Chapter Seven
CHAPTER SEVEN
Lanie
Summer after Tenth Grade
T he worn wooden planks of the bridge creaked under my sneakers as I sat cross-legged at the edge, staring down at the slow-moving creek. Late afternoon sunlight danced across the water, casting golden ripples that blurred the muddy bottom. I twirled a stick in my hands, absently tracing lines in the dirt where the bridge met the grass.
“Earth to Lanie,” Mark’s voice broke through my thoughts.
I glanced up just as he tossed a pebble into the water. The splash sent ripples outward, disturbing the calm.
“Why so quiet?” he asked, leaning back on his elbows with the easy confidence he carried everywhere. His maple-brown hair fell across his forehead, just a little too long, and his flannel shirt had a tear at the elbow—one he probably hadn’t noticed.
“I’m thinking,” I replied, sharper than I meant to.
Mark raised his eyebrows, smirking. “Careful, your brain might overheat.”
Before I could retort, Eliza’s voice floated toward us. “Mark, stop pestering her.”
She climbed the hill, clutching her violin case in one hand. In the bright light, her auburn hair gleamed like polished wood. “She doesn’t need your nonsense today.”
“Who says it’s nonsense?” Mark asked, tossing another pebble, though his grin softened.
“We all do,” Julian said from a few feet away, crouched beside a loose plank on the bridge. His sharp green eyes flicked up, unimpressed. “And stop throwing rocks. You’re ruining the serenity.”
Mark snorted. “Serenity? More like silence. How can you stand it?”
“We hear music in our heads,” Eliza said, settling onto the grass beside me. “What bounces around in yours besides a soccer ball?”
“I should be offended by that...” Mark’s laugh was hearty. “But honestly? Not much else.”
Julian shot him a look. “Why are we friends?”
Mark flashed a warm smile. “Because nerds like to hang with the jocks. And I’m cool enough that you don’t care that I can’t carry a tune.”
“Or,” I said, punching him in the shoulder, “you live next door to Julian, so none of us had much choice.”
He gave me a playful shove back. “Tell yourself whatever you need to.”
My smile dimmed as my attention drifted back to the creek. I let the stick fall from my fingers into the dirt. “It’s my mom,” I said finally.
The air stilled.
Mark sat up straighter, the teasing gone from his expression. “What’s wrong? Is she okay?”
I nodded. “She’s fine—healthy, I mean. Just worn out all the time. She barely goes out unless it’s for work or groceries. It’s like she’s stuck.”
Eliza frowned. “Do you think she’s sad? Like, really sad?”
“I don’t know.” The words felt heavy. “Maybe.”
Julian leaned against the bridge railing, arms crossed. “Maybe she’s lonely. Could you get her on a dating site?”
“She’d never go for that.” I shrugged. “I wish I knew what she wants.”
“She’ll be okay,” Mark said softly. His usual bravado had faded, replaced by something steadier. “She has you.”
My throat tightened. “And she always will.”
Eliza hesitated. “Have you talked to your grandfather about it?”
I nodded. “He told me not to worry about it, but I can’t help it. She wants me to tell her everything I’m thinking or feeling, but when I ask about her, she brushes off my questions. Like I’m not old enough to understand.”
For a moment, no one said anything. And I got it. I wouldn’t know what to say either.
“Parents are weird,” Mark said, nudging my shoulder. The gesture was warm, grounding. “I love mine, but they’re getting weirder by the day. My dad is starting to repeat himself. Like, all the time.”
Mark’s parents were older than most of ours, and his dad had been slowing down for years. He never complained about helping out, but I knew he’d taken on tasks his dad used to do—hauling sap buckets during maple season, fixing their old tractor when it sputtered out. His loyalty to his family mirrored mine. It was something we didn’t have to explain to each other.
Julian stood up and dusted off his knees. “I’m going to grab some reeds to make a flute.” He nodded toward the creek bank.
As soon as Julian was out of earshot, Eliza turned to me, her cheeks flushing. “Lanie, can I tell you something?”
“Of course,” I said, setting my stick down.
She hesitated, glancing toward where Julian had disappeared. Then she leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper. “I have a crush on Julian.”
I blinked, then grinned. “Really?”
Eliza buried her face in her hands. “Don’t tease me! I’m serious.”
“I’m not teasing,” I said, though I couldn’t hide my smile. “That’s... kind of awesome.”
“You can’t tell a soul.”
“I won’t,” I promised.
