In Plain Sight

by Amy Sparling

  Pamela tells me I can call her Pam, and she leads us down the ornate staircase and around a few corners and hallways until we reach the kitchen, where the smell of bacon and syrup makes my mouth water.

  Mom and Landon sit at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and talking excitedly. The way she looks at her new fiancé makes her look so much younger, so less stressed out. Seeing her so happy makes that constant knot in my chest seem to fade away.

  There’s another stranger manning the stove, a man with dark hair and a tattoo of a peppermill on his forearm. He gives me a polite nod, then loads up a platter with strips of bacon. Landon has a freaking personal chef.

  “Good morning, girls!” Mom says, rising from her chair and rushing over to us. “You hungry?”

  We all nod, and Mom puts Stella into a high chair, one of the expensive kinds unlike the thrift store one we used to have.

  “Good morning, Landon,” I say, smiling politely.

  “Morning,” he says, setting down his paper. Yes, he reads the paper at the kitchen table. How posh. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Probably better than I’ve ever slept in my life,” I say, meaning every word.

  We’re served breakfast by our own personal chef—whose name is Marc. I drink a ton of fresh squeezed orange juice and eat more bacon than I’ve ever had in one sitting.

  I can tell my sisters are enjoying the abundance of food just as much as I am, because their little hands are sticky with syrup and they can’t stop smiling. This wonderful breakfast probably contains more food than we used to have in an entire week.

  “So, Maddie,” Mom says, stirring her coffee. “I was thinking we could go shopping today. Maybe get some new clothes and some stuff to decorate your bathroom?”

  That’s right. I have my own bathroom now. It’s attached to my bedroom and everything.

  “Um,” I say, not sure how to respond. Mom has never simply wanted to go shopping for something we don’t desperately need. “When do you go to work?”

  Mom’s eyes flit to Landon’s and he smiles, all straight teeth and dimples in his cheeks. “Honey, I’m not going back at all. I quit yesterday.”

  My eyes widen. “What? Why?”

  She holds up her hands as if to signal to our elaborate surroundings. “I don’t need to work anymore.”

  “I am happy to support all of us,” Landon says, giving me a meaningful look. “I want Rose to be able to take some time off, focus on being a mom. She was working entirely too hard, don’t you agree?”

  I nod. She has been working a lot. And with a date night once every two weeks or so, Mom’s schedule has been so full she’s barely had time for us. I guess Landon wants to pay us back for that.

  “That’s really great, Mom.” I smile so she knows I mean it, and then I get back to her question. “But I don’t really need anything. I have enough clothes.”

  “Nonsense. You live in Shady Heights now, and you’re a part of our new family with Landon.” Mom glances at him and he grins. They’re both so gooey and in love and I’m not sure if it’s cute or cringe-inducing. Maybe a little of both.

  “While you ladies are shopping, I was thinking Pam and I could take the girls swimming.” Landon turns to my little sisters. “What do you say? Want to go swimming?”

  Emma squeals her excitement, and Starla, too young to know what swimming is, squeals just to be like her big sister.

  “But they don’t know how to swim,” I say, turning to Mom. Surely she won’t let her youngest daughters in harm’s way?

  “No worries. Landon used to teach swimming lessons in college, so he’s really good,” Mom says as if she can read my mind. “And we bought floaties and life vests for the girls, so they’ll be totally safe.” She leans in and touches my arm. “Plus, I was thinking when we get back from shopping, we could take a little dip ourselves. I haven’t been in a pool in forever.”

  A swim would be nice.

  But all of this is so overwhelming, I’m still waiting to wake up from the most realistic dream ever.

  “I guess we can go shopping,” I say, setting my fork down. “I mean, if you really want to.”

  “I insist,” Mom says, putting a hand to her heart. “We’re Shady Heights gals now. We need to look like it!”

  Shady Heights gals?

  I swallow the lump in my throat and push my chair back. “Okay. That sounds fun, but I think I need to take a walk, if that’s okay?”

  “Sure,” Mom says.

  “Anything wrong?” Landon asks, his eyebrows drawn together.

