The Rules of Rebellion

by Hope, Amity

  “Ideas just come to me. It’s funny, because I’m not artistic in any other way. But when I’m out here, I could work all day. The ideas don’t end.”

  “How did you learn to do this?” As I continued to look around, I could almost see the progression of his talent. A few of the wind chimes were fairly rudimentary, but some were downright complex. It was the same way with his sculptures.

  “I had a real heavy class load freshman year,” he said. “By spring semester, I was overwhelmed. I went to the guidance counselor because I knew something had to give. Miss Perez suggested I take an elective that would help me de-stress. I wanted woodworking or auto mechanics, but they didn’t fit my schedule. She put me in welding. I didn’t even know I had an artistic side until that year.”

  Now I knew where the lines around his eyes had originated. At the edge of the area was a large work counter. Leo had his own welder. On the table was a half-assembled iguana, and next to it rested a pair of safety goggles.

  I pointed at the massive lizard. “You definitely have an artistic side.” It was a hodgepodge of dozens of metal parts, all meticulously fit together, piece by piece to form a uniformly shaped body.

  “For our final project, our instructor had us create something out of his collection of scrap metal. I made that.” He pointed upward to a foot-long dragonfly hanging from a cord. It wasn’t as fancy as some of his other creations, but I could tell he had put a lot of time and thought into making it turn out just right. “After that, I was hooked. You don’t know my mom, but I assure you, the fact that I collect trash does not sit well with her. She doesn’t care that I actually make something out of it. She hates that I bring home whatever I can find.”

  “Even after she sees the finished product?” How could she not be amazed by Leo’s work?

  “Even then.” He frowned. “She thinks I should do something more productive with my time.”

  “Your parents must approve at least a little if they gave you this space.”

  He laughed, sounding genuinely amused. “They didn’t exactly give me this space. When my brothers and Jenna lived at home, their vehicles were parked out here. One by one they left. Little by little, my small corner of the garage became the entire garage.”

  He motioned to our surroundings. “Now that I’ve taken it over, there’s kind of no going back. Unless Mom has her way. She’d probably hire a cleaning crew to come in and gut the place.”

  “That would be awful. You have four years of work out here?”

  “Once I started, I couldn’t stop.”

  “I wouldn’t stop, either,” I said. “Not if I had talent like this.”

  He didn’t say anything, but the way his eyes crinkled at the corners let me know he appreciated my praise.

  “Where did you find all of this?” He had quite the collection of pieces to work with.

  He blushed adorably and scrunched up his face in embarrassment. “I’m on good terms with a few junkyards, not only in Laurel but the surrounding area. People are so wasteful. It’s started to bother me, knowing how much gets thrown away. That’s part of why I do this. I like giving things a second life. I’ve also gotten to know a few antique shop owners. They set aside anything that’s in too rough of shape to sell.” He smirked. “Did I mention my mom hates it?”

  I laughed. “Yes, yes you did.”

  “It drives her crazy that I go out looking for this stuff, and then drag it home with me.”

  “What about your dad?”

  “He doesn’t seem to care much one way or another. Now if I was into baseball, like my brothers, he’d be all over that.”

  He tapped a hand against his thigh as he glanced around again.

  As I wandered, I spotted a tablet on a smaller table on the other side of the room. A half dozen pencils and erasers were scattered across it.

  “What’s this?” I nudged it.

  “My sketches.”

  “There’s a method to your artistic madness?” I teased.

  “If by ‘method’ you mean ideas that won’t go away until I get them down on paper, then yes.”

  “I can relate to that,” I said. “It’s the same way with my recipes. If an idea comes to me, I obsess about it until I get it written down. Then once it’s written down, I obsess about it until I have a chance to try it.”

  He hesitated several long moments before saying, “You can look at my sketches if you want.”

  I swiped the tablet off the table. “I was hoping you would say that.”

  I propped a hip against his workspace and took my time turning the pages. I had a hunch that Leo hadn’t shared his drawings with many people. I shook my head in wonder with each flip of the page.

