The remnants of yesterday’s rain dried up and left the ground firm under my sneakers. No need for boots today. I found a smooth rock to sit on while I spied on the tracks for Tommy. My view was clear, but the hanging branches of the trees would conceal my hiding place. I flipped open my sketchbook to a fresh, blank page. Sometimes I drew things from my mind, other times I drew what I saw. Today was one of those days. I spotted a bunch of bright-yellow daffodils growing at the edge of the woods. I would draw them.
I slowly created the outline of the flower, keeping my eye on the tracks. Forming the daffodil head and stem was easy. The intricate details, which brought the picture to life, were the more difficult parts of sketching from real life. I was sort of a perfectionist when it came to my drawings.
He showed up about twenty minutes later. I know because I checked my watch. I stopped drawing and studied him. The same clothes from yesterday hung on his lanky frame, a pair of jeans, slightly frayed at the bottom, and a plain gray T-shirt. He walked at a slow pace, from the west, balancing himself on the right track, steadily getting closer to me. A soft spring breeze rippled through his unkempt hair. I watched and he stopped, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. He stood completely still, and I found myself unconsciously holding my breath, fixated on him. Then he opened his eyes and continued to walk. He didn’t look like a pervert. But they never did. He didn’t appear dangerous at all. In fact, he intrigued me.
He was nearing me now. I settled back on the rock and continued to examine him. He stopped again but this time turned his gaze to the woods. Exactly where I was sitting.
“Hey, Emily,” Tommy called. “Are you coming out or just hiding in the woods and watching me all day?”
Heat flushed my face. I thought I was being smart by hiding, but he’d known I was there the whole time. I grabbed my sketchbook and stomped out in a huff. “I wasn’t hiding,” I shot back. “Just drawing. I like to be alone while I draw.”
“Oh.” He nodded. “You any good at drawing?”
I shrugged. “Some people think so.”
“Can I see?” He motioned toward the sketchbook.
“If you want.”
He took the book from me and paged through its contents. Stopping at one drawing, he looked up at me. “What’s this one?”
I viewed the page. It was a rough sketch of Mom watching TV. Her long dark hair tumbled down her shoulders. She was clothed in her favorite pink bathrobe, the one with yellow daisies on it, and her gaze was intent on the TV screen. What I liked most about the picture was her expression. She appeared relaxed and happy. I hadn’t seen her look like that in a long time. I wish she did more often.
“My mom.”
“I like it,” Tommy said.
“Thanks.” I closed the sketchbook. “Just a hobby of mine.”
“You’re good at it. Thanks for showing them to me.”
“Sure. What are you doing today?”
“This is it,” he said.
“Standing around doing nothing?”
“Right.”
“Great.” I stuffed my book in my backpack. Black with hot-pink lightning bolts. No Hello Kitty backpack. I’m not that pathetic. “Count me in.”
We walked on opposite sides of the train track. Me on the left, him on the right. Warm sun beat on the tops of our heads as we trailed along, a welcome warmth in the slightly chilly April afternoon. New buds of grass, or maybe weeds, poked their heads out along the tracks. The last couple of weeks or so had seen a lot of new growth around the woods and beside the tracks. Bright-green blades of grass shot up here and there. One spot, where the tracks veered to the right, a patch of wild violets grew. I liked to look at those especially because the color and design of the flower fascinated me. Dark-purple violets with an insert of white, or white flowers with a splash of purple. The dark ones were my favorite. I’d take them in my hand and softly rub their silky texture between my fingers.
“I’ll race you to the fence,” Tommy said. He pointed to where the Millers’ white-painted fence started, a short distance ahead of us.
“You’re on.”
We moved as fast as we could on the steely metal below our sneakers. I knew we were getting close to the honeysuckle again. Its sweetness surrounded me. A trickle of sweat ran down my forehead. I raised my hand to wipe it as I reached the fence. Just a moment before Tommy.
“Beat you!” I said breathlessly.
“Aww…I let you win,” he teased.
“Sure. That’s what all the losers say.”
