10 Years Ago
SAMMIE BOUNCED ON the balls of her feet, nervous energy coursing through her.
She could do this. It would be fine.
“You look like you’re about to pass out from holding your breath.”
Sammie glared at her brother, letting out a huff of air, ignoring the fact that he was right. “Why are you hanging around?”
“Because it’s fun to see you squirm,” Atticus said with a grin that made Sammie want to punch him.
“It’s bad enough without you laughing at me,” she snapped. This wasn’t good. She was irritated now, on top of nervous, and it was hard for her to keep from lashing out when too many emotions started to pile up.
Atticus sobered slightly. “Fine,” he said, pouting as he bent down to snatch up their volleyball. “I’ll go wait by the swings.”
As he walked away, Sammie began to regret her outburst. Would it be so bad to have her brother hanging around while she did this? He’d never let her live it down, sure, but he was also her safety net.
A group of older boys stood at the other end of the run down volleyball court.
Weeds were growing up through the sand that had thinned out over the course of the winter and spring.
Soon, whoever it was that took care of the little park would come by to freshen it all up in preparation for the local schools letting out.
Now, though, it all just looked sad. Abandoned, made so much worse by the dark clouds that were rolling in on the spring breeze.
Sammie tugged on her braid, now bleached blonde, as she waffled over whether or not she should approach the boys across the court.
She hadn’t been sure she liked the new hair color at first. It had been as though a stranger were looking back at her any time she glanced in a mirror.
She’d thought to color it back to her natural dark brown, fried ends be damned.
But then Atticus had walked out of the bathroom with his own hair lightened to a pretty terrible shade of yellow—it clashed magnificently with his volleyball jersey—and proclaimed that all was right in the world because they once again looked like twins.
Except that Sammie’s hairdresser had used a nice, ashy toner, and Atticus seemed to have not yet discovered that part of the process.
Instead of keeping her cool and simply walking over to the group, Sammie continued to anxiously twirl her braid, chewing on her lip while she pretended to scroll on her phone.
Kieran was still in his school uniform, tie loosened, top button of his shirt undone, sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
He’d started letting his hair grow out over the last semester, his light curls almost long enough for him to pull them back.
Today, while their group had played a very low-key, points-don’t-matter game after school, he had asked Sammie if she had any extra hair clips.
She’d found a small claw clip in the bottom of her backpack.
He was still wearing it, loose curls clipped back away from his face. Sammie thought it suited him, made his bright eyes stand out more.
She was staring again, and quickly looked back down at her phone when the group dispersed.
She knew Kieran would come her way, because he lived in the same direction.
His family’s farm was just down the road from her house, and they often walked home together.
Usually it was more of an Atticus and Kieran walking together while Sammie trailed along kind of thing, but still. That counted for something, right?
“We waiting on Atticus? Where’d he go?”
Kieran’s words reached her before he did, and Sammie felt that skittering under her skin that always came with hearing his voice. He stopped before her, tugging his tie to loosen it more before shoving his hands in his pocket.
“He’s over by the swings.” Sammie’s voice was too quiet, and she knew it, but her nerves had exploded exponentially the moment Kieran stopped looking around the park and met her stare.
“Let’s go get-”
“Wait!” Kieran raised a brow at her outburst. Sammie gulped, tangling her fingers together to keep from picking at her nails. “Can we talk for a minute?”
That got his attention, surprise etching across his expression. “Sure,” he said slowly, finally giving Sammie his full attention.
“I, uh…” Great. Everything that she had prepared, the entire speech that she had rehearsed in her bedroom over and over the night before, all of it poofed out of her mind the moment she opened her mouth.
“Is everything okay?”
There was genuine concern in Kieran’s tone as he stepped closer, pulling one hand out of his pocket as though he could steady her. Sammie was pretty sure, though, that if he did touch her right now she would burst into actual flames.
Was everything okay? Sammie hoped it would be. She was scared, terrified even, because what if she put herself out there again, only to find herself left behind once more? Just like how Cassie had left her.
I’m sorry, Sammie. I can’t do the whole friends thing now. It hurts too much.
