Wow. Families were complicated. All these people involved in your life every day. Watching you. Hearing you. Seeing you.

  It seemed complicated… Almost as complicated as not seeing someone. Conversations with my dad—in the tiny event that one happened—were a practice in not saying anything upsetting. The biggest problem was I had no idea what “upsetting” ever was.

  “Is running what you do, Amy?” Thomas asked.

  “And she paints.”

  All the blood rushed from my head leaving me dizzy. I flattened my hands on the table on either side of my plate. I’d never shown my work to anyone but Mrs. Cleary and just the idea was enough to make me pitch over backwards. Trust me, college apps for art school were a bit of a challenge without a portfolio.

  Luke glanced down at my hand stretched out tight, resting next to his, and his gaze rose to my face. “She’s really good.”

  I closed my eyes, waiting for… something. I don’t know what. Sharing things, showing myself, had never been easy. Then, as I was left more and more to myself it became down right hard. But, as I sat there waiting, nothing happened. No one gasped or pointed or laughed. And then I realized what he’d said and I opened my eyes.

  “How do you know?” I asked, forcing my hands to uncurl and relax. “You didn’t see my stuff.”

  “Oh. I might have looked around a little while you packed up. There might have been a couple of things sitting out with your name on them.” His ears flushed pink and I had to wonder if the heat was getting to him or he was blushing. “And they were. Good, I mean.”

  We sat there, him seeing me and me finally starting to see him when his mother slapped the table.

  “This is perfect.” Mrs. Parker nearly leapt up. “Amy, can you come in the house and tell me which colors go with the carpet? We don’t want to tear it up so I need to pick a new sofa covering and I have a horrible eye for these things.”

  Before I knew what had happened, I was in the Parker’s oversized living room struggling to see the rug through the piles of books, games, toys, and sporting equipment I couldn’t even identify. Mrs. Parker moved things around, opening shades and turning on lights. She showed me all sorts of ideas weighing each one against the damage four boys—five if she counted her husband—could do.

  The afternoon started to slip by without me noticing, when a rap came on the back window.

  “Mom! We need Amy!” Thomas shouted. “She’s going to be on my Scrabble team!”

  Chapter 12

  I blinked against the bright sunshine as I stepped out onto the porch where a mini-Parker waited for me.

  “You can call me Tom.”

  “What?” Luke stopped, his hands going to his hips as he stared down at his littlest brother. “You won’t let any of us call you Tom.”

  Tom shrugged. “I like Amy.”

  He tipped that tiny smile up at me and I thought for a moment how great it would be to have little brothers. Catching the looks from the rest of the guys, I amended that to one little brother.

  “She’s so much better than Katie,” Tom finished.

  Luke’s smile slipped away. Laying a hand on Tom’s shoulder, he turned his full attention on the youngest Parker.

  “Buddy, walk with me over to the tire swing.” Luke led Tom away, the little guy looking worried, glancing over his shoulder as they went.

  “Heads up, Amy!”

  I turned in time to catch the football Jared threw at me, a helpful brotherly distraction if I’d ever seen one. Which I hadn’t but, whatever.

  Fumbling to get a good hold on it, I walked it back to him instead of humiliating myself with a three-foot short toss. Jared avoided my gaze as I approached and took the ball. If awkward were a paint, he’d be covered in it.

  Might as well get it over with.

  “Who’s Katie?”

  Jared glanced at Justin, the two of them looking pained in a weird, identical way.

  “It doesn’t matter, you know,” I said, trying to put them at ease. Instead, they just looked more worried.

  Jared rolled his neck, looking at the sky as he spoke. “Katie was the girl Luke was kind of seeing a little before we moved here.”

  Justin nodded… whether in agreement of the facts or the wording, who knows? Both stood there looking behind me every so often, letting the moment draw out, waiting for me to say something. Jared staring at the clouds, Justin at his feet.

  “I’m kind of seeing someone,” I finally said when the comfort level didn’t seem to be heading back in the right direction.

  Jared’s head whipped down and he looked at me again fully… that deep stare his brother did so often. “Really?”

  “Yeah,” I said, as my day ripped back over me.

  In that flash of a moment, I saw Chris driving away with Cheryl, leaving me rideless at school. Luke’s face as he tried to mask his pity when Ben mentioned the party and my missing it. But then I saw Chris as he leaned in to brush his lips across mine.

  Luke was wrong. There had to be a good reason Chris told Ben I couldn’t go to the party. He probably thought about how much I hate crowds. How much easier it was for us to just hang out alone.

  Coming here had been a much better idea than going home to think it all over by myself. But now that’s where I needed to be.

  “Tell Luke not to worry about it. I need to get my run in. And I have stuff to do.”

  I headed toward the house, raising my hand in farewell to Luke and Tom as I hit the back porch steps. Justin leapt all three in one.

  “Amy, stop. Jared was right. It wasn’t anything serious with Katie. Luke kind of got sucked into seeing her and he didn’t know how to escape without hurting her feelings. Then we were moving so he let it play out.”

  His words stopped me halfway across the deck.

