Together, Apart

by Erin A. Craig

  He doesn’t kick me out of the tree, so I figure he doesn’t mind company.

  I’m going to pretend that he wants me to come up here.

  Wow, he’s even prettier this close.

  He stares off into space, flicking a large coin between his fingers. I can’t see which one it is, but it’s not something I would have thought he’d own.

  “Hi,” I say, licking my dry lips.

  He blinks and slides the coin into his pocket, then pul s the little bud out of his ear. He watches me with curiosity. I can’t tel what he’s thinking because he has an awesome poker face.

  “What are you listening to?” I ask.

  Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m actual y talking to him!

  He’s wearing a black Foo Fighters T-shirt. “Music,” he replies, sounding bored and inconvenienced.

  Al right, I total y believe that he was being rude when Mom first met him.

  If that’s how we’re going to play it, fine. “You look like an Ariana fan to me.”

  Except that he looks like he’s into angry, shouty music, and sacrificing kittens.

  His eyebrow lifts. Ooh, we have a reaction.

  “Ariana?”

  Oh, the voice. Deep and a little rough like he’s woken up before he was ready. It’s my new favorite sound.

  “I’m not here to judge. I like the Kil ers and Fal Out Boy myself.”

  “What’s your name?” he asks, sitting up straight and removing the other bud. Did Mom not tel them my name? Or did he not listen?

  Now I have his ful attention and it half makes me want to run away and hide. Can you sweat from your eyebal s?

  The sun shines on one side of his face and makes it look like he has chocolate highlights—same shade as me—in his black hair. I doubt he’s dyed it, though.

  “I’m Quinn.”

  “How old are you?” he asks.

  The way he looks at me makes me squirm. “Seventeen. You?”

  His mouth thins like he’s irritated at the thought of being questioned. I hold my ground. I’m not saying anything else until he does.

  It’s a battle of wil s, and I’m not going to lose.

  Final y, his shoulders sink. “Seventeen.”

  I win.

  “I just turned seventeen,” I add. “My birthday was May fifth.”

  “Eighteen in October.”

  I don’t get to know when in October he turns eighteen, then.

  “Do you think we’l stil be in lockdown for your birthday?” I ask.

  “I couldn’t care less.”

  I wave my hand. “Doesn’t matter if we are, I’l throw you a tree party.”

  His lip quirks, about to grin and give him up. The dude might act like everyone is a nuisance to him, but he’s enjoying our conversation as much as I am.

  “A tree party?”

  “Yes, with streamers and bal oons and cake! I’l sing. I was in glee club in middle school.”

  There is no stopping this smile from coming. He shows pearly white teeth and shakes his head. “Glee club?”

  “Uh-huh. It was fun for a year, but I didn’t want to do it in high school.”

  “Because you would get your head flushed?”

  I cross my arms, but I’m not at al offended. “Wel , that’s not nice, is it? I wonder what clubs you have been in.” He opens his mouth, but I steamrol ahead. “No, let me guess. Now, I’m thinking you’ve never been in one because it’s ‘uncool.’ ” I actual y use air quotes. “But you’ve desperately wanted to be in the debate club, put al that moody, argumentative energy to good use.”

  He doesn’t blink, doesn’t move, and I’m not sure he breathes either.

  I’d cal vampire if it weren’t bright out.

  “Oh, no, I got it!” I snap my fingers. “Ariana appreciation club. Foo Fighters are an awesome band, by the way.” The intense way he watches me has my cheeks burning. The words won’t stop coming.

  “Do you drink coffee?” he asks.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Stop. You don’t need the caffeine.”

  “You spend a lot of time on your phone.”

  “You seem to spend a lot of time watching me.”

  Busted. It’s not al one-sided, though. “There’s not a lot else to do.”

  He straightens his legs, leaning one over the other on the branch. It’s a dangerous move, I almost fel once doing the same.

  “You should be careful,” I say.

  “I’m not going to fal .” He turns back so I can see his profile again.

