“Go faster!”
“You don’t even know how to ride a bike right.”
“You’re too slow!”
“Shut up, Corbin!” I hollered.
“I don’t have a little brother,” Salix said, like she was making an excuse for my outburst. “Let alone two the same age.” But it didn’t matter, because I was embarrassed that I’d shouted at him like that.
“Sorry, Corbin.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said.
“It does,” Salix said. “Apologize to her, man. It’s the right thing to do.”
“Sorry, Maeve,” he groaned.
Both boys forgot they were grumpy by the time we arrived. With their helmets and clothes still on, they ran straight for the water, which shot up from the concrete and out of old hydrants and along a little culvert running along the edge, where kids could float boats and race sticks to the drain.
Salix and I found a spot on the grass in the shade and spread out a blanket. I sat cross-legged, and Salix sat with her long tanned legs stretched out in front, leaning back on her hands. After a couple of minutes she lay back with one arm folded behind her head. She pointed to the sky.
“That cloud looks like an elephant.”
The boys were jumping and stomping in the little stream. Salix reached for my hand. “Come on.” She drew me down beside her.
“It doesn’t look like an elephant,” I said. “It looks like a velociraptor.”
“It does not look like a velociraptor.”
“Wings.” I pointed. “Beaky head. There.”
And then Owen was standing beside her, dripping and shivering and blocking the sun.
“I’m hungry.”
I sat up and pulled out the snacks. Owen wrapped himself in a towel and then took a muffin and an apple into a wedge of hot sunshine by the playground.
Salix patted the blanket. “Come back?”
“Wait for it,” I said.
“What?”
“Just wait,” I said. And then: “See?”
Corbin sprinted toward us. He’d commandeered a water gun from somewhere—no guns allowed at our house—and was scanning the area, the gun wedged under his broken arm.
“Hostile territory!” he shouted. “Food drop required! Now, now!”
I tossed him a muffin. He caught it and kept running, circling back around to the spray park to join a group of armed boys crouched behind a wall.
“Do you want a muffin too?” I said. “Raspberry oatmeal. Claire made them. She’s a really good baker.”
“Thanks.” Salix sat up. “She seems really nice.”
“I lucked out in the stepmother department.”
But Claire was more than just a stepmother. She’d parented me for almost twelve years, even if it was part-time. She was my brothers’ mother. She was my dad’s wife. If she left—and of course she’d take the boys with her—Dad would have nothing left here.
And it would be his fault if he ended up in a seedy room in one of the cockroach-and bedbug-infested hotels. Or a room in a shared house. And where would I stay when I came to visit? With Claire and the boys? With Dad? What a mess.
“Shit,” I muttered.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.” I didn’t want to unload on Salix again. I didn’t want Salix to think that my life was always wobbly, even if it was. I pulled out my sketchbook and searched for something to draw. A toddler in the sandbox, filling a red bucket with tiny handfuls of sand. Two old ladies sitting on a bench. Orthopedic shoes.
“Show me?” Salix said.
“No.” I closed the sketchbook. “Sorry.”
“Someday, though. Right?”
“Right.” I picked at the grass and sprinkled some on her shirt. “Gnomenical weeds,” I said. “According to Gnomantic legend, grass carries magical powers. The leaders of the Percival and Wren kingdoms have used it for centuries in their battle for domination over each other.”
“I have no idea what you just said. Does that mean that you just put a spell on me?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” Salix said. “I don’t mind. But now I’m going to stop talking about it so that I don’t end up saying something really, supremely corny.”
“Go ahead.” I sprinkled more grass on her. “By the power of Gnomenical weed, I command you to tell me.”
“Okay. How about…” Salix paused. “How about: Baby, you don’t need to work your magic on me, because I’ve been under your spell since the moment we met.” She blushed. Deeply. From her neck up. “Oh, God.” Salix flopped back onto the blanket.
Salix had meant it to be a joke. Only we both knew it wasn’t. Not really. Not quite.
“That is corny as hell.” I laughed.
“I know, right?”
“Yep.”
“Yeah. Corny.” I lay beside her, staring at the sky again. I reached for Salix’s hand and pointed to a cloud. “That one actually looks like a stalk of corn.”
“No it doesn’t.” Salix’s hand was warm in mine. “It looks like a velociraptor.”
—
The ride home was a lot harder, and by the time we got to the last hill, we were all pushing bikes, except Corbin, who ran ahead to open the bike locker. Once the bikes were all back where they belonged, the boys disappeared inside and Salix and I made our way up the parking garage ramp. Salix took my hand and stopped me in the alley. Up above, orchestra music drifted out of Mr. Heidelman’s open windows. Cymbals clashed, flutes twittered.
“Was it weird?” Salix said. “What I said? At the park? I was trying to be funny, but—”
“What’s weird is talking about Gnomenical legend,” I said. I’d gone on to explain about Gnomenville at length, so much that Salix was now completely up to date with the political situation and the threats to the warring factions and the daily goings-on of innocent Percivals and Wrens caught up in the crossfire. “And by talking, I mean on and on and on and on. Sorry about that. I start rambling when I’m—”
“Nervous,” Salix said. “Me too.”
Her hand was hot in mine. The heat traveled up my arm and across my chest. Up to my cheeks.
“I like you, Maeve.” Salix bit her lip. She looked away before adding, “A lot.”
“I like you.” The heat sank down, and I ached with a warm heaviness between my legs. “A lot too.”
We stood there for a moment, both looking away, and then looking at each other, and then we kissed. And kissed again. And again. Until the boys sang out from the deck above, “Maeve and Salix, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g!” I pulled away and looked up. Corbin and Owen and Claire all leaned over the railing, grinning down at us.
“Don’t let us interrupt.” Claire waved. “But I do have lemonade, and cookies.”
Mr. Heidelman peered over his railing too. “I wondered what the noise was about.”
“Come over, Mr. Heidelman,” Claire said. “Lemonade and cookies!”
“Come up, Salix!” Corbin called down. “We’ll show you Gnomenville.”
“How can I resist that?” Salix said. “Now that I know so much about it.” She grinned at me.
Something fell from up above. It was Hibou, landing in the rowan tree by the gate.
“Corbin!” Owen hollered. “You did that on purpose!”
“Did not!”
“Did too!”