to-date textbooks, and, if nothing else, hundreds more students! I wasn’t under some illusion that my high school was perfect, but I sometimes enjoy things a little vintage. I mean, what can I say? My mom’s a hippie. If it wasn’t for my dad, I would’ve been named Rainbow Sunchild. Love of vintage, however, couldn’t keep me from hating my school’s nasty orange-and-mustard colored cafeteria when I walked through it the next day. I set my salad and pop onto an imitation wood table, and plopped onto a plastic chair across from Ahna Johnson. I’d known Ahna since we were both twelve and in braces. She knew that I’d never had a boyfriend for more than two weeks and I knew that she had never stepped a foot outside the state of Illinois. That’s bonding. I poked at my brownish lettuce. “So, how was your weekend?”

Ahna tossed her head and her red curls bounced. “Oh, okay. Lyle and I went to see that new scary movie—you know the one with the doll?” Lyle was Ahna’s boyfriend. He was a decent guy, if a little on the slow side. He had graduated last year and was working his way through tech school. “Hey, I called you on Saturday; your mom probably forgot to tell you. She said you were at an interview. How’d it go?” I shrugged. “Good. Well, I got the job, but there’s a catch.” “Yeah?” Her burger ended its trek toward her mouth in midair. “What?” I tried to hold back my smile because I knew she would flip. “He’s our age.” “Seriously?! No way! Why’d his parents hire you?” Ahna paused, considering. “Wait, is he hot?” I glared at her and she squinted back at me. “Aim....” “What?” I snapped. “Amy Rose Turner,” she leaned forward, looking truly concerned, “you are blushing.” I slammed my can down a little too hard and it splattered onto the table. I blurted, “He’s blind!” “He’s—really? So you’re, like, his nurse?” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at me. Sometimes I wonder why she’s my friend. “Shut up, Ahna! It’s not like that!” She laughed at me. “What’s it like?” I sighed and wiped up the pop with a napkin. “He’s rich and his mom’s paying me to help him out—take him places. On Thursday I’m taking him to his rehearsal.” Ahna’s mouth fell open. “You suck! She’s paying you to date an actor?” “No!” I rolled my eyes. “It’s a rehearsal for his graduation from Clarence.” “Figures the little Clarencites would get out early,” she grumbled. “Wouldn’t want to be late to the beach house in Florida.” “They’re not that bad,” I said defensively. “Tell me that after you meet them.” Her brown eyes latched onto me. “Wait. How much did you say you’re getting paid?” I quickly forced a fork-full of food into my mouth and mumbled the offending price: “$20 an hour.” “Ah ha! No wonder they’re ‘not that bad,’” she cackled victoriously before actually comprehending what I’d said. With the realization, her face nearly fell off. “$20 an hour? Man, you better find some way to kill time with—what’s his name?” “Tristan.” “Tristan! Lay one on him if you have to.” Ahna dramatically clasped a hand over her heart. “I’m telling you this as your best friend who desperately wants you to room with her next year so she doesn’t end up sleeping next to a psychopath. And, Aim, you’re blushing again.” I glowered. “Not everyone can be the next world famous oboe player,” she said, referring to her own scholarship and reason for going to Evanston. “You may have to make sacrifices...like kissing a hot boy.” I ignored her last comment. “Ahna, there aren’t any famous oboe players.” “Bite your tongue. Orchestras tune to us.” Ahna tore into her burger and chewed thoughtfully. “But, about Thursday, isn’t this Charlie Week?” I covered my face with my hands. She was right! It was Charlie Week! How could I forget? Charlie left home when I was about Chris’s age, so I’d basically been raised as an only child; much to the annoyance of Ahna, who was number three of four girls. Every year, on the anniversary week of his leaving—which Ahna and I’d dubbed “Charlie Week”—my mom set a special place at dinner for him each night. I brushed my hair behind my ears and began, “I haven’t missed a Charlie dinner in ten years. What would one—” Ahna cut me off, “Seriously, Amy, your mom would freak! You’re the same age Charlie was when he left. Think about it.”

“I know!” I groaned and stared up at the asbestos ceiling tiles. “Is there any way you can eat and still make it to the rehearsal?” she offered. I sighed. “I’m supposed to be at the Edmunds’ at six thirty and we usually eat at six.” Ahna laughed and looked at my almost-full plate of salad. She shouted over the ringing dismissal bell, “Better work on your gorging skills!”

Chapter 4 “Dear Charlie, I’m sure you haven’t even gotten my last letter yet, but I just want to let you know that you’re ruining my life. Again. No, seriously. You know how I got that great paying job? Well, I need to go to it but I can’t because of your dinner. You know, the ones I’ve told you about...the ones Mom makes for you. The best solution I’ve come up with is to try to rush the meal. I mean, what family is so dysfunctional that it can’t eat, say, a half-hour early? Don’t answer that. So, if you’ve decided it’s time to be nice to your little sister, show up. Tonight. Love, Amy.” My car squealed as I pulled into the tiny driveway of our house. I’d almost deluded myself into believing that Mom would be hard at work in the kitchen. I threw open the front door and, tossing my messenger bag in the general direction of my room, began to search for her. Well, she definitely wasn’t in the kitchen. I shouted her name to which there was predictably no response. She tended to lose track of time, especially when I needed her to do something. I headed to our backyard—which was no typical backyard. My mom, in her non-working state, had time to build her own personal Eden. Literally. The yard wasn’t large, but it had every kind of plant. I wound my way through the maze of green, careful to step on as few petals as possible. Finally, I found my mom crouched behind a rosebush. She was humming, smoothing the soil with her hands, and had absolutely no idea I was behind her. There was no way not to scare her when she was in her own little world, so I simply yelled, “Mom!” She jumped. Using a dirt-covered hand as a shield against the sun, she looked up at me with jade eyes and smiled. “Hi, honey. Welcome home. I was planting some new tulip bulbs near the bushes. I didn’t think we had enough of them bloom this year, did you?” I shrugged. “I don’t know. Hey, I was thinking of making spaghetti and tomato sauce for dinner. What do you think?” “Sure. That’s sweet, wanting to make dinner for your brother.” My stomach tightened; I hated when she talked like that. She gestured with her hand. “Why don’t you look over there? There may be some early tomatoes you can use for the sauce.” Tomato sauce from scratch? No way. “You know, Mom, I think Dad bought a jar of Prego—” Mom looked at me as if I’d stomped on a butterfly. “Amy Rose! All those preservatives—” “It will be okay, Mom,” I pleaded. “Just for one meal! I’ll use the organic spaghetti....” She frowned and pushed her graying hair from her face. “I guess, but if Charlie comes and doesn’t like it—” “Then I’ll make something else. I swear!” I quickly kissed her sun-warmed forehead and bounded toward the house. “Thanks!” I hurriedly threw a pot of water on the stove to begin boiling and dumped the sauce into a pan. The meal was so easy to prepare, I figured that it could be ready by 5:30 p.m., when Dad usually came home. I even diced a few cloves of garlic and threw them into the sauce, hoping to appease my mom. Just when I thought I would be okay, Mom bounced into the kitchen. “Look! I found some ripe strawberries! We can make a pie!” Honestly. ***

By the time Dad walked through the door, the kitchen was a mess of flour and red strawberry juice. I admit, the house was beginning to smell delicious—but I need to leave soon! I heard Dad drop his briefcase on the linoleum. He came into the kitchen, his blue eyes smiling at my figure, which was drooped over one of the kitchen chairs. He pulled off his tie and breathed deeply. “What are my girls up to?” He wrapped his arms around my mom’s waist and kissed the brown sugar off of her cheek. She laughed, “We’re making spaghetti and strawberry pie. You know it’s Charlie’s favorite.” A pained look swept over my dad’s features, but he returned her smile. “Wonderful!” To see my parents standing there, they would have seemed like an odd couple; him in a black business suit and her in a white kurta with palazzo pants. The mystery, however, ended there. He had graduated with a degree in English, with the intention of becoming the next Robert Frost, but things hadn’t gone as planned. Bills and Charlie came along, so Dad went to law school. He once told me that he did what he had to do, but he still works pro bono whenever he can. My dad’s the best, not to be prejudiced or anything. “Mom, when do you think the pie will be ready?” “Oh, I don’t know,” she leaned back against my dad, “maybe six fifteen.” Right when I should’ve been leaving. Perfect. I headed to my bedroom in search of a “semi casual” outfit befitting the Clarencites. My bedroom was, if nothing else, my haven. The walls were painted a calm lavender, featuring my mom’s most recent doodlings of clouds. From the ceiling hung blown glass orbs. The rest of the space in the small room was taken up by my comfy full-sized bed. After ten minutes of digging through my closet, I returned to the kitchen. I wore a peasant skirt and a blouse—semi casual, right? I was thrilled to see that Mom was serving the spaghetti. I snatched a plate from her hand, sat down, and immediately began shoveling food into my mouth. Dad laughed. “You have a hot date or something?” I felt my face grow warm as I spoke around the spaghetti, “Nuhm, eh hef tuh,” I swallowed, “baby-sit.” “How is Tristan?” Mom pulled a heretofore unseen, giant salad from the refrigerator. I literally choked at the thought of trying to make it through three courses. After a short coughing fit, I managed, “He’s great; everything’s great.” Dad frowned skeptically at me while they took their seats at the table. “Why’d you change into a skirt?” “Oh, uh,” I swallowed, “I wanted to look nice?” He raised an eyebrow. “Wait...is the boy you’re watching actually your age?” “Um,” I quickly reached for the salad tongs and scooped a pile of greens onto my plate, “yeah. Didn’t Mom tell you?” Dad gave my mom an exasperated look and grumbled, “I thought she was kidding.” “I think he’s more of a boyfriend,” she said with a wink. I rolled my eyes and quickly scraped my salad to the side, so I could squeeze a slice of steaming strawberry pie onto my plate. “We’re not really even friends. I-I just....” I gestured with my fork in the air, struggling for a definition of my strange job. “I try to get him to do things—to leave his house. And his mom pays me.” Dad frowned, trying to understand what I meant. “So, he’s a loner?” “No. Well....” I paused and shoved a piece of pie into my mouth; I immediately regretted the decision when the burning jelly stuck to my gums. Wincing, I gulped water and tried again: “He’s kind of a loner now, but he didn’t used to be. I don’t think.” “And you’re not getting paid to date him?” Dad asked firmly. “No!” I laughed and jumped when my cell phone began to vibrate in my pocket. I didn’t have to check the LCD screen to know that Mrs. Edmund was calling to see why I was late. Setting down my fork, I said,

“Listen, I really have to go; I’m already late.” “Amy Rose!” Mom gasped. “We haven’t all had dessert yet! What if Charlie comes?” “You can tell him he can have the rest of mine?” I offered sheepishly. My phone vibrated again as I backed away from the table. I looked to Dad for support. “Okay?” Dad sighed and rubbed his forehead, torn between the hurt look on his wife’s face and the logic that the odds of Charlie showing up for the last ten minutes of dinner were virtually zero. He gave me the subtlest nod, which Mom didn’t notice through her tears. I nodded back, nonverbally conveying my thanks, and slipped out of the house. *** Within moments, I was in my car and zooming toward the Edmunds’ house. I was glad that Dad seemed to be on my side for this whole Charlie dinner thing, but the sight of my mom crying still made me feel sick. I cranked up my feeble speakers to their max. I’d found a cassette tape of Queen on the floor of my room —honestly, sometimes things just appeared there. Not surprisingly, the gate was open and waiting for me when I arrived. I swallowed, jumping out of my car without checking the clock. I ascended the steps and saw, when the door opened, that Marly was standing in the doorway. She was already in her Care Bear pajamas with a frayed yellow security blanket draped over her shoulder. She looked up at me with bright eyes; obviously she could sense that there was excitement worth going to bed late for. I stepped into the foyer, bent down, and asked, “Where’s your brother?” She blinked and pointed toward the winding staircase. I turned to see Tristan walking down the stairs with his arm on Chris’s shoulder. He looked, well, really nice. This was semi casual at its best. He wore smooth khaki pants and an azure dress shirt, with the top button at the collar undone. He also had on his signature black sunglasses and his hair was ever so slightly mussed. His head was facing my direction and I blushed self-consciously, feeling like he was looking right at me, though that was impossible. Chris leaned toward his brother’s ear and whispered loudly, “She looks like she thinks you’re cute!” “Shut up!” I snapped. Hearing me, Tristan flashed a bright smile and my stomach squirmed strangely in response. He stepped off of the bottom stair and held out his hand, which I caught and pressed to my arm. As he adjusted his grip, Mrs. Edmund appeared from the den. She smiled at us and said, “Well, I hope you two have a good time.” “Mother, it’s only a rehearsal,” said Tristan. “Yeah, Mom, it’s not like they’re going on a date,” piped Chris. For a moment, his mother and I shifted uncomfortably, after being not-so-subtly reminded of why I was there. I took a step toward the door, jerking Tristan along, and said, “Well, this way you don’t have to wait up for him.” “And you get a paycheck,” Mrs. Edmund added. She and I shared a terribly awkward laugh, and I slid out the door with Tristan. I sighed once we were seated in my car. “Good to be out of there, huh?” “Yeah.” Tristan rubbed his chin with his hand while I brought my Camry to life. “So, you know how to get to Clarence?” “Uh huh.” I pushed my car into Drive. I’d never been inside, but being a Grayfield native, I knew my way around. “We’re going to be late,” he said matter-of-factly. Then he was silent and I knew, I just knew, that he was waiting for me to tell him why. I tried to be quiet while the silence closed in. I focused on the headlight beams bouncing on the dark road...I listened to the gentle patter of rain as it began to fall on the hood of my car...and, in a torrent of

words, I caved. “It was my family! Ten years ago, my brother left home. He was my age. He’s never come back and, I know it sounds weird, but my mom has these memorial dinners for him that I can’t miss. And I just left, even though we hadn’t eaten dessert.” “What are you talking about?” Tristan cut in. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Why had I opened my mouth? I’d said too much. I tried to cover for my word vomit. “Nothing.” Tristan turned toward me. “No, it was something. Something about your brother and dessert...?” He was either actually curious or a very convincing liar. I shook my head, wondering how I could explain. “My family’s crazy.” “My family—you don’t know the half of it.” He gave a short laugh. What? Was someone not accepted to Harvard? I replied unconvincingly, “Oh, really?” Blatantly changing the subject, Tristan said, “You should probably know, there was never an official statement.” I frowned. “Huh?” “An official statement to the Clarence student body about,” he sighed, “what happened to me.” “You never told them anything?!” He said dismissively, “Well, Clarence isn’t a very big school and my mother knows people on the school board....” “Leaving it up to the rumor mill—that’s always the way to go,” I scoffed. “Oh they’re pros.” I found the entrance to Clarence, which was marked by a large, gold-lettered sign. My car creaked when I turned into the parking lot. I was immediately confronted by the realization that I seemed to possess, amongst the other forty-or-so cars, the only vehicle that was worth less than $50,000. I carefully slid my Camry in-between a Hummer and a Ferrari. Tristan and I walked around Clarence on a sidewalk lined with manicured shrubs and not a single weed. By the parking lot lights, I could see that the cement was surprisingly devoid of cigarette butts or even old wads of gum, unlike my school. We turned the corner, to the front of the school, and I gasped at the sight. Clarence High was beautiful in gothic style, an impressive building of gray stonework. In the midst of its circular drive, there was a tiny park of two ancient oak trees and a marble statue of a panther, the school’s mascot. As we approached the heavy entry doors, a black limousine screeched to a halt in the drive. The door to the car was flung open and I could hear a girl yelling, “Could you come back in an hour? I can’t imagine them dragging this out too long.” The blonde climbed out and glanced briefly at us, before focusing on adjusting her skintight skirt. “Aren’t you glad it’s almost over?” She looked up again, longer, and her mouth fell open. “Tristan?!” He nodded in her direction and I shifted my feet awkwardly. “Ohmygosh! You’re here!” she gasped and then locked onto me, raising an eyebrow at my homespun skirt. “Who are you?” “I’m Amy Turner.” I held out my hand and tried to smile. “Kristy Whitton.” She shook my hand tightly and smiled a perfectly fake smile. “It’s a pleasure.” I could tell by the glint in her eye that she had a million questions that she wanted to ask me, but Tristan said, “We’re already late. We should head in.” “You’re right.” I dragged him forward. Kristy pulled open the door and said, “Well, I’m sure we’ll talk later, Amy,” before charging inside. We entered a long hallway with short, navy blue carpeting. Carpeting—what high school has carpeting? Sure, it wasn’t shag, but it was still unnatural. The walls bore hundreds of plaques for excellence in various sports and academics. Further down the dim hallway, I could see lockers painted maroon and closed

wooden doors. Really, the place reminded me more of an office than a school. Tristan’s hand unexpectedly slid down from my arm to wrap around my waist. I shivered as he breathed into my ear, “Just pretend.” Oh, I could do that. Wait—what was I pretending? I had no chance to ask. I had been following Kristy at a distance, so when she turned a corner and entered a room on the right, I did too. As soon as we walked in, everyone inside turned to look. I felt myself turn all shades of red while Tristan pulled me closer. And then I knew what we were pretending as plainly as if he had told me: we were letting his classmates tell themselves that he wasn’t blind, that he had been on some mysterious adventure with a mysterious girl. Me, the prop.

Chapter 5 If I was in my right mind, I would have walked out right then. But I was frozen. We were in a large room, probably the size of two classrooms put together, and there were about fifty Clarence seniors staring at me. They were all in Rodeo Drive-level outfits and seated at round tables covered—honestly—with white cloths. At the head of the room, a large screen was suspended from the ceiling and onto it was projected what appeared to be the layout for their graduation. An older man was standing behind a podium, his laser pointer burning into the screen while he, too, stared. I grimaced, ducked my head, and pulled Tristan toward the closest table. As I moved a chair to sit, he bumped his leg into the seat next to me. He removed his hand from my hip and, discreetly feeling along the chair, managed to sit down. At the front of the room, the man cleared his throat, reclaiming everyone’s attention, and explained, “Now, as I was saying before Mr. Edmund decided to grace us with his presence, you will all be seated alphabetically. We will begin....” I was distracted by the whispering of the other students. At first, I could only hear bits and pieces. Then, I clearly heard a girl’s voice. I turned to see Kristy, sitting at a nearby table with four other girls. One was whispering, “So, I was talking to this girl who dated Tristan when he was a sophomore—” “Really, who didn’t date him?” asked another. “You did, Kristy,” said a third. Kristy shot, “Yeah, but that was junior year, when he was hot. Now look at him.” All of the girls turned and I quickly snapped my head back toward the screen. “He’s wearing sunglasses indoors. He didn’t use to have to try that hard to be cool.” Hey, I didn’t think he looked bad! Not that I didn’t wonder what he looked like without the glasses. “Do you think he is blind?” the fourth girl asked. The first girl said impatiently, “As I was saying, I was talking to this girl who dated Tristan and she said that he wanted to spend all of his time riding his horse! Can you believe it?” “Come on.” I could almost hear Kristy’s eyes roll. “Tristan and I were always fooling round.” “But I don’t think he even dated anyone this year,” hissed another, “you know, before he disappeared.” I bit my cheek and kept my head facing forward. They were just rumors. Just rumors. Who cared about his dating history, anyway? I tried to focus at the man who was droning, “Now, if you will welcome your Valedictorian, Joseph Eccles. He will run through his speech notes with you and would certainly welcome any constructive criticism you may have to offer. After all, Clarence speeches have a history of....” Blah. Blah. Unable to resist any longer, I leaned close to Tristan and whispered, “So, exactly how many of the,” I glanced around the room, “thirty girls in your class did you date?” “Only one’s a senior, but I’ve dated thirteen girls from Clarence,” he answered easily. “But more would’ve dated me, if I’d asked.” I muttered, “Way to be humble, Romeo.” Breathing shallowly, I tried not to think about why it bothered me that he had dated so many girls. Because it didn’t matter—it didn’t! I had dated before, though not nearly that many guys... Whatever. I vaguely heard applause as Valedictorian What’s-His-Name finished speaking. The older man, who I guessed was the headmaster, reclaimed his podium. “Thank you, Joseph. I look forward to your speech

tomorrow. Now, we will have a short break. If you all would care to indulge, the PTA has provided refreshments. In ten minutes we will hear Salutatorian Sarah Tyson’s speech notes and then the Student Government will tell you their plans for the post-graduation dance.” The conversations that I’d heard whispered grew a few decibels louder. I pushed my chair away from the table and asked with forced politeness, “Do you want anything?” Seeming uncomfortable, Tristan folded his arms and said, “I don’t know—a Coke?” “Okay.” I walked off toward the side of the room where a table held cans of pop and plates of cookies. I was staring at the numerous types of pop, wondering what kind to get for myself, when I felt someone stand close to me. I turned and jumped, seeing Kristy staring at me from barely six inches away. I plastered a smile on my face. “Oh, hi!” “Hey. Amy, right?” She nonchalantly reached down and picked up a sugar cookie. “So, are you dating Tristan?” “What?” I was surprised by the forwardness of her question. “Uh, no. I’m his...assistant.” “Oh, assistant?” Kristy leaned further into my bubble. “Then Tristan really is blind? Or is he faking because he didn’t want to come back to school?” “I don’t think so.” I looked over at Tristan, who seemed to be staring off into space while the room buzzed around him. This, an elaborate scheme to get out of school? I hadn’t thought about it before. I said tentatively, “Once, I saw him trip....” Kristy nodded, but continued to tower over me. “If I were you, I’d want to know for sure. He could just be skipping school because he wants to avoid—someone.” She looked away for a second and I knew she was referring to herself. “And he hates root beer. There’s no way he’d drink it, if he could see the can.” I hesitated, looking from the can of Coke in my hand to the inviting can of root beer on the table. Couldn’t he have tripped to scare me away, so I wouldn’t discover his lie? Even his brother had said that he thought I wouldn’t come back... My fingers closed around the root beer and I walked back to the table. Snapping the top, I pushed the can into his hand. My stomach tightened with anticipation as I said, “Here you go.” The room grew quiet—maybe because the Salutorian had stepped up to the podium—when Tristan brought the can to his lips. The world seemed to go into slow motion. I watched as he took a large gulp of the pop and immediately gagged. He slammed the can down and hissed, “Sick! You think that was funny?” He threw back his chair and stood up. “I’ll get it myself!” The room was now most certainly, and completely, and utterly silent. I could feel a hundred eyes staring in our direction and then the laughing began. It was awful, muffled snickering. Worst of all, I could see the noise reflected in the horror on Tristan’s face when he realized the scene we’d just caused. He quickly took a step forward, intending to flee, but my chair was in his way and, in one dreadful movement, he crashed onto his knees. All traces of doubt were wiped from my mind: he was most definitely blind. And I was an awful person. The quiet laugher rippled and rose into a wave of wicked whispers as I scrambled to his side. I spoke under my breath, “Oh no, oh no.” Above the gossip, I could hear Kristy gasp, “He really is blind.” Feeling my touch, Tristan ripped away and growled, “Get off of me!” Well, I’d successfully placed myself back into square one. Wait a minute—I wasn’t going back to square one! I’d made a bad, bad mistake, but I couldn’t run away and let him return to moping. With renewed spirits, I wrapped my arm around his waist and helped him to his feet. “Come on. We have to get out of here.” This time, he didn’t resist. We made it outside where a light rain was still falling from the sky. Not knowing what to say, I wordlessly guided him to the passenger door. As I headed toward the driver’s side, I heard him declare quietly, “I’m

going home.” This time, I didn’t lecture on his word choice. *** The drive back to the Edmunds’ house was a blur of horrible darkness and rain. I felt like I was sinking into myself, into a dark solitary place and I wondered if this was what Tristan felt like without his sight. I numbly pulled my car up to the stairs and he moved to get out, but paused with his hand on the door handle. He said in a low voice, “Tomorrow, I have to be there at seven. Don’t be late this time.” With that, he climbed out and slammed the door shut. I shuddered at the gust of cold air that filled my car. I watched until he had made his way into the house; I knew, tonight, he didn’t want any more of my help. As soon as I saw the door to the house close, I sped out of the driveway. In a movement of true driver-safety, I reached down and dug around in my purse to find my cell phone. Hitting speed dial, I pressed it against my ear. The phone rang for a second and then a familiar voice asked, “Hello?” “Hey, Ahna.” “Amy?” She sounded like she thought I was dying. “Ohmygosh, what’s wrong?!” I laughed shakily at her tone. “Nothing. Just ruining my life, that’s all.” “Are you crying?” “What?” I touched my cheek and was surprised to find that it was wet. “Uh, yeah.” I could feel Ahna getting into serious-mode because I wasn’t a crier—okay, maybe when watching Disney movies, but that was it. “Tell me what happened.” I turned up the wipers on my car, but that did nothing for the blurriness of my vision. With a sigh, I pulled to the side of the road. “Well, I tried to rush dinner like we planned, but it didn’t work and I had to leave—” “Leave a Charlie dinner?” Only Ahna could truly understand such a seemingly little thing’s significance. “Your mom must have freaked!” “But that’s not the worst of it!” I moaned. “I took Tristan to that rehearsal thing and most of the Clarencites didn’t even know he was blind. He put his arm around me—” “Oooh,” she cooed. “I think he wanted them to think, I don’t know, that I was the reason he was gone or something? I mean, why would he show up out of nowhere with a girl, right?” Ahna was quick to rise to my defense. “So, he was using you as a prop? What a jerk!” “Well, the Clarencites are really mean and....” My voice trailed off. “And, what?” she demanded. In a rush, I admitted, “And I gave him the wrong pop to see if he was just faking being blind.” “Amy, seriously, who would fake something like that?” I covered my eyes with my hand and tried to explain, “I don’t know, but there was this girl and they were talking about him dating all these people and...then he fell.” There was a moment of silence and then she screamed so loudly that I had to pull the phone away from my head. “You tripped him again?” “Uh, my chair did....” I wiped the remaining tears from my cheeks. “I know: I’m stupid.” “My gosh, Aim! Don’t you want to keep the best-paying job in Grayfield? Not to mention the fact that you like him—” “I do not!” I could feel Ahna rolling her eyes. “Yeah, whatever. But, you shouldn’t let the Clarencites get to you like that. You’re better than that, Aim. I know you. Remember, for most of seventh grade you wore shirts made out of burlap ‘cause your mom said it would keep kids out of sweatshops? You take the high road, even if it’s rough.” “Ha ha. Very funny.”