  “You have an amazing imagination.” As I continued flipping, I noticed some of the creations on the page now had real-life duplicates. “You see everything so clearly,” I said as I compared a piecemeal metal cat to the sketch that had been the inspiration.

  “I guess I do.”

  I went through the entire tablet, not having to feign my interest or awe. I was legitimately blown away. Eventually I set the book down and started wandering again.

  “If you see something you like, you can have it,” he offered.

  I ran my hand over another owl, this one with a cheese-grater body. I smiled at a robot wearing an upside-down metal bucket that looked like a skirt. “Thank you so much. But I can’t.”

  He looked sheepish, as if assuming I’d been showing interest out of politeness.

  “Right, yeah.” He shook his head. “Never mind.”

  “I mean, I’d love to.” I stopped to admire a rooster configured out of a watering can. How, just how did he envision these things? “Your work is so amazing. But it would raise too many questions. I mean, I can imagine the questions my mother would have if she saw that robot in the corner of my bedroom.” I laughed, because maybe it would be fun to see her face. “I would hate to have to hide it in my closet or stuff it under my bed. That’s no way to treat pieces as awesome as these.”

  He grinned. “I have an idea.”

  He moved to the bins and began sorting and sifting, setting a few tiny pieces off to the side. I stood back, watching him as he stepped into his creative zone. When he was done he had a tiny compilation of odds and ends.

  “Here, put these on.” He handed me a pair of safety goggles, then tugged his own pair on. I mimicked the action. He pointed to a barstool edged up to the table. “You can have a seat if you want.”

  I plopped down, anxious for him to begin. I watched, awed, as he took the pile of scrap metal and set to work. Holding each piece in a long tong, manipulating it in the flame, he began to weld the pieces together. Slowly, a small creature was born from fire and rubbish. Through the thick—kind of ugly—safety goggles, I could see that his gaze was intent. More than that, I could see that he was relaxed, completely enjoying himself. He looked adorable.

  No wonder he’d lost track of time, even though he’d been expecting me.

  Before long a mouse appeared, its head made out of a thimble, whiskers out of wire, ears out of tiny measuring spoons. Itty-bitty little bolts for eyes. Its body and feet were made from teeny scraps of who knew what.

  When he was finished, he shut down the flame. He set the little creature aside to cool.

  As soon as he tugged off his goggles, I did as well.

  “It’s so cute!” I exclaimed.

  “A unique piece, made just for you.” He motioned to it with a comical flourish.

  “This is the sweetest thing.” I was speaking of both the sculpture and the gesture. “Thank you.”

  “Anytime.” He rounded the table, joining me. “It’s nice to have someone in here watching me work.” The way he looked at me made my insides feel all fizzy. Darn him for looking all kissable again.

  Francesca’s words were bouncing around in my head. Maybe she was right. Maybe I needed to stop overthinking and just go with what I was feeling.

  I reached out to slide m
y fingers into his belt loops. His resulting smile made me feel brave. I was completely comfortable tugging him close as I remained seated. The barstool was high enough that we were face-to-face, pressed enticingly close together.

  I slid my hands from his belt loops, choosing to tuck them into his back pockets instead. He placed one hand on my hip, slid the other into my hair. My heart took off, tapping out an expectant beat.

  “Kylie?” He quirked an eyebrow at me. “Aren’t we going about this a little bit sideways? We haven’t even been on a date yet.”

  I hesitated a heartbeat before asking, “Does it really matter?”

  When his response was to lean in to accept my kiss, I decided neither of us thought it mattered one bit.

  Chapter Ten

  Leo

  “That’s such a cheesy smile,” Allie said.

  “Take the picture,” Kylie grumbled. She swiped at a lock of hair that fluttered across her face.

  The sisters had their heads pressed together, the ocean as a backdrop as Allie took the selfie. Allie’s friend Margo and I stood back, well out of the frame.

  “I guess this one will work,” Allie said.

  “You’re just sending it to Mom,” Kylie pointed out. “It doesn’t matter if it’s a good picture or not.”

  “What’s the point of sending a bad picture to someone?” Allie countered.