“Okay. You won. You ran pretty fast. For a girl.”
“That’s an odd compliment. I don’t care. I’ll take it anyway,” I said. “That must be my winning spirit.”
“Oh, man.” Tommy shook his head. He walked over to the grassy area near the Millers’ white fence and sat. Stretching his long, jean-clad legs, he yawned.
“Tired?” I plopped down across from him. Leaning my backpack against the fence, I used it like a pillow to lie on.
“Yeah, I’m kind of used to it.”
“What? Being tired. You sick or something?”
“Nah. I just don’t sleep that much. Always noisy at my house at night.”
“I know what you mean. My brother always has his music turned up too loud. Mom and I are always yelling at him to turn it down or put his earplugs in. Do you have brothers or sisters?”
Tommy shook his head. “No. It’s just me.”
I picked up a blade of grass and flicked it at him. He grasped his chest and made a gagging face.
“You got me! I’m shot!” He moved his head around in a circular motion. “And now I will surely die.” He dropped his head and sat silently.
“Funny,” I said, without laughing. Although a smirk tickled at the corners of my mouth.
He still lay silently. I poked him in the arm. His eyes flew open.
“Fooled you, didn’t I?” he joked. His dark-blue eyes twinkled. “You thought you killed me with that lethal blade of grass.”
“Hardly.” I looked at him. “I’m not an idiot.”
“No, you’re not,” he agreed. He stared at me for a moment. “You have unusual eyes.”
“Unusual in what way?”
“Well, yesterday I was certain you had brown eyes. But now they seem green.”
“My eyes are hazel. Sometimes they are brown, other times more greenish. I think it has something to do with the light I’m in. Or even what I’m wearing,” I said. “If I’m wearing a green shirt, my eyes look greener than usual.”
“Hmmm…that’s interesting.” Tommy nodded. “I guess I’ve never known anyone with hazel eyes.”
“I’ve always wanted to have blue eyes,” I said. “Like yours. Not that many people have blue eyes. They’re unique.”
“Not really. Everyone in my family has blue eyes.”
“Both your mom and dad have blue eyes?”
“Mom does. I don’t know about my dad. I never met him.”
“Oh,” was all I could say. I had friends whose parents had divorced, and they only saw their dads on weekends. I didn’t know anyone who’d never met their father.
“Yeah.” He balled up a wad of grass and threw it in the air. The pieces showered over his blond head. “It kind of sucks.”
“That would suck.” I nodded. I wanted to ask more questions, but I didn’t want to seem pushy. Instead, I leaned on my backpack, and we sat together in a comfortable silence. It didn’t feel awkward at all. I didn’t think either of us felt like talking at the moment.
Chapter Four
Tommy and I met every day that week. And the next week. And the next. Our schedule was minimal. Sometimes we’d just sit together. It didn’t feel odd to either of us. We had one of those unusual friendships in which silence was okay. Normally I’d feel pressured to fill silent gaps with babble about this or that. But not with Tommy. We could sit still in the grass staring at the blue outstretched sky without saying a word. It comforted me just knowing he was there for some rea
son.
But we did talk. A lot. About everything. I didn’t think there was a subject Tommy Tucker didn’t have an opinion about in one form or another. Sports, he hated them. Books, he loved them. Girls, he loved some and hated others. One thing he avoided talking about was his family. No mention of them since the day he’d told me he’d never met his dad. Not one word. I hadn’t asked, though. I was kind of scared to ask.
May blossomed all around us. Wild violets and sunshine-yellow dandelions covered the banks beside the tracks. Soft, lush grass grew alongside the Millers’ freshly painted white fence. I guess they’d gotten sick of the dull white-gray color and decided to invest in some new paint. They even did the barn, now a bright-red jewel among alfalfa and corn fields.
Temperatures rose so much that I wore my cutoffs today. I changed when I got home from school because we weren’t allowed to wear shorts that short. They had to be knee-length to be school appropriate. Knee-length! Those weren’t shorts. Only two more weeks left of school. I was counting the minutes.
