by Harrison, S.
When I was four, I made her a Christmas card. It had reindeer and a snowman on the front made out of macaroni and glitter. I was so proud of it when I gave it to her. She didn’t even open it; she just took it and walked out of the room. That afternoon I found it when I was helping Mariele sort the recycling from the trash.
Mariele. I haven’t thought of her for years. I was almost six when she left. Wow, was that really nine whole years ago? Sometimes it feels like yesterday. I wonder what she’s doing now.
With a dozen silly scenarios racing through my mind, I run across the polo grounds, past the far grandstand, and then onto the concrete path that leads around the corner toward the stables.
I can see Mr. Delgado brushing down one of the horses just outside. I jog over to him and he greets me with a smile.
“Finn, I guess you’re looking for Carlo?”
I nod.
“We just got back from the airport twenty minutes ago. He’s at the house unpacking.”
“Thanks!” I shout as I turn back the way I came and run off in the direction of the Seven Acre Wood. After a few minutes I hit the edge of the trees and run along the dirt path that leads to Carlo’s dad’s house.
“Finn!” calls a voice from up ahead. In the distance I catch a fleeting glimpse of Carlo’s face as it disappears into an upstairs window.
Carlo’s dad paid for him to go to a fancy private school overseas and he spent last summer with his mom, so I haven’t seen him since Jonah introduced us to Onix and started our training two years ago. It would be a massive understatement to say that I’ve been looking forward to seeing him again. I have to admit that I’m kinda nervous. I’ve grown up a lot in the last two years, so of course I’m expecting him to have changed as well. But when Carlo bursts out the front door and jogs toward me, my stomach suddenly seizes, I half-trip and stumble over some twigs, and all my expectations go rocketing out the window.
Holy crap.
Who the hell is that?
Carlo still has the same thick, wavy black hair, deep emerald-green eyes, and smooth caramel skin, but everything else is very different. His jaw is defined, squarer, almost rugged. He looks like he’s grown about a foot, his shoulders are broad and muscular, and his arms look hard and strong. He’s wearing a tight black tank top, gray jeans, and sky-blue trainers with white stripes. He smiles at me as he gets closer and I stare at him like a startled squirrel. He looks freaking incredible. And here I am in my shorts, baggy t-shirt, old trainers, and no makeup with my hair pulled back in a rushed ponytail secured with a rubber band. I suddenly get an insane attack of the nerves. My stomach clenches. The memory of how I felt when we shared the innocent kiss by the pond two years ago is immediately erased and replaced by the powerful desire to do it again. And this time, do it so much better. Oh god, yes.
He runs up to me and grabs me into his arms, lifts me off the ground, and swings me around, both of us laughing.
“Wow,” he says, putting me down. “Look at you. I bet your boyfriend at boarding school is the envy of the whole tenth grade.”
I can feel myself blush like an idiot. “They call it year ten at my school,” I say pushing him backward playfully. “And I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“I find that hard to believe,” he says, smiling. “So, how’s it all going at Bethlem Academy?”
So hot. So crazy hot.
“Finn?”
“Wha . . . sorry, what was that?”
“How’s it going at Bethlem?”
Get it together, Finn. Be cool.
“Oh . . . yeah, it’s um . . . it’s cool to be around kids my own age, even if some of them are a bit stuck-up. Jonah was right about the schoolwork; I could do it with both hands tied behind my back. Sometimes I even throw a few test questions, y’know, so I don’t look too nerdy.”
“Like I said, smartest girl I know,” Carlo says, smiling warmly.
There’s a beat of silence. We just stand there looking at each other. I wonder: Does he still think I’m the prettiest, too? Whatever he’s thinking, I know one word which springs to my mind when I look at Carlo.
Gorgeous.
“Well, it’s been two summers, Finn. The question is: Have you been keeping up your combat training? I know I have. I’ve got three different instructors now. I’m getting pretty good, if I do say so myself.”
“Training . . .” I’m suddenly pulled back to my senses. “. . . about that, Jonah said . . .”
