*
Bay walked down the long driveway from the farmhouse, passing cold, wet fields. It was getting lighter now, and ghostly mist floated over the ground, not quite touching. She could hear the cows in the distance as they were being herded to the milking parlor in the barn. It was a slow, steady job. It was like a dance, every morning. Her father Henry dancing with his cows.
When she reached the road, Phineus Young was already there. He was tall and reedy, with white-blond hair and light green eyes. His rough-around-the-edges family lived across the road, on property strewn with old cars and tractor tires used as flower planters. The Youngs were known for their strength. They were the town’s manual laborers and strong backs. Many had worked at the dairy over the years.
Legend had it that, once in every generation, a Young child would be born with even more strength than the average Young, and that child would always be named Phineus. He would be the strongest man in town, the one everyone would call for the truly hard work—lifting old well caps by himself, moving large rocks out of tight spaces, or chopping down looming trees when babies were sleeping and a noisy chain saw couldn’t be used.
But Phin was not what you would call a tower of strength. Despite his name and everyone’s expectations, he wasn’t the strongest man in town. No one asked him to move anything. He was, in his own words, a dud. They’d been meeting here at the bus stop every morning since first grade. Bay’s mother had stood with them for years, worrying about them alone on the road. Phin’s parents were never worried. No one would ever mess with a Young, especially one named Phineus. Sometime around sixth grade, Bay finally convinced her mother that she and Phin were fine.
“Hi, Phin,” Bay said, coming to a stop beside him. Her breath made a visible cloud in front of her. She tucked her chin into her hoodie. They never talked in school, only here. They had a bus stop understanding.
“Hey, Bay.”
He knew about the letter she’d given Josh. Everyone in school knew. But he was kind enough never to mention it. They stood in cold, comfortable silence. There was very little traffic at this time of morning.
“So, are there going to be good decorations for the Halloween dance tomorrow?” Phin suddenly asked.
“Yes.” Bay looked at him curiously. “Are you going?”
He made a snorting sound and scrubbed the gravel shoulder of the road with the toe of his old military boots, ones that had belonged to his dad, who had died in Afghanistan. “Me? No way.” He paused, then said, “Riva Alexander is on the decorating committee, too, isn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“I heard her talking about the food she was going to bring. It sounded nice,” Phin said wistfully. “She’s nice.”
“Riva? Seriously?” She shook her head as if disappointed in him. “Phin.”
“Oh, come on. You can pine away for Josh Matteson, but I can’t like Riva?” He saw the look on Bay’s face and said, “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” When you take your heart out of your chest and hold it out for all to see, it’s not like you can expect everyone not to notice.
Phin gave a short laugh. “We can always dream of a normal life, can’t we?”
“No, Phin, we can’t. And we shouldn’t. We’re fine like we are! We’re great,” she said, up on her high horse again. She was up there a lot lately.
She didn’t used to be like this. She’d always been confident about where she belonged and who she was but, lately, she’d been so insistent about it. She would hear herself sometimes, and even she found herself annoying. She was overcompensating. She knew that. But her emotions were so hard to control these days. She would cry at the drop of a hat. She would get angry at her mother for absolutely no reason. She was fifteen. That was part of it. But it was also the time of year. As soon as first frost was here, she was sure everything would get better. She’d be nicer to her mom. She’d sign up for driver’s ed. And maybe Josh Matteson would even fall in love with her and everything would be perfect.
“I want to live in your world,” Phin said.
“What are you talking about, weirdo?” She gave him a playful nudge. He was so thin it was like pushing at something pliable, like a bendy straw. “You already do.”