by Nia Arthurs
His lips part to reveal tiny, white teeth. His eyes sparkle. I swear it’s like God hid the stars in this kid’s eyes.
He slides his little hand in mine and says, “I’m—”
“Kolby!”
The kid and I turn as one.
A white boy sprints down the path. He’s wearing a grey T-shirt and basketball shorts. His brown hair flops against his forehead, which is slightly red—either from the exertion of his run or the harshness of the sun.
The child beside me starts to squirm. I duck my head. “You know that guy?”
He nods soberly and scrambles off the bench.
I climb to my feet too. “Who is he?”
Before the kid can answer, the white guy is upon us. He blows out a breath, his lean chest pumping even as his eyes—which I see are grey—spit fire. “Kolby, I told you to stay by the swings. You can’t just run off.”
Kolby hides behind my legs.
I put out a hand protectively, forcing Mr. Temper Tantrum to move his glare from the boy to me. “Excuse me, I don’t know what’s going on, but there’s no need for yelling.”
He blinks ridiculously long lashes. His gaze rakes me from the tip of my head to the bottom of my feet. When they finally bounce back to my face, I’m trembling from nerves.
It’s my usual reaction when I’m around cute boys.
And this guy is more than just ‘cute’.
He’s handsome in that all-American way. Pale skin. Dark hair. Piercing eyes. Rugged jaw. He’d fit as the lead of any teen rom-com or pop band.
Still, I can’t stand by and watch him yell at a little black boy. I’ve seen the news. America’s ugly past has leaked into its present, creating a divide that has yet to heal.
“Who are you?” he asks. His voice is calmer, level.
“Who I am is none of your business.” I squeeze the kid’s hand. “What’s your relationship with my friend?”
A smirk plays with his pink lips which are, surprisingly plump. “I’m his brother.”
“B-brother?”
“Yup.”
I stare at Kolby. “Is that true?”
The little boy nods again.
My anger slips away, leaving embarrassment in its place. I rub the back of my neck, feeling my curls scratch against my knuckles. “Oh.”
“Oh?” White Boy arches an eyebrow. Mischief twinkles in those grey eyes. He’s caught me and he knows it.
“Well…” I hand Kolby over to his brother. “It was nice meeting you.” I scoop my sketchbook, pencils and duffel bag into my arms, not even bothering to put them up nicely. “I should go…”
Before I can scramble down the path, Kolby calls my name. “Ember! Wait!”
Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around.
I ignore the warning and spin.
Kolby moves forward, dragging his brother with him. “My picture.”
For a moment, I stare at him in confusion. Then it hits me. I promised to sketch for him. Dang. There goes my plan of slinking away.
My gaze zips to the brother. “I’m sure you don’t have time to—”
“No problem.” He folds himself into a park bench and Kolby hops in with him. “We’ve got time.”
I grit my teeth. “Great.”
I sit next to Kolby and lay my sketchbook back in my lap. Just like he did before, Kolby leans into me.
This time, his brother calls him out on the intrusion. “Hey, give the girl some room.”
“I’m sorry,” Kolby says, backing up.
“It’s fine.” I focus on Kolby since the older brother is way too distracting for me. “Now hold still and don’t squirm. Okay?”
The kid freezes in response.
My fingers tremble when I bring it over the page. I can feel White Boy surveying me intently. My hand falters and I draw a line straight through the sheet.
Kolby and his brother stare expectantly at me.
“Can you please not!” I hiss.
“Not what?”
“Look at me. It’s distracting.”
“Sorry,” he says, much in the same, adorable way that Kolby did. “From now on, I’ll stare at that tree.”
Kolby giggles.
I narrow my eyes.
The brother doesn’t respond to either of us and just gazes straight ahead.
I inhale a deep breath and turn to another page, starting on the circle again. This time I complete it and glance up at Kolby for reference.
“My name’s Axle,” the brother says.
“That’s nice.”
“You’re Ember?”
