We Are Us

Chapter 2 Sackett, Co

Spring, Eighth Grade

“You’re late,” Gavin says, glancing up from the cards in his hands. He can shuffle like a blackjack dealer now.

“You’re early,” I shoot back, gri

Just like the friendship that has sprung up between us.

I sit down on the ground across from Gavin, crisscrossing my legs as he begins dealing the cards. There are plenty of days when I arrive in what has become our spot, only to spend an hour playing Solitaire before heading home to my mom and sister, not knowing what kept Gavin away.

Sometimes I wonder whether he ever does the same.

I wonder… because I haven’t asked. The question has occasionally hovered on the tip of my tongue, heavy and awkward. But I’ve never allowed it to escape.

Because I like to think of Gavin waiting for me, in our place. When I can’t get away, I can at least retreat inside my mind and imagine him here. Picture his nimble fingers touching each card, dappled light falling over his shoulders as he listens for the telltale crunch of my footsteps on the overgrown dirt trail leading to this clearing.

During much of the winter, walking through the woods was impossible. After we’d spent a dozen autumn afternoons together, a series of snowstorms turned Sackett Preserve into a beautiful, but inaccessible, winter wonderland. By March I was begi

But the snow finally started melting and, except for the deepest drifts, it’s mostly gone. We returned to the woods a few weeks ago, although the afternoon temperatures are still pretty brutal. Today it’s barely above freezing and Gavin isn’t wearing a coat. He’s trying not to show it, but every so often, a tremble shakes his spine.

Once there are seven cards in front of me, I arrange them in a fan and organize them by suit. I have a decent hand, but I throw the game to end it quickly. Before Gavin can deal another, I shove the deck into the Ziplock bag and put it inside the metal box.

Gavin frowns at me, his disappointment obvious. “You have to leave already?”

“No. Not yet.” I stand up, extending my ungloved hand in his direction. Gavin takes it, sending a little shiver of energy clanging against my nerve endings. “But I’m not in the mood for cards. Let’s go exploring.”

Truthfully, I’ve been looking forward to playing cards with Gavin all day. Each class felt like a lifetime, the bus ride home a trip across the country. I couldn’t wait to be right where I am now, in our little clearing, stealing glances at Gavin’s inky black eyelashes and crazy untamed hair, at the sharp slashes of his cheekbones and the bright glint of his smile.

I don’t think Gavin has a clue how attractive he is. But I do.

Gavin’s bold, dramatic features remind me of a charcoal drawing, the kind I saw on a field trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art earlier this year. But someone took a paintbrush to his black and white portrait, giving him honey hued skin, piercing blue eyes, and endless shades of gold that spring from his head like a lion’s mane.

And right now, Gavin’s lips are turning violet. We need to move.

It’s only as he stands up that I notice his wince. “Are you—”

He drops my hand and averts his face, shaking his head until his eyes are hidden beneath that unruly mop of hair. “I’m fine.” Ignoring my hesitation, Gavin sets off for the nearest trail. “I saw a couple of deer on my way in. If we’re quiet, maybe we can find them.”

I follow after him, my gaze sweeping through the dense woods as I keep a few steps behind.

We don’t find the deer.

But we do find an enormous rock ledge that looks over half the preserve, maybe more. Not all of the trees have regained their leaves yet, and our vantage point allows us to see more of the forest than we will months or even weeks from now. Naked gray and brown tree trunks stand desolately beside their lush, evergreen brothers, hiking paths twisting between them like an enchanted maze.

Gavin points at a spot just beyond the nearest ridge. “What do you think that is?”

I squint into the shadowed basin. “I don’t know. Could it be the graveyard?”

“Graveyard?” He sounds skeptical.

“Yeah. There’s a cemetery over in that direction, just beyond the northeast corner of the preserve. I noticed it on a map a while ago but I haven’t worked up the nerve to go looking for it yet.”

He grins and jumps down, turning back to me with his hands extended. “Let’s find out.”

Grabbing hold of Gavin’s shoulders, I ease forward until he’s caught me by my waist, swinging me to the ground. When he lets go, my sides tingle from his touch.

We follow a trail that wanders through the wetland valley and across rolling open woodlands. Around us, peeking out from behind trees and beneath exposed roots, the forest floor is covered in thickets of mountain laurel and skunk cabbage, maple-leafed viburnum and swamp azalea. Nothing has bloomed yet, but in another month or two the preserve will be a riot of green leaves and colorful flowers.

But right now, it’s a flash of silver that catches my eye from above. I come to a complete standstill, throwing my head back for a better glimpse. As if the bird knows he has an audience, he lands on a branch over our heads, flapping his wings and showing off a dappled white and pale blue belly, opening his beak to give a warbled cry. “It’s a mockingbird,” I say, pointing. “Look at him, he’s preening.”

Gavin follows the trajectory of my finger and quirks a smile. “Does that mean there’s a she around here somewhere he’s trying to impress?”

I scan the trees around us as the mockingbird’s mating call echoes off the deciduous hardwoods rising sixty, eighty, one hundred feet above us. “I don’t know, but he’s sure giving it his best shot.”

The exertion of our afternoon hike has worked, and I can feel the warmth of Gavin’s body beside me. I have to fight the urge to move closer, to drape his arm around my shoulders and curve into his side like I see the girls at school do with their boyfriends.

Yearning scrapes my skin, as abrasive as a thorny vine. What would it be like to call Gavin my boyfriend?

But it’s another thought that steals my breath, sending pain twisting through my stomach. What if he already has a girlfriend?

Gavin and I don’t go to the same school. We don’t even know any of the same people. What if I’m just someone he meets in the woods when he has nothing better to do?

I almost don’t notice the second bird that lands beside the first in a wild flapping of feathers.

“I guess he’s met his match,” Gavin says, watching as they dance on the tree limb, flashing their white wing patches, chittering and warbling like long-lost lovers.

“They make a cute couple, don’t you think?” My voice is strained as I ask about the birds. Because what I really want to ask is: Don’t we make a cute couple?

But do I dare risk what we have now—an easy, relaxed friendship that doesn’t need a label—for a chance at something else? The couples at school change every other week. Gavin and I have only known each other a few months. And yet, I feel like I know him, and he knows me in a way that can’t be measured by arbitrary standards.