She hadn’t talked to Cassie in months. A year and a half of secret touches and whispered promises, a best friend who became so much more.
Sammie knew the breakup had been right for both of them. But losing a friend, too? She hadn’t been ready for that.
What if that happened again?
“Everything’s fine,” she said, her fingers beginning to ache from how hard she was gripping them. “I just want to tell you something.”
The boy, bless his heart (as her grandma would say), definitely wasn’t catching on.
It would all be so much easier if he could just understand what Sammie was trying to say without her actually having to say it.
Kieran cocked his head to the side, a slight movement that sent a few stray curls falling across one cheekbone.
The urge to reach out and push them back, to uncover those pretty eyes that were locked on her had Sammie’s stomach swooping something fierce.
“I know you’re leaving soon,” she began slowly, tugging something out of her back pocket, holding it out to Kieran. “I wanted to give you this, for luck.”
A small frame rested in her hands, one she had dug out of an old box of her grandma’s things that she’d found in the attic.
It was made for wallet size pictures, but Sammie had pulled out the faded stock photo, replacing it with a plain black piece of paper.
A four leaf clover rested in the middle of the frame.
Kieran laughed, taking the gift from her. Their fingers brushed and sparks lit Sammie up, her whole body tingling in the aftermath.
“I love it,” he said. His smile was so bright.
“You don’t think it’s dumb?” Sammie had agonized over what to give him, needing something that he could take with him to remind him of home.
To remind him of her.
“I mean,” he began, flashing a cheeky grin that brought heat to Sammie’s face. “It’s a little on the nose, luck of the Irish and all that. But it’s perfect.” A pause as he carefully tucked the gift into his messenger bag. “Thanks, Sammie.”
Another pause, Kieran leaning close to tug her into a side hug that felt far too friendship-like. Half of her plan had worked, but it was the next part that had kept Sammie up late the previous night.
“That’s not all,” she continued, pulling out of the awkward hug. Distant thunder rang out, a breeze picking up, settling off the tree leaves around them like gentle wind chimes. “I also wanted to tell you something.”
Kieran stared at her, his sweet smile fading as he furrowed his brow in innocent confusion.
This was it. Sammie would just throw it out there and hope for the best.
“I like you,” she blurted. Her skin felt too hot, too tight, the sensation growing as Kieran’s eyes widened with surprise.
Sammie figured it was best to just barrel on.
“I like you a lot,” she said. “And I have for a long time. I know you’re leaving, I know the timing is terrible, but I couldn’t let you go without telling you.
And it’s not like we’ll never see each other again!
You’ll be back to see your family for holidays and stuff. So I just thought that maybe…”
Kieran wasn’t saying anything. He wasn’t smiling. Stray raindrops landed on Sammie’s skin as she searched his face for anything, any sign that this conversation was going the way she hoped it would.
“I just thought that maybe we could-”
“Sammie, I-”
They both cut off, and Sammie felt the first trickle of dread drip down her spine.
“You first.” She regretted the words immediately. Kieran wrapped a hand around the strap of his bag, knuckles white as he squeezed it.
“Sammie.” He was looking at the ground and not at her. Not looking at her, because he was about to say something she wouldn’t like. More raindrops began to pelt them, and Sammie hoped they would hide the moisture building in her eyes.
“I’m leaving,” Kieran continued. “I have to focus on my career right now.” His career.
He had much bigger things to think about than finals and what to wear to prom.
“And you’re my friend. Besides, you’re still a kid in school, you don’t want to be tied down with something long distance.
You should have fun here, live your life. ”
A kid. Anger gripped her, sudden and blazing. He was only two years older than her, and he thought he could talk to her like she was just some kid?
“Don’t tell me what I should do.” Sammie knew she sounded petulant, knew that the hurt she felt was seeping into her words, blurring them just like the tears blurring her vision. “I’m not a child, Kieran.”
The pitying look he gave her was worse than anything he’d said so far. Sammie felt desperate. He wasn’t getting it, he wasn’t understanding that she knew what she wanted.
“I love you!”
Silence fell as her declaration rang out like another crack of thunder on the horizon. The words landed between them softly, weak and pathetic.
“Sammie…”