“Mm-hm?”
“I like your accent. Where are you from?”
The pencil hovers just above the sketch. “Accent? I don’t have an accent.”
“Yes, you do,” Kolby says.
“No, I don’t.” I tap his nose and then give his brother a suspicious look. “And why should I tell you where I’m from? What if you follow me there and stalk me or something?”
He barks out a laugh. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Is it?”
“I swear I’m not gonna stalk you. Physically. Maybe a little online stalking, but that’s harmless.”
I chuckle because I’m pretty sure he’s joking. I don’t think Axle has ever had to pursue a girl before. Much less spend hours looking them up online.
Since I’ll never see him again, I decide to be honest. “I’m from Belize.”
“Belize. Wow.”
Kolby tugs Axle’s shirt. “What’s Belize?”
“A country in the Caribbean that has Mayan ruins and beaches. People drink from coconuts and swim all day.”
I laugh. “That’s not… we don’t swim all day. We actually have jobs so that would be impossible.”
“My bad.” Axle tugs on his ear. “But I got the beaches part right.”
“Yup.”
“Can I go to Belize?” Kolby asks.
“Maybe one day, kiddo.” Axle nods.
“Only Kolby’s allowed. You’re not.” The words are already out of my mouth by the time I realize they were delivered with a flirtatious tinge. The smirk on Axle’s face says he picked up on it. I clear my throat and return my focus to the sketch. “Alright, I’m almost done.”
Kolby peers at the picture. “That’s me?”
“Yeah, buddy.” I bite my bottom lip in concentration. “All I have to do are the nose and the eyes.”
“Here,” Kolby slips the pencil out of my grip when I finish with his nose, “since you can’t draw my eyes, I’ll do it.” I watch over his shoulder as he sticks his tongue out and draws two circles right in his forehead.
It’s the wrong placement and the wrong size. He colors it in so hard the pencil point almost bores through the paper. But when he presents it to me, I clasp my hands and fawn, “It’s perfect.”
“Great job, kiddo.”
Axle and I lock eyes.
I look away first.
“Thank you for finding him,” Axle whispers.
“He kind of found me.”
“How do we pay you? For the sketch, I mean.”
“You can’t pay me for that thing. It’s not worth any money.”
“Are you kidding? When you become famous one day, this picture will be worth a fortune.”
I snort. “You assumed I wanted to be an artist?”
“You don’t?”
“This is just a hobby.” I point to the book. “I want to be a teacher. I love kids.”
“That’s cool.”
“You think so?” I study his face. “Most people kind of doze off when they hear I want to teach. It’s too common or… I don’t know.”
“My mom’s a teacher. It’s grueling work where you’re underpaid and underappreciated. I respect anyone who aspires to be one.”
My heart melts a little.
Kolby breaks the moment when he wiggles. “I want ice cream.”
I look down, my pulse racing when I realize I was just openly
drooling over Axle.
“Yeah, buddy.”
“You guys enjoy yourselves.” I start packing up my gear again.
Axle reaches out and touches my wrist. I freeze, afraid he can feel my pulse that is now skittering way out of control.
“Let me buy you ice cream.”
“It’s fine.”
“Please,” Kolby says, setting his palms on his cheeks and tilting his head.
Axle dips his face next to his brother. The differences are startling—one white, one black. One with dark hair, one with a shaved head. One with grey eyes, the other brown. But they both wear the same, pleading expression.
A grin blooms on my face. “Okay.”
As we walk down the path, people stare at us. I’m sure we look like models for some multi-racial family commercial, but I try to ignore the stares.
Kolby is talking a mile a minute, Axle keeps sneaking looks at me, and I’m pretty sure I’m catching feelings for him. Which sucks.
Maybe we can exchange emails and try to keep in touch, but the chances of us being together are next to nil. Do I really want to head down a road destined for heartbreak?
Kolby dances by our side as we stop at the ice cream vendor. While we wait for the server, my phone rings.
