“Silly girl. Was that you, playing with your bucket? Mrs. Greenwood warned me about that,” Mom said, her laugh flowing like water; the easiest, purest laugh I’d her from her in ages. The sound released the tension from my limbs, like a valve had opened up and drained it all away. Part of me wanted to join in. The other part worried. This type of reaction, it wasn’t Mom. Had Dad’s death finally sent her over the edge?
But when Mom slipped her arm around my shoulder and smiled at me, I gave in to the laughter, pushed aside the niggling voices.
Like a squirrel, I felt compelled to store every spare scrap of affection I could find. You never knew when winter would strike and make the scraps scarce again.
It wasn’t until we reached the barn door that Mom’s smile slipped.
I followed her gaze and realized what she was thinking. “I’m sorry I left the door open. I was in a hurry and forgot.”
Her brows lowered at that news. And then she laughed it off. “Actually, I’m relieved it was you. This time,” she tacked on hastily. “You need to be more careful in the future.”
The thing was, I was pretty sure I had closed the barn door. But as we ran from the barn back to the house, the tiny lie felt worth it. There was no sense in making Mom worry unnecessarily. I mean, despite her obvious jitters, we were in Clearwater. What could possibly happen here?
The question I should have been asking myself was, how had I possibly heard Maisey banging her feed bucket from so far away? But the thought didn’t even occur to me. Not until it was way too late.
Yesterday’s weirdness seemed to have blown over. I hadn’t mentioned her little freakout, and in return, she hadn’t brought up mine.
“Do you want me to go with you?” I said, just as the warning bell rang.
She speed-walked toward the main door, fast as her three-inch heels would allow. “No, you go ahead,” she called over her shoulder. “I’ll only be a second.”
I settled into my usual spot in homeroom. Even though I purposely tried to ignore the students already in class, apparently that was too big a challenge for my analytical brain. Five boys, three girls. None of them Hunter.
I smiled at all of them anyway.
I busied myself digging a notebook out of my backpack. Still, I sensed Hunter’s presence several seconds before he dropped into Kaylee’s spot next to me.
“Hey,” he said in his soft voice, those blue eyes fixed on me beneath a sweep of messy hair.
“Hi.” Nervous flutters kicked up inside me. Silly. He was just a boy. Okay, not entirely true. He was a boy Kaylee happened to like.
Kaylee, who’d be back any second, expecting to sit in her spot.
Nervous flutters or not, the boy had to sit somewhere else.
Just then, Hunter dropped his backpack on the desk and laid his head against it. Closed his eyes.
My heart softened into what felt like a big, mushy pile of goo. He looked so tired, young even, with his dark eyelashes fanning across the tops of his cheeks. His mouth softened, too. I had a sudden yearning to trace that lopsided top lip with my finger.
Whoa.
I was so caught up in that crazy thought that the footsteps I’d heard clicking in the hall didn’t register at first. The kind of clicking made by high-heeled shoes.
Oh, no.
I straightened. “Hunter, you need to—” The final bell cut me off, as did the tiny gasp I heard from the open doorway behind me.
Kaylee stood there, freshly glossed lips parted in surprise. She took two steps toward her occupied desk before pausing to smooth her purple tunic dress uncertainly, gaze flitting from Hunter to me.
“Kaylee, hey! Hunter was just hanging out here for a sec—” I started, only to be cut off again, this time by Mrs. Stegmeyer.
“Ms. Daniels, please take an empty seat if you don’t want to be marked tardy,” our homeroom teacher said over the top of her magazine.
Kaylee’s gaze lingered on her usual spot for a millisecond longer, prompting me into action. “Hunter,” I whispered. His eyelashes swept open. The task of kicking him out of the seat became a hundred times harder under that sleepy blue stare. “Um, would you mind moving? This is where Kaylee sits.”
He sat up, glanced at Kaylee like he was seeing her for the first time, then swooped up his backpack and stood. “Yeah. Sorry,” he said. His sheepish grin was the best parting gift he could give, because I could tell it practically melted her on the spot. He loped over to the empty desk he’d sat in last time.
She slid into the vacated seat with a huge sigh, while Mrs. Stegmeyer tapped her nails on the desk impatiently. “He warmed it up for me,” she whispered, pretending to fan herself with a notebook. “At this very moment, I’m being warmed by Hunter Lowe’s body heat.”
A huge wave of relief hit me, prompting a louder giggle than I intended.
“Girls, please. It’s time for the announcements,” Mrs. Stegmeyer admonished.
Sure enough, the intercom screeched, followed by the overly peppy voice of our student council president.
I listened absently to news about an upcoming car wash fund-raiser while I whispered to Kaylee. “He just sort of . . . sat down. Uninvited.”
Though, truth be told, I hadn’t exactly fought him off with a stick.
She waved her hand. “Please. It’s fine.”
Fine, everything was fine.
“Girls . . . shhh!” Mrs. Stegmeyer tapped her lips and glared.
But as soon as the teacher looked away, Kaylee leaned over to whisper in my ear. “Really, don’t worry. Nothing wrong with a little healthy competition.”
What?
“Kaylee,” I started. Only to be interrupted by the loud whack of the manila attendance file as it slapped the desk.
“Last warning before I separate you,” Mrs. Stegmeyer said, her drawl thickening the way it did when she was upset.
I slouched into my chair and kept my mouth shut the rest of homeroom. But Kaylee’s comment spun through my head, over and over again.
Healthy
