The boy’s nostrils flare and his jaw becomes hard, like he’s gritting his teeth. I’m grimacing, thinking it’s going to happen any second now. The boy is going to punch Mr. Adams.
Oh my God, should I do something? Scream? Call for help? Why’s he so mad at him, anyway?
But then the boy turns around, more like spins, and slams the door of the truck shut. He does it so hard and fast that the whole cab shakes; I swear I see the flecks of paint flying off. The sound is like a thunder. A bomb blast. A big bang.
The silence that follows is that much clearer. I can hear Mr. Adams saying something to him - it doesn’t look pleasant - before he strides over to the house angrily, leaving the boy behind.
I can hear my own breaths. I can even hear the boy’s loud breaths. I feel myself shivering, as if I’m cold, which is ridiculous because it’s hot out today. I’m sweating too, but I can’t stop my shaking.
I’m still watching the boy as he stands there lonely, with his fists clenched, looking up at the orange sky, when a loud sound shatters everything. The silence, the tensed peace.
“Evie!”
That’s my mom calling me in a shrill voice.
“Come on, let’s go, Evie,” Sky mumbles and turns back.
But I can’t move. My feet are stuck in the mud; my toes are curled. Because at that exact second when my mom called out my name, the boy snapped his gaze over to me and our eyes met.
My shivering stops and I feel a burst of warmth all over. He’s still angry, judging by the big frown and his narrowed eyes. My heart starts beating really fast. I can feel it in my teeth and on my temple. When his eyes dip to my dust-ridden calves, my heart throbs in there too, and I feel self-conscious. Fisting my dress, I scratch my right calf with the big toe of my left foot.
Okay, so I’m not very presentable at the moment, but you know what? He isn’t either. His shoes are dirty. His black t-shirt has holes all over the neck and his jeans are ripped.
I frown at him, too. Is he judging me? Because if he is then I don’t like him and I like everyone.
In the dying sunlight, I can’t see the minor details of his face but I swear I see him… melt. Not like ice-cream but, sort of go loose. His frown has completely disappeared and his lips kinda move. Twitching into a crooked smile.
“Evangeline Elizabeth Hart, get back here right now,” my mom calls out again.
“Darn it,” I mutter under my breath. My mom is really, really mad. Full name is reserved for emergencies.
With one last look at the new boy, who I still think is sort of smiling at me for some reason, I turn back and start running. Sky is already at my porch, standing away from my mom. They are not big fans of each other.
As my mom is dragging me inside the house, I turn back and find him standing at the same spot. He’s only an outline from here.
An outline with golden hair and black t-shirt, and a backpack against the orange sky.
We live in a place called Prophetstown in Iowa. It’s a small town where everyone knows everyone, with open, lush corn fields and broad skies. It’s the sort of place where you’ll want to walk around barefoot and be outside all the time with loose, uncombed hair. That’s how I justify not wanting to wear shoes and not wanting to braid my hair.
There are two things that define this town: our church, the tallest and oldest building, and the legend. The legend of David Adams and Delilah Evans. Well, people don’t call it that but that’s what I’ve named it.
Years back, David and Delilah loved each other. No one knew about their affair until Delilah turned up pregnant, and then all hell broke loose. They locked up Delilah because she was such a bad girl. I’ve heard the word slut associated with her. They were going to put David in jail, too. But somehow, they both got away before that could happen. I’m not sure how it all went down but since then people hate them, like, a lot. They are probably the most hated people after the devil.
I’ve heard my mom say that after they skipped town, Mr. Adams, David’s dad sort of wasted away and then died a couple of years later. It was such a shock to an upstanding citizen of the town, who had raised his kids all alone after his wife passed away from cancer. My mom says he was really well-liked and look what those monsters did to him. After Mr. Adams died, Peter Adams, David’s brother and Mr. Adams’s other son, sort of became withdrawn and started keeping to himself.