It’s mom.
“I need to take this,” I mouth to Axle. He shoos me away. I offer him a smile and place the cell to my ear, noticing when his own phone goes off.
“Ember!”
My nose scrunches. “Aunt B? What are you doing with my mom’s phone?” I hear wailing in the background and my heart shakes. “What’s going on?”
“Come home right now.”
“Tell me!”
There’s a pause and then, “They found Diandre. He’s dead.”
3
Axle
I storm into Seb’s bedroom. Corey’s already there. He looks sick. From a hangover or guilt—I’m not sure. His messy hair is even crazier than usual and his green eyes are glassy.
Seb, on the other hand, looks completely calm.
“What do you mean they found his body?” I hiss. “What the hell, Seb?”
“They called it in this morning,” Corey croaks. “I heard it over my dad’s radio. Diandre’s family made a missing person’s report when he didn’t come home last night. They sent a team out to look for him.”
“I thought you couldn’t file a report unless the person had been missing for forty-eight hours.”
“Here in our county, you can call it in early if the person’s a minor. Since we’re all seventeen…” Corey plunges his hands into his head and tugs. Tufts of red hair clump together. “I can’t believe it. I can’t.”
“Corey, get yourself together,” Seb says in a hard voice. “We didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Didn’t do any—did you hear me, Seb? Diandre is dead.”
Just like it did when Corey called me over and told me the news, a rock drops into my stomach. “Are they sure it’s his body? Maybe they made a mistake. You said Diandre could swim. I asked you—”
“He can.” Seb drills a hole into me.
“Then how did he die?” I glare at Seb. “He was walking and breathing just fine last night.”
“I don’t know. I didn’t hear that part,” Corey cries.
“Whatever happened, it’s not our fault.”
I look away from Seb because he’s clearly in la-la land. Maybe being delusional is his coping mechanism, but I—unfortunately—don’t have that privilege. “Where did they find him?”
“I didn’t hear that part either. It was pretty hard to focus on anything else after I heard the words ‘dead body’.”
Corey’s trembling like a leaf. My conscience pricks me, smacking my brain with the memory of their stupid prank last night.
“I never saw Diandre get out of the water,” I say. In the quiet room, the words clang louder than a gong.
Corey springs to his feet. One lock of red hair dangles over his eyes. “We should go down to the lake. Just to check.”
“Don’t be stupid.” Seb glares. “What if the police are there?”
“I thought you said it wasn’t our fault. Why should we be scared of the cops?” I hiss.
Seb clamps his lips shut.
Corey falls to his knees. “It wasn’t supposed to go down like this. We were just messing around. I didn’t think he’d…”
“Calm down,” Seb says.
Corey reddens. “How the heck am I supposed to do that?”
“Until we know more, there’s no use freaking out over it.” Seb turns to me. His dark eyes are slightly strained. Seeing him lose his composure is unsettling.
My throat tightens and my voice warbles when I yell, “We should call someone, do something!”
“No.” Seb cuts his hand through the air.
“Then we just stay here and pretend we weren’t the last people to see him alive last night?”
Seb frowns. “We don’t know that. Let’s change the topic. Talk about something else.”
“Like what?” Corey scoffs.
“Axle, you were supposed to meet your little brother today, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Did they sign the papers?” Corey asks, jumping on the subject change like a man grasping a life vest. “Is the adoption official?”
I nod.
“Congrats.” Seb slaps my shoulder. “When do we meet the kid?”
I inhale a deep breath and steer my thoughts away from the Diandre mess. “Now. If you want.”
“Now?”
“He’s downstairs.”
“What?”
Before I can blink, Seb and Corey sprint through the door and gallop down the stairs.
I follow them slowly. By the time I turn the corner, I find them frozen on the landing, their gazes trained on the six-year-old happily munching on cookies in the sofa.
I stop beside them. “What are you staring at?”
