by McLean, Jay
And then I take my first full breath.
And then another.
And another.
And I try to gather my thoughts.
It doesn’t make sense.
When my grandpa calls that night and asks how everything is, I find myself smiling.
The next two days seem to fly by, and I’m surprised at my sudden sadness when it’s time to leave, but not as surprised as I am at the answer I give my grandpa when, on the drive back home, he asks if it’s something I might like to do again next summer. “Yes,” I reply, not skipping a beat. I can’t contain my grin. Or my blush.
Leo Preston is walking around with a picture of me in his pocket. And I want to know why.
Chapter Two
Mia
I don’t know what made me think things would be different the following summer. My second time around at the Prestons’ is a carbon copy of the previous year. The only person I have actual conversations with is Tom. He works a lot, so he isn’t home often, but when he is, he asks me questions about my life, about home, about what I like to do with my time. Sometimes his sons are in the same room, but they never pay much attention to me. They aren’t cruel or mean, but they don’t go out of their way to become my friend. And my mom—she makes me feel like I’m in the way whenever I’m near her, which, again, makes me question why she asked me to come here in the first place.
I regretted agreeing to come the minute I stepped foot in the house. My eyes found Leo immediately, and I smiled at him, hoping my blush wasn’t evident. I’d spent the past year in dreamland, thinking up a multitude of reasons why he would carry a picture of me in his wallet. Whatever crazy fantasies I’d come up with were just that: fantasies. He was sitting on the couch, reading a book, and then he got up, barely looking at me before exiting the room. He didn’t say a word. Not even a “Hi.” And I felt my little thirteen-year-old heart shatter right then and there.
I spend most of the first half of the summer alone, wandering the property, trying to keep out of my mother’s way. The older boys always seem to find something to do. They go fishing or swimming in their lake or riding into town. They never invite me. The only Preston girl is the oldest, and she doesn’t live in the main house. When she is there, which is rare, she’ll talk to me. But she speaks to me like I’m a kid, and I don’t feel like I am one. I doubt she even knows how old I am. I don’t think she cares. I don’t think anyone here cares about me at all.
I hide all of this when I call my grandpa, lying about all the fun I’m having. I feel horrible for doing it, but I’m positive it’ll hurt him to know the truth. My mom stands in the kitchen of the garage apartment while I lie on the couch with the phone to my ear, trying to keep my voice even.
“It’s good you’re having fun, baba,” his deep voice booms, causing a smile to tug at my lips. I miss him. I miss his voice, his thick Hungarian accent, and his pet name for me that translates to baby. I’m his only grandchild, and I know, deep in my heart, that I’m his everything. I shut my eyes, imagining him in our living room, sitting in his recliner with the TV on mute, his withered hands shaking as he holds the phone to his ear. He’ll be missing me just as much as I am him, but he encouraged me to come here, to see more of the “world” than what he could offer me. He wants me to get to know other kids besides Holden. “It’s how you make friends,” he told me.
We were in the same state, only three hours apart, but he was right: this is another world.
“I was thinking, when I get back, we should—” I start, but Mom cuts me off.
“Mia, take this down to the main house and give it to Tom for tomorrow.” She sets a casserole dish on the counter.
“I’m on the phone,” I reply, even though she already knows this. She doesn’t respond; she only pushes the dish an inch closer to me before going to her room and shutting the door. A moment later, the shower turns on.
Sighing, I get up from my makeshift bed and say into the phone, “I have to go. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay, sweetheart. Szeretlek.”
“I love you too, Papa.” I hang up and shove my phone in the pocket of my sweats before picking up the dish with the dishtowel. It’s still steaming hot from the oven. I struggle to slip on my shoes and open and close the door before making my way down the apartment stairs. The porch lights of the main house are on, and Tom’s sitting at a patio table with one of his sons. The boy’s back is to me, so I can’t make out which one it is. Neither of them sees me until my feet hit the porch steps, and they both look toward the sound.
Tom smiles.
Leo doesn’t.
