“Why do you even care so much?”
His shoulders slumped and he gave a blank look. “That’s it, I’m done.” He took off his glove and walked toward the bleachers.
“Miles,” I said. He didn’t respond. “Miles!”
If I had the ball, I would’ve thrown it at him. He could be as stubborn as Libby sometimes. He climbed the bleachers and sat down at the top, taking a drink from his water bottle. Blatantly ignoring me.
I probably deserved it.
I slipped my glove off and started across the field. The late sun was bright and hot, not at all helping me cool down. I joined him on the bleachers and sat next to him, staring out across the empty field and then the school a little ways off, the football field in between.
“How long have you known me?” Miles asks.
“I don’t know, three years?”
“Three years,” he agreed. “And how long have you known Harper?”
“What does that have to do—”
“Just answer the damn question,” he said.
“Like … forever. Since we were eight.”
When he finally looked at me, there wasn’t a trace of humor. “Then why haven’t you told her yet?”
I finally admitted, “Because I’m afraid it’ll ruin things between us.”
“But if you don’t tell her, it will,” he said. “It’s a risk you’re going to have to take.”
I hated it, but he was right.
But now that the moment is here, it’s so much harder than I thought it would be. I planned this conversation a dozen times, and yet I don’t know what to do or what to say.
Why does talking to a girl seem harder than being shot at? And how is it fair that I know from experience?
When she reaches her hand into the tub, I can’t move. My chest rises and falls, and when her fingers wrap around my dog tags, I only watch her eyes. The light reflecting in from the other side of the glass makes them even bluer.
“Where did you get these?” I can see her eyes read my name and the numbers below it.
“They’re mine,” I reply.
I know her mind is racing to find an explanation. And I also know she’ll never come up with the right answer. Because according to everything she has ever known, it’s impossible.
Telling Uncle Jasper and Libby—heck, or even Miles—was never this hard. Never this important.
“But where did you get them made? They look so real.” The cold metal touches my skin again and she takes her hand away, keeping it on the lip of the tub.
Then I say, “They are real.”
“How can they be real?” she asks, hinting it’s a joke. “You obviously aren’t in the Army, and they don’t even make them like that anymore.”
I look down and say, “Not since World War II.”
A clock ticks somewhere in the house. Counting the seconds while she stares.
It’s quiet enough for me to almost believe we’re the only two people for miles around. And even though Harper could be anywhere right now, she chose to come here.
After everything we’ve been through, she deserves to know the truth. Miles was right—I need to tell her. Some things are worth the risk.
“You know how some things seem impossible?” I ask, then swallow my nerves. “Like everything the world tells you is fake?” I draw my legs up and run a finger across the hole in my jeans, right over my knee. I say, “Some things aren’t. Some things are real.”
When I find the courage, I lift my eyes. Harper stares. She can’t be more than a foot away. It would be easy for me to close the distance. To do something my heart is telling me to.
But before I can say another word or take another breath, a door slams outside. The air breaks around us, shattering something that was barely there, bringing me back to reality. I quickly pull myself from the tub and go back to my room to grab a T-shirt from the laundry basket. I slip it on while trying to find my shoes. Harper sees them in the corner and tosses them at me.
I mutter my thanks.
As soon as I have them on, we go downstairs, where Dad is taking off his shoes. He doesn’t look too stressed today and that’s a good sign. He starts to say something to me but then catches sight of Harper.
“Hey, Harper! Feels like I haven’t seen you in years.”
“Yeah, it’s been a few.”
He looks between us and his eyes settle on me, probably surprised I’m still around. “You guys going somewhere?”
“I was just gonna drive Harper home, maybe see if Uncle Jasper has any work for me.”
His cell phone rings then and he gives me an encouraging smile as he picks it up and walks into the kitchen. That’s the most positive reaction I’ve had from him in a long time.
“Come on.” We go out to my car and get inside.
“You don’t have to drive me home, you know.”
“Where do you want to go?”
Then Harper grins like she’s remembering something. “Isn’t that demolition derby today? The one Miles is in?”
“That’s today?” I’m so bad at keeping track of the days. “Why didn’t he say something last night?” I ask, but more to myself. Then I know. “It was friend test.”
“A friend test?”
“Yeah, to see if you’re actually listening or not. He’ll only tell me things once, so it really keeps me on my toes. Good thing you remembered.”
Harper shrugs. “You wanna go?”
I answer by starting the car.
16.
Harper
When I walked into Kale’s house, it was like walking into a place I’d never been. For a house that used to hold a family of five, it was so, so quiet. And then there was Kale, lying in the bathtub behind a locked door and holding tight to his secrets.
I still can’t stop thinking about what he told me. About some things not being as impossible as they seem.
I take a quick glance at Kale sitting next to me on the mostly empty bleachers but thinking of something else—not entirely here. The group Miles is in comes on next so we have another ten minutes or so. It’s the most run down and pathetic place I’ve ever seen. The arena is all dirt and the bleachers will be dusty until it rains again. It’s the type of place only Miles could find.
I can’t get the image of Kale in the bathtub out of my head. There’s nothing comforting about it.
Not even the fact he didn’t have a shirt on—
“Did you sleep well last night?” he asks. “I know that diner food can settle weird.”
I flinch from being dragged from my thoughts. “What? Sleep?” I shake my head and stare at the cars in the arena trying to hit each other, trying to clear my thoughts. “Yeah, it was fine.”
There’s a pause. “What were you just thinking about?”
“I wasn’t thinking about anything.”
Definitely not your naked torso.
But it’s like he doesn’t have enough energy to argue the point. He answers, “Okay,” and that’s it.