“What is this?” I asked Jonathon from the passenger seat of Molly’s blue minivan
Jonathon should have looked ridiculous driving such a sedated ‘mom’ vehicle, but he was cool enough to pull it off. The way he rested his left forearm on the window, his right wrist leaning casually over the steering wheel, dark eyes obscured by pitch black Ray Bans I wasn’t sure where he’d gotten the money to buy. He was the epitome of a nonchalant bad boy from tip to toe.
“This is the home of The Fallen MC, Li, and it’s gonna be my home soon as they let me fully patch-in. And what’d I say before?”
“Mi casa es tu casa,” I replied hesitantly.
“Better believe it,” he agreed before the gates slid open and we started to roll onto the property.
We pulled into a spot beside the garage, and when I opened the door, the scent of hot asphalt and motor oil hit my nose, undercut by the briny tang from the ocean flowing beyond the lot. I could feel the heat of the concrete beneath my purple flipflops as they slapped back to my heels, and the air was waxy against my skin as I moved through it.
It was hot for autumn, the lingering summer unwilling to yield to the impending winter winds and frozen rains. But I loved the feel of the sun on my skin, so I tipped my head to the sky and didn’t complain even when Jonathon tugged my hand to lead me toward the playground area.
There was a girl there, hidden among the greenery, sitting on a green slide with a monster painted on it, tongue extended the length of the plastic. She had bright, streaky blond hair tangled and matted by the breeze. It was so shiny, so blonde, I wanted to touch it and see if it was real.
“Who’s that?” I whispered to Jonathon.
He followed my gaze to the girl and grinned. “Hey, Harleigh Rose, you wanna come meet my girl, Lila?”
The girl stirred from her half-lounge on the slide and popped a headphone out of her ear. She studied me for a long moment, eyes squinted but obviously a true blue even from a distance.
“She cool?” she yelled back. “’Cause I don’t got time for nonsense. You know?”
Jonathon chuckled under his breath, leading me to the edge of the garden. “I think she’s pretty fuckin’ cool, but why don’t I let you be the judge’a that while I go find your Dad.”
She nodded somberly, eyes scraping over my jean shorts and lavender peasant blouse. Molly let me pick out my own clothes, and I found I liked vintage stuff best, so we’d go just us girls to find cool treasures at the second-hand shops in town.
I worried that compared to Harleigh Rose’s Guns N Roses tee, leather boots, and black, torn jean shorts, I looked like a prissy little girl in comparison, but she only pursed her lips and nodded.
“Yeah, I’m good at judgin’,” she agreed, waving Jonathon off. “I’ll suss her out while you do your thing with Dad.”
“Much obliged,” Jonathon said with mock seriousness. But he squeezed my hand and dropped to his haunches before leaving me. “You gonna be okay, Flower Child? H.R.’s a good kid. It’ll probably be good for you to have a friend who’s a girl, yeah?”
“Girls are stupid,” I said, echoing what Miles, Oliver, and Hudson had said for years.
His magenta mouth twitched. “Lotsa stupid people in the world, but they aren’t defined by their gender, I can tell you that much. I’ll only be a minute, but you need me, you holler, okay?”
I nodded, nervously cracking my knuckles as I shot a look at the girl who was still studying us.
Jonathon cupped my fidgeting hands in one of his and plucked a spring of lavender from the flower box beside us to place behind me ear.
“There you go, all set,” he determined with a wink, then he got to his feet, saluted Harleigh Rose who inclined her chin regally in response, and then took off for the brick building.
I stood two yards away from Harleigh Rose and blinked at her.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hi,” she replied.
We both stared at each other for another moment, engaged in some kind of stand-off with rules I wasn’t aware of.
Finally, she smiled slightly. “You don’t have many friends, do you?”
I shrugged, my stomach cramping with anxiety. “Not really. Just my family.”
“Is that how you know Nova?” she asked. “He’s your brother?”
“Who’s Nova?”
She frowned and jerked her thumb at the door Jonathon had retreated behind. “Nova. The guy that was just holding your hand?”
“Oh,” I said, feeling dumb. “I didn’t know that was his nickname. We call him Jonathon.”
Harleigh Rose snorted, but her eyes were smiling as she shot up from the slide and moved toward me. “Nova is short for Casanova, my dad said. He also told me he’s never seen a kid get as much tail as Nova.”