“Sorry to disturb you,” I croak. “My mom told me to bring this over. Did you want me to put it in the fridge?”
Tom stands, taking the dish from me carefully and placing it on the table. “It can wait,” he says, that smile still in place. “Why don’t you sit with us for a bit?”
My head shake is fast, fervent. “It’s okay. I’ll just—”
He’s already pulling out a chair.
I can’t say no, so I sit, feeling the heat crawl up my neck. I’d never been this close to Leo before. He’d always leave when I entered a room or simply ignore that I was there. In this setting, with me sitting directly opposite him, it’ll be impossible to ignore me. But, he does have a book in his hand, covering his face, so maybe he can fake it. To be honest, I’m surprised he doesn’t just get up and leave.
“How’s your summer been so far?” Tom asks, taking a sip of what I assume to be coffee.
“It’s fine. Good, I mean. It’s been good.” I’m a nervous wreck, and I have no reason to be.
Tom clears his throat. “I take it my boys are keeping you busy? Or entertained, at least? There’s always something to do around here.”
It hurts to smile. To lie. “They sure have.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Leo’s book lower an inch. And then another. His brow knits as his penetrating gaze meets mine, his usual bright blue eyes darkening with an emotion I can’t decipher. He doesn’t speak.
“When the boys get to be too much,” Tom says, “just tell Laney, and she’ll put them in their place.”
I tear my gaze away from Leo and focus on what Tom said. From what I’ve witnessed, Laney’s mainly Lucas’s friend, but all the Preston boys treat her as one of them. Lucas and Laney are only a couple of years older than me, but they seem more mature. More…experienced in life.
“Okay, I’ll do that,” I murmur. I’m itching to leave, to go back to the comfort of my solitude.
Tom’s phone vibrates on the glass top of the table, and I’m grateful for an out. He stands, answering the call and bringing the phone to his ear. I start to get up, but his large, heavy hand lands softly on my shoulder, keeping me in place. “Stay.” His tone is gentle. “I’d like to talk with you some more.”
I nod, my neck craning to look up at him. He’s tall, well over six foot, and I wonder for a moment which of his boys will end up being the tallest of them all. My eyes track him into the house and into his office, where I can hear the slight murmur of conversation from his end. Once my buffer’s gone, I inhale sharply and keep my gaze trained on the casserole dish. A minute passes. Two. I realize my jaw’s tense. I try to relax the muscles just as Leo clears his throat. My gaze snaps up. His book’s on the table now, lying flat, pages spread. “My dad says you live on a farm?”
My pulse kicks up at the sound of his voice, at his words directed at me.
I nod again but keep my lips pressed tight, and I try not to look at him... at his eyes. They seem to give away too much, and yet, they reveal nothing at all.
He relaxes into his seat, his plain white tee stretching with the movement. “What’s it like?”
Shrugging, I answer with the only thing I can think to say: “It’s quiet.”
His lips kick up on one side. “Must be nice.”
I feel my shoulders relax. “The quiet?”
It’s his turn to nod.
&nb
sp; “I guess.” I shrug. “Sometimes, it can be lonely, though.”
“Huh.”
“I bet you don’t have that problem here,” I say through a nervous giggle.
He sucks in a breath, lets it out in a whoosh. “You’d be surprised.”
I don’t know how to respond, so I don’t.
“Dad says you homeschool?”
“Yep.”
“Can that be lonely sometimes, too?”
I don’t know if he’s asking because he’s curious or if he genuinely wants to know. Either way, it’s nice to have someone to talk to. “Most kids in my town homeschool. We don’t really have another option unless we want to travel over an hour each way,” I reply, surprised at the evenness of my voice.
He sits taller, leans in closer, his eyes narrowing. “That doesn’t answer my question.” There’s no accusation in his voice, just a steady, stoic string of words.
“It’s not lonely,” I murmur. “I normally do it with my best friend, Holden. His mom helps us. We do the work at his house, or they come over to mine.”
Leo blinks.
