by Orchid Leigh
“Peter, this is Millie. I’m sorry. I may have told her a little about you.”
I hadn’t really been serious with my apology and was surprised to see Peter roll frustrated eyes at me before turning back to Millie.
“Hi, nice to meet you.” He smiled at Millie politely and nodded to Dad. “Sir,” he said.
“Call me Jim,” Dad said.
I opened the fridge and pulled out the leftover Chinese food. I threw it in the microwave, then grabbed some forks from the drawer. “Is it okay if we hang out in my room?” I asked.
“Absolutely not!” boomed Dad.
“Okay, okay!” I said, stepping off the toes I hadn’t meant to stomp on.
Dad narrowed his gaze sternly. “Your room is in the attic, Ellie. He will never see your room.”
“They’re just kids, Jim,” said Millie, trying to help us out.
“Nope. Not gonna happen.” Dad was shaking his head.
“We’ll just hang out in the living room?” I questioned, unsure now if this would be okay.
“That’s better,” said Dad. “You staying for dinner, Peter?”
“No, I don’t want to be any trouble, but thanks.”
“No trouble,” said Dad.
“Oh, come on, stay!” I pleaded. Peter met me with rolled eyes again, but this time they just looked tired and were back to being sad.
I turned to Dad and Millie. “We’ll let you guys know.”
The microwave dinged, and I pulled out the food.
“All right,” said Dad. “There’ll be plenty if you want.”
“Yeah, I’m making my famous shepherd’s pie,” said Millie. “There’s going to be too much for us—there always is. I can wrap some up for your mom, too. We’ll just end up tossing it.”
“Thanks, yeah, that’d be great,” said Peter.
~
“I didn’t come here looking for handouts,” huffed Peter. He slumped onto the couch in a puff of steam.
“Wow,” I said. I was stopped in a squat with my knees bent, just about to sit beside him.
I stared down at Peter on the couch. He was folded over his knees with his hands—clenched and stressed—grabbing tightly at his messy hair.
I finished sitting and put the food on the coffee table.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. His voice was low and muffled and I could barely hear it, but I did.
I nudged him with my elbow. “It’s okay.”
He sniffed. I pulled out a tissue from a box on the end table and tucked it under his arm.
“I can just go,” he said, grabbing at the tissue. He sat up and leaned against the couch. “I shouldn’t have come over like this.”
“Don’t go. You can be like this. It’s fine.”
He smiled at me weakly, then stared off somewhere far.
“Was it what Millie said?” I asked.
His red eyes rolled up a little. “Not really.”
“She’s like my mom, Peter. You can’t get mad at me for talking to her.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said. “I’m not. It’s just . . .”
“What?”
He struggled to meet my eyes.
“What?” I repeated.
“What about at school?” he asked finally. He shifted back to his knees and stared at the floor.
“What about school?”
“I suppose you’ve been talking about me at school, too?” he mumbled at the ground.
“No,” I said to the back of his head. “No, I haven’t. They don’t even know I know you.”
Peter sat up, staring at me with narrowed eyes. “Really?” he asked like he didn’t believe me.
I shot my head back a little, offended that he’d think I was lying.
“Sorry,” he said. “It’s just I saw you with Bethany and Jenny at Carle’s last week and I just thought . . . I don’t know.” He pressed his hands to his eyes and let out a weary sigh. “Sorry, I’ve kinda been in my own head, and I forgot how nice you were and—” He glanced at me and stopped.
I was glaring at him.
“What?” he asked.
“You saw me in town? And you didn’t say anything?”
“I’m sorry. I can’t talk to them. And I didn’t want to embarrass you.” He looked at me apologetically.
I shook my head at him. “Didn’t we talk about this already?”
He shrugged and closed his eyes. He fell back against the couch and was quiet.
“No,” I said.
He opened them again and met my gaze. “No?”
