The Truth About Us

Standing, her legs trembled under her weight. A lock of dark hair blew in her eyes, obscuring her vision. “Hello?”

The figure lifted something large in front of their body. She couldn’t make out the shape, but the clinking continued, so she pushed her shoulders back, bracing herself, and calling louder. “Hello?”

The shadow froze, and she felt, rather than saw, the figure’s gaze on her.

Her mouth turned to sawdust as she took a step forward, wondering if this was some kind of trap but reminding herself to be brave. Despite her self-assurance, nothing could quell her tangled nerves. Not even the knowledge her grandmother would never put her in harm’s way.

She swallowed hard, her throat raw, as the figure stepped forward until the light of the moon illuminated the face. Abby made out the square jawline, the large eyes blinking at her in the night, set deep in a handsome face. “The park’s closed. You shouldn’t be here.”

The baritone of his soft voice reverberated through her chest.

“Neither should you.” He stepped closer until his features became clearer and recognition flickered through her head. “Do I know you?”

The boy squinted, then nodded. “We go to school together. I’m Kaden Oliver. You’re Abigail, right? We have chem and calculus together.”

Abby didn’t move as she stared at him with narrowed eyes. Was that the only place she knew him from?

“Why are you here?” Abby asked. For the first time, her eyes shifted to the large object she had seen in the dark. A garbage bag—the source of the clinking.

She relaxed her shoulders, the tension draining from her muscles and leaving behind an exhausting combination of relief and fatigue.

“Um, I collect the trash at the park. It’s sort of a side job, but I couldn’t get down here this morning, so...” He shrugged. “I heard about your grandma. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“How’d you hear about that?”

“You weren’t in class, and the teachers told us—”

“Why do people always say that?”

“Say what?” he asked.

“Why do people always say they’re sorry for someone’s loss when they die? I mean, you didn’t know her, right? So, what do you have to be sorry about? And if you did know her, then you may as well be saying sorry to yourself, which is just...weird.”

He shifted on his feet, one hand gripping the giant trash bag while the other hung uselessly at his side. He blinked his big, round eyes, and Abby found herself wondering what color they were. She couldn’t tell in the dark.

“Um...I think it’s just supposed to mean that you’re sorry someone is sad. Like, sorry for your loss. No one wants to go through this. Someone dying sucks. We’ve all been there. What else is there to say?”

“True.” She glanced away from him, back toward the entrance of the park and the still-empty lot. “So, the trash is the only reason you’re here?” she asked, though she couldn’t imagine he had anything to give her.

“Yeah.” He drug the word out like she was slow.

With a sigh, she turned back toward the swings. His company eased the edge of fear coating the back of her throat and took her mind off her reasons for being there in the first place, but talking to him was pointless. Abby had come for a reason, and she needed to find out what that reason was.

“Hey, I can give you a ride home if you want. You live close by, and I’m only a few minutes from here.”

She turned and narrowed her eyes. “How do you know where I live?”

“Um, I don’t know. I just do, I guess.” He shrugged. “You want a ride?”

“No. I’m good.”

“Well, the park’s closed.”

Abby sighed and spun around. Her mouth pinched into a tight line of annoyance as she glared at him. “I know. You’ve already mentioned that. But I’m supposed to be meeting someone here, so if you’d finish collecting your trash and run along, I could get this over with and be on my way.”

“Who are you meeting?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you always this nosy?”