  I shrug, smiling and turning away. “Don’t listen, it’l be amusing for me.”

  “Why did you come up here?” he asks. His low voice is the first hint of vulnerability.

  “I haven’t been in this tree since Sabi.”

  “None of what you just said makes sense.”

  I pick at a lump of bark that’s lifting from the branch. “Sabi was my best friend, her family lived in your house. We used to meet up here al the time.”

  He nods. “You hate me being here.”

  I shake my head but he’s stil not facing me. “I don’t.”

  “You got up here pretty quick when you saw me. I thought I was getting an eviction notice. Whose tree is it?”

  “No one knows. I don’t mind you being up here. I kinda felt sad for the tree the last five months, having no one sitting in it.”

  Now he looks. Slowly, his head turns to me. “You felt sad for the tree?”

  “Let’s move straight past that one and leave it at you being welcome.”

  “At least I’m welcome somewhere. This neighborhood is weird. The chalkboard messages are weird.”

  “The chalkboards are amazing; it keeps us close when we have to be apart. The people won’t always be weird. Wel , they wil , but they’l love you guys in no time. Everyone looks after each other. We have street parties and parades and you’l get lots of baked treats. Not even for any reason. They just need to get to know you. It’s al a bit crazy right now because there’s a lot of fear.”

  “Of me and my mom?”

  “Um, no, the whole pandemic thing. You should come out on your front yard tomorrow evening, after six.”

  “Why?”

  “Home street party.”

  His reaction is silence like he’s trying to figure out if I’m joking or not.

  “A home street party?”

  “Yeah, we’re al decorating our houses and cooking in our front yards.

  The Ebson brothers who live across from you are playing live music. You and your mom should join in.”

  Our drives are opposite sides of the house so there is just grass—and a tree—between us. We could sit on the lawn near each other. I just want to keep talking to him.

  He shakes his head. “I don’t want anyone in my business.”

  “So don’t tel them the things you don’t want them to know.”

  And, wow, do I want him to tel me now.

  “Do you wish you’d moved somewhere else? Or not moved at al ?” I ask.

  His eyes lift from the floor and delve into mine. My heart skips. “No, I don’t think I do.”

  I smile, though I’m feeling myself getting a little hysterical at the way he looks at me. The fluttering in my stomach can be more closely compared to a stampede.

  “Good.” I clear my throat. “You’re going to love it here. Are you starting school in August? Mom doesn’t think we’l go back before. This summer is going to be the longest ever.”

  I’m suddenly not too unhappy about that. I might not be able to see my friends for a while, but I can see Archer.

  “Senior year. Can’t wait.” His voice is laced with sarcasm.

  “Of course. You don’t like school either. What do you like?”

  “Music.”

  “Do you play?”

  “Guitar.”

  “That’s awesome. I wanted to learn guitar.”

  “What stopped you?”

  “I real y suck.”

  He chu
ckles and the sound makes me smile. I made him laugh! I thawed his icy heart, cracked the tough exterior. I rock.

  “Archer?”

  We both look back at his house. His mom is cal ing him from somewhere inside.

  I find her at his window. When she looks across and sees me with him, she smiles.

  She slides the window up. “Hel o, Quinn.”

  I wave. “Hi, Mrs. Brady.” So Mom did tel them my name.

  “Cal me Juliet.”

  Wel , that’s a good sign. I wasn’t sure if she was going to tel him to come in and get away from me. We’re a safe distance from each other.

  “Archer, lunch is ready.”

  He nods at her and turns to me. “I’l see you later, Ace.”

  Ace?

  He climbs down two branches, then jumps, landing on his feet the way my nan’s dog jumps fences.

  I was off with vampire. Werewolf?

  “Juliet?” I say.

  She keeps her hand on the window but doesn’t shut it. “Yes?”

  “Have you heard about the street party tomorrow? Everyone stays in their own front yard. We’re al putting lights up and eating outside.”

