by A. R. Breck
My elbows press into my windowsill, my chin sitting in my palms.
I’ve been in my room since I ran inside earlier. My parents came to check on me, wanting me to come eat dinner with them. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to talk, and I’m not hungry in the slightest. My mom could tell something was wrong, but I didn’t feel like talking about it.
My best friend thinks I’m gross.
I don’t want to cry over him, but it hurt me when he said those words. I would never say anything bad about him, but he was so quick to call me a name to his friends.
The sun has set over the lake, the reflection of the moon distorted, moving against the water. I watch it wiggle and dance, shimmering and effortless, with my heart heavy and possibly a bit empty.
A shadow creeps along my house, and I can tell who it is before I see him. I’m about to shut my windows but my arms won’t let me. I stare until he appears, standing on the outside of my house, as I stay kneeling on the inside. Roman looks sad, remorseful, and like I’m the one that said gross instead of him.
How can he be sad?
“What do you want?” I grumble, flicking my eyes back to the water. I don’t want Roman’s fake friendship. If he wants to be my friend, okay. But if he’s going to pretend and then be a bully to me the next day, I don’t want to be friends with him at all.
“I’m sorry,” he groans, and my eyes can’t help but slide up to his. Underneath his eyes, they look red, almost bruised as he stares at me. His mouth is pulled down in a frown. “I’m so sorry, Luna. My friends are stupid.”
I blink at him.
“I’m stupid. I never should have agreed to ride my bike or let them ride their bikes right next to you. That was really dumb. You could’ve gotten hurt.”
I blink again.
He blinks back at me. “What am I missing?”
“You called me gross!” I shout at him, my anger from the day flowing out of me like the waves at the beach. “You called me gross!” I repeat, slapping my windowsill as tears fill my eyes this time. “How could you do that?”
His frown pulls even lower. “I didn’t mean it.”
“But you said it,” I sniffle.
His hands shoot through my window, gripping onto my forearms. “I didn’t mean it. It’s not what you think.”
I rip my arms from his hold. “What did you mean then? Your friends asked if you like me, and you said I’m gross.”
“They meant if I liked you, liked you. Like more than a friend.”
Silence.
I’m too embarrassed to say that the words still sting. The venom from his words still burns in my veins, even though I’m starting to understand what he meant.
He likes me as a friend.
Just not like that.
“Am I so gross to you that you couldn’t see me as more than a friend?”
His face scrunches. Then falters, his eyes blinking a few times. His long eyelashes shutter against his tanned cheeks, and his jaw goes slack.
“Do you?” he asks, his chin jutting forward.
Do I tell him yes, I do like him more than a friend? That the love I see in my parents is how I hope to love him someday? That I could possibly love him more than the love I see my parents share? That hanging out with him for only these short couple of months has given me these feelings that I’ve never felt before? Boys have always been booger-ridden, butt-picking, dirty stinkers that ick me out more than anything else. But with Roman?
With Roman, everything is different.
Or do I lie?
“You’re just my friend, obviously.” I roll my eyes, even if my stomach guts in the process.
He smiles, his lips a little uneven as he bends over, placing his hand on the windowsill. His leg swings inside, and then the other. Then he’s in front of me, and even though my stomach is turning in an agony I’ve never felt before, I smile, and he wraps me into his arms in the first hug I’ve ever had from him.
My body jolts on the inside even though I know I’m still on the outside. His body is hot, like he’s got a fever or something. A complete contradiction to my own body, with my toes that are permanent ice cubes.
“Sorry if I made you sad, Luna,” he sighs into my hair, his voice muffled beneath my tresses. The puff out from each breath he takes tickles my ears.
“It’s okay.” My voice comes out choked, and it feels like he’s holding my heart in a strong grip. His smell has become so familiar, too. A combination of sunscreen and sand. It’s so perfect, and it makes me sad.
I step out of his hold, turn around and walk to my bed. Crawling beneath my covers, I wipe my eyes on my pink pillowcase before turning around to face him.