“I’m serious!” she complained. “You’re right. I don’t know what was wrong with me!” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and whispered, “Do you think he’s still mad?” She snorted. “How the heck should I know? But put it this way: If I ever go bind, I’m not asking you to get me a drink.” “Thanks, Ahna.” My heart fell. “You’re a big help.” “Okay, you need to make yourself look hot.” “Ahna, he’s blind!” “Hey, it’s gonna make you feel more confident. Trust me.” Her sisters began shouting in the background. “Listen, I have to run. Why don’t I come over tomorrow and give you a hand?” “Yes! Please!” I begged. Ahna wasn’t any more into fashion than I was, but living with so many sisters, she had picked up a thing or two. Without her help, I don’t think I would’ve made it to a single dance. The complaint that Ahna was hogging the phone became louder. “Just a minute,” she hissed and then told me, “He’ll be drooling at your feet in no time.” “That’s not exactly what I had in mind.” “Right,” she laughed. “’night, Aim.” “’night.” I turned off my phone and threw it back into my bag. Ahna was wrong. I didn’t want Tristan to like like me, just to like me. Acquaintance level. Platonic. Anything more would be... Well, it wouldn’t happen. I paused, closing my eyes and listening to the quiet. Then I pulled back onto the darkened road and turned the Queen tape back on. I was singing to myself by the time I pulled into my driveway. I stepped from my car, folding my arms against the cold and noticed that the porch lights were on. Through the windows, the house appeared dark, even though it wasn’t late. I unlocked the front door and slid inside, brushing my hand against the wall to keep my bearings. As I entered the kitchen, the lights flicked on and I blinked in surprise. Dad sat on one of the kitchen chairs. He looked more tired than his fifty years required of him. I was worried what he would say, but he smiled at me. I took the seat he gestured to and he asked, “How did it go, tonight?” I sighed. “Oh, all right.” He nodded and rubbed his lined forehead. “Your mom and I had a long talk tonight. We realize that we’ve been putting too much pressure on you, all of these years, about the dinners. It’s not going to bring Charlie back and it was unfair of us to expect you to live your life around them. After all, next year you’ll be off at Illinois U....” I winced when I was reminded that I hadn’t told him about Evanston. I leaned forward and said, “Don’t worry about it, Dad—” His blue eyes glittered with certainty. “No, Amy, I mean it! There aren’t going to be any more special —what is it you and Ahna call them?—‘Charlie dinners.’” I blushed; we always thought my parents didn’t know about our nickname. “So, if you want to make any plans for tomorrow night, you can go right ahead.” Speaking of which... “Actually, I am supposed to sit tomorrow night at seven.” “All right.” I got up and kissed him on the forehead. “I love you, Dad.” He patted my cheek. “I love you, too.” I walked to my bedroom and, with a sigh, I flopped onto my bed. I pulled out the letter to Charlie I’d started and smoothed out the wrinkles with my hand. I paused, tapping my pen against my mouth in consideration, before adding at the bottom of the page: “P.S. Never mind about coming tonight. Not that you would’ve gotten this in time, anyway. I just talked to Dad and I guess they’re going to relax on the dinners. Finally. I can hardly believe it. Not that I don’t love you, of course I do, but I think we all know that

you’d rather drop dead than come back here. I hope you’re enjoying Cali! In your next letter, make sure you actually tell me what you’re up to!”

Chapter 6 “What about this one?” I held up a black dress with a hot pink sash, but Ahna frowned. “Black at a graduation?” “I don’t know!” I threw up my hands. “You look.” I took Ahna’s place on my bed and she leapt toward the closet. She explained, “You need something that’s going to stand out.” She tossed her hair and pulled out a dress. “Something red.” I stood up and took the hanger. I examined the dress—a flower pattern lace over satiny fabric, with a ruched top and spaghetti straps. I remembered, “Junior year homecoming.” “My second date with Lyle,” Ahna said nostalgically. “My only date with,” I scrunched my face at the memory, “Scott Lancaster.” “Didn’t he grab your butt?” “Yes! Every dance, fast or slow!” I complained. Ahna grinned. “Well, you’ll have better luck in it tonight. Put it on and I’ll go find your makeup.” I laughed as she headed to the bathroom; she knew me too well. Except for special occasions, I never wore makeup—thanks to my mom’s influence—so it usually ended up buried at the bottom of a drawer in the bathroom. Prep for a dance wasn’t complete without Ahna spending fifteen minutes grumbling while she dug through drawers in search of my one, illusive tube of lipstick. But that’s what friends are for. I took off my t-shirt and jeans and slid into the dress. The fabric was smooth against my skin while I eyed myself in the mirror. The dress ended at my knees with a small ruffle. I couldn’t stop myself from spinning in a circle and humming Lady in Red. I knew I wasn’t destined for a modeling contract, but there was something about wearing red that made me feel beautiful. Ahna was right; this was it. While I pulled on a pair of red heels, there was a knock at my bedroom door. Ahna pushed it open with her foot. She was armed with a curling iron in one hand and an eyeliner pencil in the other. She held them in the air and proclaimed, “When I get done, Tristan won’t be able to take his ey—er, mind off of you.” *** As I drove up to the Edmunds’ gate, I saw that it was open. The déjà vu made my stomach twist with nervous nausea. Pushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear, I pulled into the driveway. I immediately had to swerve when a woman carrying a serving platter walked in front of my car. Slamming on the brakes, I realized that the drive was jam-packed with white vans that had Platinum Catering silk-screened on their sides. I inched my Camry as close to the entrance as possible, double parking next to one of the vans. I stepped out of my car, doing a little hopscotch when one of my heels became lodged in the cobblestone. Great. I bent over, slowly working my shoe loose, and heard a low whistle. I jerked my head up to see Chris standing on the top of the steps next to Tristan. Pervy little boy. He leaned toward his brother, whispering loudly, “Trist, she looks really pretty!” My cheeks burned and Tristan gave his brother a smack on the back of the head. “Shut up! She can hear you!” “Oh.” Chris looked down at his feet while rubbing his head. I gave my foot one hard jerk and my shoe came free. I clicked my way up the stairs and stopped next to Tristan. “Hey. What’s all this about?”

Tristan was dressed in a white dress shirt, black tie, and pants. These were covered with a traditional black robe. Complete with his dark sunglasses, he looked like he had wandered off of a photo shoot. He held his graduation cap in one hand and brushed the other through his hair. “Mother’s throwing a postgraduation party,” he turned his head toward me, “for the school board members.” Oh. The people she’d paid off. I awkwardly scratched the back of my neck. “Okay, well, we’d better get going. Wouldn’t want to be late.” He gave a short laugh. “No, that can’t lead to anything good.” While I guided Tristan to my car, Chris said in a sing-song voice, “Have fun!” I rolled my eyes and climbed into the driver’s side. “Yeah, see you there, kid!” “This is going to be good,” Tristan said sarcastically as he swung the car door shut. “I take it you’re not excited?” I looked over to see him pulling at his tie. “Graduation is one of those ‘Big Things’ in life you’re supposed to remember forever.” “I thought births, weddings, and funerals pretty much covered it.” After maneuvering carefully around the caterers, I pulled safely back onto the road and hit the gas. I asked, “Are you speaking from personal experience?” “Well, I saw both Chris and Marly right after they were born—check. I was a groomsman at my uncle’s second wedding—check. And the funeral,” he paused and his voice lost some of its edge, “that hit pretty close home. I mean, burying your father...you don’t forget that.” I licked my dry lips and said quietly, “That must have been awful.” Tristan shifted in his seat. “I’ve had better days.” I raised my eyebrows in surprise. Tristan had a knack for using his sarcasm to avoid talking about tough stuff. But then again, I did too, so I wasn’t about to call him on it. I silently pulled into Clarence’s parking lot an entire ten minutes early. The lot was full of expensive, polished vehicles. Luckily, I found a tiny space near the sidewalk that the Hummers and Suburbans couldn’t dream of fitting in, while my Camry did just fine. I walked around my car, while Tristan climbed out of his side. When he took my arm, I asked coyly, “So, no more arm around the waist?” He frowned and said shortly, “I don’t think anyone’s going to be questioning why we’re together, anymore.” Ouch. He had point. I followed the line of formally dressed families that were filing from the parking lot into the building. We walked inside, down a hallway, and into a large wood-floored gymnasium. There were rows upon rows of leather-cushioned seats that put to shame the rusted old folding chairs I knew would be at my graduation. Elegant banners depicting fierce panthers hung from the ceiling. At the far end of the room was a small stage on which several older women and men, including the headmaster, sat. Many of Tristan’s classmates were already in their seats and they turned to watch us walk down the aisle. I kept my head facing forward and hurried to the front row where two seats were waiting; I guessed his mother had arranged for this, too. After we were seated, Tristan’s hand remained wrapped firmly around my arm. I patted his hand comfortingly. His skin was like ice! I hissed, “Nervous?” His face rigid, Tristan quickly lied, “No.” I shrugged. He didn’t have to tell me. A moment later, he leaned toward me. “Can’t you feel them?” In fact, I could. Having a hundred people staring at you is hard to ignore. I squeezed his hand and whispered back, “It’s going to be fine.” The lights in the room dimmed and I zoned out while the Valedictorian and the Salutatorian took turns at the podium giving their speeches on the future and the great possibilities for our generation and whatever. They were both slow and monotone enough to lose me after thirty seconds. The applause of the crowd

and the brightening of the gymnasium lights jarred me back to reality. From behind the stage, the Clarence orchestra began to play Pomp and Circumstance and the name “Michelle Anderson,” boomed through the room. Michelle, from a mere five chairs away, stood and began her ascent to the stage. She was followed shortly by, “Kelly Brighton,” “Peter Darmon,” and “Nicole Dunne.” After each name was read, the audience clapped wildly. “Joseph Eccles,” from the last chair to Tristan’s left, even garnered a whistle. I amused myself with visions of the offending whistler being dragged away by secret Clarencite police, before I realized that it was...our turn! “Tristan Edmund.” With a gulp, I rose and Tristan jerked to his feet. We made it to the top of the platform before I realized that the applause was pathetically quiet, except for the back of the room, where Charlie was standing on top of his seat, clapping his little hands off, along with Mrs. Edmund. Perhaps it was the red of my dress, but I was pissed. I spun on my heel, glaring at the crowd, and began to clap as loud as I could. Pumping my fist in the air, I yelled, “Woohoo!” Tristan squeezed my arm and leaned close to my ear. “Amy, it’s all right.” He had said my name. My mind went blank. Laughter rumbled through in the gym and the applause in the family section grew louder, spilling over into the student section. Some of the Clarencites gave me evil looks, crossed their arms, and refused to applaud; I bet they knew about his mother’s bribery and weren’t too happy he’d gotten to miss a semester and still graduate. I imaged that they were trying to use their minds to make me explode—but nothing happened. Apparently the Clarencites weren’t good at everything, after all. *** The moment the ceremony ended, the gym echoed with chatter. Students were dragged this way and that to pose for pictures with Aunt So-and-so and Grandpa. I saw Mrs. Edmund, with Chris and Marly in tow, burst from the crowd. Mrs. Edmund was sniffling and she threw her arms around Tristan, while saying over his shoulder, “What you did was wonderful, Amy!” I blushed when Mrs. Edmund let go of Tristan and quickly embraced me. Chris grumbled, “We should’ve beat up whoever didn’t clap.” “Christopher John, we do not talk about beating people up,” she chided gently. I awkwardly returned Mrs. Edmund’s hug. I felt strange being complimented at Tristan’s graduation. Once she released me, I gestured at Tristan with my head. She frowned at me, as if wondering if I was developing some kind of twitch. Then, finally, I saw the light bulb go on and she said, “Tristan, your father would have been so proud of you!” Tristan shifted his weight and replied sarcastically, “Yeah, I’m just this really brave guy who can’t walk on his own or tell what he’s about to drink.” So I guess he hadn’t quite forgotten about that rehearsal thing. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and sighed. Mrs. Edmund and Chris were standing in awkward silence. Suddenly Marly, who was obviously not too clear on what was happening, cried, “I love you, Tristan,” and threw her arms around his legs. I looked up in time to catch Tristan’s surprised smile. He patted her head and said, “Thanks, Marly.” “Well, we should probably get going,” piped Mrs. Edmund. “The party’s not going to host itself and these two have to get to bed.” “Aww, Mom,” Chris groaned. “Are you going to the dance?” she asked. Tristan didn’t exactly sound like he was in a partying mood. I began, “Well—” “Yes, we’re going,” he interjected. What?! “What?” His arm subtly squished my hand against his side. I choked, “Oh, yeah.” Mrs. Edmund smiled, saying, “All right. Amy, can you give Tristan a ride home?” I nodded and the family headed toward the exit. Chris hung back and, once his mother was out of

earshot, said, “You’re just gonna kiss, huh?” “We are not! Get out of here!” Tristan swatted at the air and narrowly missed Chris’s nose. The little boy grinned wickedly and scampered off into the crowd. I looked up at him in disbelief. “You want to go to a dance?” “’cause my mother’s party sounds like so much fun,” he scoffed. Right, that probably wouldn’t have been such a good thing. I turned and, with my hand firmly clasped around his arm, wove through the remaining clusters of families. Some of the parents looked up and nodded approvingly at me while I passed. I tried to smile back at them while my cheeks grew hotter. Spotting a group of students leaving the gymnasium, I began to trail them at a distance. I followed them down two locker-lined hallways and into a cafeteria. In truth, I could hardly tell that it was a cafeteria. Large bouquets of balloons in the school’s colors, navy and maroon, crowned the entrance. The cherry-wood floors glittered under streams of tiny white lights that hung from the ceiling. The room was dim, with just a hint of fog to set the scene. To my left were cloth-draped tables and to my right was the dance floor, where most of the senior girls and some of the boys crowded together while Fallout Boy blared. I thought I heard a noise, so I turned to Tristan and shouted over the sound, “What?” “Can we go sit down?” he screamed back. “Sure!” I led him over to one of the tables. Tristan sat down stiffly next to me. He spoke quietly, as if to himself, and I had to strain to hear. “This must be the cafeteria....” I winced, hardly able to imagine what it would be like to not know where I was. My voice betraying my thoughts, I said shakily, “Yeah, that’s right.” Tristan’s head jerked sharply. “I knew that, I was just saying....” He sighed and stood. “I’m going to the bathroom.” A tall, redheaded boy with a smiling brunette on his arm appeared behind Tristan. He clapped Tristan on the back. “Hey, buddy, congrats! Sorry we haven’t hung out in a while.” A fake smile spread thickly over Tristan’s face. “Thanks, Nick.” The girl shook her head. “Trist, it’s really too bad.” Nick elbowed her, while hissing, “Melissa.” “I meant about not hanging out with him!” she hissed back. With a quick shake of his head, Tristan took a step forward. “Actually, I was just heading to the restroom—” “Sure, man, it’s right over there.” Nick pointed uselessly and gave Tristan a push in the general direction of the bathroom, which was in the corner of the cafeteria. He yelled at his back, “Maybe I’ll give ya a call when I have another party! Maybe at the lake!” He looked down at me. “You goin’ to the lake?” I frowned. “What lake?” “Wind Song. It’s up in Wisconsin,” he explained. “If you’re with Trist, I’m sure you’ll come up to the Edmunds’ cabin.” “Nick, she’s his assistant.” “Oh.” He shrugged. “Well, whatever. See ya.” “Bye.” I rolled my eyes as the couple headed back toward the dance floor. Looking around the room, I realized, to put it bluntly, that Clarence was short on attractive guys. No wonder so many girls had wanted to date Tristan. First of all, there were only about twenty-five guys in the entire class and, second of all—well, there really wasn’t a second of all, but they were probably rich, if that helped. In fact, one of the few handsome guys was walking toward me. I laughed to myself. He probably wasn’t walking toward me; he was probably walking toward the imported Italian soda at the table behind me.

“Hello. Amy Turner, correct?” Or not. I choked, “Hi,” and numbly shook his hand. He was tall, with thick black hair and endless brown eyes. All of his features were dark and very Mediterranean, very nice. Not that I noticed. He smiled an immaculately white smile, saying, “Joseph Eccles. It is a pleasure to meet you.” Joseph Eccles, Joseph Eccles—why did that name sound familiar? Oh, yeah. “Congrats on being Valedictorian. Great speech, by the way.” Joseph bowed his head and said formally, “Thank you. And I enjoyed your...demonstration. Tristan deserved to graduate, no matter the circumstance.” So, I was right; the Clarencites had refused to clap because of the bribery. I nodded. Suddenly, he offered his hand and asked, “Would you care to dance?” I glanced uncertainly toward the bathroom door. Oh well, one dance. I smiled and took his hand. “Yeah, sure.” He led me onto the floor just as the music switched to a slow song—not just any slow song, a sappy slow song. Honestly. Songs with clichéd hooks and tenors trying to be impressive with their vibratos make me sick. Holding my right hand, Joseph smiled and stepped toward me. I placed my other hand on his shoulder as we began to slowly turn in a circle. I startled when he spoke in my ear, “You may rest your head, if you like.” Yes, I was quite aware of the option, but I was currently watching the men’s bathroom door, watching for Tristan. I had to continually shift my head while we moved to keep it in my sight. The moment Tristan emerged from the bathroom, Kristy approached him. He shook his head when she spoke to him and allowed her to lead him back to the table. I imagined that he asked where I was because she pointed toward the dance floor while she talked. Joseph and I again spun away and I had to practically twist my head completely around to see. From Tristan’s body language, I knew that he knew where I was. And, unexpectedly, the realization was like a knife wound to my gut. This wasn’t right; I couldn’t just abandon him. I pulled away from the Valedictorian, apologizing over my shoulder, “I’m sorry. I have to go,” as I rushed toward the table. When I reached Tristan, Kristy bristled in her seat next to him. I said breathlessly, “Hi.” He turned his head to the side questioningly. “The song isn’t over.” “I know.” A smile flashed across Tristan’s face and Kristy glared. She said, “You weren’t much help to him on the dance floor, were you?” I pushed a strand of hair behind my ear and said, “You’re right, I should have—” “Danced with me,” Tristan finished, surprising both me and Kristy, by the look on her face. He rose to his feet and my stomach squirmed. “Amy?” Kristy jumped to her feet, pulling at the short hem of her dress, and fumbled for words. “Are...are you sure you can dance?” Tristan kept his head focused toward me and said dismissively, “I had three years of formal training while I was in elementary school. I haven’t had to look at my feet since I was six. I think I can handle it.” I took his arm and we moved onto the dance floor, away from a gaping Kristy. Oh yes, many heads turned in our direction. I clasped my hands around his neck and his hands found the small of my back. The music had switched to a different slow song—one by Josh Groban that always made Ahna tear up, though she would never admit it. True to his word, Tristan wasn’t close to stepping on my feet. In fact, I became aware that we were dancing almost a foot apart. This wasn’t junior high! I just knew that Tristan was still thinking about how I betrayed him the rehearsal. I carefully leaned my mouth toward his ear and whispered, “I’m sorry, about yesterday.”

Ever so subtly, I felt him relax. He replied, “You didn’t have to do that out there.” “Yes, I did.” Tristan’s hand pressed against my back and I felt myself move closer until my head was resting against his warm chest. I closed my eyes and felt its steady rising and falling. I breathed in deeply and wrapped my arms more securely around his neck. The world was suddenly simply cinnamon and sandalwood. I couldn’t remember ever feeling quite so content. All too soon, the song ended. I nearly moaned as Tristan stepped back and caught my arm. “Maybe we should head out.” Maybe people shouldn’t move when other people are feeling so... Oh, whatever.

Chapter 7 The drive through the night was peaceful, but when I turned off my car’s engine, awkward silence returned with a vengeance. I sat, feeling strangely nervous, wondering why he wasn’t getting out and wondering if I was supposed to say something and wondering all those things you wonder at the end of a date—not that this was a date! Suddenly, Tristan broke the silence. “I want you to come inside, but I have to warn you about my mother. At these kinds of things, she tends to get pretty...tipsy.” Honestly, how drunk could she be? She’d only left, maybe, an hour before. I shrugged. “Hey, my mom’s been on a picnic for most of my life.” He frowned as if he didn’t think I’d understood him and then opened the car door. “Okay.” I slid out of my car and then paused. Wait—why was he inviting me in? This was part of the job, right? I couldn’t, we couldn’t...date. Ignoring my brain, I walked with him up to the door. He asked, “You ready?” and pressed the doorbell. From inside, I could hear the sound of talking and piped classical music. There was a crash, followed by laughter, and then the door was thrust open. Mrs. Edmund stood in the doorway, her hair slightly mussed and her eyes glistening. In the foyer behind her, I could see a waiter on his knees, wiping up the shards of a broken glass. A young server pressed a flute of champagne into the hostess’ hand, while she smiled largely at us. She oozed, “Oh, how lovely you both look,” and I tried to return her smile. She turned her head, presumably toward the retreating server, and continued to slur, “That’s my son and his babysitter.” Okay, she had definitely been knocking them back. Several of the administrators, whom I recognized from the graduation, were standing in clusters around the den and they turned to look in our direction. Feeling embarrassed for Tristan, I tried to move toward the stairs. “Everything looks wonderful, Mrs. Edmund.” “Thanks, dear. It’s all the cater—whoops!” The flute fell from her fingers and smashed onto the tile. She frowned. “Oh, those things are so slippery.” She held up a hand and tried to whisper to me, “I get so nervous hosting.” “Don’t worry,” I said while we began up the stairs. “Maybe just try a little coffee?” When we reached the second floor, Tristan sighed. “Wasn’t that fun?” I squeezed his arm. “Hey, it’s okay. When I was four, my mom decided we should try to set all the animals in the zoo free. I was the youngest kid ever to spend time in the Grayfield jail. Boy, was Dad pissed.” Tristan laughed. “Sounds like you have quite a family.” We entered his bedroom and I swung his door shut to keep out the noise. I plopped onto the edge of the bed next to him and smoothed my dress. Tristan pulled off his tie and shook his head. “What a night.” My cheeks grew warm when I remembered the dance. “Yeah.” I was so busy remembering, I almost missed his next words. “I want to see you.” “What?” I gasped, my heart rate skyrocketing. “I want to know you—what you look like,” he said quietly and held out his hand. I breathed, “Oh,” and guided his hand to my face. His fingertips rested gently against the skin of my forehead and slowly brushed the line of my hair. I couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran down my spine. I closed my eyes and felt his fingers feeling their way downwards, tracing the arches of my eyebrows.