I scurried through the woods, my backpack thumping softly against my bare arms. I’d brought some sodas and a sleeve of saltine crackers for us today. I’d started to wonder if Tommy was even poorer than we were. He was so skinny and always had on the same clothes. Gray T-shirt and frayed jeans. I’d asked him about it once. He’d just shrugged and said that’s all he had. They couldn’t be the same clothes everyday anyway. He didn’t smell. I even got extra close a few times to give him a good sniff. He smelled kind of sweet. Sort of like apples.
So, I imagined his closet with nothing in it but gray T-shirts and frayed jeans. I guessed it was possible. Maybe guys didn’t care about clothes as long as it was comfortable. My brother, Sam, certainly harbored no such care. Ripped jeans and various rock band T-shirts filled his closet. And he did smell sometimes. He was too lazy to shower on occasion.
But Tommy was skinny. I would share what I had with him, which wasn’t much. I moved quickly through the woods, snagging my backpack on a sticker bush. I pulled it and swore when the material ripped. Stupid bush!
I hurried down to the tracks. Tommy wasn’t there. Odd. He was always there before me. Maybe he got hung up with something at school. I dug into my shorts pocket and retrieved a ponytail holder. The back of my neck was sweating. I scooped up my hair in a high pony on top of my head to get it as far away from my neck as possible. A couple stubborn dark wisps tickled the side of my face. There were always a few that refused to cooperate.
I looked behind me to see if Tommy was sneaking up on me. He did that last week, and I’d screamed so loud. He said I screamed like a girl. Well, duh. I was a girl. He wasn’t behind me, or in front of me. I sighed. Maybe he was busy today. Disappointment raced through me. Coming here by myself was one of my favorite things to do. But I liked hanging out with Tommy. He was the only friend I had here. I guessed that wasn’t true. I had some friends, but I felt different around Tommy. I felt like I could tell him anything. I trusted him.
Sticking out my arms, I closed my eyes and placed one foot in front of the other on the track like a balance beam. The sun beat on the back of my bare legs, its heat propelling me forward. One time I was walking just like this, with my eyes closed, and the track had rumbled beneath my feet. My eyes had flown open to see a train coming toward me in the distance. A real train barreling in my direction. I jumped off the track and landed on the rocky ground close by. In a few moments, the train flew past me, its intensity blowing my hair back, plastering it to my head. I could barely breathe as I felt the tremendous power in front of me. I was grateful to have heard that rumbling. But it didn’t stop me from following the tracks in my self-imposed darkness.
I opened my eyes and saw Tommy. He sat on top of the Millers’ white fence a few yards away. He waved, a slow grin spreading across his slightly tanned face. He was here.
Hopping off the metal track, I moved over to where he sat. “Hey.” I climbed up the fence and perched at the top next to him.
“Why’d you bring that today?” He motioned toward my backpack. “More drawing?”
“No.” I pulled out the sodas and crackers. “I thought we might like to have a snack.”
Tommy nodded. “Cool. Thanks.” He popped open a soda and yelped when it fizzed up over his hand. He looked at me, his eyes full of amusement. “Oh, nice joke. I didn’t even see it coming.”
“I didn’t…” I told my brother not to touch the two sodas in the fridge because I was taking them for me and my friend. Stupid me. He must have shaken them up before he left for work. Or, maybe they got bumped as I walked. I preferred to blame Sam. I shrugged. “My dumb brother, Sam.”
“That’s why I’m glad I’m an only child.” Tommy wiped the wet foam on his shirt. “Doesn’t matter. There’s still some left. Be careful with yours.”
I popped the tab and held the can of soda far away from me. When it stopped foaming, I took a sip. Its sweetness trickled down my parched throat. I tore open the white cellophane wrapper, and we munched on the crackers.
“I want to show you something today,” Tommy said. “I think you’ll like it.”
“Okay, show me.”
“I don’t have it with me. We’ll have to go farther into the woods.”