“What’s the matter?”
I give him a piece of honesty, even if it’s not all of me. “I’m scared about school. I don’t know anybody.”
He plops down onto the floor, and I toss him his usual pillow. He gets comfy, propping his hands beneath his head, elbow on the pillow so he can still see me. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll protect you in school.”
“Even from your own friends?” I lift my eyebrows. It doesn’t seem like anything will come between him and his friends.
He narrows his eyes. “They won’t do anything.”
I shrug, not totally sure if I should believe him or not.
“You’ll be fine, Luna.” His hand pulls out from behind his head, and he shoves both beneath his pillow to prop himself up further.
I roll over so my back faces him, nodding into my pillow. I can’t help the nerves in my belly, though. It happens every time I start at a new school. I can’t help it.
“Luna!” my mom shouts from down the hall. “It’s time to go! Harper is outside waiting for you!”
I rub at my stomach, the nerves having only gotten stronger over the past week. This morning they are so bad I even feel like I might get sick.
“Luna!” my mom shouts again.
“Coming!” I grab my Looney Tunes backpack and straighten my velvet green skirt and white top. The teeth from my white barrette in my black hair stabs at my skin, and I want to cry.
I hate first days.
My white socks have lace on the edges, and they’re shoved into a brand-new pair of shoes that aren’t even broken in yet. I’ll have a sore on my heels by the end of the day.
I miss summer. My flowy dresses and my bare feet. They’ve grown strong running on the rough, hot pavement to the park everyday this summer. Now I’m dressed as a doll and feel ridiculous, but my parents wanted me to look presentable on my first day.
It smells like scrambled eggs and toast as I walk down the hall. My dad sits at the kitchen table with a pair of his oversized glasses perched on his nose. A cup of coffee sits on the table, steam rising from the dark liquid. I don’t know how he can drink that stuff all the time. He let me try it once, it tasted like dirt.
My dad lowers his newspaper from his face, folding it over in the middle as he looks at me. “Well, don’t you look beautiful this morning. Are you ready for your first day?”
I adjust the straps on my backpack, feeling the jiggly feeling in my stomach again. “I’m nervous.”
A frown lowers the corners of his lips. He presses the newspaper against the table, and it crinkles against his hand. He stands up, walking around our small round table and stops in front of me. His bare hands are hot as he grips my shoulders, probably from his coffee cup, his fingers digging into my tense skin as he gives me a squeeze. “What? What would you be nervous about? You’ll do great!”
“Are we going to stay here a while?” I ignore his question and go to one of my own. I don’t want to get comfortable here if he plans to pack us up in a year and move to an entirely new place where I’ll have to start all over. Again.
His frown pulls lower, his lips almost hitting his chin as he takes a step back. He smells like coffee and marijuana.
My parents smoke pot, and they say there’s nothing wrong with it. It’s always been a way of living for them.
>
“Well, I imagine we’ll be here a while. Why?” He sits back down and picks up his coffee cup, taking a slurpy sip. He winces when the hot liquid touches his tongue.
I take a deep breath. “We keep moving everywhere. I want to just stay somewhere. I’m tired of having to make new friends every couple of years.”
His face softens, the small wrinkles that have formed on his skin the last few years smooth out as he looks at me sadly. “Sometimes grownups have to move when a job opportunity comes up for them. So, I’m not saying it’s not going to happen again, but I will say that I’ll do my best to keep us here. Do you like it here?”
I nod.
He smiles as he picks up his paper. “I thought so. Don’t worry about the future, Luna. Don’t worry at all. Just go and have some fun. And have a great day at school.”
My mom bustles out of her bedroom at that moment, her long hair trailing behind her back, and another one of her flowing dresses fluttering behind her. It always looks like a soft wave follows her.
“Come on, Luna. You’re going to be late.”
I smile at my dad when he makes a funny face behind my mom’s back. Snickering, I head to the door when she calls my name. “Luna!”