  I couldn’t believe Luke would toy with some poor girl like that. That was horrible. Guys were always looking for the easy out. Looking for what’s best for them. Did he measure her feelings for him as they hung out knowing it would be a hard emotional break when he left? The only thing in that plan’s favor was Luke didn’t have to be the bad guy.

  “Listen.” I could hear the annoyance slipping into my voice and tried to adjust. It wasn’t Justin’s fault his brother turned out to be a typical guy. “Thanks and all. I know you’re trying to make something look better than it is. And while I think that’s a crappy way to deal with a girl’s feelings, it doesn’t matter. I told you, I’m kind of seeing someone. Luke and I are just friends.”

  “I swear —”

  I put my hand on his arm to stop him. “Honestly, Justin. And this was just a reminder that I had stuff happen today that I have to take care of. Tell Luke I’ll see him at tryouts.”

  I peeked my head in the living room as I went by. “Thank you for lunch, Mrs. Parker. I really appreciated being included.”

  “Are you leaving?” Mrs. Parker dropped a pillow and came toward me. “We loved having you here. Come back as often as you like.”

  Before I knew it, I was wrapped in a warm mom-hug and counting the seconds until she let go, afraid this would be the final straw that had me in tears after everything else.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled, trying to remain polite. I rushed through the front door, hoping Tom still held Luke in Twenty Question Land.

  I made it further than I should have, considering Luke and those manners—and that stubborn streak. I was almost to the little bridge when I heard the truck behind me and sped up as if making it across would stop him from coming.

  Luke pulled up beside me, the rev of the old engine blurring out his words. “Amy! Get in the truck.”

  “I’m almost home. I’m getting my run in.”

  “You aren’t getting your run in. You’re running away. Get in the damn truck.”

  My head whipped up, the shock of hearing Mr. Manners curse throwing off my stride and tripping me up. My toe caught the edge of the bridge and before I knew it, I was face down, my hands bleeding and splinter-kissed.

  I rolled to sit, braced my back against the bridge’s truss, my head bumping the bottom of the rail. Dirt and pebbles covered my palms hiding the damage.

  “Amy?” Luke squatted in front of me, the truck idling behind him.

  I glanced up at him, angry, annoyed, sad, and thankful all swirled into one.

  “Come on,” he said, wrapping his hand around my wrist and pulling me to my feet. “Now will you let me take you home?”

  I let him tuck me into the pickup and buckle me in. Leaning my head against the cool glass, I watched the trees go by, wondering how I could have spent so much time in this truck in the last couple of days. In front of the cottage, Luke turned the engine off and I waited for him to come around and open my door, for once glad of the manners his mom had driven into him.

  He grabbed my bag off the floor and carried it with him to the front door.

  “It’s unlocked.”

  He turned the knob as though he didn’t believe me. “You come home at night to a dark, empty, secluded, unlocked house?”

  “Well, when you put it like that…”

  He shook his head and found his way to the kitchen. Pushing me into a chair, he filled a bowl with warm soapy water. The bowl made a heavy thud-swash sound as he set it down on the table with the dishtowel, making me feel like a guest in my own home. With a light touch, he took my left hand in his and began tugging the pebbles out.

  The moment was so still—so oddly intimate—and I hoped that now, with just the two of us, I could make him understand.

  “It isn’t what you think,” I said. “The Chris stuff.”

  I tried to bite back the words, angry at feeling the need to defend my actions. Especially to someone who in all likelihood had a girl somewhere else who still considered herself taken.

  He nodded. Not in agreement, just a general nod.

  And didn’t that just tick me off?

  “It isn’t. You just have this really bad opinion of him.” I flinched as he dug a rock out of my palm. “He isn’t always that competitive guy you see.”

  I waited for Luke to raise his head, to look at me, even if the challenge in his eyes wasn’t one I wanted to face. He just kept digging things that belonged in nature—not in skin—out of my hand.

  “And, I mean, who are you to judge when you’ve left some girl thinking she has a boyfriend? Your brothers told me you didn’t have the guts to break it off with her.”

  The towel swept over my hand again as he asked, “Is that what you think Chris is doing? Not telling you you’re not his girlfriend?”

  How did he do that? How did he turn everything back on me, back to me? Couldn’t he see I was being Take Control Girl and asking the questions here? And anyway, what did I care about Luke and his maybe-girlfriend? Fine.

  Before I knew it, the words were pouring out, justifying, answering.

  “When I was eleven, we’d just moved here and things were… things were bad. And Brian Murphy picked on me all the time. Chris stood up for me when I needed a friend. When no one else would. He was… nice.”

  There was no way I was going to tell him how un-nice everyone—everything—else had been.

  Luke’s head was lowered, the dark lashes closed in on his eyes, but I could have sworn he rolled them. I’d recognize my signature move anywhere.

  “I know he’s gotten a little self-centered, but you can’t tell me a bad guy would have done that. And then we worked together this summer at the Rec Center, and I thought ‘this is my chance for him to see me again.’ And he did.”

  My skin heated in an all over blush and I wondered if my hand warmed in Luke’s. And still he didn’t look up. He carefully swept the damp towel back and forth over my palm, clearing away dirt that was no longer there.