Her blush deepened. “Do you think he likes me?”
“Who?” Mark asked.
Before Eliza could answer, Julian returned, holding a handful of reeds. “Let’s see if we can make these work.”
Mark turned to me, smirking. “I bet he does.”
“You know nothing,” I said quickly.
“Stop,” Eliza snapped, sharper than before. She glanced at Julian nervously, but he didn’t seem to notice.
Julian knelt by the creek bank, selecting a reed from the bundle he’d gathered. “This one’s good,” he said, holding it out for Eliza to inspect.
She crouched beside him, adjusting her skirt beneath her to keep it from touching the dirt. “How do you know it’s strong enough?” she asked, tilting her head as she studied the reed.
“It’s all about the texture and flexibility,” Julian replied, his voice calm and patient. He bent the reed slightly to demonstrate, then handed it to her. “Feel it.”
Eliza ran her fingers over it, her brows furrowed in concentration. “Okay, so now what?”
Julian pulled out his pocketknife and unfolded it carefully. “First, we cut it to the right length.” He measured a section with his fingers, then offered the knife to her. “Here. I’ll guide you.”
Eliza wasn’t helpless, but the wide-eyed look she gave him made sense now that I knew how she felt. He had to know.
She cooed, “Are you sure? What if I mess it up?”
“You won’t,” Julian assured her, his tone steady. He moved closer, his hands gentle as he steadied hers on the blade. “Just like this. Slow and steady.”
I sat a few feet away, watching the scene unfold. Julian’s focus was complete, his movements deliberate yet easy—just like him. The way he guided Eliza’s hands—so careful not to overstep, so patient with her nervousness—made something in my chest tighten.
He was perfect for her.
I just hope he doesn’t break her heart.
“There. Done,” Julian said, his voice soft. He released Eliza’s hands, and she beamed down at the neatly cut reed flute.
“I did it!” she said, holding it up triumphantly.
Julian chuckled. “ We did, but whatever.”
I looked away, a small smile tugging at my lips. Yeah, he likes her back.
Eliza stood and brushed off her skirt. “We need to make a pact.”
“A pact?” Julian echoed, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes, a pact,” Eliza said, gesturing dramatically. “That no matter what happens or where life takes us, we’ll always be there for each other. Family by choice.”
Mark snorted. “What’s going to happen to us? You know something we don’t?”
“Shut up, Mark,” Eliza said, though her smile softened the words.
“I like it,” I said, my voice firmer than before. “Family by choice.”
“Let’s make it official,” Julian added. He pulled out his pocketknife, and crouched by the bridge’s underside to carve his initials into the weathered wood then handed his knife to Eliza. One by one, we knelt by the railing to carve our initials beside his.
Eliza stepped closer, palm flattening against the rough wood. “No matter what. Always.”
“Always,” I echoed emphatically.
“Always,” Julian and Mark said in unison.
As the sun dipped below the trees, I lay on the grass, staring at the sky. Eliza and Julian played something by Jules Massenet on the bridge. Mark and I were their audience. Mark might not have music in his head, but when he listened to classical pieces, he calmed. Like me, it seemed to bring him peace.
“You know what I think?” Mark asked, breaking the silence. “You’re going to do something amazing with your life, Lanie. And when you do, your mom will be right there, smiling and happy.”
I punched him in the shoulder because he wasn’t the type to welcome a hug. “Thanks. I hope so.” We exchanged a smile. “And you—you’ll be the Maple Syrup King.”
“More like a pro soccer player,” he responded with a grin.
I looked him over. He was tall and muscular, built more like a linebacker than a soccer player, but he was also light on his feet and fast. “I can see that.”
After a pause, he said, “That’s why we’re friends.”
“Because I can imagine you as a soccer star?”
“Because you don’t make fun of me when I talk about serious stuff. I’m popular because I’m good-looking and funny, but I can’t talk to anyone else the way I talk to you.”
“Hold on, repeat that.”
His grin was wide. “Am I wrong?”
I tossed a handful of grass at him. “No, but your huge ego is blocking the sun.”
He laughed. “All I’m saying is I’m more than an amazing body and perfect chin.”
That had me choking on a laugh. “Stop. I think I just threw up in my mouth.”
He grabbed a fistful of grass and tossed it back at me. “Listen, what I mean is... I don’t hate that we all wrote our initials on the bridge. I hope you guys are always in my life.”
“We will be. I mean, where else would we go?”