I turn around and watch as she grabs a piece of toast, and an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter. “I know you’ll be eating breakfast at school, but you should still try and eat something at home.”
I grab them from her with a smile, the nerves making eating impossible at this point.
She brushes my black hair from my face and bends down to give me a kiss on the cheek. Her lipstick makes her lips stick to me, and she licks her thumb before swiping away the smear of pink on my skin. I frown.
“Have a great day. Don’t forget you start ballet tonight. We still have to go buy you a new pair of slippers after school.”
That puts a genuine smile on my face. I can’t wait to get back into dance. I stopped last spring when we started looking for a new place to live, and I’ve been so ready to get back into it. “Okay!” I rush out the door before she can stop me for anything else and stop in my tracks right when I see the sight in front of me.
The toe of my shoes presses into the grass as I screech to a halt, and the week roots split from the ground with the force.
“Whoa,” Roman says from in front of me. He takes a step toward me to make sure I’m okay, but second-guesses his movements and stops in place. “Are you all right?”
“What’re you doing here?” I ask, then feel immediately bad when Nora frowns next to him. Roman doesn’t flinch, though; he only continues to stare at me.
“My mom asked Harper if she would be okay bringing us to school, since she’s heading that way anyway.”
My eyebrows lift and I look over at Harper who’s picking at her nails. She can sense the heat of my stare and looks up at me. “Can we go yet?”
Nora walks up to me, her rainbow backpack shiny and new. “Nice backpack,” I say, because it is.
“Thanks.” She lifts her lunchbox. “I’ve got a matching lunchbox.” It’s metal and square and looks awesome.
“Cool.”
We all start walking to school, down the dirt road and along the cornfield. The tassels of the cornstalks blow in the wind and crunch as the dried leaves crack against each other. The air is cool this morning, the slight bite of fall making its appearance early. Or maybe it isn’t early, and this is just how Wisconsin does things. I don’t know.
Roman ends up beside me, with Nora on my other side. Harper stays a few paces ahead of us. She’s wearing a jean jumper today and her pants are wide bell-bottoms that flare at the bottoms of her legs. She’s tall, but Daddy says I’m going to be taller than she is when I grow up.
“You still scared?” Roman asks.
I turn to glare at him.
“What’re you scared about?” Nora turns to look at me with a frown.
I want to grab one of the corn husks and whack him in the face with it.
“I’m not scared.”
I give him my back, because I don't want him to see that I'm lying. I really am scared, but he's a jerk for saying it in front of other people. I nibble on the piece of toast that's now cold and soggy, handing the apple off to Nora. She bites into it easily, the juices wetting the corners of her lips and some of it hits my arms.
"Gross," I mumble, my nose wrinkling up in disgust as I wipe off the small droplets.
"Sorry." Nora wipes her glistening mouth with the back of her hand.
Our school is up ahead, and right across the street is the middle school that Harper will be attending. The grass is damp from the dew, and a bit of a fog still lingers in the air. If I listen hard enough, I might even be able to hear the loon that sings a beautiful tune every morning from across the lake.
It doesn’t take long for us to walk down the quiet road. The sun is up, though it’s not very bright out yet, and soon enough, our feet crunch through the small rocks at the park as we make our way across the street.
Big yellow busses park against the sidewalk by the school, opening their accordion doors, and I watch as a flood of kids in all colors of the rainbow fly down the stairs and into the school.
The nervous feeling tickles my belly again.
A warm hand folds over mine and gives it a tight squeeze. My eyes shoot over and lock with Roman's. His dark brown eyes swirl with a warmth and protectiveness that shouldn't be there at our age. He shouldn't have this nobleness about him. Sometimes it's like he's an old soul. At least, that's what my mom calls it. She tells me that I have an old soul all the time. "You're an old soul, Luna," is what she would say. "I have a feeling you've lived many lives." Then she'd take another hit of her joint before passing it to my dad.