Seb blinks. “He’s…”
“Black,” Corey drawls. Then he seems to realize what he says and blurts, “Not that it’s weird or anything. It’s totally fine.”
“His name is Kolby.” I smirk at their reactions, my grin softening when I remember the beautiful girl in the park. She was just as shocked.
“Kolby, huh.” Seb sails down the rest of the steps and stops behind the couch. “Hey.”
Kolby doesn’t respond.
Corey tries next. He slowly approaches. “Hey, little guy. I’m Corey.”
Nothing. Not even a flicker of acknowledgement.
Seb lifts his gaze to mine. “Is he mute?”
“Nope.”
“Then why is he ignoring us?” Corey asks, puzzled.
“He’s shy.”
“Oh.”
“Hey, Kolby.” I sit beside him. He glances at me, but remains quiet. “Do you like the cookies?”
He nods.
“Great.” I smile and leave the conversation there. He doesn’t want to talk, and I’m not going to push him.
When my parents first brought up the topic of adoption, I was dead set against it.
Then I met Kolby.
It was easy to slip into the role of ‘big brother’. Kolby is so small and withdrawn. There’s fragility in his gaze, but also hope.
According to the social worker, Kolby’s been through hell. His father walked out on his mother, leaving her to financial and emotional struggle. Eventually, he was taken away from her and put in the foster system. There, Kolby met neglect and abuse. It’s no wonder he has a problem trusting people.
Corey plops into the chair on the other side of Kolby and points to the sketch clutched in his tight grip. “What’s that?”
Kolby pulls the drawing in protectively.
“It’s a picture of him,” I explain.
Kolby smiles a little. “Ember drew it.”
“Who’s Ember?” Seb asks, hunkering over the back of the couch.
I pull my lips in to hide my own smile. My words come out muffled.
“She’s someone we met at the park.”
“Why are you doing that?” Corey points to my lips. “It’s weird.”
“No reason.”
“He’s blushing.” Seb laughs. “Kolby, tell me something. Is Ember pretty?”
Kolby nods.
“Sell out,” I whisper.
My friends laugh. Seb slaps my shoulder. “So you found a rebound after Gina.”
“It’s not like that. We were at the park and I left Kolby to play on the swings. I turned around for a second and when I glanced up he was gone. After running around for ten minutes, I found him with this girl.”
“Ember,” Seb says her name like it’s a precious perfume.
“Let me guess.” Corey wiggles his eyebrows. “She’s got long hair and long legs. Am I right? I know I’m right.”
My eyes flutter closed as I picture Ember in my mind. Cocoa brown skin that glimmered in the sunlight. Spiral curls to her shoulders. And yeah, long legs beneath tight shorts.
Ember. She was like a breath of fresh air. Like a sun goddess breezing into the mortal world. It made sense that she was from some exotic Caribbean paradise.
Seb groans. “Oh, he’s a goner.”
Corey laughs in agreement.
“When are you seeing her again? Does she go to our school?”
“Ember lives in Belize,” Kolby says loudly.
Seb and Corey freeze, their gazes locked on my brother.
Seb slips out of the trance first. “Wh—Belize? Is that some small town we’ve never heard of or do you mean Belize in the Caribbean?”
“She’s not from here.” I shrug. “And we’ll probably never meet again.”
“Didn’t she leave a glass slipper or anything?” Corey teases.
I glare at him.
Seb nods to Kolby’s picture. “She left a sketch.”
“See.” Kolby, in a sudden burst of friendliness, releases his hold on the drawing and proudly reveals it to Seb and Corey. “I drew the eyes.”
“It’s…” Seb clears his throat.
“I’m kind of scared,” Corey whispers.
I’d been too distracted by Ember to pay much attention to Kolby’s rendition of eyeballs, but now that I’m looking, there is something slightly creepy about them.
“Why don’t we put that down,” I lower his hand to hide the drawing, “and thank Seb’s mom for the cookies. We should get going.”