  I shake my head. “I’d just like a walk. Maybe get some fresh air.”

  The truth is, all of these changes are sucking the air out of my lungs. I feel like I’m on the verge of a massive panic attack, and yet my mother is smiling and laughing and acting like life is wonderful. I guess life is wonderful now.

  But I could still use some fresh air.

  Chapter 8

  It’s well past noon when I finally wake up on Saturday. Normally my parents will rag on me for “wasting my life” by sleeping in too late, but it’s Spring Break so I get a little leeway.

  I’m kind of expecting my parents to bitch at me for using the last of the bacon on my midnight snack last night, but when I venture down to the kitchen, I find them eating sandwiches and pouring over paperwork, a stack of bills next to them, and the checkbook opened. Looks like today will also be filled with stressing over finances.

  I make a mental note never to live beyond my means, and try to heat up a frozen burrito without them noticing. Of course it doesn’t work, and soon Dad is bitching at me for something I can’t even control.

  “You know how damned much your car insurance is?” he says, shaking his head.

  “I haven’t had any tickets,” I say, watching the seconds tick by on the microwave. Unlike my jackass friends, my driving record is spotless so far.

  “It’s not your record that’s the problem,” Dad says. “It’s that fancy damn sports car.”

  The BMW was a gift from my parents on my sixteenth birthday. I didn’t ask for it, and although I did want a car, I never asked them to get me anything luxurious. But they insisted, because it makes them look good. All of their friends buy luxury cars for their kids, so they did, too. And now I’m getting bitched at for it.

  “Maybe I should just find a part time job,” I say, once again bringing up the topic they can’t stand.

  Mom snorts, looking up from her paperwork for the first time since I came in here. “No, honey. School is your first priority.”

  “But if I work, I can pay for my own car insurance and it’ll take some of the stress off you guys.”

  Mom holds up her hand, her eyes as serious as her salon-styled hair. “No. I don’t want to hear any more of that nonsense coming from your mouth.”

  I sigh. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Dad flips through some more bills and then looks up, as if seeing me for the first time. “Are you still here? It’s Spring Break, right?” He shoos me with his hand. “Go outside or something.”

  Taking my burrito and a soda from the fridge, I leave them to their financial mess. Sometimes it feels like I should be the adult here, not my parents.

  My phone has been blowing up all morning with texts from Bryce and Josh. They’re still wanting to hit up The Getaway, or go see a movie. Everything they want to do involves money, and I can’t tell them I’m broke. Mom would no doubt have my head on a stake if I so much as hinted that the Jensen family wasn’t loaded with cash.

  Of course, there is a quick way to get some money and my parents can’t complain about it. Mrs. Ruiz is an older woman who lives down the street, and she pays me to mow her lawn every few weeks. It’s been a while since I’ve been over there, so I decide to see if she’d like to hire me today.

  Changing into my worn out, grass stained Nikes and a pair of basketball shorts, I head outside and walk the few blocks to her house. I don’t wear a shirt in an effort to get a start on my summer tan, plus even th
ough it’s only March, it’s already hot as balls out here.

  Mrs. Ruiz is delighted to see me and asks if I can also help her water the many plants along her front and back porches. She usually waters them herself but her arthritis has been acting up. She says she’ll pay me more money to do this, and I refuse, saying the thirty bucks for the lawn is all I need. I already feel kind of quilting for showing up just because I need cash.

  I don’t mind yardwork. Mrs. Ruiz has a self-propelled mower so it doesn’t even hurt my knees to push it through the grass, and her yard isn’t as big as ours. With thirty bucks in my pocket, I can breathe a little easier knowing I’m good for at least two trips out with the guys if I budget my money right.

  Mrs. Ruiz’s Chihuahua starts barking like crazy from the front window where he likes to sit on the windowsill. I look over my shoulder as I mow, and see a girl about my age walking by. She’s wearing leggings, a faded baggy T-shirt, and no shoes. She doesn’t really look lost, not exactly, but there’s something odd in her eyes.