I add, “I’ve heard that we can fit in a whole day’s worth of normal school into a couple of hours…”
He chews the corner of his lip, stays quiet.
“…so, when we’re done, we just get to hang out for the rest of the day and…” I trail off, not knowing what else to say.
“And?” he pushes.
“And, I don’t know, find other stuff to do.”
He sighs, pauses a moment, then asks, “So this Holden kid—he’s your best friend?”
“Yeah.” He’s my only friend, but I don’t tell Leo that.
“Laney’s my best friend,” he deadpans.
My eyes widen, and I hope he doesn’t pick up on it. I always thought it was Lucas and Laney who are tight, but maybe I’m wrong.
“Is he your boyfriend?”
I choke on a breath and rear back, my nose scrunched. “Holden?”
Leo nods.
I shake my head. “No. We’re just friends.”
He doesn’t skip a beat. “You think guys and girls can be friends without having other feelings?”
This conversation is out of my depth. Sure, I have a crush on Leo Preston, and I’m fully aware of the level of that crush: nothing more than an attraction to a boy my age caused by the fact that I think he might like me in some thirteen-year-old way. But feelings, emotions… I can’t really feel anything for him, seeing as I didn’t even know him, and now he’s asking me questions, BIG questions… ones I don’t know how to answer. So, I counter, “Do you have feelings for Laney?”
He smirks.
And I realize now that maybe I do have feelings—physical ones.
He leans in closer again. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
I almost laugh out loud. “No.”
He nods at that, then moves away, relaxing in his seat. He picks up his book again, and I’m glad for a moment of silence to gather my thoughts. It doesn’t last long. This time, he practically throws the book back on the table. “What did Vagina cook?”
My eyes widen in shock.
“I mean Virginia,” he rushes out, his eyes closed tight. “Sorry,” he says, opening them again. “Sometimes we call your mom that because... because we’re idiots. No disrespect to you... Sorry.”
I stifle my giggle because it is a funny name, but it’s also crass, even if it’s coming from Leo Preston. Reaching out, I lift the foil from the corner of the dish and peek inside. “Looks like a beef casserole.”
Leo stands quickly, his chair scraping beneath him. “Wait here,” he orders, making his way to the front door. Moments later, he returns with two forks. Leaving his previous seat discarded, he pulls up a chair next to mine and brings the dish closer, handing me a fork as he does. He peels off the foil and digs right in. “Damn, your mom sure knows how to cook,” he says while chewing his food.
I wouldn’t know, I don’t say.
“Are you going to have some?”
“Shouldn’t we... I don’t know… Isn’t it for—”
“Seven males in this house, Mia,” he says, a teasing lilt in his tone that has my stomach flipping. “When it comes to food, it’s a free-for-all. First in…”
I can’t help but grin.
He manages another three fork-loads in the time it takes me to finish one. Around a mouthful, he asks, “So you only go to school for two hours?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Sounds amazing.”
I giggle. “It is pretty cool.”
“What kind of farm is it?” he asks.
“It was a dairy farm, but my grandpa retired a few years back, and he sold the business and all the livestock and equipment. He kept the land.”
Leo seems to contemplate this for a moment before lowering his fork and swallowing. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and asks, his tone flat, “Is your dad dead?”
“No,” I say quietly, my gaze dropping to my hands. It’s a touchy subject, one I try hard not to think about, let alone talk about. And the casual way in which he asked makes my chest ache. Not for me, but for him. I know about his mom, and so maybe—in his eyes—only something as final as death could be the reason why parents split.
“So, where is he?” Leo asks.
“He lives in New York.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
His eyes seem to be everywhere, all at once, until they finally settle on the garage apartment. I watch so many different reactions fleet across his features before he finally settles on one. Mouth pulled down at the corners, his gaze trails from the apartment to me, right into my eyes. And I see it then, for the first time ever; a definitive emotion from Leo Preston: pity.
I hate it.
My fork lands on the table with a loud clang, breaking through the silence building between us. “My grandpa loves me,” I choke out. I regret it the moment the words are out of my mouth. It’s so pathetic and childish and vulnerable.