“There’s only one way to find out.” Carlo pulls off his tank top over his head and I bite my lip. I stare at his body and completely lose my train of thought again. There’s not an ounce of fat on him; his olive skin is tight over the hard muscles of his torso. He tucks his tank top into the back of his jeans.
“Try and take it,” he says. “Bet you can’t.”
Be cooool, Finn.
“I’ll take that bet. And your stupid top,” I say, trying to concentrate on his eyes and not his abs. To be honest, both are equally distracting.
“OK, then. Bring it,” he says with a cheeky grin. Carlo backs up and circles sideways in a wide curve around me, his hands out in front of him in defensive positions.
I immediately mirror him, circling the other way.
“You’ve got no chance, Blackstone. I know what you’re going to do before you do.”
“Oh, really? And what would that be . . . Delgado?”
“Well, if I told you, then I might miss out on seeing the surprised look on your face when I take that fancy little friendship bracelet of yours.”
“Oh, this?” I say, holding up my hand and waving it mockingly.
He nods with a cheeky twinkle in his eye.
“My friend Bettina gave this to me; it’s staying right where it is.”
“Not if I’ve got anything to do with it,” he says.
“I think you’d really like Bettina, Carlo. You’ve got a lot in common. Oh, except for one big difference,” I say, slowly digging my back foot into the loose dirt and twigs.
“Oh really, and what would that be?”
“Unlike her . . . you talk waaay too much.” I kick my back foot forward hard, and twigs and dirt spray up from the ground toward Carlo’s face. He dodges quickly to the side and springs toward me. Wow, he’s fast. His hand goes straight toward my bracelet, but I’m fast, too. I grab his wrist with my other hand and roll onto my back, taking him down to the ground with me. With both feet I push up into his stomach and launch him over my head. Looking up from where I’m lying, I see him execute a textbook midair forward flip and land in a crouched position with his back to me. Impressive—but now’s my chance. I backward-roll onto my feet and turn, and my hand shoots out toward his tank top but misses by a fraction as he spins his hips and sweeps his leg in a swift curve across the ground, sliding my legs out from under me. I go heels-over-head, hand-plant the ground, and one-arm cartwheel to the side, landing cleanly back in a solid-footed stance.
“Not bad,” says Carlo. “You almost had me.”
“I’m only getting started,” I say. It’s obvious he’s carried on his training. His eyes are focused and his moves are smooth and fluid.
But I’m definitely no pushover.
I launch toward him and throw a fast punch just to the side of his face. I don’t want to hit him; I just want him to turn enough for me to grab that tank top from his jeans and show him who he’s messing with.
He dodges to the side. But it’s the wrong side and my knuckles land squarely on his cheekbone with a loud smack.
“Oh my god! Carlo, I’m so sorry! Are you OK?”
Carlo stands there smiling, rubbing his face. “My fault. Got distracted.” He pulls a vibrating phone from his back pocket. He glances at the screen, presses it, and shoves it back into his jeans.
“That’s gonna leave quite a bruise,” I say.
“It�
��ll be fine. Honestly, don’t worry about it.”
“I’m so sorry I hit you.” I walk over and give him an apologetic hug. His chest feels hot against the bare skin of my cheek. “Y’know, it’s really good to see you,” I say, looking up into his eyes.
“It’s good to see you, too,” he replies, peeling himself out of our embrace and taking a step back. “Um . . . so, what time is training this afternoon?”
“Oh yeah, Jonah said that training has been canceled for today. Nanny Theresa had a heart attack.”
“No way. Is she OK?”
“Not really; she’s still alive, but only just.”
“That sucks. For her and for us. I was really looking forward to training with Major Brogan again. He really knows his stuff.”
“Yeah, it is too bad,” I say with a grin. “You could use all the combat training you can get.”
“Is that right? And why would that be?”
“You tell me.” I hold up his tank top and throw it in his face.
“Hey!”
