Part 20 (1/2)
”I can see that.”
”Yeah, I guess you can.” He scratched the back of his neck, his only nervous tic. ”Kinda stupid pointing out the obvious, huh?”
”No, it's nice. Thoughtful.” I settled onto the blanket and nervously arranged my dress over my legs as he sat across from me.
We were both quiet and just looked at each other for a while. It was strange how Paul and Bobby were the only people I felt like I could simply be with and not feel like I had to fill the silence with small talk.
Paul smiled and fidgeted with his hands.
”What?” I said. ”What are you thinking?”
”Nothing.”
”No, what?”
”You look nice. I like your dress.”
”You're just trying to flatter me.”
”Maybe a little,” he said. ”Is it working?”
”A little.” My face got hot and I knew I was blus.h.i.+ng.
The wind blew gently, bending the taller gra.s.s near the far edge of the field. Paul and I had spent time together before, but this seemed different. We weren't kids anymore, simply pa.s.sing the time with games and stupid things while the adults did the important things of life.
”I brought you something,” I said and reached into the deep pocket Mother had sewn into my skirt.
Paul's attention went to the small package of brown paper and twine that I'd handed to him. ”What's this?”
”Just something I made for you. It's not much, but . . .”
”Really?” He peeled the paper away and unwrapped the straw doll that I'd made for him the other day. His eyes went wide.
”Do you like it?” I asked.
He cradled it in his hands. ”I love it.”
”You do?”
”You made it, so I love it. Thank you. I'll keep this forever and think about you every time I see it.”
”I hope so,” I said. And I meant it.
We talked for a half hour as the sun sank lower in the sky. We talked about what we liked and didn't like about living in the swamps, how I loved math and how he hated it. How his father wanted to bring him into the moons.h.i.+ning business even though Paul didn't want to.
”Well, what are you going to do then?” I asked.
”I'm going to be in a rock band.”
”Rock band?” I asked. ”Does your father even allow you listen to that kind of music? Mother never lets us listen to anything other than that old gospel music.”
”He lets me when my mom's not around. My dad says the music he grew up with was the last time rock and roll was good. He lets me listen to all of his old records-Led Zeppelin, Queen, the Eagles. I'm even learning to play the guitar.”
There was a long pause in the conversation and he scooted closer. ”I thought about you all day, Eden.”
I hesitated. ”I thought about you too.”
”Really?” He blinked.
”You seem surprised.”
”Well, a little bit. What'd you think about? I mean, when I crossed your mind.”
I shrugged. ”I don't know. Little things, I guess. It's stupid. Forget it.”
”No, tell me. Just one thing.”
”One thing?” I said.
He held up one finger. ”Just one, then I won't ask anymore. Promise.”
I fidgeted with the blanket. ”All right then. This morning I thought about how you kind of snort when you laugh really hard.”
”I don't snort.”
”You do. A little, but it's cute.”
”I must get it from my mom.”
I laughed. ”I think you're right. I've always liked it, though.”
”If you like it then I'm happy. What else?”
”You said one thing.”
”C'mon, just one more. Please,” he said. ”Then I'll tell you something I like about you.”
I looked at him and smiled. ”Well, there's the way you make me smile. You always know what to say to me. No one else treats me like you do. It's . . . nice. Besides Bobby, you're my only real friend. You accept me for who I really am.”
”Liking you is easy. You're perfect, Eden.”
”No,” I said. ”Don't say that. I'm not.”
”Maybe not in your mind.” He gently placed his hand on top of mine. ”But you are.”
The warmth of his skin against mine sent a shock up my arm and through my whole body. I drew a short breath. For a moment I felt like that one touch would send me soaring on the wind and high into the sky.