Softly, they moved over my nose to the bones of my cheeks. I could hardly breathe, but a question nagged at the back of my mind. I whispered, “Why did you date all of those girls?” “Sometimes, you’re just looking for something that’s right.” Oh, it was a line. It was so a line. But it was a good line. For a moment, his hand cupped my cheek. I was sinking into his touch, anticipating his next movement as he discovered...me. In the darkness behind my eyelids, I was intensely aware of every noise, the sound of his steady exhaling. Mostly, as his thumb stroked my lips, I was overwhelmed by the desire to know everything about him. If only I could see him without his sunglasses. If only... His breath was warm on my skin and his hand had settled against my neck. I wanted to look, but— “Ahh!” With my heightened senses, the sound of the doorknob twisting brought me into a panic. I jumped away from Tristan just when the door opened. Chris stood in the doorway with his arms crossed. He was dressed in his pajamas, though he appeared very much awake. He knitted his eyebrows as he looked from me, and I was probably white as a ghost, to Tristan. His voice was suspicious. “What are you guys doing in here?” Tristan frowned. “Nothing. You should be in bed.” “Dad always told you to keep the door open.” “Well, Dad isn’t here now, is he?” he snapped. The boy’s eyes widened and his mouth formed a hard line. “Listen, I...” Tristan sighed and explained, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was closed.” Chris looked down at the carpeting. “It’s okay... Mom’s just... It’s kinda loud.” “She can get pretty...excited for parties, you know?” Tristan shrugged. “Sometimes grown-ups play loudly.” His brother’s face brightened. “Do you wanna play a game?” Tristan’s laugh was bitter. “I don’t know if I’m much competition nowadays.” “We can play together,” I chimed in quickly. “How does that sound?” Chris nodded eagerly and ran from the room to find a game. I took a deep breath to calm myself; I was trembling all over. If he hadn’t walked in before, would we have kissed? I tried not to dwell on it. I was here working to get money for college. I wasn’t falling—no. I swallowed hard and looked over at Tristan, who seemed to be lost in his thoughts. There was no reason for my trembling. None. Chris ran back into the room with a box in his hands. He slid onto his knees at the foot of the bed and proudly set the game on the floor. He smirked challengingly at me and proclaimed, “Battleship.” “I’m ready if you are, kid.” I pinched Tristan’s knee as I took a seat on the floor. “And I’m counting on you to destroy his ships.” Tristan smiled and turned toward Chris. “You heard her. Your naval days are numbered. A4.” *** The Saturday morning sky was slightly overcast. I stretched my arms as I pulled up to the Edmunds’ gate, which was closed. The night before, I’d gone straight to bed after three hours of Battleship and then I laid there forever while I tried to process everything that had happened. The ceremony, the dance, the...seeing. I wanted to come up with something fun for Tristan and I to do—something that we would both be able to enjoy, something special. However, my list of things I knew he would enjoy and things that would be risky was one and the same: riding horses. The problem was that I’d only ridden horses twice in my life, to little success, and, well, he was blind. But I just couldn’t think of anything else. Leaning out my car window, I pressed the call button. A minute passed and then a familiar boy’s voice crackled through the speaker. “What?” “Chris, it’s me! Open up!”

There was a pause and then he replied, “Sooo, what’d ya do last night?” “Beat a little cheater at Battleship,” I teased. “You did not!” “Did too!” “You guys only won once! I won the rest!” the boy huffed. “Only because you kept telling us we’d missed, when we’d hit your boats!” My comment was met by indignant silence. “Chris, come on!” There was a buzz and the gate swung open. By the time I pulled into the driveway, which was now empty of all the catering vehicles, he was waiting for me at the door with an evil little smile smeared across his face. I gave myself a quick pinch on the arm before exiting my car, just in case I’d really slipped into a Stephen King themed nightmare. I skipped up the stairs and tried to slip past him, but he blocked my way. “So, before I came in, what were you doing in Tristan doing?” he asked coyly. “Nothing. What were you doing snooping outside his room?” Chris raised his eyebrows. “Hearing you scream pretty loud.” I glowered and he casually kicked at the ground. “So, you and Trist are friends now?” I shrugged and fought the urge to tweak his smirking little cheeks. “I guess.” He blocked me when I made another move to get inside. “Wha’ch ya doing, today?” I glared at him. “Something, okay?” I caught his shoulder and pushed him aside. “You’re gonna try to get him to ride Aeris, huh?” I stopped inside the foyer and spun around. The open door swung in the breeze, but Chris was gone. Creepy little kid. I turned back around and jumped. Tristan was standing in front of me, at the base of the staircase. I let out a small squeak and his face lit with a mind-numbing smile. “Nice to see you, too.” “I’m sorry. It was just your brother....” I sighed. “Never mind.” I walked forward and took his arm. “Let’s go.” Tristan walked with me, but asked, “Where are we going?” “Uh, for a drive,” I said evasively. He turned his head toward me, skeptical. “Really, Amy?” “It’s a surprise,” I said with a smile and swung the door shut behind us. I turned to see Chris sitting on the front steps. He jumped up when he saw us and, grinning at me, piped, “I know where you’re going!” I swatted at his head, but he ducked out of the way. I eyed him. “Come closer, kid. I dare you.” He laughed and slipped back into the house. “What was that about?” asked Tristan as he climbed into the Camry. “Oh, nothing.” When I began to drive, I found that I’d forgotten to grab a cassette tape. I brushed my hair behind my ears, pondering turning on the radio, and then I realized that the silence between us was actually comfortable. A smile brushed my lips when I looked over to see Tristan’s perfect silhouette against the blue-gray sky. I found myself asking, “What are you thinking about?” He inclined his head toward me and I waited for his answer. Finally, he said, “Just surprised this car’s still running.” “What?” I said in mock-anger and playfully punched his shoulder. He laughed at me. “Tristan, I’m serious!” “Remember that music you had on when I was first in your car?” I nodded. “Yeah, Sting—The Police.” “That was pretty awful,” he deadpanned. “Right.” I rolled my eyes. “Do you even listen to music?”

“Of course I do.” I raised my eyebrows. “Yeah? What’s your favorite band?” “Coldplay.” “What?” I cried. “Are you serious? I love them!” Tristan laughed, “I didn’t think you liked any bands from this decade.” “Seriously.” I pulled the Camry into a parking spot. “Sting is classic.” I switched off the engine. “We’re here.” “And the surprise is...?” I said enthusiastically, “We’re at the stables to visit Aeris!” “Oh.” His face darkened. “What makes you think I want to ride?” “Because you used to love it.” I walked around my car to the passenger side and opened his door. “Listen, this isn’t for me. The last horse I was on was four feet tall and could only walk in a circle. I was three; I fell in his poop; there were tears. Since then, horses and I—not such a good thing.” He snapped, “Amy, there’s a reason I haven’t been riding Aeris,” and tapped meaningfully on the edge of his glasses. I sighed and pulled on his arm. “Oh, come on. I’ll be your eyes.” “That’s real comforting, after your story,” he said sarcastically and climbed out of my car. I smiled and slid my hand into his. Tristan’s fingers tightened around mine and I felt my cheeks grow warm. I had to get a grip...on myself! Not him! Honestly. We entered the sky-blue stables. They were beautiful and bright, with a high-beamed ceiling. There were two rows of stalls on both sides of the building. Helmets, saddles, bridles, and other equipment I couldn’t name hung on pegs outside of the stalls. Through the doors, I could see the brilliant faces of purebred horses. I looked to Tristan and asked, “Where’s Aeris?” He frowned as he thought. “Uh, on the left...halfway down the row. He’s black.” We walked a little further and then I saw an intense onyx eye staring at me. I stopped and marveled at the handsome animal. His coat was so deeply black that it shimmered navy in the light. His ears were cocked forward while he regarded me. Then he dismissively blew air through his nostrils and, turning toward Tristan, pinned his ears back. Tristan let go of my hand and took a step toward the stable. “Aeris?” The horse watched him as he held out his hand. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I should’ve come.” Aeris watched for another moment and then rubbed his head against his owner’s hand. He patted the horse’s neck and turned to me. “Well, you still want to go?” “Of course.” Tristan nodded. “You’ll have to tack him—get him ready. I can’t.” I eyed the saddle that hung by the stable door. “I don’t think I can put a saddle on right.” “Well, it’s probably better that way,” he replied. “We wouldn’t both fit in it.” Wait—what was he saying? Go without a saddle? Was my pony-riding story for nothing? I gasped, “What do you mean?” “We’ll ride bareback,” he said with a smirk. “We’ll just need the bridle.” Right. I gingerly lifted the leather bridle from its peg. The long reins hung down from the bit. I moved toward Aeris, whose ears turned back. Tristan kept a firm hand against the horse’s neck while I slipped the bridle over the animal’s head. He felt me slide on the bridle and then instructed, “Okay, now tighten the straps. The bit’s in his mouth?” I pulled on the straps. “Yeah.” “All right.” He held onto the reins. “Open the door.” I opened the latch and Tristan backed up, leading Aeris from the stall. He felt with his free hand down

the horse’s neck to his back. He held out the reins and I took them. I watched, my mouth falling slightly open, as he climbed on Aeris’s back with little difficulty. He held out his hand and I passed back the reins. He laughed, letting the reins fall against the horse’s neck, and said, “No, you.” “Oh.” I grabbed his hand and was amazed when he lifted me off the ground...that is, until I panicked. How was I supposed to get the rest of the way up?! I began to flail, but he caught me around the waist with his other arm and pulled me on. I awkwardly swung my leg over the horse’s side and, sighing, leaned back against Tristan’s chest. I stayed there, catching my breath, until I heard Tristan clear his throat. I quickly sat up straight, my cheeks bright red. Tristan reached around me to take the reins. “Okay, tell me where to go.” I guided Tristan out the stables and onto the fields. We moved through the grass at a gentle canter. Even though I bounced roughly with every step, I found the ride enjoyable. The air blew through my hair and I breathed in the fresh scent. Relaxing, I closed my eyes. A few moments later, I heard Tristan whisper in my ear, “Are we getting close to the fence?” I shrugged and lazily opened my eyes. My heart skipped a beat. The fence was barely five yards away. I screamed, “Turn!” “How close are we?” he asked calmly. “It’s right here!” I yelled and I turned my head, like we were about to get into a car accident. As we began to rise off of the ground, I felt Tristan press his chest against my back until I was bent over the horse’s neck. With a nearly hysterical laugh, I felt a rush like being on a roller coaster while we soared through the air. The moment was brief and the horse’s front hooves quickly hit the ground. Tristan pulled me up and I could hear his smile as he scolded, “Amy, are your eyes open, now?” At first, all I could do was laugh. When Tristan brought Aeris to a halt, I managed to sputter, “I-I’m sorry. That was amazing! I take it you’ve done that before?” He brushed a hand against Aeris’s shoulder and said in a dark voice that made me forget my laughter, “I used to do show-jumping. I was at a competition when, well....” His voice trailed off. “I’m sorry,” I replied softly. “Hey, you don’t cause genetic retinal weakness.” “I know....” I was overwhelmed with emotion and I couldn’t say why. I just felt for him and things he’d miss seeing. I spun around and threw my arms around his neck. Tristan let go of the reins and we were suddenly hugging each other with a kind of fierceness, like we never wanted to let go. I wondered if he knew why, because my mind reeled to think of it. The blood pounding in my ears made a very nice distraction. When we pulled apart, he asked, “Have you had enough riding for today?” I watched his face, wondering what he was thinking. I suddenly wished that I could see him without his glasses but, even more, I wanted to see him happy again. I offered, “From the road, I saw a trail that we could go on.” Tristan paused for a moment and then a dizzyingly bright smile filled his face. “Yeah, sure.” Feeling warmed, I turned back around. I tugged on Aeris’s reins, so he began to canter in the direction of the path. “So, Secret Music Fan—” “I never said that I didn’t like music,” he interjected. “True,” I conceded. “Do you have a favorite book, too?” “Catcher in the Rye.” “Going for the classic.” I smirked. “You’re deeper than you look.” I immediately bit down on my tongue. What was I saying? Just because he looked like a model— “Most people at Clarence would probably disagree with you,” he said bitterly. Relieved that he wasn’t offended, I added too quickly, “But, you’re different than you were. Aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I think so. Before, I thought I was happy living party-to-party, but I wasn’t.” “How do you feel now?” He was silent a moment, before replying quietly, “Becoming blind wasn’t something I planned... I’m still trying to figure things out.” “Like, the future?” I offered. “Yeah.” He sighed. “You know, you can lean back if you want to.” I blushed as I relaxed against him. “Thanks.” Aeris slowed to a comfortable walk while we followed the gentle path. Tristan and I were silent, peacefully silent. I felt the slow rise and fall of his chest, just like our dance. I watched the flowing landscape around us and finally felt so relaxed, that I spoke the question on my mind. “Do you think you’ll ever compete, again?” I felt Tristan’s heart begin to pound at the thought. “I don’t know. I-I don’t think anyone blind has ever show-jumped....” I waited while he considered the idea. “It would be almost impossible.” “But, think about it! It would be you and Aeris! You already have a bond!” I enthused. I bounced against Tristan’s chest as he laughed. “Amy, you’re crazy.” “Fine.” I grumbled. “But, I have one more suggestion.” “What’s that?” he asked teasingly. “We should go get some ice cream.” “That I can handle.” *** With my plastic spoon, I traced a pattern in the top of my bowl of Maple Walnut. To me, Ice Cream World was one of the very best features of Grayfield. It was retro, but not to the point of being annoying. Sure, outside there was a red and white awning and inside the walls were lined with shelves holding syrups and toppings in glass jars. The point was that they let their employees wear jeans and t-shirts with only tiny Ice Cream World logos. That’s progress. I eyed Tristan as he dug into his Mint Chocolate Chip. “How long did you say it’s been since you’ve come here?” He shrugged. “Ten years?” “Ugh!” I gestured with my spoon. “You are crazy! A summer isn’t complete without Ice Cream World ice cream!” I tried not to stare while Tristan licked a drip of ice cream from his lips. “I was busy doing other things.” “Nothing quite as tasty.” “True,” he laughed. I carved out a spoonful of Maple Walnut before asking, “So, how long have you ridden?” “Since I was six.” Tristan swallowed and his face grew still as he remembered. “My father got me started riding ponies and I was jumping them when I was about nine. By the time I turned eleven, I was bored with jumping ponies, so my father bought me Aeris. Once I was trained in equestrian show-jumping, I really started competing.” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and asked carefully, “Did your dad ride, too?” Tristan lowered his head and prodded at his ice cream. He said slowly, “When he was younger, but then he got too busy.” He paused for a moment, lost in thought. “My father was a neurosurgeon—one of the best in the country. He was always driving to Chicago to consult or flying out to speak at conferences.” “Was he around at all?” “Enough,” Tristan said shortly and his mouth formed a hard line. For several minutes, he fell silent and slowly ate his ice cream. I jumped when he unexpectedly spoke. “What about you—what’s your passion?” “My ‘passion’?” I laughed. “Music. I love it! My dream job is being a journalist for the Rolling Stone. I don’t know what the odds of that happening are....”

“You’ll do it,” he said, smiling, and again caught me off guard. “Why do you say that?” His answer came confidently. “Because you’ve got it all down; you know what’s important.” I blushed, amazed that he would say such a thing to me. I squeaked out a “Thanks.” Tristan took another bite of ice cream. “What’s next? College?” I licked my spoon and tried my best to calm myself. “Yeah, but it’s not as simple as it sounds... Rolling Stone only takes twelve interns a year, so I really need to wow them. I’m sure I’d learn stuff if I went to Illinois U. But if I went to Evanston, I’d be ready.” He frowned, looking confused. “So, where are you going? Evanston?” “I don’t know!” I cried. “That’s the problem! I’ve been accepted to both schools, but Evanston’s so much money—” “And that’s why you’re working for my mother.” Tristan set down his spoon. I bit my lip and nodded. “Yeah.” He turned his head toward me. “The job. I almost forgot.” “Me too,” I whispered and looked down at my empty ice cream bowl. “Do you want to head back?” “No. Not yet.” I looked up, blinking dumbly. H e wanted to spend more time with me? I fumbled awkwardly, “Oh! Well...there’s a record store around the corner. If you like Coldplay, you should really listen to Jon Buckley. He was popular in the 90s, but I think you’ll like him.” Tristan’s smile flashed as he said “Sounds good,” and I melted.

Chapter 8 Driving home that afternoon, I was giddy. We’d had a great time, actually hanging out like...friends. And he loved Jon Buckley so much that we listened to almost the whole CD in the store before the manager told us we’d better buy something or leave. So, I bought it for him. It was just a gift, a friendly gift. I wanted him to be able to listen to it whenever he wanted to...and maybe to think of me when he heard it. Was that so wrong? I didn’t want to know. I was still smiling while I pulled into my driveway. I noticed a different car sitting in front of my house, but I didn’t think much of it as I walked inside. A man was standing in the kitchen with my parents. He was wearing a polo shirt, khakis, and a wedding ring; I pegged him as some client of my dad’s who was dropping off paperwork. I swung the front door shut behind me, just when he turned to face me. He had jade eyes—my mom’s eyes—and his face! It was Charlie! He was no longer the skinny eighteen-year-old of my memory, but a thirty-year-old adult. I immediately ran forward and threw my arms around his neck. “Oh my God!” I smiled over his shoulder and saw my dad’s eyes: angry, worried eyes. “Where were you?” Dad asked the obvious trick question. I let go of my brother and told the truth, “Sitting Tristan.” “I thought you said you weren’t dating him. Charlie said that he saw the two of you walking, arm-in-arm, into Ice Cream World.” “That doesn’t mean anything.” I shrugged, but my blushing cheeks gave me away. “We’re not dating.” “Well, I have to meet this guy,” my brother said firmly. “What?” I gaped at him. “Charlie’s right. I don’t know if I like the idea of you getting paid to spend time with a boy you have a crush on.” Dad added with a tone of finality, “If you want to keep this job, then we have to meet him.” I huffed, “You don’t understand. I’m making good money, good enough to pay for Evanston.” I hadn’t realized what I’d said until I saw the flash in Dad’s eyes. “What?! Evanston College?” “Uh, shouldn’t we be talking about Charlie?” I stalled, rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly. “Hey, I’m good, sis,” said Charlie with a quick smile. With little choice, I blurted, “I-I was accepted to Evanston College. I really want to go there—it’s such an amazing school—but I know that it’s way too expensive. So, I sent in money to hold my spot and then, when I got this job, I realized that it was actually a possibility—” Dad frowned. “What money?” “My savings,” I answered sheepishly. “Your savings?” Dad shook his head, slowly walked over to a kitchen chair, and sat down heavily. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell us.” Seeing the hurt look on his face, a sickening feeling of guilt washed over me. I said quietly, “I’m sorry.” Dad rubbed his hands over his face and then looked up at me. “You know, Amy, your mother and I want you to be happy. But, have you really thought about this? I’m sure Evanston is a great school, but by the time you graduate you’ll be at least $120,000 in debt—no matter where you work in the summer.” I swallowed hard. “I know.” Charlie put a hand on my shoulder. “Come on, Dad, she deserves to go to any college she wants. Don’t squash her dreams.”

“I’m not.” He stood and, checking my mom’s face for approval, said, “Amy, if you want to go to Evanston, you can. It’s your choice.” “Really?” I smiled shakily, overwhelmed with relief. “Of course,” said Mom. “I just wish you would’ve told us sooner.” I ran forward, hugging each of them. Then, stepping back, I fixed on Charlie; there was no excuse for the fact that I hadn’t gotten a letter from him in weeks. “So, what have you been up to?” Charlie’s eyes, which had drifted toward the window, snapped back onto mine. “Some stuff.” I raised my eyebrows. “Yeah, I bet.” Dad moved between us. “Come on. Let’s go some place more comfortable.” He led us into the living room and I plopped onto a large purple pillow. My mom preferred sitting on the ground—hence the lack of a couch—and we would’ve probably eaten dinner on the floor, too, if it wasn’t for Dad. Dozens of pillows in all sizes, shapes, and colors filled the room. Charlie muttered, “Nothing’s changed,” before taking a seat. Mom, who was looking traumatized, settled into the corner and wrapped her arms around her favorite pillow. Her eyes focused on Charlie as she asked, “Why did you leave?” My brother began to flail his arms. “I didn’t want to be part of the Grayfield cycle anymore. Those Clarencites grow up in their million dollar houses, learn to drive in Audis, go to Princeton. And we’ll never make more than $30,000 a year, living in fifty-year-old houses, driving used Buicks! It’s disgusting.” He turned on me. “Aim, why would you want to date someone from that?” “I’m not dating him!” I growled. “Okay, okay!” yelled Dad. “Charlie, you can’t hate someone for being rich and you know it; that’s not how we raised you.” “Right, ‘raised me,’” snapped Charlie, “with Miss Flower Child always living outside in that jungle.” Dad’s eyes burned. “You will not talk about your mother like that!” “This is why I never came back before.” Charlie stood up, but Dad blocked him. “We are not done!” My dad and brother faced off for a tense moment and then Charlie reluctantly returned to his seat. Dad took a deep breath and nodded. “All right. We can’t change what’s happened in the past, but we can do something about the future. I don’t want to someday find out that I have a ten-year-old grandchild who I didn’t know about.” Charlie eyed the floor. “Actually...” The room fell eerily silent. “You will have one in August.” He raised his eyes and held up his left hand. “I got married a couple months ago. Her name’s Sandy. We live on her parents’ farm in California. I work there. It was Sandy’s idea that I come back. She found one of Amy’s letters—” I winced when Mom gasped, “What?” “How long has this been going on?” Dad asked sternly. Looking surprised, Charlie said, “Since I left.” Mom turned to me, tears running down her cheeks. Sure, they weren’t surprised about him getting marrying some girl without saying anything, but I was evil? She sputtered, “How could you not tell us? How much have you been hiding?” “This is it! I swear!” I glared at my brother. “He didn’t want me to tell!” Charlie shrugged. “But you were just a kid. I figured you would.” “Well, I didn’t, okay?” “All right.” My dad sighed. “Again, what’s done is done. Right, Lucy?” He eyed my mom, who nodded slowly. “Now, I think it’s best if your mother and I talk to Charlie alone. Don’t you have some finals to be studying for?” I frowned, hating to be left out of the loop. “They’re Monday, but they’re not a big deal.”