I can’t help laughing as he untangles it and tugs it back on over his head.
“I won,” I tease, playfully gloating.
“I’d say it was a draw,” Carlo says, holding up his hand. My friendship bracelet is around his wrist. “I’m keeping it, by the way. It’ll remind me of you when I’m at school,” he says with a grin.
I should protest, but if giving up a plaited string bracelet makes Carlo think about me even once when he’s away, then in my book it’s a pretty good deal. “Fine,” I say with obvious mock anger, and Carlo smiles.
“Well, if we don’t have training today, I better go help my dad.”
“Your dad! I was supposed to tell him about Nanny Theresa!”
“He doesn’t know?”
“I don’t think so. You both would have been driving back from the airport when it happened.”
“Guess we’d better go tell him, then,” says Carlo and we both break into a jog toward the stables.
The Seven Acre Wood is always nice to run through. I cut through it often when I go running, but today it’s even better simply because Carlo is home. I fall back ever so slightly so I can watch him run. I know he’s only sixteen, but he doesn’t seem very much like a kid anymore. Even though I’m only a few months younger than him, I can’t help thinking that he still sees me as one. Maybe that’s why he pushed me away when I hugged him? Or maybe you’re just reading a little too much into it, Finn.
We near the edge of the wood, and before long we’re jogging out into the sun, cutting across the edge of the polo field, and heading around the back of the grandstand toward the stables.
“Carlo! Hey! Good to see you, boy!” comes a voice from the other side of the courtyard. It’s old Ben, a retired jockey and one of the horse trainers. He’s been working here on and off for five or six years. He limps over and shakes Carlo’s hand enthusiastically.
“I didn’t know if we would see you this year,” Ben says with a gap-toothed grin.
“Yeah, I’m back for the summer.”
“Good, good,” Ben says, his wide smile crinkling the sides of his eyes. “Hello, Finn, look at you two. Both getting so tall! What are they feeding you at those fancy schools?” he says, checking us up and down.
“Have you seen my dad around, Ben?”
“Ah, yes. I saw him not long ago. Major Brogan rode over to see your father and arrived with some very sad news. Did you hear?”
Carlo and I both nod and I pretend to look sad.
Old Ben sighs. “Theresa was a gruff old bird, but it’s a shame all the same. Major Brogan and your dad went that way, I think. They might be on the other side, maybe in the office.”
“Thanks, Ben,” says Carlo and we head around to the far side of the stables. The office is in the old barn. The barn was gutted and renovated years ago and the upstairs loft was converted into an office for Carlo’s dad. It’s pretty cool up there. Apart from Carlo’s dad’s big oak desk and computer there are three leather couches, two big-screen TVs, and a full-sized pool table. Carlo and I used to play sometimes when he wasn’t helping with the horses. We walk through the downstairs front door of the barn and into the reception area. There’s a couch, two large armchairs, and a coffee table on a big, green-and-gold, Persian-style rug. Shelves of polo and racing trophies adorn the walls between pictures of horses that we’ve had over the years. My favorite is the one of Beauty. She looks so majestic with her shiny, pure-black coat, a stark contrast against her pure-white mane and tail. I remember I was so upset when she died. I didn’t ride for a long time after, and even now I’m hesitant to get to know any of the new horses too well.
Janis, the receptionist, is usually sitting at her desk in the corner by the window, but today it’s empty so we walk right through toward the staircase at the back that leads up to the office.
I hear muted voices coming from upstairs. Out of childhood habit, Carlo and I walk softly toward the bottom of the stairs. We were often scolded by his dad for running around and being too noisy when he was having a meeting. Carlo even holds one finger up to his lips as if to remind me to be quiet. It seems silly that we’re being quiet now that we’re not little kids anymore, but I guess old habits die hard.
We can hear Carlo’s dad talking upstairs. “This is the way life works, Jonah. Here, have a drink with me,” he says.
“It’s a little early in the day for that, isn’t it, Javier?”
“I think the circumstances kind of call for it, don’t you?”