He starts to speak, but my mother’s voice cuts in. “Mia, come here! Stop bothering that boy!”
Leo gets to his feet, his jaw tense. “She’s not bothering me!” he sneers, and my breath catches.
I get up, shouldering past Leo as he stands firm on the porch steps. “I should go,” I murmur, then call out to my mother, “I’m coming!”
I’m power-walking toward the apartment when I hear footsteps behind me, and then Leo’s voice. “Wait!” He tugs on my elbow, forcing me to face him. I turn quickly, my nose level with his chest. His heavy breath hits the top of my head. “Sometimes, you wake up early and leave the apartment,” he rushes out. “I see you from my bedroom window.”
A shuddered breath leaves me as I lift my chin, look up at him.
“Will you do it tomorrow?” He glances toward the apartment, where I’m sure my mother’s watching us. “Four thirty. I’ll meet you at the bottom of your stairs.”
I stay quiet, my racing heart making it impossible to speak. Leo’s eyebrows rise, awaiting my response. “Okay,” I whisper.
“Mia!” Mom yells.
Leo lets go of my elbow and takes a step back. “Four thirty,” he whispers, and then he smirks, looks up at my mom, and gives her a two-finger salute as he yells, “Goodnight, Vagina!”
Chapter Three
Mia
It’s still pitch-black outside when I peek through the front door the next morning. Leo’s already there, standing at the bottom of the stairs, the hood of his sweatshirt pulled up. He must hear the door open because he looks up, smiles, his teeth a contrast to the darkness around us. When he pulls out a bike from under the stairs and says, “Let’s go,” I freeze.
I have no idea what we’re doing or where we’re going, and more, I have no clue what his invitation means.
Last night, he said that he’d seen me leave the house early some mornings. Does that mean that he’s been watching me? Or is he just up early and staring out his window like some kind
of teenage psychopath? And now he has a bike, which means he plans on going somewhere, just the two of us. I shouldn’t go with him, I think; I could end up dead in a drainpipe somewhere and no one—
“Are you coming?” he whisper-yells, shuffling his feet and adjusting his backpack.
Great. He has a backpack. And I’m positive it’s full of supplies to kill me… or animals. Please, God, not the animals. Still, even thinking all this, I find myself at the bottom of the stairs, almost toe to toe with my prospective killer.
Clearly, I haven’t had much sleep. I spent most of the night tossing and turning, coming up with a million different scenarios of how the morning would pan out. As embarrassing as it is to admit, the most prevalent of my concerns was how to tilt my head when Leo Preston kissed me. Pathetic, I know, because why—just why?
“You ready?” he asks, and I try not to let my nerves show when I nod up at him.
He hands me the backpack and moves to sit on his bike. I simply stand there, unsure of what to do. “Hop on,” he says through a smile, throwing his thumb over his shoulder. I notice the pegs on the back wheel and instantly feel my stomach dip. I’m not exactly the thinnest girl in the world, and I feel the weight of that insecurity drop down on my shoulders.
I take a step back, deflated, and stumble through my words. “Maybe we... maybe we can just walk?”
Leo’s eyes narrow. “Why?”
He doesn’t get it.
Clearing the knot in my throat, I return the backpack to him. “You know what? I’m not feeling the greatest, so…” I start to leave, but he grabs on to my sleeve, halting me to the ground. I wish it would swallow me whole. My eyes drift shut as I fight to keep the tears at bay.
“Did I do something wrong?” he asks, his voice cracking.
“No,” I’m quick to reply, opening my eyes before facing him. I shake my head. “You didn’t do anything.”
“So…” His gaze drops. “You just don’t want to hang out with me?”
“I do,” I rush out, stepping closer. He looks how I feel: disappointed. But he’s also confused, and I don’t want him leaving thinking he’s done anything, so I suck in a breath and tell him the truth. “I’m not exactly…” I can’t finish the sentence, so I point a finger up and down my body.