Dad raised his eyebrows. “Graduating isn’t a big deal?” I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t mean that....” “Make sure you tell your boyfriend you have to study tomorrow,” Mom said in a scratchy voice, “but he can come to dinner.” I threw my hands into the air. “He’s not my boyfriend! And you seriously want me to invite him over?” Three faces stared at me as if I was being crazy. I shook my head. “Fine.” I stomped all of the way into my bedroom. I hated feeling like I was being treated like a child. I picked up the phone and roughly punched numbers into the receiver. The phone rang and then I heard Mrs. Edmund’s voice. “Hello?” “Hi, this is Amy.” “Amy!” she cried. “Oh, I’m so embarrassed about the other night!” “Don’t worry about it,” I said and grimaced at the memory of her calling me Tristan’s babysitter. “Listen, I just wanted to tell you that I’m not going to be over for a couple of days, ‘cause I have finals Monday.” “Oh, you’re graduating, too! Of course. That’s wonderful!” “Thanks. Yeah, Tuesday’s the big day!” I said with false cheer. “Well, in that case, why don’t you take Wednesday off before you start full time?” she offered. I gulped. I’d almost forgotten that I was going to be working full time. Forty hours a week, alone with Tristan... My mind began to drift off, when I heard her ask, “Does that sound okay, dear?” “Yeah, great,” I said dreamily. “All right.” I could almost hear her smiling. “I’ll tell Tristan to expect you Thursday.” I said quickly, “Oh, uh, can I talk to him?” She paused and then replied, “Sure.” The phone went quiet while, I imagine, she carried it up to his bedroom. There was some scratching as her hand covered the speaker, then I heard his voice. “Amy?” “Yeah, hi.” I felt myself blushing. I couldn’t ask him—I couldn’t! “How’re you doing?” “Fine,” he said, sounding confused. “Remember, you were with me about an hour ago?” Oh no. He thought I was a stalker! I pushed a strand of hair behind my ear and tried to laugh. “Yeah, I know. See, my parents know I’m, uh, helping you....” “Okay?” he prompted. I sighed and said in a rush, “So, they want to have you over for dinner tomorrow.” There was complete and utter silence on the other end of the phone; I couldn’t even hear him breathing. Finally, he said, “And if I remember right, your mom’s crazy?” I mumbled, “Well, kind of....” He laughed. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I’ll come. It’s not like I have anything else going on. Mom’ll be thrilled with my ‘progress.’” “Thanks, Tristan. My address is on the résumé I e-mailed her. Could you come around six?” “Yeah. I’ll see you then.” “Great! Bye!” I turned off the phone and tried to not think about how Tristan was perfect boyfriend material because it didn’t matter. Right? *** For me, the next day passed terribly slowly. My dad kept telling me that I needed to be studying, but I hardly saw the point because all I really had to do was show up and I’d be able to graduate. And, of course, there was the whole issue of Charlie. Things were still tense between him and my parents and, whenever he walked into a room with me, we ended up making small talk. What could I say when I hadn’t seen him since the age when I thought Power Rangers were cool? I sat at the kitchen table, curled over my Biology book. I stared blankly at a picture of a dissected flower while my mind drifted on thoughts of exploring fingertips. I jumped in surprise when Charlie pulled out a chair and sat down. He smiled at my reaction and asked, “Hard at work?”

“Oh yeah.” I straightened up and pushed my hair from my face. “Looking forward to seeing your boyfriend?” “No,” I lied. “And he’s not my boyfriend.” “I thought we could try a face-to-face for once, instead of the letters.” I glared. “The letters don’t work so well when you leave out major details.” “About that,” Charlie scratched the back of his neck, “did I say that I’m sorry?” “No.” “Well, I am,” he said. “You didn’t miss much; we just went to a Justice of the Peace.” I said with a frown, “If I’m going to forgive you, it’s not going to be because of excuses.” Charlie shook his head. “Wow, sis, when did you get so old?” “Me?” Despite myself, I laughed. “Mr. Polo Shirt, you should be talking!” He plucked at his shirt. “Hey, I’m going to be a father!” “That poor kid.” I folded my arms. “So, what’s she like?” “Who?” “Your wife!” Charlie shrugged. “She...I don’t know. She’s great. She makes the best blueberry pancakes you’ve ever eaten “ “And she got you to come here, which is amazing,” I added. “Once Sandy has the baby, she wants to come meet you.” “Definitely.” I shook my head at him. “You, a dad—I still can’t believe it.” “Well,” Charlie pushed back from the table, “I should probably let you get back to work.” “I guess. Hey...you are going to be nice tonight, right?” My brother’s face glowed with feigned innocence. “Of course, Aim. Don’t worry.” I tried to smile, but by the time dinner rolled around, I was nervous. My mom had been rushing back and forth between the kitchen and her garden for the past hour. She said that she was creating something “special,” which I wasn’t so sure was a good thing. One of her last “special” meals had required a visit from the Grayfield fire department. I kept my fingers crossed while I pretended to look over my notes. At ten to six, the doorbell rang. My stomach gave a lurch when I answered the door. Tristan was standing on the front stoop and Mrs. Edmund waved as she walked back to her BMW. I took Tristan’s arm to lead him inside and managed to get in a “Thanks for coming,” before Charlie assaulted us. My brother blocked our path and drew himself up to his full height, not that Tristan could actually tell the difference. “So, you’re Tristan?” “Yes,” Tristan shifted his weight uncertainly, “Mr. Turner?” “Actually, this is my older brother, Charlie,” I explained. “The one who ran away?” Tristan asked, inclining his head toward mine. “Jeez, he makes it sound like I was a little kid,” said Charlie, while waving a hand in front of Tristan’s face. I reached out and kicked him. “Ouch!” Tristan frowned. “What’s going on?” “Nothing,” I replied, while glaring at my brother. “I think dinner’s ready.” We walked into the house and sat at the kitchen table. Mom appeared with the first plates of food. My eyes widened when I looked down at my plate. It was an organic meal, all right; she had prepared flowers. More specifically, she had made a pasta salad with a dandelion vinaigrette and petals of carnations, cornflowers, and roses. Dad appeared with the other plates. “Hello, Tristan.” “Hi.” Tristan nodded in his direction. Charlie looked down at his plate. With a sarcastic tone, he said, “You’ve outdone yourself, Mother.” “Really?” My mom looked hopeful as she took her seat.

Dad patted her hand. “Yes, it looks beautiful.” I was sitting next to Tristan and he bent close, whispering, “Uh, what is it?” “Well...” My brother, who had overheard, was looking amused. “It’s a pasta salad.” Charlie raised his eyebrows and mouthed at me, “With flowers!” “Shut up!” I mouthed back. “Don’t offend Mom.” There was a clatter of silverware when everyone began eating. I watched as Tristan slid his hand along the table, until he found his fork. The first bite of salad that he scooped onto his fork held a large, bright red rose petal. I held my breath while the fork made its way to his mouth. Just when he was about to take the bite, Charlie spoke up. “Tristan, how long have you known my sister?” The fork lowered back toward his plate, still holding the petal. I glowered at my brother, while Tristan replied, “Uh, a little over a week.” Charlie raised his eyebrows. “That’s all? You seemed pretty close, when I saw you.” Tristan frowned. “When you saw us?” “Charlie saw you two downtown,” Dad clarified. “Oh.” Tristan again lifted his fork toward his mouth. “Yeah, we’ve spent a lot of time together.” “Amy said you graduated from Clarence. That must have been a nice place to go to school,” said Mom. The fork paused. “Actually, I haven’t gone there for a few months.” Charlie’s eyebrows shot up. “And you still graduated? It’s interesting what money can do....” I began, “Charlie—” Tristan stiffened. “I’m sorry. Did you graduate?” Charlie slammed his fork into his plate. “Do you have a problem with a GED?” “That’s enough!” Dad said loudly. Tristan took the bite off of his fork. He began to chew and, all at once, stopped. His hand slid discreetly toward his mouth. I leaned close to his ear and whispered, “It’s a flower petal.” He nodded as he removed the petal with his napkin. “Do you have plans, Tristan? College?” asked my dad. Tristan’s face grew dark. “I don’t think so, now.” “If you learned Braille, I’m sure you could go,” I suggested eagerly. He shrugged. “I’m just taking it one day at a time.” Mom said, “Did you know that Amy graduates Tuesday night?” “You’re just glad someone is going through that little ceremony,” snapped Charlie. She gave him a hurt look. “I didn’t mean that.” The table abruptly fell into a cold silence that remained throughout the rest of the dinner. I wished desperately that I could melt into the floor and take Tristan with me. As soon as we were finished eating, I rushed Tristan out onto the stoop, to get away from my family. We sat on the step and, after a moment of quiet, I said, “I’m sorry about that.” “So, we both get to apologize for our families.” He gave a short laugh. “What kind of flower did I almost eat in there?” I smiled and pushed playfully against his shoulder. “A rose.” “Really?” He raised his eyebrows. “Chris will get a kick out of that.” “At least something good came out of this.” I watched as headlights approached from down my street. I hesitated and then gave Tristan a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, again.” His smile made my cheeks grow warm. “My pleasure.”

Chapter 9 On Tuesday, I stood in the middle of the kitchen, impatiently tapping my graduation cap against my leg. Because the gym at my high school was hot every year during the ceremony, I wore a cotton tunic and jean capris under my blue robe. My dad, dressed as nicely as if he were going to work, caught my eye and shrugged. We were both waiting for my mom and brother to surface. Charlie was still packing for his flight, which was scheduled to leave tonight, and Mom thought she had enough time to embroider a new rose into her favorite pair of jeans—in honor of me. “I know ‘T’ isn’t the first letter in the alphabet, but I’d still like to leave soon!” I called. “I’m coming,” Charlie laughed and climbed up the basement stairs, his duffle bag bulging. Lifting the bag, he said, “I can’t believe you guys saved my stuff. Even all my old cassette tapes were there.” He eyed me. “Well, almost all of them.” I rolled my eyes. “Okay, so maybe I borrowed a few of them over the last decade.” Charlie made a face at me. “You like making me feel old, don’t you?” “Well....” Dad shook his head at us. “Charlie, if you don’t mind heading over now with Amy, your mother and I can meet you at school with the rental car.” “No problem.” Charlie walked over to the front door and held it open for me. “You sure you’re old enough to drive? I remember you having a little problem controlling a bumper car.” I laughed. “Now I’m tall enough to see over the wheel, so that helps.” Charlie followed me outside and climbed into the passenger side of my Camry. Wedging his duffle bag by his feet, he quickly buckled his seatbelt while I backed out of the driveway. He took a deep breath and tried to pretend that he didn’t actually think it was scary having his little sister driving. I could see his eyes darting to check my car’s mirrors. Clearing his throat as I hit the gas, he said, “Dad told me—I mean, I think I may have gotten a little out of line at dinner last night. I am proud that you’re graduating, Amy.” “Yeah?” I offered him a smile. “Thanks.” “I guess I just expected them to be mad that I was gone for so long; I almost wanted them to be mad. Seeing how well you guys get along...I guess it made me jealous.” He shrugged. “You remember all of the fights I used to get into with them?” “Of course I remember! You’d shake the house, yelling so loud.” Slowing down for a stop sign, I turned and looked at him. “You know, just because Mom and Dad weren’t mad, doesn’t mean they forgot about you. I wrote to you about the dinners and, did Mom show you the mural?” Charlie nodded. “She pointed it out to me this morning and we had a good talk. But, I still want you to know that I think it’s great what you’re doing: going to Evanston, breaking out of the caste system.” I sighed and continued driving. “Well, I’m not sure I’m going to Evanston. Dad’s right when he said it’d cost a lot. What I earn this summer will barely pay for my room, let alone the rest of the tuition. And there aren’t many scholarships for average, middleclass girls.” “You’re not average,” Charlie scoffed. “Uh, thanks?” “I mean, didn’t you say you want to write for the Rolling Stone? And you’re helping a blind kid! Who does that?” he asked, his tone daring me to prove him wrong.

“Okay. I’m not normal.” I held up one of my hands, surrendering. “So, when you find the scholarship for abnormal, aspiring journalists, make sure you nominate me.” Charlie grinned. “You got it, sis.” *** Much like I’d expected, my graduation ceremony was about as exciting as listening to NPR in a sauna. While sweat pooled in the nape of my neck, I hunted for my family through a jungle of people pushing to escape the sweltering gym. I was so happy to find them that I thought my face was going to split from smiling. Dad beamed while Mom snapped pictures with an ancient instamatic camera. “Now, Amy, you and Charlie need to stand together,” she instructed. I sighed, eager to finish, and posed stiffly next to Charlie. He noticed my sour expression and, right before the flash went off, wrapped me in a bear hug. I screamed in surprise, having not been attacked by him for so long. Laughing, he said, “Congrats, Aim.” “Thanks.” I peered up into his face. “I’m glad you came. You better do it again sometime.” “I will.” He looked over at our parents. “Once Sandy has the baby, I promise. Ten years was too long...I shouldn’t have done that to you guys.” “We never stopped hoping you’d come back,” Dad said and Mom nodded her head, her eyes bright. Charlie held Dad’s gaze for a long moment. Then he coughed and checked his watch. “We should probably get going. My flight leaves in two hours.” He hit my shoulder gently. “I’ll be writing to you soon. You keep up those letters.” “You keep up that adulthood.” He frowned. “No need for the A-word! I’m still young!” “See you later, honey!” called Mom, as they headed outside. “Bye!” I sighed while I watched them go and then I slipped off my cap. I scanned the room for Ahna, which was hard considering that the room was packed with the family and friends of my three hundred classmates, many of whom were sweating and scowling their way through rounds of photographs. Luckily, Ahna’s red hair gave her away and I spotted her weaving through the crowd. I positioned myself near the exit doors and waited for her. Ahna emerged, pulling an overwhelmed Lyle by the hand. Her face broke into a smile when she saw me and she gave me a big hug. She stepped back, yelling over the din, “Are you ready to go?” I nodded. “Yeah!” Outside, the night air was cool, yet blissfully comfortable compared to the gym. Beyond the yellow glow of the streetlamps, I spotted a bright full moon hanging over the empty football field. As I stepped onto the sidewalk, I closed my eyes and breathed in the smell of fresh summer. I would have kept walking, knowing that the hand-holding Ahna and Lyle would be coming, but I heard her ask, “Aim? Is that...?” I turned to see Ahna standing a few steps behind me and pointing back toward the gym. I looked and, at first, I only saw the stream of people flowing out. Then, I noticed a figure standing to one side of the doors. He looked tense and out of place with his dark sunglasses and his hands shoved deep into his pockets. In an instant, I was at his side. I caught his arm and he jumped in surprise at the touch. “What are you doing here?” I asked. “Amy.” He flashed a smile and I felt my stomach flip. “I’m here to see you.” My face reddened; this was not happening! He laughed as if he could sense my embarrassment and continued, “I thought it was only fair, since you came to my graduation. Chris called a taxi.” I couldn’t help but smile. The little rascal. I squeezed Tristan’s arm. “Well, thanks for coming.” “Amy, who’s this?” I turned to see Ahna smiling coyly. I glared at her. “Ahna, this is Tristan. Tristan, this is my best friend, Ahna, and her boyfriend, Lyle.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Lyle. He pointlessly offered his hand for Tristan to shake and Ahna jabbed him in the ribs. Oblivious, Tristan nodded in their direction. “Yeah, nice to meet you.” “I forgot you said he was blind,” Lyle grumbled to Ahna while he rubbed his side. Tristan raised his eyebrows. “You were all talking about me?” “No!” Ahna and I both said guiltily. Lyle muttered, “Guess they can hear well,” and Ahna sighed and shook her head in exasperation. “So, is he going bowling with us?” Tristan turned to me. “You’re going bowling?” “No,” I said quickly. “We can go do something else. Okay, Ahna?” “Sure!” She winked at me and began to drag Lyle across the street to the bowling alley. “Have fun, you guys!” I slid my hand into his. “Why don’t we go sit? It’s a beautiful night to be outside.” I led Tristan over to the football field. The grass was long and thick, having been neglected since the season had ended. The large metal bleachers were empty. We were completely alone; even the last stragglers had left the gymnasium. The night felt peaceful while illuminated by the white light of the moon. I flopped onto the cool grass and looked up at the stars. Tristan lay next to me and, after a moment, said quietly, “You aren’t like any of the girls I dated.” I pushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “What do you mean?” “You think and you wear an old, red pair of Chucks.” He smirked. “Chris told me that.” I laughed. “Yeah, I figured.” “And you care about other people, not just yourself.” I rolled onto my side and watched the stars reflect in his dark glasses. Those two lenses hid so much of him from me, so much of him that I couldn’t stand to have hidden anymore. I pushed myself into a sitting position with one leg curled under my body. I hugged my knee and let the words slip from my lips: “I want to see your eyes.” Tristan leaned up on his elbows. “What?” “Your eyes,” I breathed. He brushed a hand through his hair. “Isn’t it dark?” “There’s a full moon. Please.” He exhaled slowly and nodded. I bit my lip and bent forward. Reaching out my trembling fingers, I gently slid the glasses off of his face. I looked down as I rested them on his chest, then I hesitated. Taking in a steadying breath, I lifted my eyes to see...his closed eyelids. I smiled in surprise and, suddenly, his eyes snapped open. My heart leapt and I felt the air escape from my lungs. His eyes were striking—the brightest cerulean of an intense flame. But, even while I reveled at the sight, I could see the vacancy of his pupils as they stared past my shoulder. I found my hand caressing his temple. There was no thought, no word, as I simply found my eyes closed and my lips upon his and his upon mine. My heart pounded in my chest while his hand found its way into my hair. I was kissing him with every drop of emotion that had pooled within me since, since I couldn’t even remember when! I wrapped my arms around his neck and he pulled me closer to him. I, no, we were in lo— “Amy! Where are you?” The ill-timed call pierced the night. “We decided that it would be more fun if we all went for pizza!” “Yeah, he can eat pizza!” yelled Lyle. I pulled back and found myself breathing heavily. After sucking in air, I called back, “We’re coming, Ahna!” As Tristan helped me to my feet, I could see that he was smiling. He said slowly, “That was really...” He

pushed his sunglasses back on. “Yeah.” “It was ‘yeah’?” I laughed and bumped playfully into his side. “Yeah, for me too.” *** I wiped the last specs of parmesan off of my plate up with a finger. We had just finished a meal, which had consisted of much awkward small talk. With silent, somewhat-violent urging from Ahna, Lyle had offered to go with Tristan to the bathroom. Now Ahna, having slurped up the last of her pop, was fixing me with an intense stare. She knew something was up, maybe because I couldn’t stop smiling. “What happened to you?” she asked, her eyes glistening with curiosity. My eyes flicked up to hers and I grinned even wider. “We kissed.” “Wait—what?!” she gasped. “Who kissed who?” I laughed at her expression. “I don’t know—we kissed each other!” “Seriously? Aim, that’s so awesome!” Her eyes grew dreamy. “I don’t know if I’ve ever had a simultaneous kiss...that’s so romantic.” “Hey!” Lyle said grumpily. He was standing next to the table with Tristan. I blushed, hoping they hadn’t heard too much. “I mean, of course I have.” Ahna caught her boyfriend’s arm, while she winked at me. “Well, I guess we’ll head out,” I said, rising to my feet. “My car’s back at the school.” “Yeah, mine too,” said Ahna. I grabbed Tristan’s hand as we all headed outside. Ahna and Lyle were walking a little ahead of us, so I asked in a low voice, “Did you have a good time?” He smirked. “Well, you know, Lyle did shoot that straw wrapper right into my face... Oh, and he asked me if I liked being blind. That’s a great question.” I squeezed his hand. “I get the picture.” He laughed, turning his head toward mine. “It was okay.” “Good.” After saying our goodnights to Ahna and Lyle, we climbed into my Camry. As I pulled out of the empty parking lot, the silence of my car invited my head to fill with questions. When we kissed, did Tristan feel something, too? Did it mean that we were dating? All of my other short-lived boyfriends been obvious: we went to dinner, a movie, and tah dah, we were dating. Kissing a blind—guy, friend, employer?—wasn’t so simple to figure out. But what did that matter? We had kissed! I grinned. A short ride later, I pulled onto the Edmunds’ drive. Shutting off my car, I turned uncertainly to Tristan. He brushed my cheek with his hand before reaching down to undo his seatbelt. “You are really something, Amy Turner.” “Amy Rose Turner,” I said. “My mom would want you to remember that.” “Your crazy hippie mom? The one who tried to get me to eat flowers?” he asked mockingly, while opening the car door. “Shut up!” I laughed, pushing him out of my car. “I’ll see you Thursday; your mom gave me tomorrow off.” Tristan’s face darkened. “Right. The job.” Feeling awkward, I joked, “I suppose there are worse jobs than hanging out with you.” “Yeah.” He caught the rim of the door and his face grew more serious. “Amy, maybe we shouldn’t tell anyone about us.” “What do you mean?” “I just....” Tristan grimaced. “You need the money and I don’t think my mother would be willing to pay you, if you were dating me.”

“Oh.” My happiness deflating, I swallowed and nodded. “Right.” “I think you misunderstood me.” Tristan slid back into my car and reached his hand out, toward my head. I hesitated, unsure of what he meant, and then leaned forward. His hand curved to cup the back of my neck. He guided my face to meet his and gave me a gentle, perfect kiss that made my toes curl. “We’ll make this work, Amy Rose.” Smiling, I took his hand and squeezed it between both of mine. “Okay.” “Good night.” Tristan climbed out of my car and swung the door shut. I watched until he was inside the house and then sighed. This was not something I had expected; I had never kissed like that before. And keeping us hidden, especially from nosy little brothers, wasn’t going to be easy. Still, the excited tremble of my heart told me that Tristan was worth it. “What a night,” I whispered to my Camry and headed home.

