All Things Different

  “I’ll be driving come November,” I said over my shoulder. “One less stop for you.”

  “Good chrise.” He shook his head in the big mirror. “I remember when you were a scared little kid.”

  “Good of you to bring it up, Drowsy.”

  The friendly old-timer laughed and got the beast rolling again.

  Ours was an early stop and so we had our pick of seats. We picked one near the back. Sara scooted over near the window and I sat with my legs spilling into the aisle as the bus rumbled forth.

  “You were scared?” Sara asked with her eyebrows raised.

  “It was first grade, give me a break.”

  My former dread seemed to lighten her mood, and we talked quietly along the bumpy ride and growing noise from each new occupant, sometimes about nothing and sometimes about her worries. Most of her nerves had subsided by the time the bus rattled up before the school, just in time to get nervous all over again.

  We stepped off the bus into the chaos crowding in from every direction, all shuffling toward the entrance of the ugly brick building. We’d only gone a few steps when I felt her hand reach for mine. I took it gladly, knowing it was the first time she’d started a new school with the comfort of companionship.

  Inside we moved through the packed lobby to the office and took our place in line behind two other new students. After Sara’s schedule was produced, I looked it over standing against the wall out in the lobby.

  “This isn’t bad,” I told her. “There’s only one class that might be hard.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Science. Mr. Cooper. But he’s fine as long as you don’t talk in class or call him Coop. People do it as a joke, but he really hates it.”

  “I can handle that. What’s my first class?”

  “English slash homeroom. Mrs. Johnson. That’s good. She’s pretty cool.”

  “Let’s get it over with,” she said.

  I gave her the schedule and took her hand, and we started down the hall. I could feel her against me with every step, pressing as close to me as she could get in the shifting crowd, until we turned into a classroom. We were one of the first ones in. I led Sara to the teacher’s desk before the room filled up with noise.

  “Happy new year, Jake,” Mrs. Johnson said, looking up.

  “Wonderful, isn’t it?”

  She laughed politely. “Who’s your friend?”

  “I have a newbie for you. This is Sara,” I told her. “She’s a good student, loves reading, and very well behaved.”

  “Oh, the new girl,” she smiled at Sara. “Welcome to Lakes.”

  “Thanks.” Sara fidgeted.

  “Just so you know,” I told the teacher, “she doesn’t like a big deal being made of her in front of people.”

  Mrs. Johnson waved her hand at me. “I’ll take good care of her. You know me.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Pick any desk you wish, dear,” Mrs. Johnson said to Sara.

  Sara thanked her and pulled me toward a desk at the side of the room, about halfway up the aisle from the front. She let go of me, hung her book bag over the chair, and held on to her purse.

  “Okay?” I asked close by.

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine. She seems nice.”

  “Everyone will be nice, I think.”

  “I hope so.”

  More students were shuffling in now.

  “I should go,” I said, “if you’re all set.”

  “You’ll come get me after class?”

  “Just wait and I’ll be here.”

  “Okay,” she breathed, her shoulders rising and falling. She set her purse on the desk and sat down in her chair rigidly, looking up at me using the big-sad-eyes trick again, as if I could actually do something about the situation.

  I leaned over close so that only she could hear me. “Just relax. You look really pretty and everyone’s gonna like you. Everything will be fine and I’ll be back soon.”

  “Thank you so much, Jake.” Her voice was shaky soft, her eyes beginning to glisten and blink.

  “Bye, brat,” I teased, and went to the door quickly, before she could get the waterworks started. Then I hung just outside the doorway, looking back in at her between the others passing in. She fidgeted in her desk, tapping one foot, staring after me.

  “I. Love. You,” she said silently, exaggerating the words for me to read her lips.

  I returned the same sentiment and waited for the reaction on her face. Then I snapped a quick sidearm wave and headed off to my class. Already it seemed unusual to be walking without her.

  In my government and law class I was distracted and unsociable. I doodled with a pen while my mind went around and over and through everything. I knew Sara would be fine in Mrs. J’s class. Her nerves would fade and she would do just fine. My old man would get on at work. He didn’t need my meager help. Everything would be fine, I kept telling myself. School was nothing, only a disruption. It could change nothing. At home things would be the same, the way it should be, and we would all be happy. I kept looking up at the clock. Its hands circled slowly. My doodling was becoming a rough picture of a house. I stopped doodling and examined its quality. It was a good thing that I made money working on houses, because I sure couldn’t draw one. Sara could draw it, though. If I explained it carefully, she could draw it nicely. She could draw the scene around the house even better. My mind kept circling that way, moving much quicker than the clock’s hands.

  When first block ended, I found her standing outside Mrs. Johnson’s room. She was smiling big as I neared and could hardly wait to tell me that a girl had talked to her in class and she thought they’d end up getting along. I told her I was glad but not surprised. I checked her schedule and led her off to the next class. I introduced her again and said goodbye in the same manner, from the doorway. I walked to class feeling warm and fuzzy and miserable.

