Chapter Six Don’t Stop Be-Leafing #2
“That’s so cool that your dad was in a band.” I remember that Noah said his guitar and band shirts mean a lot to him. Is that because of his father? “I call live music my only guilty pleasure, the thing I love even though it has nothing to do with my career goals.”
Noah gives me a quizzical look. “Why would you feel guilty about doing something that you enjoy? Your future job shouldn’t define who you are now.”
I frown. Because loving live music isn’t going to be the thing that makes me successful. Or break the cycle of ruined lives that this curse has inflicted on my family. I’m going to be the first girl to go to university, and I’m going to do it with a scholarship. I’m going to be an architect.
But I don’t tell Noah this. He doesn’t need to hear about my family baggage.
Instead I say, “My guidance counselor once said to dress for the job you want. So that rules concert T-shirts out, I guess.” I scrunch my face. I hope I’m not insulting him again. “I like your band shirts, though,” I add. I mean it.
“Thanks,” he replies, facing the tree. “Do you have any concerts coming up?”
“No. I was supposed to go to a music festival in Montreal this summer, but I had to sell my ticket.”
He turns to me again, an odd look on his face. “Summer Glow Festival?”
“Yes! Are you going?”
He blinks a few times, then shakes his head and goes back to pruning. “I was supposed to. Had to cancel because of community service. It might be the last Trills show ever, you know?”
While we work, we talk about that festival and the bands playing at it. Turns out we have overlapping tastes—indie stuff, but he’s a bit more into indie rock, while I like indie folk. He’s also really into nineties grunge, which I like too, but I’m not as hardcore into it.
“You said your guitar was important to you. Are you any good?” I ask.
Noah looks at me for several long seconds. I can see a laugh behind his eyes, and I have no idea what’s so amusing. “Um, yeah. I’m all right.” He turns back to the tree and cuts off a stray branch.
Did I say something wrong? I frown. I can’t figure out why I feel so… awkward with Noah. Like, sometimes he’s so easy to talk to, and sometimes I feel like he’s laughing at whatever I say. “You go to Cherrybridge High, right?” I ask.
He nods as he clips the next branch. “Just graduated.”
Oh. So he’s older than me. Is he eighteen? He has tattoos. You need to be eighteen for that, right? I pick the branch up from the ground to toss into the bag. “How old are you?”
“Seventeen,” he says. “Turn eighteen in October.”
“I’m seventeen too. My birthday’s in May. I still have a year left of high school, though. You going away for college or uni next year?”
He laughs again, this time loudly. “No. Staying right here. Taking the summer off to do this crap. Then I’ll find a job in September. Maybe at LeClair Industries. It’s the circle of life in Cherrybridge.”
“What do you mean?”
“Kids from Cherrybridge High graduate, then work in the plant, and kids from the other side graduate, then move away. The real sadistic ones come back as LeClair management so they can own the rest of us. At least my dad’s a floor supervisor, so he’ll make sure I get a good starting shift.”
“What does your mom do?” I wince the moment the words are out of my mouth. Sadie said his mom died of an overdose.
“She’s a home-care nurse in Toronto. My folks aren’t together. I was raised mostly by my dad, but I still see my mom sometimes.”
I smile. I knew all those rumors about him weren’t true.
“My mom’s a nurse too. Or she used to be before she moved here.
Do you actually want to work in the plant?
” It certainly doesn’t sound like he does.
I don’t know much about Noah, but he seems smart enough to go to college and get a job he might enjoy more than working in an automotive parts plant.
Noah raises one brow. “Princess, not everyone has the privilege or the opportunity to make their own career choices. That’s why I don’t think your job should define you.
I know this is your first time on this side of the river, but surely you understand that some people have to work to pay for their fancy new shoes? ”
I’m annoyed at his tone. He’s making assumptions about me again. “There are scholarships and loans if you need them. And I do… or did have a job before I came here.”
Suddenly the air around us goes cold. Noah glares at me with his brows knit together.
That comment seems to have angered him. “Okay, and did your job pay for your AirPods?” he snaps.
“Or those shiny shoes? Or did your daddy, the one with the Porsche, pay for them?” He scoffs, and the harshness of it makes me reel back a bit.
“You don’t have a clue how people around here live. ”
All the thoughts, all the feelings I’ve been keeping to myself are building behind my tongue like a wave. Why are people constantly pushing their assumptions onto me?
“You’re right, I don’t,” I say, my jaw tight.
“But that’s only because I just moved to Cherrybridge, and if I’m honest, your town is weird.
Everyone has a chip on their shoulder for one reason or another.
But I do know about money struggles. My mom had me three days after she turned seventeen.
The guy that got her pregnant moved to India literally the day after she told him, and she hasn’t had a cent of child support from him.
We lived in one small room in my grandparents’ house while Mom got her nursing diploma, and then she worked long hours in hospitals and nursing homes so she could save for her own place.
“I was ten when I finally got a room of my own. I’ve had part-time jobs since I was fourteen, and I still managed to get some of the highest grades in my school because I knew I’d have to rely on scholarships for university.
” I pull at my shirt. “These jeans and this T-shirt? They’re from a thrift store.
” I pull my new phone out of my pocket roughly and wave it in the air.
“This is the first brand-new phone I’ve ever had in my life.
” And now it’s my turn to scoff, and Noah jumps back at the sound, just like I did.
“You think I’m some privileged princess, but you don’t know a thing about me. ”
My heart is racing by the time I’m done with my rant, but it felt good letting it out. I immediately start to relax. My fists uncurl, my shoulders drop, and my thoughts aren’t racing a mile a minute anymore.
Noah doesn’t say anything for a while, just blinks at me. But because he can’t seem to hide his expressions, I can see that he’s actually kind of impressed that I stood up for myself. And maybe surprised at my life story too.
He finally smiles. “Props to you, Noorani. I was wrong about you. I’m sorry.”
I don’t want to think about my skin erupting in goose bumps at the sound of my last name on his lips. I take a deep breath, willing my heart to slow to normal.
“Want to switch roles?” he asks, holding the shears up. “Unless you don’t want to lose your view.”
I have no idea what he means, but my back was starting to get sore from picking branches up off the ground. “Sure, let’s switch.” I start taking off my gloves.
“Keep your gloves on,” Noah says. “These clippers are tight. They’ll probably give you blisters. My callused hands can handle branches.”
I raise one brow. “Do a lot of garden work?”
He laughs at that. “Hardly. It’s from my guitar.”