  I let the mower cut off, filling the air with silence. “Hi,” I call out, trying to sound friendly. “Are you lost?”

  She jumps, then turns in my direction. She has a pretty heart-shaped face and brown, shoulder-length hair. She certainly seems like she could be about my age, but I haven’t seen her at school.

  “No,” she says, looking at me as if she’s just been woken from a dream. “I’m fine.”

  “Okay,” I call back, giving her a friendly wave. I crank up the lawn mower again, and get back to work. There’s something in the way she walks, like either she doesn’t have a care in the world, or like she has too many things on her mind. Part of me wishes I knew what it is, that I could ask her and see what’s going on in her mind. But she keeps walking and I keep mowing, not taking my eyes off her until I have to turn the corner.

  The end of Mrs. Ruiz’s street is a cul-de-sac, so with any luck the girl will walk back my way before disappearing again. Sure enough, by the time I’ve finished mowing the front lawn, she appears again, this time walking up the other side of the road.

  When the lawn is mowed and edged, I return the tools to the garage and get a water pitcher to help Mrs. Ruiz water her plants.

  “You get these high ones,” she tells me, pointing to the planters hanging from the porch roof. “I’ll get the roses by the mailbox.”

  While watering the plants, I watch the girl approach. She’s pretty, and I hate that I wish I knew who she was. For as jaded as I’ve been about girls and relationships lately, I should really stay away from them. But there’s something in the cute way she walks with no shoes on that makes me want to get to know her. I can’t picture the girls at school being so causal like that. They all need tons of makeup and coordinated outfits before they’re seen in public.

  I turn my attention to the last potted plant, a fern with red leaves, and then I hear Mrs. Ruiz cry out.

  Dropping the water pitcher, I rush off the porch in time to see the girl reach out and catch Mrs. Ruiz right before she would have taken a painful fall to the concrete below.

  I jog over. “What happened?”

  “Goodness,” Mrs. Ruiz says, her hands shaking as her dropped water pitcher spills water at our feet. She turns to the mysterious barefoot girl. “This girl is an angel,” she says, her wrinkly cheeks lifting into a smile. “She saved me from falling. These house shoes are no good, I tell you. They make them so cheap these days.”

  “She scraped her hand on the mailbox,” the girl tells me. “But I think she’ll be okay.”

  “Let’s get you inside,” I say, taking Mrs. Ruiz’s arm. “I’ll get you some water.”

  “Oh, that’s all right, sweetie.” She brushes me off, preferring to stand unassisted. “I’ll be fine. I’m not as tough as I used to be, but I’m okay.”

  She turns to our strange new visitor and takes her hand. “Honey, you should come in and have some sweet tea,” she says. “It’s the least I can do to thank you for saving me.”

  The girl’s eyes widen, and I can tell she’s surprised by the invitation. “Oh come on,” Mrs. Ruiz says. “Let’s all go have some sweet tea. What do you say?”

  Even though I shouldn’t care, even though I’m sick of dating, I bite the inside of my lip and pray that she says yes.

  Chapter 9

  My heart races from what probably looked like a superhero dive when I stopped this elderly lady from falling. It’s weird because I pretty much saw the whole thing in slow motion. I’ve been walking for half an hour, mostly just wandering up and down streets outside of Shady Heights while I try to get my bearings after this whirlwind of a weekend. Then a hot guy with no shirt on talked to me and tripped me up. I didn’t want to walk back past him, but this stupid road has a dead end and I had no choice.

  And then I saw her, her house shoes slipping off her toes as she stood on the curb, watering roses around her mailbox.

  I was thinking to myself that this lady might fall if she leans any further over, and sure enough, she did. I managed to catch her before she hit the ground, and I can’t even imagine what would have happened to her frail body if she fell on the concrete. I shudder at the thought.

  But now my good deed has landed me directly in front of previously mentioned hot guy. Hot, shirtless guy. Did I mention he is shirtless? I can’t seem to look away, even though I desperately should.