  Kylie rolled her eyes and decided not to answer.

  “There,” Allie said. “It’s sent. We can meet up later at the ice-cream shop downtown. It might be good to send another one from there. It’ll show we’re hanging out together, having fun.”

  When Kylie invited me to the coast for the day, I hadn’t realized her sister and friend would be tagging along. It made sense, though, when Kylie reminded me that her parents were strict. She couldn’t just go out of town without letting them know why.

  I couldn’t deny it was the perfect cover story.

  Kylie and Allie told their parents they were hanging out at the beach for the day. And it wasn’t even a lie. She simply left out the part about Margo and me riding along.

  The sisters determined when and where we’d meet up later, then Allie and Margo took off down the endless stretch of sand. It was way too cold to swim this time of year, but there was lots of shopping in the downtown area, which was within walking distance.

  “You’re sure it’s okay for the two of them to wander off?” I asked.

  “We came here last summer. Mom let Allie and Margo do their own thing as long as they checked in with her. I told Allie to text every half hour until we meet up.”

  We took off in the opposite direction, toward the boardwalk, where the shopping options were a bit more touristy. I wasn’t crazy about shopping, but I was getting kind of hungry.

  “Thanks for putting up with them,” she said.

  “No problem.” Allie and her friend hadn’t stopped talking the entire drive. Kylie and I hadn’t had a chance to talk at all. Now that we were finally alone, I had something to say.

  “I quit the team,” I blurted.

  “What? When?” Kylie asked.

  “Yesterday,” I said. “Practice starts on Monday. I cut it pretty close, but I think it was the right thing to do.”

  “You’re okay with that?”

  “I am. At Maebelle’s you said it was a waste of time to do something I didn’t enjoy,” I reminded her. “Quitting the team means I’ll have more time to spend on my artwork. Plus, it opens the door for Tyler.”

  I loved working on my art. I could get caught up in it for hours and not notice how much time had passed. Baseball was also a huge time commitment. One I didn’t want anymore.

  I’d invited Kylie to my shop on impulse. I had regretted it almost instantly, afraid she’d think my work was a joke. I almost canceled on her a dozen times. But I hadn’t. And her reaction to my projects had been better than I could’ve hoped for. Knowing she liked what I was doing made me want to spend even more time on my projects. It had made quitting the team even easier.

  Kylie’s tone was cautious; sympathetic. “How did your dad take the news?”

  “He lectured me at first,” I confessed. “Told me I was showing poor sportsmanship. But he didn’t really push the matter.” Not like I had thought he would. “He said he was disappointed in me, but that he saw it coming.”

  “That’s good then,” she said. “Right? It’s what you wanted.”

  “It is good.” I couldn’t admit to Kylie—because I could barely admit it to myself—that a small part of me wished he would’ve put up a bit more of a fight. It was stupid, really, because the last thing I wanted was for him to blowup over it. I had wanted him to respect my decision.

  Yet the fact that he’d given in so easily pretty much reinforced that he’d known all along the team was better off without me.

  “It was the right thing to do,” I said. “I stayed after school yesterday and tracked down my coach before telling my dad.” I figured if it was a done deal on that end, Dad would know how serious I was. “Thanks for listening to me the other night. Hearing someone else’s opinion made it easier to make the decision.”

  And not just anyone’s opinion. Hearing Kylie’s opinion had meant a lot to me.

  My coach had been surprised. He knew how fanatical my dad was about the sport. He’d been dealing with Dad since Mike landed on varsity his sophomore year. And, poor guy, I would swear it was a struggle for him not to act relieved. He’d wished me well and asked me to stop by practice sometime.

  Luke and Adam had chewed me out. But I knew they’d get over it.

  “It feels strange, knowing that practice is starting up and I won’t be there. I’ll miss the team, but I don’t think I’ll miss playing.” I was a toddler when my dad started tossing the ball around with me. There hadn’t been a day that went by in the summertime while I was growing up that I hadn’t messed around in the yard with my brothers. It made me feel kind of nostalgic, I guess.