  I wanted to stop talking. To keep it all to myself. But I needed this one person to understand. This person who saw me when I was invisible, before I morphed into this hazy, nearly discernible self.

  “The more time I spent around him, the more attention he gave me until it was just the two of us each night talking. It was his idea for me to be the stats girl so we could keep hanging out.”

  Luke dipped the rag in the bowl and rung it out before attacking the dirt on my other hand.

  “He has this plan—”

  Luke snorted. The first thing he’d said, and it wasn’t even a word.

  “He does.” I wasn’t stopping now. I couldn’t stop. “It’s a good plan. To get into Monroe State, he needs to be really well rounded since he’s not top of the class—an alum basically made him a list. So he needs to win things like Homecoming king and stuff. And he knew he’d have to have the right girlfriend to do that.”

  I looked away, down at the floor and thought about how not the right girlfriend I was for that.

  “And so, he’s kind of seeing Cheryl for, like, you know, the proper image. Like JFK marrying Jackie.”

  Luke stood so quickly he knocked the chair over backward. He stared long and hard into my eyes, that same wordless searching look he’d given me the first day—only anger washed over me this time. And then he threw down the rag. It hit the edge of the bowl and splashed water over the side.

  “He isn’t good for you. He’s using you for something and you’re letting him. I don’t care what he did in fifth grade. He’s an ass. And you’re a blind fool.”

  Before I could say anything, Luke kicked the chair out of his way and stormed out of the house, slamming the front door as he went. I waited, listening to the sound of his truck as it sped down the drive, and knew that maybe sharing the story wasn’t the best idea I’d had that day.

  # # #

  As I sat staring at the door that had fallen shut behind Luke, my phone text sounded.

  Sorry about today. Lunch was dull without you. See you tomorrow.

  I wondered if that was supposed to make me feel better. I wasn’t invited to a dull party.

  I hit my speed dial hoping I’d finally be able to get some Rachel time on the phone.

  “You’ve reached the middle of nowhere. Leave a message after the beep.”

  BEEP.

  “Where are you? Seriously-seriously.” I looked down at my wrapped hands. “Luke and I had this huge fight about Chris and he has this girlfriend that he didn’t even bother to break up with before he moved here—Luke not Chris—and he—Luke—said I’m a fool and I don’t know what to do because he feels the same way about Chris that you do and now he said he’s using me—Chris not Luke—and you aren’t here and my dad is MIA and tryouts are going really badly. I think they’re going to kill each other and Coach said that if I—”

  BEEP

  “Your message has exceeded the maximum time. To re-record, press one.”

  “Arg!” I threw the phone down, almost as disgusted at myself as the cell service and its stupid time limits.

  I was tempted to pick up the phone again just so I could throw it across the room, but I’d either break it or a window with my luck. Instead, I threw myself across my bed and did my best not to become a pouty-pouting girl. But everything was just… too much.

  Luke and his pushy, bossy, all-seeing ways. Chris and his not so all-seeing density. The run, the argument, the little Parkers. But the thing that kept running through my head every time I thought of Luke storming out on me, the thing that had me lying on my bed wanting to cry, was that warm, safe mom-hug from Mrs. Parker.

  Sometimes a girl just wanted her mom.

  Chapter 13

  The last time I’d had my mom was my most beautiful memory. The moment in my life I felt the most love at one time—in one place—from one person.

  The last time I’d had my mom was also the absolutely most gut wrenching memory I could recall. Well, except for the betrayal of losing my dad, too.

  It was only five quick months after that spring day they told me. School had started and Indian summer was slipping into fall. I know now that my mom’s words that day weren’t just a good-bye. They were that hug she’d known I’d need over and over once she was gone.

  ###

  “Amy-girl.” My dad still called me that then. Even after Mom got really sick… which was only two months after The Picnic. We didn’t even get to keep her with us for most of that time.

  And so there he was, standing in my doorway, a bag in one hand, my jacket in the other. “Ready?”

  I hadn’t wanted to be ready. I’d wanted to stay in my room and pretend things were the same as they were last spring. I wanted to ignore everything and close my eyes and wait for my mom’s gentle tap on the door telling me to get ready for school.

  Instead, I reached for my jacket and gave my dad a quick hug before following him out to the car.

  We drove in silence to the hospice. Neither of us turned on the radio, each holding our thoughts in our heads. Like we’d closed out the real world and all its issues.

  “Grab the blanket from the trunk, sweetheart.”

  I threw a glance in my dad’s direction, still having no idea what the plan was. But, this didn’t seem like the day to argue.

  We passed by the front desk and the nurse gave us a smile and a nod. One thing I’d noticed weeks ago—the worse Mom did, the less people talked to you. Even the nurses gave you more room. Like you needed it to carry your sorrow around with you.

  In my mom’s room, everything felt smaller, quieter. Even my dad’s typically booming voice had dropped seventeen decibels when he greeted her.

  I crossed to the other side of the bed and carefully wrapped my arms around her, inhaling the scent of her.

  “Sweetheart, Amy-girl and I have a surprise for you.”

  She glanced my way and I couldn’t help but smile. “It’s a surprise for me too.”

  “Amy-girl, spread that blanket out. Careful though.”