Curiosity bubbled inside me. I was one who couldn’t wait for surprises. At Christmastime, I’d always find my presents, unwrap them, and rewrap them before my parents noticed. I’d been doing that since I was seven. Wasn’t too difficult. They always hid them in the same place. In their bedroom closet under a pile of coats.
I had no clue what he wanted to show me. But I did know I wanted to see it. Now.
“Let’s go.” I jumped off the fence, brushing cracker crumbs off my shirt. “I’m ready.”
“Okay.” Tommy joined me on the ground. “We’ll have to go farther down the tracks. Into the woods where it gets thicker. Near the stream.”
“A stream?” I asked. “I didn’t even know there was a stream. How far is it?”
“Maybe a twenty-minute walk.” Tommy ran a hand through his sun-streaked hair. His bangs fell long on his forehead, grazing his brow bone, just above his eyes. “It’ll be worth it. I promise.”
“I guess,” I said. If he said it was an hour walk, I’d have gone. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but it made me get up and move.
We walked. I drained the last of my soda and put the empty can in my backpack. The warm afternoon sun continued to beat down on us, and I wished I’d brought another drink along.
“We should ride bikes together sometime,” I suggested, breaking the silence between us.
“Nah.” Tommy shook his head. “I don’t ride bikes anymore.”
“Why?”
“My bike’s broken.”
“Aren’t you going to fix it?”
“No,” he said. “I’d rather walk.”
I was surprised by his answer. I would have thought an adventurous kid like him would like to ride a bike. I was wrong. I looked at him. “That’s kind of weird.”
“Not really.”
“Well, if my bike was broke, I’d fix it.”
“That’s you, Emily. Not me.”
“I guess.”
We were in the woods now. Green, leafy trees with skinny-bark trunks surrounded us. Patches of blue sky, visible through the branches, appeared to be moving while the clouds ambled past. My ponytail slapped my neck as we moved faster.
“Just a little farther ahead,” Tommy said. “And we’ll be there.”
Chapter Five
I brushed back sticker bushes and silently cursed myself for the flip-flops on my feet today. I hadn’t realized I’d be going on a nature hike. Tommy glided through the trees while I trailed along hoping we’d soon arrive at our destination.
The woods became denser this far down. I might even say lush woods. The trees, thick and majestic, provided an emerald canopy above us. Green moss-covered rocks created a soft bed under my flip-flops. We made our way through a patch of willowy
ferns when the trickle of running water filtered through.
We emerged from the ferns to a slow-moving stream a few feet away. An old wobbly-looking wooden bridge created a pathway to the other side. More ferns and moss lined the banks. I listened to the soothing sound of the water. I’d always rather liked its melody.
“This is it.” Tommy grabbed my hand. He led me to the right.
A wooden structure lay ahead of us. It appeared like a small house with a black shingled roof, plain wood-plank walls, and even a tiny window on the side. We hurried to the building.
“Welcome.” Tommy opened the crooked wooden door and gestured for me to come inside. “To my clubhouse.”
“Cool,” I said, stepping inside. A big cobweb greeted me, and I batted its stickiness off my face.
I viewed the dusty, cobweb-filled room. A couple of mildew-covered pillows sat on the floor next to a pile of dust-filled comic books. A plastic patio table sat on the other side of the room accompanied by a flowered lawn chair missing one of its legs. Various drawings, in pencil and ink, hung on the walls by yellowing Scotch tape.
“I haven’t been here in a while.” Tommy blew the dust off the pile of comic books. “I guess you can tell.”
“It is a little dirty,” I said. “But what an awesome place! How did you find it?”
“I made it.” He smiled. “When I was thirteen. I used to hang out here all the time.”
“You built it? How did you find all the stuff to do that?”
“One of my mom’s boyfriends worked at a dump. He was an okay guy. Used to take me to work with him sometimes. I got everything from there.”
“Wow.” I walked over to the drawings. I recognized the stream and ferns in one of them. One of the train tracks in the summer with blooming trees and grass. Another one in the winter months, bare trees and swirls of snow in the air. I turned to look at Tommy. “You drew these.”
The Tracks Page 2
