meant for him. This can’t be happening to me, he thought and glanced at the girl who left her hand on his arm. Her body heat penetrated his skin, making him feel breathless in a way no girl ever had. The girl’s tenderness filled him, soothing a deep lifelong loneliness.
He reached over and placed his hand on top of hers. “Will you be okay?”
As the girl nodded, Scott looked into her blue eyes. Her shiny eyes dropped hesitantly, revealing her lack of knowledge about life. He doubted she knew about the interactions between men and women. She probably lives a sheltered life, he thought and placed her age no more than thirteen. Her small breasts suggested that age.
While Scott worked through the uneasiness of being attracted to a girl who was two years younger than him, he watched two robins land on a branch of the maple tree near the swings. He hadn’t realized the sounds of nature and a girl’s steady breathing beside him could be this peaceful.
Scott and Briana sat quietly, listening to the chirping of the robins, feeling relaxed, as if they had known each other for years.
Briana sighed. The boy’s response about Minnie had surprised her, sending an affectionate sensation through her. She hadn’t expected such a heartfelt comment, and before she could stop herself, she was touching his arm.
While his hand remained on hers, Briana wondered if this was the boy in her dream from two nights ago. In her dream, she had been weeping. She picked a white lily when a boy suddenly strolled through a mist, wiped her tears, and said, “Come with me.” She clasped his hand and left with him. The amazing part of the dream was, she dreamt it twice in the same night. Once again, she had been weeping, feeling utterly alone. As she picked the white lily, the same boy, who was now older, looking like a man, strolled through a mist. He had done and said the same thing, and she clasped his hand and left with him.
Scott straightened his legs and looked at her. He gave her a curious expression. “Do you go to the private school in North Hillside?”
Briana nodded. “Yes, I’ll be a sophomore, but I don’t know anyone.”
A sigh of relief nearly escaped Scott. She was his age. He asked, “You just moved here?”
“No, I’ve been…homeschooled.”
Briana shifted, surprised at her sudden openness. Her parents wouldn’t approve of her eagerness. They had rules—would they approve of her sitting beside this boy from South Hillside? Worried her mother might come looking for her, Briana moved forward on the bench. “I need to leave.”
Caught off guard, Scott moved forward on the bench also. He lacked experience with girls and wondered how to make his next move. Finally he decided to use the indirect approach. “Do you come to this park often?”
“No.”
Taking a deep breath, he asked, “Would you like to come to this park again?”
“Yes.”
“When will you come to this park again?”
“Ten o’clock, Thursday morning.”
Scott grinned. He hadn’t expected a specific and precise time. “Would you like me to come at the same time?”
“Yes.”
Scott stood, extended his hand, and clasped hers. They walked to the entrance of the park, holding hands where he stalled. Fate brought them together. Now he didn’t want her to leave.
As they both hesitated, Briana glanced at his muscular arm and moved her gaze to their joined hands. His body heat flowed easily into her hand and traveled up her arm. She didn’t know holding a boy’s hand could feel this stimulating. She moved her gaze upward slowly, looked into his brown eyes, and smiled shyly. His full lips smiled in return, drawing her toward them. She stepped back. “Ten o’clock, Thursday morning.”
“Do you want me to walk you home?”
“No, I’ll be fine.”
Scott watched the girl stroll to the corner of the block where she paused, smiled, and turned north. When she was out of sight, Scott realized he hadn’t even asked for her name, but at least, he learned a few things about this reserved girl: she was homeschooled which explained the reason for her sheltered life, and she also thought carefully before answering questions. As Scott turned to leave, he couldn’t help but compare this girl to Felicia, his next-door neighbor who spoke continuously without thinking.
2
Home
Ten minutes later, Scott walked through his familiar neighborhood of older homes. The everyday sight of a few well-maintained houses went unnoticed as did the houses with peeling paint, broken shingles, and shabby lawn care. His concentration was on the girl and his late arrival for the football game with his friends.
Derek despised when the guys were late. Even though his best friend was a jerk, Scott tried his best to avoid conflicts with Derek as he did with most people, except his mom. With her, conflicts were constant, 24-7.
Scott crossed Fourth Street and entered McCarthy Park where his nine friends gathered every weekday during the summer. He studied the two teams on the line of scrimmage. Derek’s team consisted of Brett, Lance, and Jess. They were standing in a spread formation and were wearing shirts. Matt’s team consisted of Karl, Randy, Adam, and Troy. They were set up in a three-two defense and were shirtless.
Lance, their tall hefty center, snapped the ball to Derek who faked a handoff to Brett, a solid guard, sending the defense to the left. Derek dropped back, throwing a quick slant right to Jess who caught the ball and was immediately tackled by Randy.
Watching Derek toss the ball, Scott grinned. His athletic friend was a versatile quarterback with a strong throwing arm. Derek didn’t wind up. He just brought the ball up behind the ear and threw, copying his favorite legendary quarterback, Joe Namath.
While growing up, Derek’s dad was relentless about teaching his two sons the rules and techniques of the game. Even now, Derek constantly practiced his fake-and-pass moves. Six days of the week, rain or shine, Derek woke up on demand at five thirty in the morning to practice for three hours. His dad set up tires and built tall obstacles in their backyard to increase Derek’s accuracy. Derek was told to throw over the obstacles, aiming for the tire opening. His throwing accuracy and speed were incredible; and every year, he improved.
If Derek failed to throw three consecutive passes through the swinging tire, his dad would react impatiently. Once Scott witnessed Derek’s dad angrily pick up three different footballs, throwing each one easily through the tire. Then Mr. Paulson turned to Derek, jammed his finger into his son’s chest, and bellowed, “I nailed my target because I’m not thinking about the romp I had with my wife last night or my eldest son who’s pining over some girl who threw him away like yesterday’s newspaper or my youngest son who thinks he’s better than his old man. The only thing on my mind is the ball, that target, and nailing those passes. Don’t miss another target. In this game, there’s always someone waiting to take your place.”
After witnessing events like that one, Scott felt grateful his dad had a more casual attitude about football.
Scott cruised through the grass, scrutinizing his comrades who usually dressed in faded jeans and T-shirts, except for Matt who owned nothing but newer
