Chapter 4
9 Years Old
The porch door slammed behind me as I ran down the front steps.
"Summer!" my grandmother called. "What have I told you about slamming that door!"
Miles' car had just pulled into our driveway, though. If there was ever a time for letting a door slam, it was today. This was the first time we had gotten to see each other since I had moved. Getting his parents or my grandmother to drive the four hours that separated us had proved to be almost impossible. His mom was going to visit a few of her friends in Santa Fe for the weekend, though, and my grandmother's house was basically on the way. How he convinced his mom to let him come here instead of going with her, I'd never know. But I had been looking forward to it all summer.
As soon as Miles stepped out of the car, I tackled him in a hug.
We both laughed as we fell into the grass.
"Summer!" my grandmother called from the porch. "Get out of the grass!"
I smiled down at the boy I loved. "She hates it when I get grass stains on my clothes."
He laughed.
God, I missed his laugh.
"What's the point of living if you can't get your clothes dirty?"
I smiled. No one had ever understood me as well as Miles Young. I stood up just so that my grandmother would stop yelling.
"Hi, Summer," Miles' mother said as she stepped out of the car.
"Hi, Mrs. Young."
She embraced me in a hug. "It's so good to see you, dear. You look well."
People said that to me a lot. That I looked well. At first I wasn't sure exactly what it meant. But after hearing it so many times, I had figured it out. They were only saying half of what they were thinking whenever they said it, especially when it was combined with the expression on Mrs. Young's face right now. The one that was kind of sad but hopeful at the same time. What she meant was, "You look well despite everything that's happened."
I wasn't sure it was true. Some days it was hard not to cry when I was alone in my room. I wanted to remember but at the same time I wanted to forget. But for some reason, when people said it, it made me want it to be true. I had become good at smiling even when I hurt. I had become impeccable at make-believe.
"Thanks, Mrs. Young."
She gave me a kind smile and then walked up to the front porch to talk to my grandmother.
"You're it," Miles whispered in my ear before sprinting off to the backyard.
He didn't need to tell me to follow him. I'd follow that boy to the ends of the earth. I quickly ran after him despite my grandmother yelling at me to slow down.