We Are Us

Chapter 4 Sackett, Co

Spring, Freshman Year, High School

“What’s that?” I ask, glancing over Gavin’s shoulder as I sit down beside him. We don’t play cards as often as we used to. These days, we come into the woods with bulging backpacks. I like studying to the sound of Gavin’s pencil scratching on paper, the low hum he makes in the back of his throat when he’s concentrating, his satisfied grunt when he gets an answer right.

“Just a list of electives for next year. We have to put in our requests tomorrow.”

“We got ours, too.” I pull out a sheet of paper that looks nearly identical to Gavin’s.

As he reads mine, I say what we’re both thinking. “I wish they would just combine our schools already.”

Last year, a proposal to merge East Sackett and West Sackett into one school system was voted down. Local politicians had played up the fact that, with the cost savings generated by sharing facilities and overhead, there would be more money to spend on extracurriculars and special programming, not to mention a wider array of elective offerings.

But our town, like much of New England, is set in its ways.

Gavin sighs, and then circles Business Law. “Never going to happen. Most of the people who bother to vote grew up in Sackett, went to school in Sackett, and either stayed here or came back because they want the same for their kids. They’re not going to fix what they don’t think is broken. And they don’t think two high schools, two middle schools, and two elementary schools in one town is broken—because that’s how it’s always been.”

“In this case, breaking something would mean putting it together,” I grumble.

“The only way we’ll be in the same school is to go to the same college.”

I smile at the thought. “I can’t wait to get out of here, Gavin. This place is stifling.” Most days, I still feel like the new girl. Probably because only three other kids have entered my grade in the year and a half since we moved here—all of them boys.

That advice I’d been given before moving to Sackett—Imagine the girl you want to be, and then be her—is impossible to follow in this town.

At first I thought I was the problem, that I was shy or gave off unfriendly vibes. But I’ve realized that it isn’t all my fault. I’m not failing at friend auditions. In Sackett, the stage just isn’t big enough.

I don’t have nice clothes or a big house or a mother on the PTA. I don’t play sports. I’m not particularly artsy or rebellious.

There are only a few cliques to choose from… and I don’t fit into any of them.

Gavin waves his hand at the forest exploding around us. “It is. But I’m sure you want to come right back here after college.”

“No way. Never.”

“Never say never,” he echoes my own words teasingly as I roll my eyes. “Okay, fine. Some other place where you can build a treehouse and live off the land.”

A laugh bursts from my throat. “Nope. Urban jungle or bust.” Well, that’s not entirely true. For Gavin, I would definitely compromise. But this is a conversation about dreams, not written-in-stone destinations.

I crave the freedom of anonymity and the benefits of a big city. I want to live in a skyscraper, dine in gourmet restaurants, and browse through art galleries and museums on a whim. I want to live in a place where secondhand is called vintage. Where being new makes me interesting, not an outcast.

“You?” Skepticism oozes off him in waves. “Poppy, there are thirty-three acres in this preserve, and I think you can name every single species of tree and flower.”

I highly doubt that, but I play along. “Don’t forget about the shrubs.”

“My point exactly. How many shrubs will you find in a city?”

“A lot. New York has Central Park and the Botanical Gardens. Boston has the Public Garden and the Emerald Necklace. Chicago has—”

“It’s not the same,” he says dryly.

“I know. And I love it out here, I do. But…” I duck my head, feeling a wave of embarrassment come over me. Of all the confidences I’ve shared with Gavin, I’ve never told him just how pitiful my social life at school really is. “I’m not exactly a bookworm, but I hide in the library during lunch. Usually, behind the biggest book I’ve found—an oversized field guide to native New England geography.”

My cheeks are already burning but I keep talking. “I only started coming into the forest because it was better than sitting in my room, alone. I pretended the trees and flowers and shrubs were my friends.”

Gavin’s hand snakes around my waist and pulls me into his side. He whispers in my ear, “You were smarter than me. I sat alone in the cafeteria my first week, reading Lord of the Flies.”

“The entire first week?” I ask doubtfully, pushing away my own embarrassment. I can’t imagine the girls at West Sackett High aren’t vying for Gavin’s attention every chance they get.

His lips curl into a rueful grin that makes my chest ache. “Almost.”

My lungs swell with the scent of the fertile ground beneath our feet, the fresh forest air, and the clean, bracing scent of Gavin himself. The heady rush makes me sink my teeth into my bottom lip until the sizzle of pleasure is tempered by pain. Because I don’t know how to handle the feelings that rise up inside me at the most i

He leans forward and nibbles on the lobe of my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “I don’t care, as long as this mouse gets his cheese.”

“Way too cheesy, Romeo.” I laugh, poking a finger into his stomach.

A pained, hissing sound erupts from behind Gavin’s clenched teeth, his eyes narrowing in a wince.

“What—” I draw back immediately. “What did he do this time?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Show me.”

“Poppy—”

“If it’s really nothing, show me.”

Reluctance is etched into the sharp lines and hard angles of Gavin’s face as he slowly lifts his shirt, revealing a bruise bleeding into his belly button.

“I hate him,” I say, as soon as I catch my breath. I’ve never met Doug, the son of Gavin’s foster parents, but I despise him with an intensity that runs bone-deep.

“That makes two of us,” Gavin says, his tone smooth and soothing as he lets the hem of his shirt fall. “He was pissed when he found out his dad had slipped me some money on the side to help out at the gas station this summer.”

“You were there practically every day, of course he should pay you.”

“Well, not according to Doug. He demanded I give it to him. When I refused, he got in a sucker punch.”

“They should know what an awful kid they’ve raised,” I grumble, relaxing into his hold as he pulls me forward.

“One day,” Gavin says. “But today, I have money hidden in a place Doug will never find, and I have you. I have nothing to complain about.”

Gavin plants tender kisses along the curve of my neck, then makes his way to my mouth. We have yet to do much more than kissing, but his mouth wreaks such havoc with my senses I’m not sure I can handle anything else.

When he pulls away, I let out a disappointed moan. My eyes flutter open, about to tell him not to stop. But Gavin’s head is cocked to the side, an air of intense concentration on his face. I know that look. “Thunder?”

He waits a moment, still listening, then says, “I’m not sure. If it was, it’s really far away.”

Thunder means lightening, and a forest is the last place you want to be in a storm. “Let’s wait it out a few minutes. Maybe it was something else.”