Chapter 10 Wednesday morning, I vowed to sleep in as long as possible; a new high school graduate deserves her beauty rest. While my mind was still clouded, I heard the sound of beeping. I growled as I reached out from the warm cocoon of my bed and smacked the top of my alarm clock. The beeping continued. I moaned, pulling the pillow from on top of my head, and listened. It took me a foggy second to realize that the sound wasn’t just plain beeping, but the tune of U2’s “Where the Streets Have No Name.” “Ugh, phone,” I slurred and tumbled out of bed. Listening for the sound, I dug into my pile of dirty clothes. After a moment, I successfully pulled out my purse, from which fell my cell phone. I glared at it while it hummed mindlessly, before I answered, “Hello?” The phone emitted Mrs. Edmund’s voice. “Amy? Is that you?” “Uh, yeah?” I replied, confused. “I’m sorry to bother you. I know I said this was your day off—you weren’t sleeping, were you?” I shook my head, hoping to sooth my wild bed hair. There was no sense complaining to the woman paying me $20 an hour. “I’m up.” “Oh good,” she said too cheerily. “I was wondering if you could do me a favor? I need you to pick Lexus up from the airport.” Still groggy, I frowned; did she have a new car airmailed to her? Well, I supposed it was possible. I stammered, “O-okay, I guess. I’ll have to ask my friend to come, so I can drive it to your house and she can take my car.” There was a long pause, then Mrs. Edmund said slowly, “Dear...she’s not an ‘it.’ Lexus is Tristan’s girlfriend.” For a moment, time stopped. I saw black and felt sick and ice cold. Then, I blinked and it was like nothing had changed. My heart was still beating. I was still breathing. What had just happened? I felt numb. It was too early. And, what was that nightmare? I could almost remember...something horrible, too horrible to think about... “Are you there?” I jumped at the sound of Mrs. Edmund’s voice. Realizing I wasn’t asleep, I choked, “Yeah.” “So...you can pick her up?” she prompted as if I was a small child. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Sure. Yeah.” “Wonderful!” she cried. “That’s such a help, Amy. She’ll be landing in about a half-hour. It’s a private plane, so I’m sure you’ll know who she is! Oh, and she doesn’t know about Tristan being blind, yet, so don’t say anything. He’ll talk to her. Anyway, I have to run to work, so I’ll talk to you later!” I nodded absently and turned off my phone. For some reason, I always thought when the world ended it’d be louder. *** Sometime later, I found myself driving in my Camry. I tried to, but I couldn’t remember how I’d showered or gotten dressed. I was on the highway, which probably wasn’t a safe place to find myself zoning out. I looked at my car’s clock and saw that it was a little after 10 a.m.—which explained the lack of traffic. With a sigh, I took the exit to Grayfield Area Airport. Pulling up to the loading area, I flopped my head against my seat. This couldn’t have happened. I couldn’t have fallen for him. I couldn’t have fallen for a

guy who had... He had lots of girlfriends before, but how could he have kissed me like that if...if... I opened my eyes and looked into my rearview mirror. My eyes widened as I saw a girl standing on the curb—alone. She was the Perfect Female. She looked like I could never look; she was larger and smaller in all the right places. She was a good 5’10” with long legs. She had the perfect bronze tan—not too dark, not too light. Her hair was a shimmering golden blonde with accenting high- and lowlights. I sighed. Maybe it wasn’t her...maybe. I peeled myself from my car. Immediately catching my movement, her angled face snapped in my direction. She was like a wildcat; as I walked toward her, she slunk toward me. Her eyes were an intense aqua-green and they scanned my outfit. The Creature flashed a brief, white smile and shouldered her large bag. Her voice was light, if subtly condescending. “You must be the girl Trist’s mom sent.” The girl?! Thoughts of turning around and leaving floated through my head. I frowned. “I’m Amy.” She dramatically dropped her bag to the ground like it weighed a ton. “Great. Can you give me a hand with this?” Like a drone, I carried the luggage to my car. The bag was so big that it took me five minutes to shove it inside my tiny backseat. I heard The Creature give a little sniff of distain when she climbed into the passenger side of my car. I bit my lip, feeling awkward with the whole situation. What was I supposed to say to her? I turned on the ignition and managed, “Where are you from?” She tossed her hair and flipped down the visor to check herself in the mirror. “Oh, I’m from Chicago. I was away on a modeling gig.” She snapped the visor back up. “Maybe you’ve seen me, before? Gosh, I’ve been in so many ads!” I rolled my eyes and pulled onto the highway. “Um, no, I can’t say that I have.” “Oh.” She lazily stuck her hand out the window to feel the breeze. “Well, a lot of it’s in Europe. It’ll get to the States, eventually.” She laughed. “To think, just last summer I was complaining to Tristan how I wasn’t known anywhere!” My throat felt dry. “You were dating him last summer?” “Yeah. I think we were talking at one of his equestrian shows. Trist’s quite an accomplished showjumper,” she gushed. “And who could I resist him in a suit?” I veered and a car in the next lane honked at me. No more small talk. I was done. I leaned on the gas. The Creature continued talking, no longer needing any encouragement. “And that was some summer! His mother was always going on about what beautiful kids we’ll have someday. She’s so sweet! And it’s true; I told him that he could come and do modeling with me. But, he had to finish school.” Feeling like I couldn’t take another word, I cried manically, “Here’s the exit!” and turned the wheel so sharply that my Camry gave a protesting groan. The fact that I’d exited the highway did nothing to impact the velocity at which we were hurtling toward the Edmunds’ house. In fact, the longer we were in the car, the faster I pushed my little car to fly. And fly it did. In record time and with a very hard slam on the brakes, I parked in the driveway. I left my car running and, without a backward look at The Creature, I headed directly into the house and up the stairs. I walked robotically all the way to Tristan’s doorway, while she followed. Then I stopped, realizing that I didn’t know what to say. I was a jumble of emotions—too many emotions. I stood still and was vaguely amazed that I was still managing to breathe. But Tristan knew I was there. He was lying calmly on his bed with his hands clasped on his chest as if he had been expecting me. He had on headphones connected to a walkman; I didn’t have to wonder what CD he was listening to. He hit the stop button on the player and his bright smile shone in my direction. I felt my heart liquefy. “Hey! Mom said you were coming. I hadn’t thought you—” “Of course I had to see you! Your mom wasn’t supposed to tell,” cried the model while her tan legs

strode past me and into the room. I saw Tristan’s perfect smile freeze unnaturally on his face. She had stolen the smile—my smile! He choked, “Lexus?” “Who else would it be?” she laughed and pressed her lips against his. The room spun. I felt sick. I held onto the doorframe and sputtered, “I-I’m going to get a drink of water.” “Would you get me something, too?” The Creature purred. I shook my head and fled from the room. There was no reason to be so upset. No reason. He was just a boy and this was just my job. There were no feelings involved. None. Before, when I thought there were, I was wrong. I was stupid. I was so wrong. My head fixed straight ahead, I walked into the kitchen without seeing much of anything. I would have kept moving in my zombie-like state, if I hadn’t run into something. Instinctively, I stopped and looked down. Blinking, my eyes came to focus on a small figure that was lying on the ground, frowning up at me. It took me another second to realize that I’d knocked her down. I gasped, “I’m so sorry, Marly! Are you okay?” She nodded as I helped her to her feet. “Amy! Why are you here?” I turned to see Chris walking toward me from the counter, on which he was building a Lego spaceship. I stuttered a reply. “I-I’m dropping someone off.” He raised his eyebrows. “Mom said you had the day off.” “Yeah, I know.” I sighed. “Where is your mom?” “Oh, she’ll be back soon. She’s ‘getting her hair done.’” Chris glanced at Marly and whispered to me from behind his hand, “That means she’s at her therapist.” “I see.” Grinning, he asked, “Sooo, who’d ya bring?” “Well....” I looked toward the floor, suddenly finding it hard to form words. “Uh, your brother’s girlfriend.” The boy’s mouth dropped toward the floor. He shut his eyes and moaned, “Nooo!” I threw my hands up in the air. This was one tiny detail everyone knew, but me? I muttered, “Great, just great.” I took a glass from the cupboard and began to fill it with water from the faucet. Feeling a tug on my jeans, I looked down to see Marly. Her eyes were wide with honesty while her small voice proclaimed, “We like you more, Amy.” I smiled weakly, patting her head. I choked, “Thanks.” Breathing deeply, I walked back upstairs and willed myself to be calm. This was only an inconvenience, a little Perfect Female inconvenience. I stepped into the doorway, looked up, and literally felt my heart fall clear out of my body. The Creature was lying next to him on the bed. She was tracing lazy circles on his arm with her fingertip, while whispering into his ear. Tristan looked frozen, but this did nothing to dismiss the fact that he wasn’t doing anything about it! I couldn’t move. I was struck by the scene like someone witnessing a horrible car accident—I couldn’t look away. I heard her voice asking, “Why are you wearing these inside?” while her hand slid toward his glasses. He pushed her away and spoke to me like he’d known I was standing there. “Does she know?” The Creature appeared shocked and a little indignant to see me. She looked back-and-forth between us, as if calculating the parameters of our relationship. I stalled, “Tristan....” “Does she?” he demanded. “No.” My feet felt cold and I looked down to find that the glass of water had slipped from my numb hands. “Know what?” she asked. In my state of shock, the words came easily. “That he’s blind.”

“What?” The Creature screeched unnaturally and pulled away from him, while waving a hand in front of his face. She gasped with realization. “What the hell, Tristan?! Why didn’t you tell me? When did this happen?” He spoke monotonously, “Two, three months ago at a competition. You wouldn’t know because you dumped me when you left.” I blinked in surprise. “That was just temporary!” The Creature reared onto her feet. “I don’t know how I feel about this, Tristan.” “I didn’t know you were coming back,” he said emotionlessly. “After all, you didn’t come for his funeral.” “It was a nine-month contract.” She began to cry unjustified tears. “I was busy!” “Exactly.” The Creature begged, “Don’t be like that, Tristan! Remember the fun we had—” “That doesn’t make up for it.” Her face tightened, until she exploded in a cry of, “Ohmygosh, you’re blind,” and swept past me. I tried to not look at him. I tried to not feel that he was in pain. But I couldn’t stop myself. I sat on the bed next to him, staring at his face and trying to figure out what was going on inside of his head. I said softly, “I’m sorry,” and reached a hand out to place on top of his. I couldn’t suppress a gasp when he pulled his hand away from me. His face was stony and his voice cold as he said, “I need to be alone.” The flame of anger inside of my chest erupted into a bonfire. I was too mad to even speak. He needed to be alone? He needed to be alone? What about what I needed?! What about the fact that I had been betrayed? Didn’t he even think about that? Was I just a mistake? Didn’t he even consider me? If only I could have put any one question into words—but I couldn’t. In a frenzy, I flew from the house, threw my car into Drive, and squealed my tires as I sped away from the Edmunds’ house. I didn’t make it far down the street, when I realized that I was in no state to be driving. I pulled to the side of the road and did the first thing that came to mind: I called Ahna. “Ahna.” My voice sounded hallow and empty, even to my own ears. “I’m not dying, so don’t ask.” Without hesitation, she said, “What did that jerk do?” “He has a girlfriend...or an ex-girlfriend. I don’t know, but she’s here.” “He what?” she screamed so loudly that I pulled the phone away from my ear. “After he went to dinner with your parents? And came to our graduation? And kissed you?” “And they knew!” I added to the rant. “The whole family knew! Why didn’t they tell me? He’s so—did they really think—ugh! And the little brother, always making jokes about us! I could just—I could just!” I gave a huge sigh. “I don’t know, Ahna. I’ve felt like crying all day, but I can’t. Everything still feels like a bad dream; I can’t believe it. I was so stupid.” “No, you weren’t!” she said quickly. “I mean, he kissed you too, didn’t he?” I shook my head. “Yeah, I think...yeah. But what does that mean? That he’s really good at playing girls?” I slammed my hand into my steering wheel. “I mean, I knew he had had lots of girlfriends. He didn’t hide it. ” “I don’t know, Aim,” she said thoughtfully. “When I saw you guys together... I really don’t think he was pretending.” “Yeah?” “Yeah,” Ahna said firmly. I could feel her getting to advice-mode. “Now, we have to figure out what you’re going to do. I don’t think you should quit.” “You don’t?” “No,” she said. “I think you’re making better money than we’re going to see in the next ten years! Yes, he’s a jerk. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, but I think it’s a good idea if you want to go to Evanston.

Your savings account agrees with me.” I laughed for the first time all day. “Oh, really?” “Uh huh.” I could tell she was smiling. “Aim, you’re gonna be okay.” “Thanks, Ahna.” “So, what’s the girlfriend like? Can you take her?” I rolled my eyes. “Oh, she’s ‘perfect.’ Tall, blonde, tan... She’s done modeling overseas... Apparently his mom loves her....” “But, does he?” I paused, remembering his expression when The Creature came into his room. “I don’t know.” “Well, no matter what, you still should tell him he’s a jerk,” Ahna said. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s great for job security,” I replied sarcastically. She sighed. “Fine, don’t listen to me, but the next time I see him....” I laughed. “You’ll kill him. I get it. I’ll talk to you later, Ahna.” I hung up and pulled back onto the street. I reached the end of Edmund Road before I realized that The Creature’s luggage was still in my backseat. I immediately stopped my car and, smiling wickedly, pulled out the monstrous bag. With a ceremonial kick, I knocked the designer bag into the gravel on the roadside. It landed with a thud, raising a cloud of dust. I continued to grin the entire way home.

Chapter 11 Despite the sense my conversation with Ahna had made, the option of never going back to the Edmunds’ house was very appealing the next day. The option continued to be attractive the entire drive there. The reason that I went back was simple: I had to see Tristan. I had to. I’d never have been able to live with myself if I hadn’t known what happened. Had he kicked The Creature out? Had she left on her own? I silently prayed for either to have come true. I stepped out of my car and self-consciously pushed a strand of hair behind my ear. My stomach was doing summersaults and my heart was racing; the rapid beats filled my ears. I took a deep breath and began to ascend the stairs, but froze on the second step. For an instant, I thought I was going to lose my breakfast, and then the feeling was gone. I thrust my shoulders back and continued my way up. I could hear her voice. “Oh, Mick,” The Creature whined, “I don’t know....” I walked inside and spotted her in the den. Her back was to me and she had her cell phone pressed against her ear. As she turned to walk toward the couch, I flattened myself against the wall. I quickly looked around and was relieved to see that none of the Edmunds were around to witness me being a hack spy. I strained my ears when she continued, “You really think so?” She paused as the person on the phone—“Mick”—responded. “But he said, ‘Try being friends.’ Friends!” My heart gave a jolt; he wasn’t dating her! The moment was short-lived, when I heard her say, “We would make a great headline. I mean, God knows he could’ve modeled! And, with him being blind—” She paused. “You’re right, a People cover.” She paused. “Well, his mom still adores me... Yeah. But, that girl was telling you ab—ahh!” I jumped a foot in the air and echoed her scream. I was so intent on listening to her, that I hadn’t noticed her voice getting closer. We gaped at each other for a moment and then she snapped her phone shut. Her cat eyes glinted at me in the light and her lips formed a thin line. “My luggage was in the dirt.” I raised my eyebrows innocently. “Oh, it must have fallen out.” Like your brains. “Sure.” Her eyes glared into mine. “Listen, I don’t know what you think you heard—” “I know what I heard,” I interjected. “You want to use him.” “Listen,” she took a meaningful step forward and I realized, with dismay, that I was still pressed up against the wall, “I was here before you were. I don’t know what kind of relationship you think you have with Tristan, but he’s mine.” “Excuse me?” I gasped. The Creature leaned over me, saying firmly, “This ‘friends’ thing is just for show. I know Tristan; we have history. He could be famous—if he’s with me. ‘Lexus Elizabeth Carlton’s Blind Husband.’ That’s the way things are meant to be. Even his mother thinks so.” “Great, another Kristy,” I muttered, not breaking eye contact. “What?” she screeched. “I am not from Clarence! I was tutored! I’m not even in league with those girls from Clarence!” She watched my surprised expression. “That’s right. I know about every one of Tristan’s previous girlfriends and let me just tell you, those Clarencite sluts are pathetic. They’re so pathetic, they’ve never even dreamed about spending time alone at the Edmunds’ cabin with Tristan.

“You get it, now, don’t you?” She seemed to be enjoying the way my eyes were bugging out of my head. “I am the kind of girl that Tristan likes. Not,” she appraised me, “whatever you think you are.” No. “Ahh!” I really didn’t have a choice. My hand acted out of its own free will and flew through the air, stopping only a millimeter away from slapping her cheek. I was suddenly laughing, really laughing. Manically. I sounded like I’d lost it and maybe I had; the whole situation was too much. I just wanted to slap her. I wouldn’t, of course—I wasn’t quite that violent—but the look on her face was priceless. I stopped laughing when she said, “You haven’t won anything, whore! You work here, right? Do you want to be fired? I can make that happen, you know. So, if you’re even thinking of saying to something to Trist, I’d recommend that you consider the situation.” “You know,” I smiled into her sour face, “if Tristan can’t figure out what you’re doing for himself, then he deserves you.” The Creature paused, looking puzzled. “What?” “You’re in your ‘own league,’ figure it out,” I snapped and swept past her. I made it to the base of the winding staircase before her voice caught me. “He’s not up there! He’s in the back, by the pool. We were tanning. I just came in for a drink.” A drink. Right. I nodded and lied, “You’re so helpful.” I walked through the kitchen and the French doors that led to the backyard. When I stepped onto the cement patio, I gasped. The pool was a large rectangle filled with glistening water that reflected the blue sky. The remainder of backyard was something like a resort, with thick golf course-worthy grass and an edging of perfectly square hedges. But what really made me gasp was Tristan. He was lying, relaxed on a lounge chair with nothing more than shorts and his glasses on. I couldn’t help but wonder he kept his abs so toned. As I choked out a weak, “Tristan,” he sat up straight and turned in my direction. His black sunglasses shone in the bright sunlight. “Amy?” He opened his mouth to say something more, but The Creature pushed past me. Pulling on his arm, she begged, “Tristan, I want to go get some ice cream.” I lost all awe when he gave The Creature his attention. “I can’t drive.” “Oh.” She sighed dramatically, like she was greatly inconvenienced, and plopped onto his chair, practically onto his lap. I fumed and she fixed her eyes on me. “Amy can drive.” She turned back to Tristan and placed a hand on his bare chest. “Why don’t you ask her?” He stiffened and, for a moment, I wished with all my might that he would push her off. Instead, he gave her a forced smile and took her hand off of his chest, setting it on her lap. When he spoke to me, his tone was unnaturally low. “Amy...will you drive?” My heart turned ten degrees colder. What kind of “friendship” was this?! My voice was hardly audible as I replied, “Yeah.” “Great!” The Creature hopped up and, dragging Tristan to his feet, linked her arm through his. She led him forward while he pulled on his shirt. I winced, realizing that she had instantly reduced my job to that of chauffeur. I walked quickly through the house and glanced up to see Chris and Marly peering under the banister. Chris was sticking his tongue out at the oblivious model walking behind me. Mrs. Edmund hovered on the second floor landing, watching the kids. She called, “Have fun,” and I gave her smile, before heading through the front door. I stopped next to my Camry and gave it an affectionate pat. I turned toward The Creature, who stopped so suddenly that Tristan crashed into her. I moved to open the passenger door, while trying not to notice how Tristan, embarrassed, was brushing a hand through his hair. Before I had the door open, The Creature said, “No, we’ll both sit in the back,” and jerked Tristan

closer to my car. I frowned, peering into my backseat. It was mostly clean, except for a few old napkins and straw wrappers. The Creature, letting go of Tristan’s arm, opened the door and climbed inside. For a moment, Tristan stood awkwardly still. I bit my lip and reached for his hand. For some reason, we both jumped when our skin touched. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, wondering if it was my imagination. I grabbed his hand firmly and placed it on the door’s rim. I whispered in his ear, “You just have to duck down a little more.” I could have sworn he shivered when I drew close, but he quickly slid into my car. I shook my head and shut the door behind him. *** The drive downtown was a blur. The Creature was cooing to him. Cooing. I’d seriously considered bailing out into a ditch. My anger grew with each passing minute while I sped down Main Street, ignoring the “quaint” turn-of-the-century architecture of the small shops. I glanced in the review mirror, confirming the fact that she was again trying to snake her arm around his neck. Tristan leaned away from her, his fingers tapping impatiently on the base of the window. I jerked my car into a parking stall and smirked as she fell into the door. Without a word, I climbed out of my car, pushed a quarter into the meter, and walked inside Ice Cream World; Tristan and his new helper could find their own way. A tiny bell on the door clattered when it shut behind me. I recognized the face behind the counter: it was Rodge, who hadn’t been working the day when Tristan and I came in. Rodge was a nice guy with spiky black hair and a silver eyebrow ring. We had gone out once, during my sophomore year, but hadn’t clicked as a couple. “Hey, Rodge.” “Aim.” He returned my smile. “You still like Moosetracks with rainbow sprinkles?” I laughed. “I can’t believe you remember that.” Rodge grabbed a medium sized dish and began to scoop the ice cream. “It’s a unique combination.” I leaned against the cool outside of the freezer and glanced over at Tristan, who was standing near the door with The Creature. He seemed to be listening attentively to our conversation, while she dully picked at her nails. I smirked and turned back to Rodge. “You remember that movie we saw?” Tristan stiffened. “Yeah, that was a good one....” He paused in the midst of his sprinkling. “What was it called? There were all these people locked in an old school—” I nodded and watched Tristan shift uncomfortably. “And ghosts were chasing them, right?” Rodge set the cup on the counter. “Yeah, I can’t think of the name.” He punched my order into the cash register. “That’s three dollars.” I smiled and reached into my purse to grab my money, when I heard Tristan say, “I got it.” He had stepped away from The Creature and was holding out a crisp ten dollar bill. I frowned, unsure if I should take it, and asked, “You sure?” “Yeah, uh, I think that should cover everyone.” Tristan scratched the back of his neck. He said quietly, “It’s a ten, right?” “Right.” Sensing his embarrassment, I bit my lip and took the bill, passing it to Rodge. “Thanks.” He slid the ten into the till and set the change on the counter. “Well, it was good to see you, Amy.” “Bye, Rodge.” I took my ice cream and moved toward a table next to the front window. The Creature hopped into my place at the register and ordered something with little calories and even less flavor. I collapsed onto one of the padded red seats, set my cup on the checkered tabletop, and looked outside. Twisting my plastic spoon between my fingers, I couldn’t help but wonder why Tristan had chosen to pay for me. Once he and The Creature had their cups, they walked over to my table. Tristan carried both of their ice

creams and his leg collided with one of the chairs. He couldn’t judge the distance with his hands full, so I kicked the chair back from the table to save him from ending up on the floor. The narcissistic Creature didn’t even notice the potential disaster, but picked at her nails while she waited for Tristan to sit, so she could take her Vanilla ice cream. Tristan landed heavily on the chair, his hand closing into a fist after The Creature snatched her ice cream from him. I smirked when she bit seductively into her maraschino cherry, intending to attract his attention, but received no response. Tristan suddenly asked, “Amy, how’d you know that guy?” I blinked, having not expected him to say anything. Trying to act casual, I explained, “Oh, yeah, we dated.” “Dated?” The Creature scoffed. “He has an eyebrow ring!” “He does?” Frustrated, Tristan jerked his head toward the counter, as if he should have been able to see Rodge’s mark of punk. “Yeah.” I studied Tristan’s face, trying to figure out if he was annoyed that Rodge wasn’t a basic, bland Grayfielder or that I had a gone out with him. “Is that...weird?” “No, I just didn’t think that you....” Uncomfortable, Tristan ran his fingers though his hair. “I mean, he’s not—” Like you, I thought. But I could tell that he was second-guessing himself, unsure if he should finish his sentence. Before he had a chance to make up his mind, The Creature narrowed her eyes and interjected, “Tristan, when was the last time you rode Aeris?” At the sound of her voice, Tristan bent low over the table and dug his spoon into his Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream. He mumbled, “I don’t ride anymore.” Surprised, I inhaled the spoonful of ice cream I’d just put in my mouth and began to choke. The Creature eyed me suspiciously. She slid her chair closer to his and whispered something into his ear. She leaned back and giggled, flashing her green eyes at me meaningfully. Tristan pretended to smile. I stabbed my spoon into my ice cream and straightened myself in my seat. “What’s funny?” Tristan’s head snapped up, as if he was jolted at the harshness of my tone. He explained, “She was just reminding me of this time when my mom threw a party and then ended up falling—” “It’s really not important,” The Creature cut him off. “Oh.” I raised my eyebrows innocently and took another bite of my ice cream. “So...who’s Mick?” The Creature pushed her spoon so deeply into her cup that I heard it crack against the bottom. Her eyes widened and she looked at Tristan, who was frowning in confusion. She sputtered, “Just, uh, my agent/publicist.” Seeing that she was flustered, I asked, “How old is he?” “Twenty-five,” she answered too quickly. Realizing her error when Tristan’s frown grew deeper, she gave me a feral look. “So, how do you like your job?” Before I was able to answer, Tristan asked me, “How’d you know about him?” For a moment, I felt guilty for not telling him what I’d overheard. Then I remembered how Tristan had let her make me into a chauffer. I shrugged, deflated. “She mentioned him, that’s all.” He suddenly looked almost—worried. He said gently, “Amy?” “Tristan,” I shot back. The Creature quickly placed a hand on his arm. “Remember, Trist, remember when....” She lowered her voice and leaned closer to his ear. He appeared distracted for a moment, as he slid his arm away from her, and then he was drawn in by her words. I told myself that I didn’t care, but that was just a lie. Every time she giggled that horribly fake giggle and every time he forced a smile in response, it was like another knife wound to my gut. I’d never expected my job as babysitter to be turned into being a professional third wheel. I kept telling myself that there was only

half of the day left and that the money was worth it. Wasn’t it? *** By the time I’d driven back to the Edmunds’ house, I’d grown so tense that I thought I would have permanent fingernail imprints in the palms of my hands. The Creature had continued gushing fits of flirtatious giggles that now corrupted the sanctuary of my car. I wondered what kind of purification ceremony would get rid of the evil spirits she was sure to leave behind. The ice cream I’d eaten settled like a rock at the bottom of my stomach. As I turned off my car, another eruption of giggles caused me to glower. The Creature climbed out, leaving Tristan alone in the backseat. I sighed and walked around my car, while she strode importantly toward the house. When I opened the door to let Tristan out, he hardly appeared as giggle-filled. I reached for his hand, my voice low while I asked, “Having fun?” Tristan stood up and was suddenly close to me; I could feel his warm breath on my cheeks. He replied darkly, “What do you think?” He hadn’t given the cheery answer that I’d feared, but how was I supposed to know what he felt, when he was the one letting her flirt obnoxiously for the last hour? I grumbled, “I don’t know, Tristan. I don’t even understand why she’s here.” “Look, I had to let her stay.” He sighed heavily. “My mother loves Lexus and I thought I should humor her, for a change; more like how you are with your parents. It won’t be too bad. Lexus just can’t know about us. I don’t want you getting fired, Amy.” Fired?! What about making me want to quit? I opened my mouth to tell him, when The Creature rushed down the front stairs and slipped into the tiny space between us. Grabbing his arm, she said, “There you are! Come on, Tristan. Let’s go sit by the pool,” and eyed me, before jerking him toward the house. I chose to follow them at a distance while my mind worked on decoding what Tristan had said: he was doing this as a favor to his mom, but he didn’t want The Creature to get me fired. So...he was being stupid. Couldn’t he tell that she was evil? That should’ve trumped any obligation! What a boy. When I walked into the kitchen, Mrs. Edmund was hunched over a pile of papers on the counter. I glanced out through the French doors and saw that Tristan and The Creature had already settled onto two lounge chairs. She was holding a bottle of tanning oil and giving him a look that made my skin crawl. Disgusted, I turned away and found Mrs. Edmund looking at me with a tearstained face. I walked toward her, frowning. “What’s wrong?” “Oh, uh, I’m sorry.” She dabbed at her eyes with a crumpled Kleenex. “I-I just was trying to balance the checkbook while the kids were playing upstairs. My husband used to take care of the bills on the Internet, but I could never figure that out. I thought by hand wouldn’t be so bad but....” She shrugged and her mouth twisted as she fought against a sob. “Well, why don’t I help you?” I said and lifted one of the papers off of the counter. “We can go through it one more time: I’ll read your bank statement and you can make sure everything’s checked off in your ledger.” “Thank you, Amy.” Mrs. Edmund picked up her pencil with a look of determination. “This hasn’t been easy, but I think everything will get better. Especially if Tristan’s happy. He tried to help me after my husband passed away; he spent more time at home, even stopped dating. But then the accident....” She sighed and then said firmly, “Well, Lexus will make him happy, again.” I wasn’t about to poke a hole in Mrs. Edmund’s bubble, but that girl was in no way the angel of happiness. Glancing outside, I saw that The Creature had stripped even further from her tiny skirt and tank top to a string bikini. When she tried to apply the oil to his chest, he snatched the bottle from her hands and began putting it on himself. Good. Looking back at the paper in my hand, I began to read off the first number when Mrs. Edmund said, “Amy, I was wondering, has Tristan happened to have mentioned our cabin to you?”

