From beside me, Genesis opens her mouth to speak, but I take command and silence her with my words. “I didn’t like the way it made me feel. So, we burned it.”
The honesty of my statement hangs in the air, and I’m grateful to the others for giving me this small victory. Mrs. Rodriguez’s looks between us, her eyes narrowed in keen observation. Behind us, the undeniable squeak of Adam’s Vans breaks the silence, but when his warm hand lands on my shoulder and squeezes, I feel the pride and solidarity relayed through his touch.
Mrs. Rodriguez’s expression melts with the gesture, and she envelops me in a hug. Before releasing me, she whispers in my ear, “Then burn it we shall.” She gives me a squeeze and steps away, her tone masterfully switching from compassionate to unrelenting. “Dinner at seven. Group at eight.”
Genny looks up to the ceiling and groans. “Fuck me. Seriously?”
There is a faint swish, and Mrs. Rodriguez’s black spatula is suddenly pointed in Genny’s direction. “Ugly people resort to ugly language, Genesis. Choose your words wisely.”
“Christ, I just did. I chose colorful, expressive words, Mrs. Rodriguez.”
Genny’s expression matches her tone—mock innocence. I snort back laughter. Mrs. Rodriguez tries to hide her grin. After blessing herself as a preventative measure and shaking her head, she becomes serious again.
“Be mindful, young lady. Your color bleeds to those around you.” Her response is stern, but not uncaring.
Surprisingly, the silence between them remains unbroken by whatever clever retort we’ve come to expect from Genny. It’s there. I recognize it in her expression. But somehow she manages to trap it behind puckered lips while considering Mrs. Rodriguez’s words. Once her decision is made, Genesis gives a relenting grin and a slight dip of her head in acknowledgment.
Mrs. Rodriguez’s expression warms, and she whips around. “To your rooms for homework, then if you’re done, meal prep in the kitchen begins at five.”
Our response is immediate.
“Carrots!” Genny shouts.
Somehow my voice is next. “Green beans!”
“Salad!”
Eyes wide, Genny and I turn, facing the boys behind us and in particular, the loser now responsible for peeling the onions.
“Oh my God.” My tone is shrill with victory. I always get stuck with the stupid onions. “I totally win at life today!” I point at the loser while dancing some ridiculous jig that I refuse to describe.
Lukas stares back at me, lips curved in the barest hint of a smile, the closest to amused I think he’s ever seemed. Then, in his deep voice, he admits defeat.
“Onions.”
Exhilarated, I continue dancing. I know I should probably stop but I can’t, because I totally won today.
But as our eyes lock, my movements begin to slow until finally my entire body stills. I can no longer move, because I can feel the significance of this moment. Not for me.
But for Lukas.
His green eyes are lit with curiosity, and a nervous flush heats my cheeks. I bite my bottom lip and tuck a section of hair behind my ear.
Next to me, Genny clears her throat, but it’s Adam who speaks.
“While I love an impromptu bonfire, I’m going to need an explanation of what the hell just happened out there.”
Genny scoffs. Swiping a piece of burnt grass off her Dickies, she says, “Leah Allen happened. Bitch.”
“Genesis!” Mrs. Rodriguez yells from across the house.
A satisfied grin crosses Genny’s face as she links her arm with Adam’s, heading toward the stairs. “I’ll tell you on the way to our rooms.” Her pink hair swishes over her shoulder when she turns back in my direction. “See you there?”
Still silent, I nod. Her eyes dance between Lukas and me before she dips her head. The corner of Adam’s mouth lifts as he, too, assesses us. Then he tosses me a wink, gives Lukas a respectful chin lift, and grins shamelessly in my direction before going upstairs with Genesis.
Their murmurs trail after them, and only when they can no longer be heard do I dare look at Lukas. His gaze has dropped, now aimed at his boots, brows tightly drawn. He rakes his hand through his disheveled hair.
Confused at his sudden change in demeanor, I watch him closely, waiting for something, anything, that will offer some clue as to what he’s feeling. The silence between us stretches painfully into awkwardness, and I decide it’s time for me to leave.
As soon as the ball of my foot hits the hardwood floor, it creaks loudly in protest, and a string of curses runs through my mind that would make Mrs. Rodriguez’s ears bleed. Lukas jolts to attention, his eyes launching from the floor to meet mine. Panicked, I freeze.
And for some random reason, the Mission Impossible theme song begins playing in my head.
Dun dun dun da dada…dun dun dun da dada…
I force a placating smile onto my face and begin to slowly wheel in the other direction, but my movement is stalled by Lukas’s hand on my arm.
De da doo…de da doo…
I twist to face him, and he silences the music in my head with two simple words. “Thank you.”
Stunned, my head jerks backward. “For what?”
His grip tightens, not painfully, but in a way that tells me he needs time. Needs to be heard. And as I finally brave a glimpse of his face, the need to flee escapes me. I relax, lost in the calm eyes staring back at me. They’re so different from the usual storm I find there.
Lukas’s expression is…vulnerable, something I’ve never seen. “I just…I uh, I…”
“Yes?”
He shakes his head and looks at the floor before again meeting my eyes. His jaw is clenched so tightly, I’m surprised he can speak. “Until today, there’s nothing I’ve been thankful for in my life. Ever.”
I’m sad, but I give him the time he needs to collect his thoughts. I refuse to let him go unseen. I see his storm already brewing and ready to whisk him away, but I won’t let him go until he’s ready. I will remain in this moment with him as long as he lets me.
“But I have to thank you, Chloe, for seeing something other than my darkness.” He breaks his stare, and as he steps away he shrugs, seemingly uncertain of his own words. “You give me…hope.”
He shakes his head, but says nothing else. He turns briskly, takes a few steps toward the stairs, then stops. With his back to me, his voice is soft, barely audible.
“You did look pretty today, Chloe. I’m sorry…” His arm lifts, and he scrubs his head with his hand again, a gesture I’m quickly learning is a sign of his discomfort. “I’m sorry I didn’t, I couldn’t, say that earlier. I saw what happened, and…” He runs his fingers through his inky hair, and his tone turns cold. “I’m glad you burned that fucking shirt.”
Clearly finished, he quickly turns and follows Genny and Adam upstairs, leaving me alone with the sound of his heavy footfalls.
I should be excited, but instead, I only feel guilt. While a part of me is thrilled that Lukas notices my appearance, and actually approves, the guilt is for something else.
But I have to thank you, Chloe, for seeing something other than my darkness.
In the wake of those words, I’m left with the devastating realization of how many people I’ve neglected to see because of my own blinding anger at never being seen myself.