His friend looks worried. “She’s really high up, man.”
Orion looks sick. “I know.”
“Say you’re sorry.”
“Fine, whatever. I’m sorry. Please, just come down.”
“And be careful,” his friend adds.
“I’m not a baby.”
“No, I know.” His blond head bobs. “Even big kids can get hurt.”
I start trying to climb down, retracing my way up, but everything seems different. The branches are farther apart now and the wind is blowing harder.
“Come on, Stella!”
I cling to the trunk of the tree, unable to reach the next branch. “I’m stuck.”
“You’re not stuck, you’re just scared. Come down!”
Tears burn my eyes. “I’m stuck!”
“You got up there, I know you can get down.”
My heart feels like it’s going to break free of my chest and fly away, it’s beating so hard. “You can do this,” I whisper to myself, but it’s no use. I can’t reach.
“I’m really stuck,” I say, my tears falling so fast they blur my vision.
“Man, should you go up and get her?”
“No.” I can just barely make out my brother crossing his arms. “She got up there, she can get down.”
“I don’t know…” His friend sounds as scared as I feel.
“Quit being so dramatic and come down!” my brother yells, startling me.
My entire body jolts… my grip loosens… and then… I’m falling.
Twigs and branches scratch me as I plummet, but I can’t grab any of them.
“Stella!” Orion shouts my name as I make impact and everything goes dark.
I wake to the sound of my brother screaming. “You don’t understand! My parents are going to kill me!”
“You should have helped her!” his friend yells from somewhere very close. “Now go get your mom and dad!”
The feeling of cool fingers pushing my hair out of my face has my eyes fluttering open.
“She’s awake!” Without ever taking his eyes off of me, the blond-haired boy shouts at my brother. “Go get your fucking parents! I don’t care if they kill you!”
My eyes widen. He said the F-word. And he’s cradling my head in his lap.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his fingers still stroking my hair.
“Hurts,” I mumble, still crying.
“I’m pretty sure you broke your ankle.”
I try to sit up to look, but he holds me in place. “Don’t move. I don’t want you hurting yourself worse.”
“I want my mom.”
He offers me a sad smile, and I could swear I hear him mumble, me too. “She’ll be here soon. You’ll be okay.”
“Name?” I wanted to say more than that, but my brain and mouth aren’t on the same page. It hurts too much to talk. I just want to sleep.
“Samson, and I need you to keep those pretty blue eyes open, okay?”
“Samson…”
“That’s right. I just moved down the road.”
Through my pain, I try to think of any houses that were for sale, but nothing comes to mind.
He must see my confusion because he says, “I’m living with the Scotts—they’re my foster family.”
I’ve never known anyone in foster care before, but I’ve heard of it. Maybe that’s why he wants his mom too.
For some reason, I want to comfort him the way he is me, and I try to snuggle deeper into his lap, but all I manage to do is set off a new wave of pain.
“Ouch!” I wail, fresh tears falling.
“Stay still, Stella.” He glances toward my bike. “Your parents will be here soon.”
That day was the beginning of the end for my crush on my older brother’s best friend. From there on out, the three of us—much to Orion’s dismay—were inseparable.
Well, mostly. They still did things without me, but Samson insisted on including me a lot of the time.
And whenever I couldn’t tag along—that word quit bothering me after Samson came into the picture—he would always bring me back something from where they went.
My favorite candy from the movies.
A smooth skipping stone from the river.
A quarter-machine bracelet from the mall.
By the time I was ten, I was head over heels in love with the boy—not that he had a clue or felt the same. He was sixteen and the picture of cool.
But even still, he was nice to me. He included me. He never made me feel like a pest.
By twelve, he and I had our own routine—Orion would sneak a girl up to his room, and Samson and I would swing out on the porch. Looking back, it was probably so I didn’t overhear anything I wasn’t supposed to, but during those late nights, we talked about anything and everything…
“What happened to your parents?” I ask, my legs tucked beneath me while Samson pushes the swing back and forth.
“Um.”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me. Mom said I shouldn’t ask—that it’s rude.”
“You’re okay, Luna.” That’s something he’d taken to calling me lately, but he won’t say why. I’m pretty sure Samson Carter has more secrets than the FBI. “It’s just not something I talk about too much.”