  She smiles. “Yes, I did hear.”

  “It would be cool if you and Archer could come out, too.”

  With a smile, she replies, “I think we might. See you later, Quinn.”

  I wave again and swivel around, leaning my back against the enormous trunk of the tree.

  Being in the tree again feels good. I thought it would be weird. I’ve avoided it for months, but the second my hand touched that branch to climb, I felt happy.

  And we spoke. Final y!

  Damn, that boy is built to break hearts. I wonder what he was like at his old school. Did he have lots of girlfriends? Did he refuse to let anyone close?

  That wouldn’t surprise me.

  God, I’m in trouble.

  I grip the branch and climb down, placing every step without looking. I bet I could get up and down this tree blindfolded.

  I get down and shake my head. Two weeks into lockdown and I’m obsessing over the new boy next door. Ful -on obsessed now that we’ve spoken. Archer is more than a bad attitude.

  He cal ed me Ace. That’s going to drive me crazy until I figure out why.

  I’m practical y gliding as I walk into the house. We had a conversation.

  He said single words at first, but then he formed sentences. I’ve been watching him out of my window for weeks and now I’ve official y met him. I don’t want to get ahead of myself and say we’re going to have a beautiful friendship, but we sat in my happy tree and that has to be good luck.

  I want to jump up and down and do a little spin. My cheeks ache with the goofy smile he’s put on my face.

  Kicking my shoes off, I head upstairs to read. I grab my paperback and sit on the seat beneath the window that my dad built. He made it because I love to sit and watch the rain…and Archer apparently.

  We’re on talking terms now; it’s extra creepy to watch a friend. Or an almost-friend.

  I’ve purposeful y sat with my side against the window, facing the wrong way. Gone are my days of stealing glances of the mysterious Archer Brady.

  Al eighteen days of them, poof, gone. I wil be normal from here on out and wait until we meet in our tree.

  I can absolutely do normal.

  Opening the book, I remove my bookmark—there’s a special place reserved in hel for people who fold the pages—and continue where I left off.

  Someone is about to die. The stalker is in the house.

  I wonder if he’s in the backyard.

  If this character fal s down the stairs as she flees, I’m giving up.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  I lower the book. That wasn’t in my head.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  Sticking the bookmark back between the pages, I put the book down and look out the window.

  My eyes swing to Archer’s window. He’s there. But what is that? I lean closer and almost bump my face on the glass.

  Scribbled in red are numbers on his window.

  He moves back in front of the window, eyes meeting mine, and taps once more on the glass. Then he walks off.

  His cel number. That must have taken ages, he had to write the numbers backward.

  Leaping off my seat, I dash to my bed to grab my cel . My heart is flying as I type the number in. I’m not even going to overthink this. I’m texting him right now. I’l be cool and casual. He wouldn’t have given me his number two minutes after our first conversation if he didn’t want me to message him.

  Chewing on my lip, I send a text and press the cel into my fluttering tummy.

  Quinn: I hope you didn’t use a Sharpie.

  The phone beeps and I jump so high that I almost launch it. Instant response. I open the message and a high-pitched squeal leaves my throat.

  Pitiful, Quinn.

  Archer: It’s my blood.

  I rol my eyes, my smile wide and moronic.

  Quinn: Wouldn’t surprise me. Do you give your number to al of the neighbors that way?

  Archer: No. I gave it to Jayde via carrier pigeon.

  Jayde lives in the house on the other side of Archer. She’s a senior and even less of a people person than Archer. They would make good friends.

  Quinn: You two would get along very wel .

  Typing the words makes my top lip curl. Calm down, you don’t own him.

  I don’t even know him and I’m jealous. That’s just great. Lockdown wasn’t supposed to send me crazy. I was going to sunbathe, swim, and read. I was supposed to come out of this with a swimmer’s body, Mensa mind, and golden tan. Instead I’m going to be green, with a mushy brain, and a Jel -O

  body.

  Archer: We had a whole two-minute conversation with about three words. I’m not her people.