  It was right before lunch the first time someone asked me about Sara. I was on my way to meet her when Dustin Sheffield came up beside me.

  “What’s up, Sheff?”

  “Hey, Jake, who’s the new blonde?”

  “Sara,” I said, looking straight forward, my pace unbroken. “Why?”

  “What’s her deal?”

  “Don’t start that with her.”

  “Is she with you or what?”

  I looked over. “Just don’t start with her.”

  “So you’re with her?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Just checking, man. Can’t blame me for asking.”

  I turned up another hallway without acknowledging him. It made me hot but sure didn’t surprise me any. I’d wondered how long it would take for all that to get started.

  “You must be excited for lunch,” Sara smiled outside her science class.

  “Yes, ma’am. It’s serious business. How about you?”

  “I’m a little hungry. My tummy’s settled down down.”

  We stopped off at my locker and Sara put in her coat and bag, saying she figured she’d just use mine, if I didn’t mind. No, I didn’t mind. She gave herself a quick check-see in her compact mirror. I locked the door and we headed to the cafeteria.

  “Guess what someone asked me,” she said.

  “I suck at guessing.”

  “If we were together. Like a couple.”

  Instantly I pictured myself twisting Dusty Sheff into a pretzel. “Who?”

  “Her name was Jen something. Cute brunette girl. Seems really sweet. She introduced herself to me and started up a conversation.”

  “Jenny Evans. She’s got a ton of friends and always room for one more.”

  “She said she’s known you forever.”

  “That’s true.”

  “She said really nice things about you.”

  “She does about everyone.”

  “Well, I told her we were sort of a couple, but we were pretty much best friends and neighbors too. She seemed happy about it. Is that okay?”

  “Don’t worry
about telling her, she’s a sweetheart.”

  “I could tell,” Sara said. “That’s why I told her the truth. Is it okay with you, though?”

  “Of course. But half of these people you can’t trust. They’re all about gossip and nonsense and bullshit.”

  “I know that,” Sara said.

  We were entering the cafeteria now. It was loud and we couldn’t talk in a comfortable tone anymore. At the end of the long line I told her that I usually got sandwiches. The hot lunches were lousy except for a few. The salad bar was okay too, sometimes.

  “A sandwich sounds good and easy for now.”

  “I think I’ll have turkey.”

  “Me too.”

  “Or maybe one turkey and one roast beef. Chicken salad isn’t bad either.”

  “Oink, oink.” She wrinkled her face.

  “Shush. Stress makes me hungry.”

  “Excuses, excuses. You just like to eat.”

  “Yup.”

  The line moved along. I got a tray and took three sandwiches from the sandwich rack, reached ahead and got two chocolate milks from the cooler for myself, and then looked back to Sara. She wanted one and grabbed up a straw. I paid the cashier while Sara nagged at me to let her pay for her own. Then we went out to secure one of the smaller tables so we could eat in relative peace.

  I put the first sandwich down pretty quick. Sara ate daintily, picking and wasting time looking around. I drank down one of the milks and then ate the second sandwich a little slower.

  “You’re a machine,” Sara teased.

  “Machines need fuel,” I said in a deep voice.

  “You’re gonna end up with an eating disorder.”

  “They’re not even large sandwiches.”

  “You’ll turn into a sandwich someday, if you keep eating so many.”

  I glared at her and said nothing, playing along.

  “It’ll be on the news someday that world has officially run out of sandwiches, and Jake Thornton is to blame for the shortage.”

  “Leave me alone.”

  “I’m only teasing, relax. You tease me constantly.”

  I leaned back in my chair. My arms were crossed. I glanced around, feeling eyes on us and seeing some turn away as I caught them.

  “Restless?” Sara asked.

  “I hate this place.”

  She pushed over the remaining half of her sandwich. “Here, maybe this will cheer you up.”

  I ate it in three bites and drank down the last of my milk. I felt no better.

  “Look on the bright side,” Sara said. “We’re more than halfway through.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I can make mac and cheese when we get home.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “Maybe thinking about it will cheer you up.”

  “I’ll be as good as new once I’m home,” I told her, and started to stand. “Want an ice-cream sandwich or something?”

  She rolled her eyes and stood up with me. “Let’s go.”

  We met at my locker after the final block, got what we needed from the locker and went out to the bus. Again I perceived eyes on us as we moved through the crowd. I kept telling myself it would all be so much better once I could drive.

  29

  Stepping down and out of the stuffy bus into the fresh air, I felt cured the instant my feet touched the gravel driveway. Sara followed, appearing relieved as she descended the steps. We took off walking briskly while the yellow beast roared away behind us, fading slowly in the distance.

  “One down,” I said, looking over at her.

  “Yay,” she clapped. “Still want mac ’n’ cheese?”

  “Is a frog’s ass waterproof?”

  “What!” she staggered.

  “One of Dad’s favorite old-timer jokes. You must know about the bears and the woods.”

  “Ugh. Yes.”

  “I was so miserable at school, Sara, I wished I was in Hell with my ass broke.”

  She shook her head. “Hell’s not bad enough as it is?”