There’s the sound of two glasses being filled.
“Theresa has done some great things in her life, Jonah. But trying to take control of the company from Richard was definitely not one of them.”
My ears perk up. Did I just hear that right? I stop in my tracks and grab Carlo’s arm. He looks back at me and it’s my turn to hold a finger to my lips.
“She didn’t just try,” says Jonah. “She had all but succeeded. She needed only half the board members to vote her in as head of the company, but every single one of them unanimously agreed to it. All that was left to do was sign the papers and Blackstone Tech would have been hers.”
“Well, then. Lucky for us that she keeled over before she could sign them then,” says Carlo’s dad.
“Luck? Is that what we’re calling it, Javier? I would use an entirely different word.” I hear a deep gulp followed by a glass thudding down on a table.
“Try not to feel too bad, Jonah. What’s done is done. She would have thrown us out of here; you know she would’ve. You, me, and Finn.”
“She would have thrown you and me out. I don’t even want to think about what she would’ve done to Finn,” Jonah says grimly.
“Then everything has worked out for the best. Yes? Now you’re going to be the big boss.”
“I suppose. Only on paper. I’ll still keep Richard informed of everything I do.”
“What did he have to say about all this? Have you spoken to him yet?”
“What? Sorry, no, not yet,” says Jonah.
“Still in self-imposed exile is he? It’s all very weird, if you ask me. I mean, I’ve heard of men going a bit loopy after their wives die, but he’s locked himself away for . . . I’ve lost track of how many years now. The only time anyone ever sees him is on TV, filmed in the comfort of that big glass fortress of his out in the middle of nowhere. It’s no wonder the board agreed to let Theresa take over.”
The glugging sound of the bottle being poured comes down from above again.
“Another tequila, Major?”
“No. I’m going in to sign the papers now. I’ll see you later, Captain Delgado.”
“Sir, yes, sir,” Carlo’s dad says with a laugh in his voice.
I suddenly feel like we need to go, and fast. I tug at the back of Carlo’s jeans and we walk as quickly and quietly as we ca
n back through the reception area and out the front door. As soon as we’re outside, I run to the other side of the stables, then around the path and out onto the polo field; Carlo quick-steps behind me all the way.
“Where are we going?” Carlo asks over my shoulder.
“Anywhere but here. Let’s head up to the main house.”
“What was that all about?”
“I don’t know,” I reply. “But somehow I don’t think we should’ve been listening.”
“Major Brogan called my dad ‘Captain Delgado.’ Do you think they were in the military together?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t even know your dad was a soldier.”
“Yeah, it’s a surprise to me, too,” says Carlo, a hint of unease in his voice.
“I think we should forget everything we heard, Carlo. That conversation wasn’t meant for us.”
“Yeah, it weirded me out, and when I get weirded out, I get hungry. Any chance your chef has made any of his legendary chocolate cake?”
“Let’s find out,” I say between breaths. “Race you to the other side of the maze.” I break into a sprint and head in the direction of the green grotto.
“Hey!” Carlo yells from behind me.
He may be a few months older than me, but it sure as hell doesn’t make him a faster runner.
I run like the wind across the polo field and beat him through the opening of the grotto by at least twelve yards. Even though the dense overhanging tunnels of trees in the grotto are like a maze, trying to lose Carlo in it is futile—he knows it just as well as I do. But I don’t have to lose him; I only have to beat him to the other side. I race down the wide, winding path, round one corner, then the next, then the next, and finally enter the final straight. The opening on the other side of the grotto is in my sights. Ten more strides and I burst through with my arms in the air, victorious.
“Yesss! Too slow, Delgado! That’s what they should call you from now on!” I spin around to rub my glorious win in Carlo’s beautiful face, but he’s not there. I stand there for a moment, hands on my hips, catching my breath, wondering where on earth he’s got to when I see him walk around the corner at the other end of the straight. He’s staring intently at his phone, smiling as he taps away on it with his thumb.