"Don't be scared. I'll see you at lunch and recess." He slides his hand out of mine, but not before giving it one more squeeze.
"You okay, Luna?" Harper walks over to me, her backpack slung over one arm. She's so cool. She knows less people than I do. At least I already have two friends. She doesn't know a single person, yet she looks like she's ready to go inside and conquer the entire school.
I nod at her, feeling less certain than I look, I'm sure.
"I'm going to head inside. Go to the park after school, okay? I'll meet you there and we can walk home together."
I nod at her again, feeling like helium is filling up my brain. My head feels full, and all I can hear around me are the sounds of a bunch of kids who are all great friends and I only know two people.
Harper gives me one last wave before hopping off across the street. Then it's only us three.
"Ready?" Roman asks, his shoulder bumping mine.
"Yeah."
"Let's go."
CHAPTER FOUR
ROMAN
"Everyone is talking about your neighbor, Roman," Flynn says as he scribbles on his Seven Summer list. We really were lucky this year; I have Clyde, Flynn, and Lonnie in class with me. We have Ms. Bierbaum as our teacher. She's about one hundred years old, and my mom had her as a teacher when she was a kid. That's how old she is. Mom says she's a crotchety old hag. I'm not sure what that means, but if it's true, she's going to have a fun time with the four of us this year.
We were all assigned to get in a group and fill out our Seven Summer list. The seven best things we did over the summer. My summer was actually pretty boring, and I'm having a hard time listing enough things to fill the list.
And even worse, I want to list Luna as one of those things on my list.
I look up at Flynn, feeling like he's digging into my thoughts or something. The pencil in my hand is brand new and sharp as a knife. I press it into my thumb until I have a tiny brown dot in the center. I bring it up and rub it across the eraser, frowning at the rough and unmovable pink surface.
Mom bought the crappy pencils this year.
"What are they saying?" I don't need him to tell me, because it's all I've been hearing all day. We went out for recess and I searched her out. She and Nora we
re already playing with Nora's friends. Luna paused in her laughter when she saw me, her face frozen with her cheeks rounded and rosy in the fall breeze. Her silver eyes glimmering in the sun as her black hair tumbled over her shoulder and down to her small waist. She's the most unique person I've ever met, and I've met a lot of weirdos on tour with my dad.
But Luna… Luna is unlike anyone I've ever met before and I don't think I'll meet anyone like her again. It's not just her looks, although those are one of a kind. The way she laughs at my jokes that aren't funny, or the way she isn't afraid to play in the dirt or with frogs and tadpoles like Nora is. Nora can't stand the slimy texture of the wet frogs or the way their little legs bend and extend so quickly. Luna doesn't care, though, not at all.
So, I shouldn't be surprised that the moment she got to school, every person would be just as enamored with her as I have been all summer. But I am surprised, and if I were being honest, I'm jealous too. I want to go back to the summer when it was just us two. The days I couldn't hang out with my friends, and Nora would be too tired and would go inside, and it would just be me and Luna. Those were my favorite times. When the sun would go down and the fireflies would twinkle through the tall weeds near the water. How she could blend in with the night when we'd play past dark, her dark hair melding in with the darkness, except her pale skin made her stand out like milk poured onto the night sky.
"Duncan thinks she's pretty," Lonnie says, flipping his paper upside down so he can doodle on the back.
"Duncan is stupid," I spit the words before I can swallow them down. They ripped from my chest like a vicious hiccup, and all my friends swing their eyes to mine.
"Whoa," Clyde says, pushing his brown hair from his face.
I stand up from my chair. "I have to sharpen my pencil." I walk away before they have a chance to say anything else. Walking across the room, I push the tip of my pencil into the small hole of the sharpener and start cranking the handle. The metal squeaks as it rolls around, and small shavings fall from the bottom and into the small trash bin that's placed beneath. I take longer than I should, and when I pull the pencil out, I see it's so sharp it's unusable. The moment the tip hits paper, it's going to crack.