I was shaking my head. “Yeah. No. If we’re going to be friends, you can’t keep doing that. I’m not embarrassed by you, so get over it. You know I thought you were going to be at school, right?” He looked up, thinking about that. “Yeah,” I said. “And I wish you were there.”
“Yeah?” he asked, sounding hopeful.
“God yeah.” I sighed. “School kind of sucks. Do you think your mom would let you come?”
Peter laughed. “No thanks,” he said, laughing again. “But thanks.”
A feeble smile pulled on his lips, but he looked down again, and it faded.
“Here,” I said, moving the food across the coffee table. I handed him a fork. “Eat. You’ll feel better.”
~
“So is the unicorn the only thing I missed?” asked Peter with a bite of noodles.
I chewed on my food, trying to think. “Um . . . well, you missed my broken foot.”
“No, I was there for that.”
“You didn’t get to see the ugly brace, though.”
“Oh really? Sorry,” said Peter, glancing down at my stockinged feet. “It looks better now.”
I smiled at him. “Yeah, it’s better.”
I put my food down and crossed my legs on the couch. I bit my lip tentatively, staring at him. “So why were you gone?” I asked. I knew he wasn’t going to want to talk about it, but I also got the feeling I would never know if I didn’t ask.
He sighed and put down his food. “Ah . . . well, my dad’s an ass, basically,” he said.
“Do you want to elaborate?”
Peter slumped back on the couch. It took him a minute. “Um . . . so it was that night after I left here, actually,” he said, glancing over at me. “I was babysitting my little brother, and my dad showed up totally wasted. He’s been gone for months . . . and he just shows up out of nowhere.
“Anyway, he was yelling and trying to take Liam. I didn’t know what to do, so I called the cops and . . . well, he had Liam in the car when the cops arrived, and he got arrested.
“And then they opened an investigation on my mom. I don’t even know why, but we had to stay at my grandma’s for a couple of weeks. She lives a few hours away, so that’s where I’ve been, mostly.”
“Damn,” I said. I stared at the tissue clenched tightly in Peter’s hands, still taking in the loaded story. “So you weren’t purposely avoiding me this whole time?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood.
He laughed. “No, that I was not.” He smiled weakly. “And sorry about tonight. It’s just . . . my mom’s been such a mess. I had to get out of there. I didn’t know I was going to be like this.”
“It’s okay,” I said. Peter’s doubtful eyes rolled up. “Really . . . you’re fine.” I slumped on the couch beside him and bumped his shoulder with mine. “And I’m sorry. That all sucks.”
“Thanks,” he said, bumping me back. He closed his eyes again.
I observed him for a second, trying to think of something to get his mind off things. I got up and grabbed the PlayStation controllers from the TV stand. “I hope you like Fortnite,” I said, handing him the controller.
~
Peter and I played games until dinner. Then we sat on the floor, eating at the coffee table while we watched a movie.
I gave him control of the remote and laughed when he got excited over an anime Godzilla movie he found on Netflix. It was in Japanese with English subtitles, and it took all my concentration to follo
w along and eat my dinner at the same time.
I was fixated on the screen when Peter gently poked my hand with his fork. “Earth to Ellie.”
I turned to him, not realizing I’d been lost in a world of spaceships and monsters for a while.
“I should probably get going,” he said.
“Oh really?” I put my fork down, frowning. “What time is it?”
“I don’t know. Late, I think.”
“Can’t you stay a little longer?”
He smiled at me, then moved to the couch and lay down. “I’ll stay until your dad kicks me out.”
I got up and pulled the throw over him, then sat cross-legged at the opposite end. Peter stretched out his feet and tucked them under mine, and something soft fluttered in my stomach.
We continued to watch the movie in silence for a while. Then, out of nowhere, Peter turned to me. “Thanks,” he said with a yawn.
I stared at him, confused. “What are you thanking me for?”
“Just, you know, for today, for being here.” He paused. “For being so nice.”
I smiled. “I told you you can trust me.”