  At least with me there is conversation. When I’m nervous, I talk, and Archer sure brings out the nerves.

  Quinn: Who are your people? What was that coin you had in the tree?

  Archer: My grandpa’s 20-year military chal enge coin. He left it to me.

  Quinn: That’s sweet that he wanted you to have it.

  I wait. And wait. And obsess. He didn’t answer the question about who his people are. I’m obviously wanting him to say me. Take the hint, Brady!

  How many minutes have passed since his last message? One? Two? A mil ion?

  I tap my leg while my phone does nothing at al . He’s not going to reply.

  That’s fine. I have better things to do, too.

  I put my phone down and head to find Mom. We make dinner together, eat with Dad, who tel s us about his uneventful day.

  It’s hard, but I don’t check my phone until I go to bed.

  There is a message from him, sent ten minutes ago. I take a breath before I open it.

  Archer: Night

  Quinn: Night

  We’re at the saying good night stage. I want to jump around my room, but my parents wil hear. Dad wil threaten Archer with bodily harm if he hurts me.

  In the morning, I shower, get dressed, and give Dad a hug as he heads out to work at the fire station. Today we’re prepping for the home street party. I bound into the kitchen with a light heart, buzzing with energy.

  Mom laughs. “It’s good to see that smile back.”

  “I’m happy.” My heart is on a constant rhythm that beats Arch-er.

  “I can tel . It makes me happy, too. I’m prepping the food. Can you put the lights up and write on the chalkboard?”

  “Total y.”

  Dad has hooks around the door and first-floor windows so it’s super easy to hook the lights on. I grab the box of colored lights and chalk sitting by the front door ready and take them out.

  I put the box on the doorstep and take the chalk to the board. Before I get there, though, I hear his voice.

  “Mornin’, Ace.”

  I take a breath and look over my shoulder. He’s standing by his own chalkboard. The one he fo
und ridiculous. I can just imagine his face as Mr.

  Cotton dropped it off.

  “You’re getting on board with the chalk.” If I sound smug it’s because I am.

  He shrugs as if it’s no big deal. We both know that’s not true. It means maybe that he’s settling in, maybe even enjoying it here.

  “What’s that?” I ask, walking across my yard. I stop short of the boundary. It’s weird acting as if everyone is infectious.

  He stands away from whatever is poking out of the ground. It’s a bal of twinkle lights on a stick. There are more of them lying on the ground. As he spots me staring, his lips curve into the cutest smile ever.

  My stomach flutters. Welcome back, but erflies.

  “You’re coming to the street party?” I ask, trying to ignore the light-headed feeling I get when he looks at me. I real y hope I didn’t sound too excited.

  “I guess we are. Mom has ingredients everywhere ready to make…I don’t know what she’s making, but I’m sure we won’t be able to eat it al .”

  “Mine is the same. She’s also making you guys something.”

  He chuckles and walks over, leaving his lights behind. Kind of the way I have. We’re drawn together. The lights can wait.

  “Everyone on this street is a feeder.”

  “Correct,” I confirm. “But they’re al good cooks so be prepared for the most awesome food coma of your life. Seriously, if Mrs. Langford offers you brownies, take them. I could live off them alone. And the sugar cookies from

  —”

  “Quinn,” he says, cutting me off and lifting his dark eyebrow. “Did you have coffee?”

  I shake my head. “No.”

  It’s not caffeine that makes me hyper. It’s him.

  Twiddling my fingers behind my back, I smile. I hate people who can be so casual around their crush. I’ve never felt nervous around a guy before. Not like this anyway.

  “I’m decorating,” I say.

  That could have gone better. I could have talked about bands, TV shows, school, literal y anything else. But no, I state the damn obvious.

  I smile wider and he smirks as if he can read my mind. “I can see that,”

  he says.

  I did so wel in the tree, what is happening now? My mind is blank.

  Nothing but tumbleweed here.

  “You okay, Ace?”