Heart Bones

I usually go back to bed afterward, but Samson always leaves his house. I don’t know where he goes that early each morning, but he’s gone most of every day. And when he returns at night, his house is always dark. He only ever turns on the light to whatever room he’s in, and then he turns out the light as soon as he leaves that room.

He seems to live with military precision already. The house is spotless, from what I can tell from my window. Makes me wonder what kind of father he has. If he’s going into the military, maybe he was raised in the military. Maybe that’s why he seems so controlled and keeps his house so clean.

I really need to find something to occupy my brain if this is what I spend my time thinking about. Maybe I should get a job. I can’t stay in this room forever.

I could buy a volleyball and a net and get some practice in, but that doesn’t sound appealing at all. We’ve already been assigned workout routines and schedules from the coach, but I haven’t even opened the email. I don’t know why, but I have absolutely no desire to look at a volleyball until I’m in Pennsylvania. I’ve lived volleyball for the past five years of my life. I’m about to live it for the next four.

I deserve a month or two of not having to think about it.

The rain has stopped and the sun is out today. If I continue to pretend I’m sick for a fourth day in a row, my father might actually take me to a doctor. I don’t really have an excuse to stay in my room much longer and it would be a good day to go out and job hunt. Maybe I could get a waitressing job and save up my tips for when I leave for college.

I’d give anything for another day like the three that came before this one, though. But it doesn’t look like I’m gonna get it because someone is knocking at my bedroom door.

“It’s me,” Sara says. “Can I come in?”

“Sure.” I’m already sitting up on the bed, leaning against the headboard. Sara crawls onto the bed and sits next to me. She smells like cinnamon.

“You feeling better?”

I nod and force a small smile. “Yeah, a little bit.”

“Good. The rain finally stopped. You want to have a beach day later?”

“I don’t know. I was thinking maybe I should look for a summer job. I need to save up some money for college.”

She laughs at that. “No. Enjoy your last summer before adulthood kicks in. Take advantage of all this,” she says, waving her hand in the air.

She’s so chipper. I’m still stuck in yesterday’s mood. There’s an obvious imbalance between us right now. She notices because her smile disappears and she narrows her eyes at me.

“You okay, Beyah?”

I smile, but it takes too much effort and my smile falters with a sigh. “I don’t know. This is all just… it’s kind of weird for me.”

“What?”

“Being here.”

“Do you want to go back home?”

“No.” I don’t even know where home is right now, but I don’t say that. I’m in limbo and it’s a strange feeling. A depressing feeling.

“Are you sad?” she asks.

“I think so.”

“Is there anything I can do about it?”

I shake my head. “No.”

She rolls onto her side, holding her head up with her hand. “We have to get you out of this funk. Do you think some of it is because you feel like a stranger in this house?”

I nod. I do feel out of place here. “It probably contributes.”

“Then we just need to fast-track our friendship.” She rolls onto her back. “Let’s get to know each other. Ask me some questions.”

There actually is a lot I want to know about her, so I lean my head against the headboard and think of some. “Do you have a good relationship with your mother?”

“Yeah. I love her, she’s my best friend.”

Lucky. “Where is your dad?”

“He lives in Dallas. They divorced five years ago.”

“Do you ever see him?”

Sara nods. “Yeah. He’s a good dad. A lot like yours.”

I somehow keep a straight face after that comment.

She’s got two good parents and a stepfather that seems to know her better than he knows his own daughter. I hope she doesn’t take that for granted.

Sara hasn’t been through a lot of hardship. I can tell by looking at her. She’s still full of hope. “What’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to you?” I ask her.

“My parents’ divorce was really hard for me,” she says.

“What’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you?”

She grins. “Marcos.”

“How long have you two been together?”

“Since spring break.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah, just a few months. But I would bet my life we’re gonna get married someday.”

“Don’t do that.”