“Um....” I vaguely remembered that guy at Tristan’s post-graduation dance saying something about how it was on a lake and how I’d go if I was “with” Tristan. And then The Creature had made some comment, too...something about being alone with him there. I hadn’t heard anything from Tristan directly. Of course. “Well, it’s up on Wind Song Lake in Wisconsin,” Mrs. Edmund explained. “It’s a lovely area; a lot of families from Grayfield vacation there in the summer. I thought you could drive Tristan and Lexus up tomorrow, so they could have a day alone before we come on Saturday? They went up early last year and really enjoyed it. Would you be able to do that, Amy?” Alone. Alone with a flirtatious Creature for an entire day. The idea made me feel like throwing up. “Sure,” I said with false cheer. “Oh, wonderful!” she said, the color returning to her cheeks. “It takes about two hours to get there, so I was thinking that you could use Tristan’s car? It’s a very nice car, so I’m sure the drive will be comfortable.” I grimaced, wondering which one of her sons had told her about the sorry state of my car. “Yeah, that’ll be fine. I’ll come over around ten.” Mrs. Edmund beamed. “Perfect.” Well, at least one of us was happy.

Chapter 12 “I still can’t believe that you’re going to a cabin with your boyfriend,” Mom sighed from the doorway. She was cupping a mug of tea in her hands, staring over my head as I packed, and remembering back to when she was dating Dad. I shoved a sweatshirt roughly into my duffle bag and grit my teeth together. I explained, again, “Tristan’s not my boyfriend. I’m getting paid to go do this.” “You said his cabin is on a lake?” she continued like I hadn’t spoken. “Water can be so much fun in the summer....” Yes, it would be if got to hold a certain Creature under it. I smiled wickedly at the thought and zipped my bag shut. “Okay, I’m ready.” Mom squeezed my shoulder while we walked to the front door. “You’ll have to tell me all about it when you get back!” I grimaced while I gave her a hug. “Only the highlights.” She waved as I headed out to my car, threw my bag onto the passenger seat, and started the engine. I waved and backed out of the driveway. “It will be fine, it will be fun, it will be fine, it will be fun,” was the mantra playing over and over in my mind. Last night, I’d thought about confronting Tristan with how I felt —telling him about The Creature’s plan. The problem was that still I didn’t want to. Not really. I wanted him to realize for himself. I drove in silence all of the way to the Edmunds’ house. When I pulled my Camry through the open gate, I let off of the gas and coasted down the drive. Tristan’s Mercedes-Benz was parked in front of the stairs and it was beautiful; the shiny silver exterior didn’t hide the fact that it was worth a considerable penny. My Camry’s brakes squealed in protest of the attention I was giving to the other car. Ignoring my car, I threw it into Park and climbed out, shouldering my duffle bag. I walked up to the Cabriolet and carefully ran my fingers over the cool metal. I peered through the windows and, seeing the black leather seats, smiled. Yeah, I think I could suffer through driving this car. Maybe the trip wouldn’t be so bad, after all. I set my bag down on the ground and placed my hands on my hips, still taking in the idea of driving such a fine car. My eyebrows popped up when I saw that it was a convertible. Perfect for the highway! I did a little dance side-to-side and realized that it was actually a nice day outside. It was warm, but not humid, and the sun was shining in a clear blue sky. Feeling my energy renewed, I turned and climbed the steps up to the house. I found Mrs. Edmund, Chris, and Marly standing next to the door. I smiled brightly at them and Chris looked puzzled. “Why are you happy? You have to go away with her.” Mrs. Edmund gasped, looking down at her son. “Christopher John!” I smiled. “Cabriolet, kid.” Chris shook his head sadly, as if he was positive I’d lost it once and for all. He jumped when The Creature screeched, “Boy, my luggage is upstairs!” Mrs. Edmund said, “Dear, he isn’t big enough to carry it. I’ll help you.” Marly was busy sucking on her thumb. I gave her a gentle push toward the base of the spiral staircase, where Tristan was standing, and said, “Give your brother a hug. You’re not going to see him until tomorrow.” The little girl immediately ran to Tristan and wrapped her arms around his legs. Tristan smiled, looking

genuinely pleased for the first time in too long; I’d missed his smile. He told his sister, “I’ll see you soon, Marly. You won’t even notice I’m gone.” Mrs. Edmund was on the stairs, huffing while she fought with the luggage. I hurried to help her down the last stairs and then took the giant bag in my arms. I struggled toward the door and asked Chris, “Would you give me a hand getting this into the car?” Thinking I was asking him, Tristan swung his duffle bag back onto his shoulder and took a step forward. The Creature quickly put a hand on his arm and said smoothly, “She meant the boy.” Tristan frowned and continued walking forward. “His name is Chris.” From the doorway, I saw The Creature blinking in surprise, but I couldn’t revel in the moment because of the weight I was carrying. Chris had scampered ahead to the car and opened the trunk. Due to the four seats and the convertible top, it wasn’t the largest one invented; not that many trunks could have handled the ridiculous size of her luggage. I groaned as I heaved the bag inside and then, panting, saw that about six inches of it was still sticking out. I eyed Chris and asked, “Any ideas?” “If she has a big bag, I’d try it sideways.” I started, a little surprised that Tristan had heard me. “If that doesn’t work, try having Chris jump on it.” Wait. Was Tristan making a joke? “Uh, thanks,” I said and looked down at Chris. “Well?” Chris scoffed, “I’m not jumping on that thing!” “Here.” Tristan walked down the front steps. “Just show me where it is.” I looked blankly at his outstretched hand. I swallowed, reminding myself that Chris was watching, and quickly grabbed Tristan’s hand. His skin was warm against mine, just like the night when he had touched my face. I tried to ignore the memory while I led him to the trunk and set his hand on top of the luggage. I stood next to him, watching as his fingers gripped the fabric and lifted the bag easily, rotating it and setting it inside. “Amy?” Tristan turned his head toward me and I wondered if he knew how close we were standing. “I wanted to say that—” “Amy, be a doll and get some CDs from Trist’s room!” yelled The Creature. She was standing on the top step and looking very upset. Who would’ve guessed music meant so much to her? Right. “I can get them!” Chris said quickly, while looking back and forth between Tristan and I. “That’s okay.” I patted his fluffy head and walked back to the house. I knew that whatever Tristan had been intending to say was never going to happen in front of her. I also knew that she had no idea that most of Tristan’s CDs were no longer in his room. In fact, only one remained. But what kind of slave—I mean, employee—would I have been if I started thinking for myself and actually went to the closet to get other CDs? No, she would get exactly what she asked for: Jon Buckley. I climbed the spiral staircase and headed down the hallway to Tristan’s room. When I walked inside, I saw that nothing in the room had changed; the black comforter was pulled tight across the bed. I smirked as I remembered the look he’d given me when I first jumped on the bed and suggested that we fool around. The smirk faded when the memory was replaced by the one of The Creature laying next to him, tracing circles on his arm. Evil day. I found the CD abandoned on the floor next to his bed. I picked it up and held it against my chest while I quickly left the room, sprinting down the stairs and out of the house. Tristan was already in the backseat of the Cabriolet, our two duffle bags on the seat next to him. The Creature had her window down and was grinning at me like a Cheshire. “I called shotgun.” I rolled my eyes. Of course she had. Mrs. Edmund and the kids were standing outside, at the top of the steps. Chris whispered, “Good luck.”

I glanced back at the car and laughed. “Thanks.” Like a soldier heading off to war, I bravely squared my shoulders and marched to the car. I climbed inside, my jeans sliding over the leather, and set down the CD. With one last wave at the three concerned faces, I pulled out of the Edmunds’ drive. I hardly had to press on the gas and the car sped down the road faster than my Camry could’ve ever dream of. I enjoyed the feeling of power under my foot and couldn’t wait to get onto the highway and really try it out. I saw The Creature pick up the CD from the center consol and appraise the picture of the handsome young man on the cover. I watched out of the corner of my eye as she opened the case and slid the CD into the player. I quickly reached down and hit the fast-forward button to the sixth track. The guitar intro began and then came Jon’s voice: “The day she walked into the room, your head was turned, though it

was too soon—” “What is this?!” The Creature screeched, her timing impeccable. “It’s the only CD Tristan had in his room,” I answered lightly. “Jon Buckley.” “He sounds so depressing,” she whined. I smiled. “But the lyrics are great.” “...she overthrew you. She took your spirit and broke your will. You changed before the face of all

who knew you.” “Don’t you think so, Tristan?” I asked pointedly; this hint about the lyrics was the closest I’d come to outright telling him what I thought about him allowing The Creature to stay. I looked in the review mirror and saw Tristan tip his head upward. I could almost imagine his bright blue eyes staring at mine through the reflection and, I felt a glimmer of hope. He opened his mouth and began, “I—” “I think it’s horrible,” she cut in and reached for the stop button on the player. I pulled my eyes back onto the road and my hope dissolved. Then Tristan spoke again, his tone firm. “I like him. Leave it.” The Creature froze, her eyebrows arched. I looked back into the mirror and saw that his sunglasses were still facing me. My voice less than steady, I asked, “You do?” “Yeah. Before, I wasn’t,” he hesitated, as if searching for words, “lying to you, Amy.” My heart began to race and I was suddenly ready to tell him everything that I’d heard and everything that I’d felt. I didn’t care if we got into a car accident; I was going to keep staring into that rearview mirror and spill it all. But before my mouth could form a syllable, The Creature shrieked hysterically, “Chinese fire drill!” My intention was snapped like a twig when his head turned to face the back of her seat and he scoffed, “What?” How could she steal his attention so quickly? She knew exactly how to press his buttons. I nearly screamed aloud in frustration. Instead, I gripped the steering wheel so tight that my knuckles turned white. “We are not doing a fire drill.” “But why?” she whined, but I could see that her eyes were glowing triumphantly. “Because...” I sighed, realizing that I had to concede to the job she’d given me. “Because I’m the driver. ” A cruel smile grew on her face. “Oh.” I pulled onto the highway, the Cabriolet accelerating easily, but now the expanse of cement didn’t look quite so enticing. It only looked long. Very long. Too long. *** I love Jon Buckley, I really do. Wanting to listen to him for an hour straight while sitting next to someone who moans whenever the CD cycles to the next track is another thing all together. However, there was no

chance that I was going to satisfy The Creature by turning it off. Oh no. I wanted her to stay as uncomfortable as I could make her without actually dumping her on the side of the road like I’d done with her luggage. Though, that was an idea... We were driving past cornfields, farms, and an endless stream of little towns that I felt sleepy just looking at. I’d never been on a very long road trip, but whenever Ahna and I’d drive to Chicago for a concert, we’d always sing along with the radio at the top of our lungs or play games looking for words on road signs. We would not sit silently with only the sight of a cow licking its own ear to amuse ourselves. This type of driving was maddening. When the CD started over again, The Creature hit her head against her window. She groaned, “I need to get out of here.” I shook my head and pointed at a road sign. “Not for another fifty-five miles.” The Creature glared at me and hissed, “What about a bathroom break?” “Um, I don’t think so.” “But, I need to go,” she complained. I shook my head, again, and kept my eyes on the road. “No...we’d lose our momentum.” “Our what?” “Momentum,” I repeated and gestured with my hand. “Forward motion.” “I know what ‘momentum’ is,” she snapped. I decided to play dumb. “Then why’d you ask?” The Creature rounded on me, looking murderous. “Because—” “Amy, maybe you should stop.” Tristan’s voice cut through her argument. “We need a break.” “Fine,” I said shortly and roughly whipped the Cabriolet onto the next exit. I spotted a Gas Fast just off of the ramp and I swung the car into the station. Bypassing the pumps, I parked in front of the convenience store and looked expectantly at The Creature. For someone who was supposedly in such need of a bathroom, she sure was taking her sweet time getting out of the car. “Well?” She huffed and quickly undid her seatbelt, her hand already on the door handle. She hissed, “I’ll be back in just a minute,” and sprinted into the store. I shook my head. I knew she was worried about leaving me alone with Tristan, but she didn’t have to be with the mood I was in. All of the driving with her was really getting to me and I was tired. I turned off the car, briefly giving the CD a break, and bent forward, my forehead resting against the steering wheel. Finally, a moment of peace. “Can we get out and walk?” I sighed. After how Tristan had taken her side, I wanted to tell him to get out and walk by himself, but I knew that wasn’t a good idea with all of the cars driving around. Sitting up, I undid my seatbelt and climbed out of the car. I walked around and opened the passenger door to help him out. When I felt his fingers close around my arm, my stomach jumbled itself into hundreds of knots. I swallowed and pushed a strand of hair behind my ear, while we began to walk. “I’m glad you stopped; we haven’t been alone in a while,” he said. When I didn’t respond, he frowned. “I’m sorry you have to be here, Amy.” Shocked, I stopped short and gasped, “You don’t want me here?” Tristan’s grip tightened and he fumbled, “I didn’t mean—with Lexus being—I thought you’d feel—” “You don’t know how I feel, Tristan,” I said and yanked my arm from his grasp. “I’m baaack!” The Creature cried while she lurched through the gas station door. I hadn’t known it was possible for her to pee that fast. She still had a piece of toilet paper stuck to her sandal and she tried to scrape it off on the cement. However, her foot got caught on her curb and she fell into the arms of a large truck driver. He laughed when she leapt away, looking disgusted at being touched by a man who probably

hadn’t showered in several days. “Great,” I said sarcastically and took a step toward the car before remembering that I was leaving Tristan behind. I reached back and took his arm, pulling him along. “Come on. The fun with your friend isn’t over yet.” I helped him into the backseat, before climbing behind the wheel. As I pulled back onto the highway, I eyed the buttons on the dashboard. I smiled a little, thinking that the only thing that could salvage such a car ride was an open convertible. I pressed the button and, with a whoosh of air, the roof folded back. I shook my head, letting my hair fly free where the wind took it. The Creature, in turn, hissed when her hair flew into her face, “What are you doing?! I spend a lot of time on my hair!” “That’s too bad,” I said unsympathetically. The breeze was refreshing and just what I needed. I looked in my rearview mirror to see Tristan smile and hold up his hand to feel it rushing by. The sound of the music was now thankfully drowned out by the sound of the wind whistling in my ears. I could feel the warm sun shining down and that taste of summer reminded me that I was going to a lake, after all. I relaxed and wondered what it would look like. The next hour of driving passed by with ease. I was soon leaning into a turn while the car hugged the smooth curve of Wind Song Lake. The pine trees were sparse along the shore and the bright water could easily be seen in-between them. The lake was wide and the dozen “cabins” around it were unlike anything I’d seen on the cover of a Laura Ingalls Wilder book. They were all two-stories tall, full of picture windows and large porches. The Edmunds’ had at least attempted to keep to a rustic theme by making the outside out of logs, even though they were all polished to the point of shining. It was the thought. The moment I turned off the car, The Creature grinned and threw off her seatbelt, announcing, “The water looks perfect, Tristan!” She curled around in her seat and whispered seductively, “Let’s go swimming.” Tristan pulled his fingers through his wind-tossed hair and sighed. “Do you want to come, Amy?” “No.” I rolled my eyes and, punching the button to close the convertible, climbed out of the Cabriolet. Reaching into the backseat, I pulled out my duffle bag, along with Tristan’s, and threw them over my shoulders. I looked up to see that The Creature had taken Tristan’s hand and begun dragging him along a sidewalk that led around the oversized cabin. Feeling like a pack mule, I trudged behind. From the house, the ground sloped down to the lake. A steep staircase was carved into the hill and she jerked Tristan down it at a speed dangerously quick for such a decline. As soon as she reached the dock at the bottom, The Creature shed a layer of clothing, revealing the string bikini she was wearing underneath. She turned to see that Tristan was standing, fully clothed, at the base of the stairs where she’d left him. She whined, “Tristan.” His face was still as he said, “It smells the same.” The Creature huffed, “Of course; we’re in the woods. Come on. Swim.” Watching them from halfway down the staircase, I opted to sit on the grassy hill instead of joining them. Dropping the bags, I could see that Tristan was bending to her demand. I tried not to stare when he pulled off his shirt, again revealing the abs I’d admired. To distract myself, I rifled through my bag, pulling out a notebook and pen; it was about time I wrote Charlie another letter. I looked up to see The Creature slide into the water, until only her green eyes were visible above the blue. I tensed while Tristan carefully stepped up to the edge of the dock and sat down, his legs hanging over the side. Nervously, I began to chew on the cap of my pen as he braced himself and then jumped in. The Creature had no thought of any discomfort Tristan was feeling; her arms were like snakes—rising from the water, and slithering down, and up, and down. She finally surfaced a few yards away from Tristan and splashed him. Tristan froze, his expression tight. He splashed in her direction, but The Creature ducked out of the way. Laughing cruelly, she again showered him with water. He laughed too, but it didn’t carry to his face. I

felt like I was watching a sick game of Marco Polo and, seeing Tristan’s expression, I remembered why I never liked being “it.” The Creature, like some wicked siren, splashed him with her kick as she swam toward the middle of the lake. Free from the taunting, Tristan began to float on his back. Looking down, I uncapped my pen and began to write: “Hey. It’s been a few days since I’ve written. Guess where I am? In Wisconsin. I’m at the Edmunds’ cabin because Tristan’s ex-girlfriend is visiting. She’s almost made me obsolete. And she’s not even a Clarencite; she’s worse. She makes quitting sound tempting, but what about paying for Evanston? And what about... Never mind. If you find a silver lining, please send it my way. Love, Amy.”

Chapter 13 “Come on! Catch me!” I rolled my eyes and, pushing the notebook back into my bag, looked up to see The Creature bobbing in front of Tristan. She had evidently gotten bored with swimming alone and wanted to give Marco Polo another shot. At the sound of her whine, Tristan stopped his peaceful floating and stood up in the water. I could see from his expression that he wasn’t eager to start Round Two, but she didn’t care. She slapped the water, beckoning, “This way!” The moment Tristan began to swim toward her, she dove under the water and appeared a few feet away. She slapped the water, so he adjusted his swimming, and then she dove under again. She continued this pattern several times, until I could see that she was leading him in a circle, disorienting him. Tristan began to swim slower each time The Creature slapped the water, always far away from him and always in a different place. He looked almost ready to give up the game, when The Creature climbed onto the dock. A canoe was tied to one of the posts and she hit her hand against it. The hallow aluminum gave a clear, recognizable sound and Tristan immediately shot toward it. I stood up on the hill, my hands on my hips while I watched him swim toward the dock. I pushed my hair behind my ear, waiting for The Creature to move, to give some indication to Tristan that he was almost there. The yards turned to feet, the feet to inches, and I finally screamed, “Tristan!” Tristan stopped, his head coming out of the water a breath away from the edge of the dock. Furious, I stormed down the hill when The Creature turned to face me, her features maddeningly calm. Toe-to-toe with her, our height difference was obvious, but I stood straight and demanded, “What were you thinking? He could have hurt himself!” Tristan, now aware of his location, was climbing onto the dock. The Creature looked down at me and said condescendingly, “I was right here. He wasn’t going to hit the poles. He was just going to swim underneath.” “He was ‘just’ going to—!” I threw my hands up in the air. “Fine! I’m crazy.” I turned and began to climb the hill. Grabbing my bag off of the grass, I pulled out the key ring that held the key to Tristan’s car and the cabin. Behind me, I heard The Creature huff as she was forced to follow my lead. I didn’t bother to look back, but continued up the stairs and didn’t stop until I’d reached the back door. Opening it with the key, I stepped inside and found myself in a kitchen. Shouldering my bag, I looked around. Everything was made of pine—from the floor, to the walls and the cabinets. Despite the fact that the building had been empty since the previous summer, it smelled fresh and clean. The cabin was an open design, like the Edmunds’ house in Grayfield, and I could see through the kitchen to the living room. A flight of stairs in the living area led up to the second floor and what I could only imagine were generously-sized bedrooms. I heard the back door open and shut and then a bag smacked into my leg. The Creature clicked her tongue and said unconvincingly, “Oh. Sorry.” I sighed and walked further into the kitchen, asking over my shoulder, “Are either of you getting hungry? ” “I’m starved,” Tristan said quickly.