“Yeah,” he said, his eyes drooping. “I’m starting to see that.” Another yawn escaped him.
“Are you tired?”
“Nah, I’m okay. I’m just resting.” His eyes closed at that, and I thought he had dropped off. “Hey, Ellie,” said Peter, his eyes still closed. “You’re perfect, ya know?”
I laughed. “Was that the cheesy thing you wanted to tell me from before?”
“Something like that,” he said with a sleepy smile.
I laughed again, tossing a pillow at him. He grabbed it and hugged it tight to his chest, still smiling.
The living room door swung open. It was Dad.
“Ellie, it’s gettin’ late.”
I glanced at Peter, who was now drifting away somewhere in dreamland. “Can he stay?” I asked.
Dad grappled for a moment with the decision. He looked at the sleeping Peter, then back to me with a reluctant nod. “You better get off to bed, though.”
I got up and spread the blanket more evenly across Peter. “Night, Peter,” I said and patted his head.
12
“Hey, Ellie!”
Somewhere in the distance, someone was calling my name. I slowly drifted up, back to my bed, and into my room.
It was morning. Bright sunlight was shining at me through my window. My sleep had been deep and sound, and it took a moment for last night to come back to me, but then I remembered—Peter was back, and he was here. A smile bloomed on my face.
“Hey, Ellie! Wake up!”
“Just a second!” I hurried out of bed. Peter was standing by my door at the bottom of the stairs. “What are you doing up here? My dad!”
“He said it was okay, as long as I don’t go up there. Now, come on! I need to show you something.”
“All right, all right. I’ll be down in a second!”
I pulled some clothes from my drawer and quickly got dressed. I moved to the mirror and ran a comb through my hair. I licked my hand and tried to tame a pesky piece, then frowned at my results. Oh well. It would have to do. I popped a stick of gum into my mouth, then paused to center my new candy necklace. I smiled and hurried down the stairs.
Peter was waiting for me at the bottom.
“Hey, Peter. You’re at my house,” I said, awkwardly stating the obvious.
“Yeah.” He laughed. “Thanks for letting me stay and uh . . . for putting up with me last night.”
“No problem,” I said, playfully punching his shoulder. “So what do you have to show me?”
“I found one.” There was a cute glint in his eyes.
“What? Really?” My mouth fell open. Peter smiled, big and happy. He grabbed my hand. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
~
“Just over here.”
Peter led me to the side of the barn where the snow had receded a little. He pointed at some frozen mud, but there was nothing to see. I was about to tell him we had just checked this spot yesterday when he moved and changed the position of his shadow.
In the sunlight, I could distinctly make out the curved shape of a very large hoofprint. I squatted down to get a better look. Peter knelt beside me.
“So it was real,” I said faintly. “This is unbelievable! And this definitely isn’t a deer’s track?”
“No. No way. Deer have cloven hooves. They’d be much smaller than this, anyway. Not a moose, either. And if it’s a horse, it’s a pretty big horse.”
“This is crazy, huh?” I asked, trying to make sense of it.
“Yep. Nuts,” he agreed.
Well, that was good. At least I could hang on to the fact that we both agreed this was absolutely and irrefutably bonkers.
I looked at Peter with a big grin I couldn’t hold back.
~
“When can you come over?” I asked Peter. He was sitting at the kitchen island, munching on a bowl of cereal.
He shrugged. “Whenever,” he said with a bite.
“So, Saturday?”
“Sure.”
I had decided a stakeout was in order. We would conceal ourselves in a tent while luring the creature in with food. The perfect plan.
We were strategizing in the kitchen. I was, at least. Peter seemed more interested in the cereal box on the counter in front of him. I opened the fridge to check for carrots—nothing.
“Millie!” I shouted across the house. “Do we have any carrots?” I opened the vegetable crisper, but everything was green.
“No, I don’t think so, hon,” Millie called back from the living room.