  “You like sweet tea, don’t you?” the woman says, patting my arm. She looks up at me with eager eyes, the kind of look you see on loving grandmothers, not that I’ve ever had one of my own. Both of my grandparents died many years ago. Something hurts my heart when I think about how kind this lady is, and I want to say yes. Of course I want to say yes because she’s a nice old lady and I love sweet tea. I wouldn’t even hesitate if it was just me and her.

  But this guy is here, his longish hair all messy from the wind, his muscular arms glistening with sweat from doing the yard work and he’s watching me with this curious smile that makes my knees weak.

  “I’d love some tea,” I hear myself saying, the logical part of my brain taking over for my heart. If it were truly up to me, I’d turn and run away because being this close to such a hot guy makes me nervous.

  “Wonderful!” the lady says. “I’m Gloria Ruiz.”

  “Maddie,” I say, looping my arm into her elbow as she offers it to me. “I’m Maddie Sinclair.”

  “Lovely name,” she says, as we walk up the sidewalk toward her house. The guy follows behind us, and when I glance back at him, he gives me a smirky grin.

  It almost seems like I’ve seen him before. Sure, he’s super hot, but there’s something familiar about him. I’m still wondering why he’s familiar to me when we get on the porch and Mrs. Ruiz tells us she’ll bring the tea and that we should relax and cool off from the heat.

  “Maddie, hmm?” he says, pulling out a patio chair and sitting next to me, but at an angle so our knees are this close to touching.

  “It’s not short for anything,” I say on habit. I get asked that a lot.

  “Really?” He lifts an eyebrow. “Your real name is Maddie?”

  I nod. “My mother isn’t a fan of shortening names. She said why name me Maddison if I’d only ever be called Maddie?”

  He chuckles. “I’m Colby, by the way.”

  And that’s when it hits me.

  This is Colby Jensen.

  Star football player at Robert Cullen High school, the pride of the Hornets football team up until a few months ago when he had to get surgery. I may be as far from the popular crowd as you can get, but even I hear that type of school gossip.

  This guy is probably the most popular senior in our school. High school royalty always terrifies me. He’s so popular, he’s friends with the girls I saw in the ice cream shop, the stuck up bitches who know they’re better than everyone else.

  Breathing is suddenly hard, and I’m really wishing I would have run away when I had the chance. Any second now he’ll realize I’m just a los
er, poor trailer trash who Jacoby made sure to talk about to anyone who would listen. I don’t exactly care what the popular crowd thinks of me, but I’d rather not see their sneer of disgust while I’m on Spring Break.

  Mrs. Ruiz brings a pitcher of tea and three glasses with ice filled to the top. I breathe a little easier, grateful to have her here as a distraction. Now all I have to do is down this tea as quickly as possible and get the hell out of here.

  “I haven’t seen you around,” Mrs. Ruiz says, taking a sip of her tea. She was right—her tea is pretty good. “Did you just move here?”

  “Yes, kind of,” I say, staring at the ice cubes in my glass. “We just moved in a few streets over and I thought I’d take a walk just to get some fresh air.”

  I know I’m no longer in Shady Heights, because that neighborhood is just a big circle filled with huge houses that all have gates or gate keepers. I ventured into the next subdivision over, and although these houses are beautiful and probably still cost a fortune, they aren’t the mansions in my new neighborhood. In fact, I’d feel a lot better if Landon lived in a house like Mrs. Ruiz. At least it’s normal sized.

  “Are you a senior?” Colby asks, leaning forward a little. He’s so hot it’s almost painful to look at him.

  I nod.

  “Awesome, I’ll be happy to show you around school.”

  “That sounds like a great idea,” Mrs. Ruiz says. “Colby is a great kid. He comes over and helps me around the house all the time. My own son won’t even do it,” she says, shaking her head.

  “Well in my defense, she pays me,” Colby says with a laugh.

  Mrs. Ruiz chuckles and waves a hand at him. “It’s well deserved.”

  Colby turns his attention back toward me. “So, where did you live before?”

  I’m definitely not giving him the honest answer, so I decide on a more nuanced version of the truth. “We moved from this awful place,” I say, waving my hand like it’s no big deal. “It definitely seems better here.”