I opened the silver refrigerator, but it was empty, which I should’ve expected. I paused, thinking, and saw that a cordless phone was hanging on the wall next to the cabinets. I turned to face them, offering, “I could order a pizza.” “Yeah.” Tristan nodded. “Whatever kind you want.” The Creature scowled while she perched on one of two stools under the counter. “I only eat thin crust. It’s low in carbs.” I shrugged. “Well, I usually get Hawaiian—ham and pineapple.” “That sounds disgusting,” she spat. “No,” Tristan interjected, “that sounds good. Order it.” Though a bit surprised that Tristan was siding with me, I reached for the phone. “Okay.” “Get me a cheese,” The Creature commanded. “Plain and boring. Got it.” Just when my fingers closed around the phone, it began to ring. I jumped, looking suspiciously at Tristan and The Creature, as if one of them had scared me on purpose. Of course, they appeared as surprised as I did. I turned back the phone, picked it up, and asked tentatively, “Hello?” “Hey. Is this Tristan’s assistant?” I hesitated, wondering why the male voice sounded familiar. “Uh, yeah?” “Thought so! This is Nick, from Clarence. We met at the graduation dance.” I nodded, remembering the redheaded boy and his perky girlfriend. “Oh, hi.” “So, Melissa and I are up at my parents’ cabin on the other side of Wind Song,” he continued. “We thought we saw you two and...was that Lexus?” I frowned. “Yup.” Nick laughed, “She has balls! How’d she manage to get back up here after dumping Trist last summer? ” “Hypnosis,” I deadpanned. “Heh. You’re probably right.” Nick paused, like he’d forgotten why he’d called. I heard a girl whisper something to him. “Right! I’m having a party tonight. You guys should come.” “A party?” I repeated skeptically. The Creature shrieked, “A party! Tristan, we have to go!” Tristan’s voice was weak and unconvincing. “Sounds like fun.” Disgusted, I turned my back as she threw her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him. “I guess we accept.” “Awesome! Come by any time after eight.” “Great. Bye.” I hung up the phone and turned around to find that Tristan had somehow freed himself from The Creature’s clutches. His expression looked so distant that I wanted to ask him he was thinking, but I changed my mind when I saw her victorious grin hovering obnoxiously over his shoulder. She said sweetly, “Weren’t you going to order pizza?” Right after I wipe that smile off your face. “Oh yeah.” I grimaced. “Plain and boring. I remember.” “Thin crust,” she hissed. “I’m going to go get ready. Trist, I’ll be upstairs.” She kicked at her bag and her lip pouted at the thought of carrying it up a flight of stairs. The Creature looked up, her eyes latching onto me, but before she could open her mouth to whine for my help, I snatched the receiver and mouthed, “On the phone!” The Creature glared and dragged the bag toward the stairs. She huffed every step of the way, clearly trying to attract Tristan’s attention. He ignored her and stood dripping onto the wood floor. I said, “Careful, you’re going to leave a watermark.” “What?” Tristan shifted his feet. He gave my joke a small smile. “Yeah.”

I set down the receiver and opened one of the drawers, looking for a phonebook. “You don’t seem as excited about the party as her.” “A party at the lake—just like old times,” Tristan said bitterly. He took off his wet sunglasses and rubbed them on the edge of his shirt, which had stayed dry on the dock. I was startled to see his cerulean eyes suddenly staring past me. My arms covered in goose bumps, I admitted, “I don’t get it. Why are you going?” “Because....” Tristan shrugged. “Tristan!” The Creature cried from the stairs. “This is really heavy!” “You’ll make it!” He sighed, pushing his glasses back on, and said, “Your room’s upstairs, too.” “Thanks.” I watched while he walked into the living room, sitting heavily on one of the sofas. He tipped his head back against the cushion, looking tired. If only Mrs. Edmund was here, she could see that The Creature was doing the opposite of what she hoped, draining way her son’s smiles. Shaking my head sadly, I flopped a phonebook from the drawer onto the counter and picked up the phone. *** I stared into the mirror as I pulled my hair up into a ponytail. I’d waited until the pizza had come before heading upstairs; I wasn’t in the mood to eat. I hadn’t bothered to check out the second floor, but took the first room I came to. It was an average-sized guest room with a window that overlooked the lake. I planned to stay in it until the moment we were going to leave, but Tristan’s cry of “What are you doing in here?!” made me stick my head out to see what was going on. He was standing in a doorway down the hall, his stance wide and his face murderous. I heard, from inside the room, The Creature’s weak reply: “This room has the biggest vanity.” I snickered at the irony. Of course it did. “Get out!” Tristan yelled. “But we stayed in here last year,” she whimpered, her hand snaking out from the room and wrapping around his neck. He jerked back, as if bitten, and growled, “This is my parents’ room.” The Creature laughed. “Since when do you care? ‘Parents’?!” Reminding him that his father was dead—honestly, her insensitivity was astounding. Before she had a chance to say anything worse, I stepped out into the hall. “Hey! Remember, there’s pizza down there! Maybe you should go eat it.” Tristan turned and walked toward me. He said quietly, “Thanks, Amy.” The Creature huffed, looking down the hallway at me, and tossed her hair. “That’s okay. I’ll get something at the party.” I narrowed my eyes at her and took Tristan’s outstretched hand, placing it on the crook of my arm. While we began to walk toward the stairs, he said over his shoulder, “Then we’re going. Now.” “But I’ve only curled half of my hair!” she complained. Tristan clenched his teeth together. “Then pull it back.” “That just looks lazy!” I rolled my eyes and grabbed onto the railing; I knew her last comment was directed at me, but I didn’t feel like taking the bait. Ignoring her, I told Tristan, “Step here.” In perfect sync, we climbed down the stairs. Tristan’s left hand was shoved deep into his pocked and a frown lingered on his face. His voice low, he said, “She shouldn’t have gone in there.” Pulling the keys from my jeans, I sighed. “She doesn’t care, Tristan.” “She used to.” “Really?” I asked skeptically. We stopped at the front door while I pulled it open. Tristan’s mouth formed a hard line and he didn’t respond to my question. Somehow, I doubted that The Creature had ever been a nice person, not that his

hormone-clouded memories would show it. As we approached the Cabriolet, I heard The Creature rushing down the stairs. She appeared in the doorway a second later, her stilettos in her hands and her eyes wide at the thought of being left behind. Breathless, she demanded, “I...get...shotgun.” I smirked, unlocking the passenger door. “You know, it would be nice if you let Tristan ride upfront in his car.” The Creature leaned against the hood of the car while she pulled her heals on. She hissed, “It’s just around the lake. Get in, Tristan.” “I’m sitting upfront,” Tristan snapped. “And you’re not sleeping in their room.” “Fine. Whatever.” She waved her hand dismissively and slid into the backseat. “Get in.” As I walked around the car to the driver’s side, I silently wished that she would neglect to buckle her seatbelt, so I could slam on the brakes and she’d— No. No, I wouldn’t do that, even if she made the idea tempting. Turning on the ignition, I reached down to shift the Cabriolet into Reverse. I jumped when I grabbed the knob, but found Tristan’s hand on top. He slid his hand out from under mine and the brush of his skin was like static electricity. Tristan whispered, “I should have said this before, but...thank you for driving.” Shivering, I whispered back, “You’re welcome.” While I drove around the lake, I couldn’t help but wonder what Tristan was thinking. Was he remembering the last time he sat behind the wheel of his Cabriolet, or what we were like before The Creature came along? I spotted Nick’s parents’ place easily, seeing that the driveway was jammed with cars. Parking at the end, I noted that the cabin was almost as large as the Edmunds’, but had more of a ranch look with gray siding and a wrapped porch. The Creature, of course, wasn’t about to go unescorted into a party, so she helped Tristan out of the Cabriolet, making me the third wheel. My favorite. I threw my shoulders back, marched up the front door, and gave the doorbell a quick press. Nick immediately pulled it open. He had a slightly wobbly smile on his face and his arm slung over Melissa’s shoulders. “Hey, you came!” Before I had a chance to respond, The Creature pushed her way in front of me, dragging Tristan along with her. She gushed, “Oh thank God you’re having a party!” and ran a finger down Nick’s jaw. He instantly turned to Jell-o. “I don’t know what we would’ve done without you! Been stuck playing board games or something.” Nick’s eyes wandered down her body while he stuttered, “Y-you look nice, Lexus.” Less than amused, Melissa jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow and stomped into the cabin. “What’s wrong?” he asked her retreating form as he slowly surfaced from the poisonous cloud that was The Creature’s aura. Unconcerned with the ravage she wrecked on other’s relationships, The Creature asked, “Where’s the bar?” Nick frowned and pointed. “Back there.” The Creature strutted off, leaving Tristan and I standing in the doorway. I shuffled my feet, unsure of what to do. Then, with a surprising amount of understanding, Tristan said, “Well, she got you. Lexus is good at that.” “What?” I was all too ready to clarify for Nick. “Drive-by flirting.” Tristan smirked and Nick’s smile found its way back onto his face. He laughed, “I’d almost forgotten. Here.” Nick took Tristan’s arm and guided him toward the living room, where music and laughter could be heard. “You gotta say hi to everyone.” While I followed them at a distance, I felt painfully out of place. Not only was I a stranger in a room full of friends, but I was also wearing thrift store buys in a crowd of preppy dressers. I recognized many of them from Tristan’s graduation, though I couldn’t guess their names. Most of the Clarencites were standing in

clusters, gossiping and trying their best to get drunk. I received a few curious looks, a few frowns, but was generally ignored. “Amy!” Surprised to hear my name, I jumped and spun around, colliding with Kristy. She stumbled back a step, covering her mouth with her hand as she laughed. Even before I looked, I could feel cold liquid running down my shirt, making the cotton stick to my skin. A glance down confirmed that my clothes were dripping with Rum and Coke. Just when I didn’t think the night could get any better. Sometimes I hate my life. Kristy shook her head, a gleeful look still in her eyes. “Oh, Amy, you just turned so fast!” I grimaced, not ready to respond to such a pathetic apology. She prompted, “You’re here, so Tristan must be...?” I sighed. “He may be with her.” “‘Her’?!” My mouth twitched, but I couldn’t quite get my tongue to form The Creature’s name. “You mean....” Kristy’s eyes bugged as if my twitch had given it all away. She crushed her plastic cup. Her voice was a snarl. “Lexus.” If she hadn’t just dumped her drink on me, I think we would’ve become friends right then. There’s nothing quite like sharing an enemy. Still, the pop on my shirt was literally a damper on the whole situation. I stepped back carefully, in case she had any thoughts of killing the messenger, and said, “Yeah. So, you can go find her and catch up. I’m going to find a bathroom.” She nodded absently while her eyes scoured the room, hunting for The Creature. I glanced around, but Tristan had disappeared into the crowd. Apparently I wasn’t going to ‘sit him tonight, if that was even what I was supposed to be doing. I shrugged and turned to my left, where a hallway opened off of the living room. My flip-flops slapping against the tile floor, I passed by two closed doors. I knew the rule: never open a shut door at a party. You never know what you’ll find. Thankfully, the third door I came to was open. I stepped into the bathroom and turned on the faucet. As useless as it was, I splashed a little water on my shirt in an attempt to neutralize the stickiness. With a weak smile at my reflection, I headed out of the bathroom and toward the back of the cabin. At the end of the hallway I found, to the left, the kitchen and, to the right, a fully stocked bar. The bartender was pouring drinks like a pro, or at least like a dressed up college kid. True to her word, The Creature was sprawled on a wicker chair not three feet from the bar. Her eyes were glossy and she held onto what I could only assume was her second Long Island. I always heard it’s easier to get people to talk when they’re drunk and I could think of no better person to test the theory on. Pulling a chair up next to her, I cut past any small talk and demanded to know, “Why did you come?” Unfazed by my forwardness, The Creature simply shrugged. “Because I didn’t have anywhere else to go. When I came back from Europe, Mick wanted some time off—” “From you? Never,” I said sarcastically and in her sloshed state, she didn’t even notice. “—and my friends had moved to L.A., mostly. My parents were vacationing in Morocco—” “So you thought of Tristan,” I interjected. “No.” She was so bluntly honest that I almost laughed. “I was gonna hit a few clubs, meet some new friends. But, then Trist’s mom called and she said I sh’ come down and have some fun. I thought, ‘why not?’” I could’ve given her a few reasons. “You like him, huh?” She wagged the umbrella from her drink in my face. “You sh’ never date someone you work with.” I raised my eyebrows with disbelief. “You and Mick never...?” “Well....” she giggled, giving herself away.

I shook my head, thinking about the last few days and how horrible they had been. All for a girl who would flirt with a rock...okay, a male rock. Honestly. Knowing it was my only chance, I looked her in her creepy aqua eyes and asked, “Why won’t you just leave?” “Because—Mick says being with Trist looks good. Besides,” she leaned into my bubble, “he likes me better.” I never hated her more than at that moment. *** Slamming the glass door shut, I stood on the back porch. I gulped the night air, trying to get rid of my nausea. She made me sick—or the doubt she planted made my sick. Maybe both. I pulled out my cell phone, thinking of calling Ahna for a pep talk, or at least a little perspective. I stared down at the screen, where “No Service” was flashing. Great. I snapped my phone shut and jammed it back into my pocket. “Amy.” I jumped, having thought I was alone. What was with people scaring me with my own name? Squinting into the darkness, I saw that Tristan was sitting on a bench facing the lake. He sat with his shoulders drooped while he leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees and loosely holding a can of beer. I took a small step toward him. “How do you always know it’s me?” “You have this smell: sweet, like honey.” “Oh, that’s my shampoo.” I took two quick steps and sat beside him. “Is this like the fun you used to have, Tristan?” “I-I used to be better at it.” His sigh filled the silence and he took a drink from the can. I pushed the hair that had fallen out of my ponytail behind my ear. “If you don’t want to be here, you just have to get up and leave.” “Which way?” he grumbled, waving his hand searchingly through the air. Annoyed, I shrugged. “Fine. Maybe you’ll have to ask for some help, too. Maybe it’ll be hard.” Suddenly angry, his head snapped to face me. “It shouldn’t be! Not for me!” And there was the reason. I was so stunned that I couldn’t think of anything to say. That was why he’d refused to learn to adapt: he didn’t think it was fair. And it wasn’t. But, money or not, popular or not, he wasn’t superhuman and he had to accept that. I breathed in and pressed my lips together. Calmly, quietly, I explained, “Tristan, you have to deal with this.” Tristan slammed his can down on the bench and it thudded like it was almost full. He growled, “You’re not getting paid to analyze me.” I stiffened from the stab and bit back, “Going to parties wasn’t in the job description either.” “You’re right. Let’s go.” Tristan stood abruptly. “I’m sure Lexus has had her fun.” I grabbed Tristan’s arm and, pulling him into the cabin, muttered, “Good. I was concerned.” The moment Tristan and I walked back inside, I could tell that something was going on. The air was literally alive with excitement. Then I saw them—Kristy and The Creature were standing in the middle of the kitchen with a crowd of Clarencites gathered around them. Both were red in the face; angry and drunk, a perfect combination. Like boxers in a ring, the two girls circled each other, looking for an opening. Kristy jabbed first. “So, you’re back with Tristan? I didn’t think he was worth it.” The Creature laughed as if she hadn’t felt a thing. “Oh yeah? Is that why you called him for a month, crying after I took him?” “You didn’t take him!” Kristy hissed. “Sweetie, you were show-jumping while we were under the bleachers.” “You whore!” “Slut!” The two blondes screeched and crashed into each other, their nails clawing viciously at any exposed skin. Every single man in the room cheered—except Tristan. He squeezed my arm and asked over the

noise, “What’s going on?” “They’re fighting...over you.” I stared, open-mouthed, while the girls screamed and threw each other onto the floor. Not gently, by the way. If they’d actually been cats, fur would’ve been flying. I shook my head, realizing how far out of this competition I was. “They’re nothing like—” Cutting me off, Tristan said with disgust, “Oh, they’re alike.” I tried to explain, “That’s not what I meant,” but he wasn’t listening. Tristan stepped forward, his hands held up in the air, and yelled, “Stop it! I’m not dating anyone!” The two girls froze, as did a piece of my heart. Of course we couldn’t tell anyone what had happened between us, but part of me was still hoping that someday... Why did he have to say it out loud? I swallowed hard when he said my name and held his hand out for me, while the party stared. The girls were glaring at me, as if I was the one who had won. And I wasn’t even fighting.

Chapter 14 I woke up the next morning and decided that I shouldn’t be upset that Tristan had told them he was single. Even if I didn’t like it, I’d agreed to keep our kiss secret. Spending time with him—and The Creature —was earning my chance at Evanston, after all. Feeling resolved, I crawled out of bed and stretched. I picked up my cell phone from the nightstand and checked the display. 10:03 a.m. Not a bad time to get up. “Amy! Where are you?” “Chris!” I shouted. I’d almost forgotten that the Edmunds were coming today. I grinned, jumping out of my room and rushing down the stairs. The kids were standing in the living room, their bags at their feet. Chris was the first to spot me when I reached the bottom of the staircase and he tackled me with a hug around my waist. Marly was right behind him, wrapping her arms around my knees. I bent down, squeezing them both tightly. “I’m so glad to see you guys!” “We missed you!” Chris stepped back, growing embarrassed. “I mean, sorta.” “Right,” I laughed and gave him a playful punch in the shoulder. Mrs. Edmund walked out from the kitchen, an empty grocery bag in her hands. “He almost wouldn’t sleep last night, he was so excited.” Chris rolled his eyes. “Not ‘cause of Amy. I wanted to see the lake!” He took his sister by the hand, pulling her toward the back door, and explained, “Marly, you probably don’t remember, but it’s real big! Come look!” “You three have fun last night?” Mrs. Edmund asked. “Oh, loads!” I lied, a fake smile plastered on my face. “That’s wonderful.” Mrs. Edmund looked at me with a touch of concern. “Dear, are you feeling all right? You’re still in your pajamas.” “Well, uh....” I stammered, my cheeks burning red. To complete my moment of humiliation, Tristan walked out from the kitchen, a bowl of cereal in his hand. Two people—okay, one, but still—staring at me in my pajamas. And these weren’t loungewear kinds of people. I crossed my arms over my chest and backed into the staircase, stumbling. “I, uh, just got up and, uh....” I pointed helplessly upstairs. “I’m going to go change.” I don’t think I’ve ever run up a flight of stairs quite so quickly in my life. I dove into my room and began rifling through my bag to find a clean shirt and jeans. I could only imagine what Mrs. Edmund was thinking of me. She probably thought that I was a slacker, especially if she really “loved” The Creature, who always looked perfect. Not that it mattered. I used the bathroom down the hall to hastily shower and change. Pulling my wet hair into a fresh ponytail, I walked back to my bedroom. I dropped my dirty clothes onto the floor and turned to look out the window at the lake. I saw that The Creature had laid a beach towel out on the hill and was sunning herself with her earbuds in. Tristan was at the bottom of the stairs and walking slowly down the dock. I frowned, wondering where the kids were. I scanned the shore, expecting to see them digging in the muddy sand, but it was empty. Then I heard the scream. It was Chris. He was standing at the top of the stairs, just out from the cabin, holding two glasses of lemonade and staring at the lake. He looked horrified. I followed his gaze, my stomach going cold at the

sight: Marly was in the canoe that had been tied to the dock. She was leaning precariously over the side, trying to paddle her way back to shore with her hands. When she leaned forward, the canoe tipped, dumping its small cargo. With a tiny yelp, the girl fell into the water. My heart, which had momentarily forgotten to beat, began to pound. I grabbed onto the window, pushing it open, and shrieked through the screen, “Tristan! Marly!” He had heard the noise and was already sprinting down the dock, kicking off his sandals as he leapt into the lake. My eyes were locked onto the spot where Marly had fallen. Her head reappeared for a moment, her hand reaching desperately into the air, before she bobbed back under. I saw that Tristan, unable to see Marly surfacing, was swimming away from her. I yelled, “Tristan! More to your right!” Tristan immediately adjusted his swimming, but turned too far in the other direction. I saw Marly’s head again pop above the water with a small plea of, “Help!” “To the left, Tristan!” I shouted. He adjusted again, correcting himself to the sound of Marly’s cry, and barreled across the lake. He was heading directly toward the spot I’d last seen her. “There, Tristan! She’s under the water!” As Tristan dove under, I froze. My breathing stopped. Where was he? Where was he? Could he find her? Did she see him coming? Where were they?! I aged twenty years in those seconds. With a splash, Tristan broke the surface of the water. Marly was clinging onto him for dear life, her little arms tight around his neck. I screamed with joy and hurtled from the room and down the stairs. Mrs. Edmund was reading in the living room, completely unaware of the catastrophe outside. She looked up when I jumped off the bottom step and gasped, “Marly! Lake! Saved!” She was immediately on their feet, rushing after me as I flew through the kitchen, out the back door, and down the hill. Chris beat me to the edge of the dock where Tristan was lifting a dripping Marly from the lake. I helped the boy grab his sister. I could feel her shaking with fright and I wrapped her in my arms, hugging her close. Mrs. Edmund was quickly on us, asking was she okay and what had happened?! The Creature continued to tan. *** I don’t know how you’re supposed to overcome a near-tragedy, but my idea was opening up a tube of cookie dough and digging in. I passed out spoons to the kids, Mrs. Edmund, and myself. We all huddled together in the kitchen. Chris and Marly were ghostly white, and I’d painted a reassuring smile onto my face. The Creature was still oblivious, while Tristan was planted on the end of the dock. If he wanted space, then we were going to give it to him. Mrs. Edmund shook her head and set her spoon down on the counter. “I just don’t understand why Lexus hasn’t come to say hello.” I muttered, “She’s off in her own little world.” Chris glared outside at The Creature. “She should’ve helped Marly.” “I don’t think she even noticed,” I said and scraped my spoon along the wrapper, trying to get the last bits of dough. Mrs. Edmund sighed, “But she’s such a nice girl.” “Hmm.” Chris rolled her eyes at me and I coughed, trying to cover my laughter. “At least Tristan was there.” Marly’s little voice piped, “Saved me.” “That’s right,” I said and rubbed her back comfortingly. She looked up at me from under her bangs, a pitiful expression on her face as she glanced at the dock. “You know, he’s okay. He’s probably just...tired from all of that swimming.” I offered her a smile, but she still seemed worried. “Tell you what: why don’t we make Tristan a thank you present?” I gathered our spoons, setting them in the sink. “How does that sound?”