  “No. And I can’t stand watching all those kids at school, strutting around like big-assed birds ‘cause they think they’re so cool.”

  “See, this is why little boys shouldn’t be allowed on construction sites.”

  “Hey,” I laughed.

  “Do you want macaroni or not?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Okay, thank you. We’ll eat and get homework out of the way so we can relax the rest of the night.”

  I groaned and slowed my pace at the mention of homework.

  “Don’t be a baby. There’s next to nothing.”

  “Baby? Watch it, little girl.” I moved like I was about to grab her. “I’ll toss you off the dock in all your fancy clothes.”

  She stopped in her tracks and cringed. “You would not!”

  My arms were around her loosely. “I might.”

  “You wouldn’t,” she said softer.

  I let go. “It’s a fun threat at least.”

  “Piggyback ride!” she shouted before we resumed walking. “All the mac you can eat for a piggyback ride.”

  I stopped, she jumped on, holding tight, and off we went. I got going pretty fast up near the house with Sara squealing and laughing. If we’d had closer neighbors, they may have suspected a bloody murder. I let her down near the porch, a little winded.

  “Be right back,” Sara said, and skipped off to check in with Kate.

  I went inside to get changed out of the school clothes. I put on shorts, a worn-soft Thornton tee, and stepped into some sandals, went downstairs again and crashed on the couch. It felt damned good to be home.

  Together we unwound from the day. We ate, went through school papers, and got what little work that was required of us over with. Then we went for a swim. My old man joined us on the rock after work. Sara spoke with him briefly and then swam in. She said we needed some time to ourselves.

  “Either she’s ten or she’s thirty,” Dad remarked.

  I shook my head.

  “That wasn’t a brave face, so I take it school actually did go well.”

  “About as good as it could.”

  “How about you?”

  “Same as always.”

  “One of the few things you’ve ever been stubborn about,” he laughed low.

  “Yada, yada.”

  “It’s good about Sara. I figured she’d settle in all right.”

  “She just gets worked up, that’s all.”

  “Women and their worrying.”

  “Yeah. She’ll be popular in no time. You watch.”

  My old man looked over at me.

  “Guys are asking about her already.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “And staring.”

  “That’s bound to happen. She’s new. It should die down after a bit.”

  “I still don’t like it.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t sweat it. She may seem a little flighty at times, but she’s got a head on her shoulders.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Hey, don’t sweat it.”

  “You’re right, I know.”

  “All the same, keep an eye on her for me. I fell for that girl in an instant, and I won’t have some greasy little bastard putting the moves on her as long as she’s a part of my life.”

  “You mean someone like Buck?” I smiled.

  “Exactly,” my old man scowled. “Hell of a friend, but can’t let him near a woman.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on her,” I assured him.

  My old man was looking toward the old camp. “I know you will.”

  “So how’s the job?”

  “Fine, fine. We’ll be doing siding and trim soon. Button it up and get the inside going before the rain hits. A lot of detailed finish work ahead of us.”

  “I already miss it.”

  “Don’t miss it too bad.”

  “I just can’t believe summer’s gone already. It feels like it just started. Now we’ll be doing firewood in no time.�
��

  “Yeah,” my old man agreed thoughtfully.

  “And then there’s Sara.”

  “It’s all quite a switch, I know.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, I am glad she’s here.”

  “I know what you mean. We’re creatures of habit, aren’t we?”

  I nodded. “I need a good routine. The school bull should be better once I’m driving.”

  “Everything’s better with your first license in your pocket.”

  “At least I won’t feel as trapped, you know? Just leaving for lunch will help.”

  “Speaking of helping,” he said with a mild grin. “Dinner might help us both right about now. I’m on empty. What do you say?”

  “You look tired, old man,” I said, standing for a dive. “I might beat you to the dock this time.”

  “You can try, boy.” He rose up tall.

  I dove and was underwater swimming hard before I heard the splash of his dive. At the dock, he touched the post just ahead of me.

  30

  Summer was leaving us. The green of the year was dulling to a burnt yellow-green in early September, on the cusp of the great change, dry and brittle from warm days and cooler nights. For two fleeting days a warm front pushed up from the south and stalled over New England. The autumn change seemed to mute in suspense during those days, at least in my mind, and both of those warmer mornings I rowed out early in a T-shirt, cool, chasing the sun’s first rays on the western shore until I reached its warm and prickly touch on my already lighter skin. After that I knew there would be very few T-shirt days, so I savored the sun for as long as I could those mornings, barely making it to the bus in time. On those warmer evenings we swam, lingering in the water as if it were still mid-August, and then late in the night after the second warm day there was a big storm that rolled through, the last of the summer heat resisting the colder flow funneling down from Canada. I woke to the rain pounding on the metal roof and the boom of thunder that shook the house and the room and the occupants of the bed. Sara was already awake when I opened my eyes. Her face was clear and close with each lightning flash.

  “Storms at night scare me,” she whispered.

  “It’s alright,” I said.

  “Daytime ones don’t bother me.”