* * *
I get home at 6:56 p.m., nearly two and a half hours after school ended. As soon as I begin a project, I can’t stop—I hate leaving any project unfinished—but after Anthony left at 5:30 p.m., I lost my motivation to continue. I figure it will take me at least ten more, three-and-a-half hour days if I am to complete the project with Anthony’s help. Still, I don’t know if it will be worth my time because Anthony doesn’t seem interested in getting to know me at all. He weeded on the opposite side of the school as me even, making conversation with him impossible. The only communication between us after we started weeding was to exchange phone numbers.
“Just in case I need to reach you in an emergency,” he said and then he ran off to soccer practice.
My mom’s SUV stands in the garage when I get home. I park my dad’s silver Jetta in the driveway, unlock the stained glass front door and take a left into my room. Anthony was right about a few things; my knees feel raw from all the digging and crawling; and though my skin didn’t burn from the sun—he was wrong about that—it would have been nice to have a wide-brimmed hat to keep the scorching sun out of my eyes.
“Mom?” I yell as I head for the kitchen.
“I’m in here,” she yells from her bedroom.
I adjust my course and walk through the living room into the master bedroom. Sitting down on the king-sized four-post bed, I sigh. “How was your day?”
Heaps of neatly folded clothes stand in piles on top of the ocean blue duvet. “Oh, just fine.” She folds a towel. “What about you? You look exhausted.”
I lean back, letting myself fall into the soft bed. “I’m exhausted—and look at my knees.” I lift one knee up and reveal the scratches and bruises on it and after that show her my blistered hands.
“Looks like you worked hard today.” She moves on to matching the socks up. “If you keep this pace up, you’ll be done with your commitment in no time.” She smiles.
“Well…I might just stick with it until the job is finished,” I mumble.
“Really? I thought you said you had too much homework and that you have to study for your finals.”
“I do, but I’ll be careful to manage my time so I can get it all done. Besides, it’s nice to be able to contribute to my school, right?” I can tell that she isn’t quite buying into my story.
“Is there something you’re not telling me?” One eyebrow arches way up to her forehead.
“No,” I say, because there is truly nothing to tell—yet—at least not when it comes to Anthony. For as long as I can remember, my parents have forbidden me from having a boyfriend and warned me that if I brought a boy home they would tell him about my special gifts. That’s the one thing they have really been strict about—no boys, ever. I don’t want anyone to know that I’m different, of course. I want to fit in at school and not look like a freak among my peers. Thankfully, I haven’t liked anyone enough to bring them to my house anyway.
“The reason you’re not allowed to kiss anyone before you turn eighteen,” my dad said once I asked him about it, “is that you’ll never get rid of him and if you’re not one hundred and ten percent sure about whether or not you want the guy around for eternity, don’t kiss him. He’ll follow you to the ends of the earth, and you’ll be sorry.” I believed him then and I believe him now.
“I promise, if there was something to tell, I’d let you know right away,” I say. At least I think I would.