  Yet, I didn’t regret my choice.

  She gave me a reassuring smile. “It sounds like you made the right decision, then.”

  “Yeah.” I nodded, relieved that she saw it that way.

  The scent of charbroiled meat filled the air, and I glanced around. A row of shops lined the boardwalk. Most of them were gift shops or boutiques, but there were several places to eat as well. A turquoise building with white shutters caught my attention. The familiar white sign on the overhang read Beach Bum’s. The place was shouting my name.

  “I’m starving,” I said. “Want to grab a burger?”

  “I could eat,” she agreed.

  We went into the small burger shack. It had a clean but crooked wooden floor. The planks seemed to sag in the middle, and the booths had seen better days. Fishing paraphernalia dangled from the walls and beamed ceiling. I’d eaten here before and knew the scruffy appearance shouldn’t be a deterrent.

  Kylie chose a seat near the window with a great view of the ocean. She was so preoccupied with the waves crashing in that the rustic appearance of the place didn’t seem to bother her in the least.

  After we ordered burgers—smothered fries with mine and a side salad with hers—an awkward silence hung in the air. I wasn’t sure why Kylie had invited me along today. I suspected it was so that she could cross another item off her list. I also suspected that the few times she had kissed me had more to do with her list than it had to do with anything else. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. On one hand, if she was going to randomly kiss someone, I was relieved it was me. On the other hand, I wanted the kisses to mean more to her than that.

  “I’m sorry I had to drag my sister along today,” she finally said.

  I shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

  “Are you close to your brothers and sister?” she asked.

  How did I even begin to answer that?

  “My oldest brother was a senior my last year of middle school,” I said as I shifted in my seat. “Mike and I aren’t close. He got picked up by
a minor league ball team.” He’d been so sure he’d make it to the big leagues but that hadn’t happened yet. Of all my brothers he’d been the hardest on me. I was happy the day he left home. Then again, our other siblings were all probably equally as happy to see him go. “He travels a lot, but even if he didn’t, I don’t think he’d bother to come back. He thinks he’s too good for Laurel. He couldn’t wait to get out of here. Jenna and Scott, the twins, are next. Jenna’s working on her master’s degree, but she comes home a lot. Scott just started med school. I get along well with both of them. Eric’s a sophomore at CSU in Sacramento this year. He hasn’t picked his major yet because he’s too busy partying. I came to that conclusion due to all the drunken, early morning texts he sends me.”

  She laughed, but I was dead serious.

  The waitress stopped by with our malts. Mint-chip for me and strawberry for Kylie.

  “Mike’s the only one you don’t get along with?” she asked.

  “In my defense,” I said, “Mike doesn’t get along with a lot of people. He and the twins are only a year apart, and I swear Jenna can’t even say his name without looking like she wants to strangle him.”

  “What about your parents?” she said. “Your dad’s an oncologist?”

  “Yeah.” I nodded, assuming she had to have picked that up sometime in the last few months. Just like I knew her dad was an accountant, and her mom was a receptionist at the clinic. “You probably know my mom owns Laurel Realty. They both work crazy hours. I hated it when I was a kid, now I don’t mind. I kind of like having the house to myself so much.”

  “I almost never have the house to myself,” she said. “If my parents ever happen to be gone, Allie’s around.”

  “You and Allie seem to get along pretty well.”

  A moment of confusion darted across her face. “You’re right. We do. That’s kind of new for us.”

  “Are you close to Lexie?” I asked.

  “Not really. Lexie and I never had much in common. She was really into fashion, drama club, and apparently boys, though I didn’t discover that until recently. I was close to Maddie, though,” she said somewhat sadly. “She’s my oldest sister. She moved to Spokane, and I really miss her. When I was little she would read to me all the time. I think it’s because of her that I enjoy reading so much now. She also used to love to bake. We spent a lot of time in the kitchen. Especially during the holidays. Not just the big ones, either,” Kylie explained. “We used to decorate sugar cookies for the fourth of July. She loved coming up with creepy creations for Halloween and adorable desserts for Easter.”