“That’s okay,” I said to the room because Peter wasn’t paying attention to me anymore. “It’s better if they’re fresh,” I decided as I continued to talk to the kitchen. I turned to Peter. “Can you pick some up on your way over?”
“What?”
“The carrots!” I kind of shouted.
“Mmkay,” he said, grinning at me with a mouth full of milky Cheerios.
13
We spent the rest of the week planning for the stakeout. There really wasn’t much to it, so we just met each day with the plan to plan, then hung out and played video games instead. I waited for Peter at the lake the following Saturday—the day of the Secret Unicorn Mission. That was what I was calling it.
The spring days kept bouncing back and forth between cold and a little less cold, and the ice on the lake was holding firm. I was standing at the end of the dock, staring at the frozen water wistfully, wishing I could jump in.
“Boo,” called Peter from behind me.
“Hey,” I said, turning to face him. I had heard him creeping up. “Did you get them?”
“What?”
“The carrots!” I scolded impatiently.
Peter lifted the two drinks he was holding—they weren’t carrots. “Sorry, I forgot,” he said, handing me a drink.
I shook my head with a smile; he did look sorry. “That’s okay. We can still go. Do you want to head over now?”
Peter nodded, and we started toward the street.
I took a sip of the hot drink. “Where did you get hot chocolate?”
“The diner,” he said. “My mom’s working.”
“Oh.” I took another sip. “What about Liam?”
“He’s staying at my grandmother’s so my mom can work. The weekends are busier. Better tips.”
“Hey, I can babysit if she needs a babysitter,” I suggested. “She wouldn’t need to pay me.”
Peter shook his head. “No way. I found you first.”
“Oh, come on. I really want to meet your family . . . especially your cute baby brother.”
Peter was still shaking his head. “It wouldn’t work. Your dad wouldn’t even let you over there without my mom, and then I’d have to go to your house to prove I wasn’t there. It wouldn’t make any sense. We would just be swapping houses.”
“You got to let me meet them someday.”
“I know,” Peter said with a sulk.
We passed the diner on our way to Carle’s, but I didn’t mention going in to see his mom like I wanted to.
We entered the store and found the microscopic produce section. I spotted the carrots and picked up a bag.
“What about apples?” suggested Peter.
“Do you think they like apples?”
“Honestly, I don’t know,” he said.
“If it’s not a horse . . . maybe it doesn’t eat what horses eat.” This was just occurring to me.
“Yeah,” said Peter. “But it’s our best bet, right?”
“Right,” I agreed.
Peter picked up the big bag of way too many apples. “Do you think this will be enough?” he asked dryly.
I laughed. “Hey, if this doesn’t work, I can make an apple pie. Oh, or apple crisp!” I exclaimed, getting excited about the idea.
“Ah, man, I love apple crisp,” said Peter. He put a hand to his stomach. “You can’t say apple crisp in front of me.”
“Well, now I know what I’m going to do with the apples,” I said with a laugh.
We found our way to the register and were waiting in line when someone called my name. I turned around. Bethany and Jenny were walking up to me with two girls from school whom I recognized from math class.
“Oh, hey, guys,” I said.
“Hey, Ellie,” said Bethany with a sideways glance at Peter. “What are you up to today?”
The two girls from math stared in Peter’s direction. One girl leaned into the other and whispered something in her ear and they both giggled. I glared at them.
“Me and Peter are hanging out,” I said.
Peter had fallen behind and was excluding himself from the circle that had now formed. I took a step back to include him.
“Do you guys know Peter?” I asked, giving him a friendly pat on the back.
“Yeah, Peter Evans,” said Jenny. “You used to go to my church. Hi.”
“Hey,” said Peter, glancing up at Jenny shyly.
“So how do you two know each other?” asked Bethany, scanning Peter with an unapproving eye.
I crossed my arms and scowled at her. I didn’t like the way she was looking at him, and I didn’t care for her condescending tone, either.