I had found a roll of aluminum foil yesterday, in my search for a phonebook. Now I pulled it out of one of the kitchen drawers and waved it victoriously. “What about medals?” Mrs. Edmund laughed. “Perfect!” I set to work folding the foil into large medals, while Mrs. Edmund grabbed Sharpies for the kids to write with. The activity—and the digesting sugar—roused Chris and Marly. Color slowly returned to their faces while they bent over their medals, concentrating on their drawings. These kids had gone through so much over the last year; I could hardly imagine what it was like for them. I was happy to help distract them, even for a moment. There was only one person who could ruin my mood. So, of course, she walked in through the back door. The Creature wore her bikini, with her towel thrown over her shoulder. Bored, she surveyed us and yawned. “I’m going to go shower and then have some pizza, unless there’s something else to eat.” If spontaneous human combustion could be caused by three sets of glaring eyes, she would’ve been a pile of dust. I asked slowly, “You didn’t hear anything earlier...did you?” “No.” The Creature blinked dumbly. “Did someone call for me? Was it Mick?” Chris snarled, “No, you—” “—should go shower,” I interjected before he could say something that could get him in trouble. “Lexus!” Mrs. Edmund smiled brightly. “Are you enjoying the lake?” The Creature tossed her hair. “I guess. I just wish Tristan wouldn’t make such scenes!” Hearing this, I couldn’t help but laugh. “He’s been telling people we’re not dating!” Mrs. Edmund frowned slightly. “But, dear, I thought you’d make amends.” “‘Amends’?” she scoffed. “When my husband, uh....” Mrs. Edmund choked, unable to get the word out. “Y-you never called or wrote. I mean, I know you were busy—” The Creature grinned arrogantly. “Yes! I was busy! And now I’m all sweaty; I have to shower.” We all silently seethed until she was out of sight. Then Chris, an impish look on his face, turned to me. “Hey, Amy. I brought Battleship. We could play and pretend she’s onboard.” I shook my head. “Twisted, kid. I like it. Let’s play.” *** I’d never played so much Battleship in my life. For almost an hour, Chris and I duked it out, with him making a falsetto scream each time a ship went down—on either side. It was pretty hilarious. Then we got the idea of having a tournament, with Chris and me on one team, Marly and Mrs. Edmund on another. Sometime in the midst of our playing, The Creature had come down and pulled a slice of thin crust pizza from the refrigerator. She didn’t ask to play and we didn’t offer. Around sunset, our stomachs began to rumble and we decided to call a tie, though Chris and I knew we had actually won. We went through the cupboards, checking out the groceries that they had brought, and chose to make grilled cheeses and tomato soup. Mrs. Edmund heated up a fry pan, while I opened up the can. Chris pointed as I poured it into a pan. “That’s red for blood!” “Christopher John!” Mrs. Edmund gasped, clapping her hands over Marly’s ears. He frowned. “What? Battleship, Mom—things blow up.” His mother shook her head. “I wish you wouldn’t think about things like that.” “But, people die and...it’s okay,” he said quietly. “Chris, come here.” She knelt down and held out her arms to him. Once he had come close, she explained, “Dear, we never want people to die, but sometimes they do. And we have to be brave, to move on.” She hugged her children tightly. “You’ve both been so very, very brave!” I bent over the stove, concentrating on my sandwich flipping and soup stirring, trying to give the Edmunds a moment of privacy. I was so intent on staying quiet that I jumped when the phone began to

ring. I turned around, wondering if I should answer, when I heard The Creature pounding down the stairs. She dashed across the room and snatched the phone off of the wall. “Hello? Mick?” She paused, clearly disappointed. “Who is this? Who?” She paused. “Oh, last summer, right... A party? Of course!” She paused. “All right. ‘Bye.” “Going out?” I asked. “Yes. As soon as I find Tristan.” Chris shot me a look and said, “You know, I think I saw him out front. Why don’t you go look?” “Really?” The Creature frowned, turning toward the door. “Yeah. Here, I’ll show you.” Leaning close to his ear, I whispered, “What are you doing?” “Distracting her so you can go talk to him,” he hissed and rushed after The Creature, who was already opening the front door. “He was out here!” I rolled my eyes and looked at the two Edmunds who were now watching me. “You don’t think I should talk to him, do you?” They nodded in unison. “Fine. But he probably wants to be alone.” I threw my hands up in the air, splattering soup with my spoon. I grimaced, setting it on the counter, and headed out the back door. The air was cool and carried the faint scent of pine and freshwater. The sun had already dipped behind the treetops, but the sky was a breathtaking mixture of oranges and deep blues. There was something mystical in the calm of the lake at dusk, as it peacefully mirrored the world around it without a ripple of distortion. The only sounds were the chirps of crickets and the gentle rustle of branches in the breeze. Tristan was a dark silhouette at the end of the dock. His shoulders were slumped and his legs hung over the edge. As I walked closer to him, my mind swirled with emotions. I paused a step behind him and tucked my hair behind my ears, before sitting next to him. My voice was quiet, as to not disturb the twilight. “Hey.” He ran his fingers along the rough edges of the planks, but didn’t respond. “She was looking for you. I guess there’s another party.” Shrugging, I allowed the silence to stretch between us. “She could have died.” I frowned, confused. “Marly? But, you saved her.” “If you hadn’t been there....” Tristan shook his head and his fingers tightened around the edge of the dock. “I would have lost her.” “Tristan...” I instinctively placed my hand over the top of his. Clearing my throat, I began again, “Tristan, what matters is that you did save her. You know, she made you a medal. It’s inside.” He gave a short laugh and I began to get up, thinking he was ready to go back, but he spoke suddenly. “This summer, he would have taught her how to swim.” I dipped my head, my hair coming loose from behind my ears, and watched his face. “Your father?” “Yeah,” Tristan said wistfully. “He taught us here, Chris and me.” “Maybe you can teach Marly?” He said sarcastically, “Right, because I can really do that.” Frustrated, I sighed. “Tristan.” “He wasn’t supposed to die!” he yelled vehemently. “What?” I gasped, surprised by his outburst. “It was an aneurysm. He was just—gone. He and I hadn’t gotten along so well in the last few years. He said I was messing up my life, with the parties and the girls. He was right. It was all a waste.” Tristan shuddered, as if chilled by the memory. “At least he’ll never see me like this.” I saw the tears begin streaming down his face from behind his glasses and I felt like my heart was in a

vice. I hesitated and then wrapped my arms around him, pulling him close. My whole body was electrified, my senses overwhelmed with cinnamon and sandalwood. When his head pressed against my shoulder, his glasses came free and clattered onto the dock. I whispered, “Do you remember Charlie, my brother? He said horrible things to my dad and then left for ten years. Charlie never even told him that he’d gotten married. And you know what? My dad never stopped loving him. Not for one minute. I’m sure your dad was the same way. And, being blind...that doesn’t change who you are.” Tristan’s voice was rough, as he asked, “Do you really believe that?” Tears were pricking at the back of my eyes while I squeezed him tightly; I was desperate for him to believe me. “Yes!” “Amy, how can you—” “Tristan!” I felt his muscles tense at the sound of The Creature’s voice slicing through the air. My arms slid from around Tristan as he sat up straight. He wiped the back of his hand quickly across his eyes and snatched up his sunglasses from where they had fallen. He called, “What?” “Joseph is having some people over! He wants us to come!” Don’t. Just don’t! My entire being was screaming at him to stay, but my tongue was paralyzed. I knew that he was going to go along with her, even if he wasn’t “dating” her. My stomach grew nauseous when he climbed to his feet. He held out his hand to me, like he expected me to be ready to go along. Not this time. He turned his head toward me and asked, “Amy?” Somehow, I found my tongue. “I’m not going.” “Why?” “I’m tired,” I lied and crossed my arms over my chest. Tristan brushed his fingers through his hair and I wondered if he could really be puzzled by my refusal. “But we—” Oh no. Being a third wheel was not part of my job. I stood up and said harshly, “I’m going inside.” I took a step toward the stairs, when I heard Tristan say, “Amy, can you...?” He was again holding out his hand, this time with an imploring look on his face. I glanced up at the cabin, confirming what he’d probably already guessed: The Creature had gone inside, leaving me as his only hope of getting safely inside. I stepped back, took his hand and placed it on my arm. As we took the first stair, he said, “Is it because of Lexus?” I was startled by his question. It took me two stairs before I grumbled, “I don’t think this is the time, Tristan.” He turned his head toward me intently. “Amy, just tell me. Please.” With that, I couldn’t hide the truth any longer and I didn’t want to. “Tell you?! Fine, I’ll tell you: she’s only here because she couldn’t think of anything better to do! Oh, and because her agent told her to stay. She wants the cover of People, not you! And I thought you’d figure it out, but you didn’t.” “I figured she—” Tristan shook his head and said darkly, “I should’ve known.” I nodded, but didn’t say a word while I pulled open the back door. Tristan stepped in front of me and, in the light of the cabin, I could see how red his face was. Without any hesitation, he yelled, “Lexus!” “What?” The Creature was standing in the living room and checking her lipstick in a compact mirror. She didn’t recognize the anger in his voice until she shut the mirror and looked at him. Her eyes went wide and she frowned at me, as if I was the cause. She asked tentatively, “Trist...?” He took several steps toward her and growled, “Lexus, I tried to pretend that everything was fine, that nothing changed between us, but it has. I’m not the same person I was and now I know who you are. I want you to leave.” The Edmunds were in the kitchen, their dinner half eaten. They were all surprised by the sudden

outburst, but the Marly quickly covered Chris’s mouth to muffle his cheer. Mrs. Edmund looked the most flustered and her mouth hung open while she debated whether or not to interject. The Creature, meanwhile, fluttered her eyelashes and held her hands out. She whimpered, “Tristan.” “Don’t even pretend that you care!” he snapped. “The only person you’ve ever cared for is yourself. I’m through!” She bit her lip, pouting, “But—” “Where were you, when my father died?” Tristan demanded. At this, The Creature had the nerve to flip her hair. “I was in Paris. You know that.” “You never even returned my calls!” “I was busy!” She glanced into the kitchen, finding her alibi. “Your mother understands.” Mrs. Edmund gasped, not expecting such a brutal stab in the back. Hearing the noise, Tristan reeled on her to release more of his frustration. “I can’t believe you invited her! You knew we’d broken up! I’d told you a thousand times!” She said weakly, “I-I just wanted you to be happy.” “Mother, she never made me happy!” “Whatever, Tristan.” The Creature rolled her eyes and pulled her cell phone out from her purse. “I’ll leave so you can have fun with your babysitter.” I laughed humorlessly, “Oh, he’s not ‘with’ me.” All at once, Tristan came out of his state of rage and turned toward me with a frustrating level of surprise on his face. “Amy?” “Tristan,” I shot back. He was the one who said he wasn’t dating anyone. How in the world could he be confused? The Creature pressed her phone to her ear. “Hello, Mick? You have to get me out of here.” Tristan continued to face me, his expression now calm and serious. “Amy, will you drive me back to Grayfield?” He shook his head. “This place—the memories—” “Tonight?” I asked and looked into the kitchen for help. Mrs. Edmund gave me a silent plea to agree, if it would make him happy. I sighed. “Okay.”

Chapter 15 If there’s one thing I could do, it was be stubborn. Like sitting in a car full of awkward silence for nearly two hours. Oh yes, I could do that. The only problem was deciding when to break that silence. On the highway? Too dangerous. Driving through downtown Grayfield? Too many pedestrians. No, I wasn’t going to do it until I was within jogging distance of the Edmunds’ house—and I’m not a runner, so that distance is about a mile. I waited anxiously because I knew once I broke the silence, there was no going back. Turning onto Edmund Road, I carefully took aim and fired, “You know, your mom didn’t do anything wrong.” Tristan didn’t seem startled, as if he’d known that I would be the first one to speak. “She shouldn’t have had her come. Then none of this would have happened.” “Maybe she just wanted to help. Maybe she just wanted you to stop feeling sorry for yourself and start living your life. Maybe she would’ve done anything to make that happen.” In the dim light cast by the car’s dashboard, I could see him turn his head toward me, his arms crossed. “Maybe she should see I’m doing the best I can.” “But you haven’t tried to adapt at all!” I cried, leaning harder on the gas and causing the Cabriolet to jolt forward. “Amy, my girlfriend dumped me, my father died, and I lost my sight!” Tristan fisted one hand and pressed the other against the window, like he was trying to escape a nightmare. “Well, you could’ve had her back, so can cross that off your list.” “I never wanted her back!” Tristan shook his head slowly. “Lexus just—she reminded me of how things used to be. My old life.” “I thought you hated your old life,” I muttered and glanced down at the odometer, noting that I was going a good twenty miles per hour over the speed limit. “I do.” He shrugged. “But at least I knew how to live that life.” I hit the brake to slow the car and turned to look at him. “You know what, Tristan? Most people don’t know what they’re going to do with their lives. Most people don’t have it all laid out for them. I don’t even know what college I’m going to go to! Still! So, yeah, life’s hard, but you’ve got to live it.” Hearing something in my voice, something that I’d refused to verbalize, his face softened. He said quietly, “You really hated her being there, didn’t you?” I gave a short laugh at the irony. Why did he realize that now?! “Of course!” “Why didn’t you say something?” My throat suddenly tightened and my eyes burned as I held back tears. I choked, “Because you should’ve known that you being with her was hurting me!” His posture drooping, Tristan began, “Amy, I wasn’t trying to be with her. I didn’t think—” “No you didn’t!” I lashed out. “And that’s part of the job, I guess.” “Don’t say that,” he whispered, looking offended. “Why?” I spat. “It’s true.” “Amy, I’m sorry I hurt you. That night when we kissed, I meant everything I said.” Tristan sighed heavily. “But, then Lexus came and I was confused. I was...stupid.” He shook his head. “I’m so glad you stayed.” “I had to.”

Tristan frowned. “Because of the money?” I bit my lip, torn how to respond. How many times had I wanted to leave? I knew money was the reason Ahna had told me to stay, the reason I had told myself. But was it the truth? “I want to go to Evanston College and the money....” “That’s the only reason?” he pressed. “I don’t know, Tristan.” I paused, unable to ignore the honest plea written on his face. “I mean, no, it wasn’t! But, now....” “You can’t forgive me?” The car’s headlights fell on the Edmunds’ gate and I let off the gas, bringing the Cabriolet to a stop. Throwing the car into Park, I told him, “We’re here.” Tristan sat still, his breathing shallow and his face tense with worry. He remained silent for several painful seconds while he searched for something to say. Finally, almost timidly, he asked, “Are you coming tomorrow?” I took in a deep breath and closed my eyes. “I’ll come.” “Okay.” He gave a quick nod, as if to convince himself everything was all right. “The passcode is zero two one.” I opened the car’s window and leaned my arm out, pressing the numbers into the gate opener. The gate buzzed and swung open, allowing the Cabriolet to coast up the drive. I parked behind my Camry, which was sitting patiently in front on the Edmunds’ house. I gave it a small smile, before reaching into the backseat to grab my duffle bag. Climbing out, I threw my bag over my shoulder and met Tristan in front of his car. He held out his hand, palm up. I reached out, pressing his keys into his hand, and his fingers closed around mine. He said firmly, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Amy.” “Good night, Tristan,” I said, pulling back my hand, and walked to my car. I knew what he wanted: some assurance that everything was going to be fine between us. But I was tired and I didn’t have an answer to his question. *** I pulled my Camry into my driveway and killed the engine. Shouldering my bag, I walked up to my house, careful not to make too much noise while I undid the lock and stepped into the kitchen. Flicking on the light, I saw that the day’s mail was strewn on the kitchen table. I desperately needed some good news and I wondered if maybe my brother had managed to put a stamp on an envelope and toss it into the mail. It was possible. I pushed my hair out of my face and picked up the pile of mail. Straightening up, I began to leaf through it. Bill, bill, ad, bill, ad, bill addressed to me—wait. I flicked back and examined the white envelope more closely. It sure looked like a bill, but what in the world would I owe to “Sunny Cow Dairy”? I ripped open the envelope and pulled out a paper from inside. It read: “Dear Amy Turner, Congratulations! We at Sunny Cow Dairy are pleased to inform you that you are the winner of this year’s Family Member Scholarship. Your brother, Charlie Turner, informed us of your avid pursuit of your dream to study journalism at a higher level, as well as your dedication to helping a local disabled boy.” At this line, I frowned, but continued reading. “As a result of your outstanding devotion to the improvement of both yourself and others, Sunny Cow Dairy is pleased to present you with a $50,000 scholarship for education.” “What?” I gasped and, feeling dizzy, sat down on one of the kitchen chairs. I read, again, “$50,000.” “Oh my God,” I whispered. “I can go.” I jumped up and, waving the paper in the air, screamed, “I can go!” “What is going on?” my dad’s voice boomed from my parents’ bedroom. Any guilt I should’ve felt for waking my parents up was overshadowed by my excitement. I bounded

through the house, landing with a bounce in their doorway. Holding up the paper, I screamed again, “I can go! To Evanston! I got a scholarship!” My parents were sitting up in bed, their hair standing at odd angles and their eyes bugged in their heads. My dad was the first to free himself from the covers. Stumbling toward me, he took the paper, squinting at it in confusion. “But how?!” “Charlie! He nominated me!” “He, he did!” Dad beamed, turning to Mom and shaking the paper in confirmation. He then wrapped me in a giant hug, before jogging from the room. Amazed to see him move so quickly so late at night, I laughed, “Where are you going?” “To call your brother!” he shouted from the kitchen. I shook my head. It was so weird that he was saying that—he was calling Charlie—but it was so right, too. As soon as the shock wore off, my face fell into a look of contemplation and I lowered myself onto the edge of my parents’ bed. Everything had changed, so suddenly. Now that need for money was just poof, gone. My mom was watching me and she placed a hand on mine, asking, “Why aren’t you happy, honey?” “I am,” I said and managed to smile. “It’s just, now...now I don’t need the job.” She cocked her head to the side. “Isn’t that what you wanted? Now you won’t be getting paid to date your boyfriend.” “He’s not—” I began and then sighed. “We had a fight. He was letting this girl flirt with him and... Well, it’s not just that. He doesn’t want to adapt to being blind and...me being with him doesn’t help. Not really. I’m a crutch for him, you know? At least, that’s how I feel sometimes.” Her smile was annoyingly knowing. “Sometimes, if you love someone, you have to let them go.” I knew she was talking about her and Charlie. Sure, she had kept up the dinners so we wouldn’t forget about him, but she hadn’t sent anyone to find him. She knew he needed time to wander on his own and she had given it to him. I hadn’t really thought about it before, how hard that must have been for her to do. Maybe I was a little like Charlie, taking her hippie-ness for granted and never thinking of looking to her for advice. I reached out and hugged her, saying softly, “Thanks, Mom.” “You’re welcome, Amy Rose.” Everything felt so much...clearer. I knew what I had to do: I had to quit. *** I parked my Camry in front of the Edmunds’ house and stared up through the windshield at the morning sky. This was it. I took a deep breath and, pushing my hair behind my ears, climbed out of my car and up the stairs. The front door was already open and Chris was standing in the doorway, his stance wide and his arms crossed stubbornly. I tried to give him a nonchalant smile, but after the argument he’d heard yesterday, I could see on his face that he wasn’t buying it. “Did he fight with you, too?” he asked. I cocked my head to the side. “What do you mean?” The boy rolled his eyes. “He’s been in the closet all morning.” “Oh.” I sighed. “Yeah, we did.” He shook his head and stepped out of the way to let me inside. “He wouldn’t even talk to us when we came home! You have get him to come out, Amy.” I eyed the winding stairs and said, “Wish me luck, kid,” before marching forward. I began my ascent quickly and then stopped two steps from the landing. I pressed my icy hands to my lips and blew warm air on them. There was no reason to be nervous, but I felt strange, as if many days had passed since I last saw him. I shrugged off any uneasiness and climbed the last stairs. My eyes were greeted by the sight of The

Closet Door. For some reason, I’d expected it to be closed and locked, bringing me full circle, back to my first meeting with Tristan. In reality, the door was slightly ajar. I could see a sliver of darkness leering at me from within. Surely that was a good sign. I stepped forward and pulled on the door, which swung open. I was immediately greeted by the smells of paper and leather. I walked inside and blinked so my eyes would adjust to the dim light. The first things I noticed were the piles of books pushed against the walls; there were many classics, Catcher in the Rye among them. Noticing a faint glimmer, I crouched down to find a box full of trophies. I ran my finger over the smooth metal, wondering what it would have been like to see Tristan flying through the air on Aeris. I heard a faint noise, like something settling into place, and peered into the back of the closet. I recognized a riding uniform, hanging on a hook, and leather riding boots standing stoically on a shelf. Beyond that, the corner was a dark mass. I moved forward carefully, avoiding the stacks of CDs that littered the floor, and finally stopped in front of the shadow. I squinted, trying to make out who or what I was looking at. I whispered, “Hello?” Suddenly, little Marly jumped up from where she had been crouched in the corner and flew past me, out of the closet. I threw myself against the wall. Since when was I playing hide-and-seek? Bewildered, I shook my head and held a hand over my pounding heart. That’s when I heard it: music coming from the corner. I could hear Jon Buckley singing, “Lost in a maze; I feel like I’m trapped in the turnings. All the

wrong choices; I’ve done you wrong. I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to go down this path—” Were these lyrics for me?

Crack! I jumped and turned around, my eyes fixed on the spot on the bottom of the doorframe where the sound had come from. The first thing I saw was the tip of a thin white pole. No, not a pole—a cane! My eyes followed the white line as it angled upwards into a male hand. My breath caught and I briefly hesitated before looking up. Tristan. He was standing in the doorway, holding his cane in one hand and a red rose in the other. I couldn’t believe what I saw and my mouth fell open. “Amy?” He paused, shifting his feet as he waited for me to respond, but I was at a loss. He coughed nervously and tried again, “I-I’m sorry if Marly scared you; I just wanted you to hear the song.” He offered the flower, its head bobbing up and down on its long stem. “Can I talk to you, Amy Rose?” I took a small step forward to take the rose, sliding it from between his fingers. I studied the delicate petals for a moment and then looked up into his face. “I’m listening.” “She took it!” I heard Chris whisper loudly. Craning my neck, I could see the Edmunds huddled on the stairs, clearly straining to hear what was going on. I rolled my eyes; Chris may have fooled me into thinking that Tristan was in the closet, but he wasn’t cut out to be a spy. “Amy, you were right—about everything. I was being a coward. I thought I’d just sit around and let life happen to me, let Lexus walk all over me. And, it wasn’t fair to you. I-I know that a rose doesn’t make up for it, but...I’m sorry.” Tristan pushed a hand through his hair and took a deep breath, as if willing himself to continue despite the fact that I was silent. “And, I’m going to change! I’m going to do something: learn Braille and how to use this cane right. I think I can even go to college in the fall...one that I was accepted to...one that has an equestrian team.” “Evanston?” I breathed, a smile growing on my face. Tristan nodded slowly. “Evanston.” There was no thought, no words, as I suddenly closed the space between us. My lips were on his and his were on mine. My heart raced while his arms tightly encircled my waist. We kissed for all we are worth, as if we had never tasted anything sweeter. I could have lived forever in that moment. When our mouths grew sore and our breaths came in gasps, we finally pulled apart. I leaned back and my eyes were caught by his shining glasses. My sapphire irises reflected in the dark

depths of his lenses. I reached out and brushed his temple, remembering the bright cerulean. Tristan smiled softly and caught my hand. His tone was low when he said, “You’re the one who wanted to look at my eyes.” He held my hand between both of his. “You’re the only one I’ve ever—” “I love you, too,” I whispered and squeezed his fingers. “But...Tristan? I quit.” “What?!” came a little boy screech. “After all that?” I peered over Tristan’s shoulder to see that the Edmunds had snuck upstairs, onto the landing. Chris was looking particularly indignant, his face red and his arms on his hips as he gaped at the two of us. I couldn’t help but laugh, as I explained, “I mean, I got a scholarship! I don’t have to work for you, anymore.” “Goodness, you worried me for a second!” Mrs. Edmund complained, but she was still wiping at her teary eyes. I smiled, but was blushing at the idea that they were watching us. Tristan leaned down to my ear, asking, “They’re all there, huh?” With a shake of his head, Tristan stepped back, catching the handle and swinging the closet door shut. He pulled me close and I wrapped my arms around his neck. We were both cocooned in the pitch blackness. I could feel his warmth, smell the cinnamon and sandalwood, and nothing else mattered. Because even if Tristan had never physically seen me, he’d seen the real me, just like I’d seen him.

Epilogue A large crowd gathered under the bright Arizona sky. The stands were full and the people buzzed with excitement, as though they were about to see a great moment in history; this was not an average Novice event. On the lowest bleacher, a young woman pressed herself as close to the field as she could. She nervously brushed a strand of auburn hair behind her ear and bit her lip. This was it. Her sapphire eyes lit at the sight of him. He was the image of dark perfection, sitting proudly in his saddle. The onyx horse beneath him shimmered cobalt in the sunlight. Her breathing grew shallow with anticipation while she watched the two begin. They moved with perfect rhythm, muscles tensing and flexing while they sped forward. Her heart pounding, she too shored herself for the flight. “Please, please, please,” she whispered, her eyes never leaving the horse and rider. It happened in an instant. The gelding braced and, in a movement of ballet-like grace, raised his front hooves. His powerful back legs pressed against the ground and then they were in flight. Time slowed. The young woman’s lips spread into a smile as she watched them soar, as one, over the fence. The moment the horse’s hooves reunited with the earth, the waiting crowd burst into applause. The rider, hearing the noise, couldn’t suppress a grin. His mind was reeling and he felt as if his heart would fly free from his chest. He had done it...his world was no longer black, but full of light.

About the Author Even before she could use a pencil, Reneé has been a writer. She began by telling stories to a cassette recorder and using dolls for props. Countless short stories later, Reneé finished writing her first chapter book at age eleven. At thirteen, she developed her writing style through fan fiction novellas and she discovered the power of an online audience. His Eyes is Reneé’s first novel. She currently lives in Wisconsin, where she is studying for her bachelor’s degree in English and Web Development. For information about upcoming projects, please visit:

www.renee-carter.com