Seven—Mia
I
was sitting on the top bleachers panting when I saw her pull into the stadium parking lot. I’d just kicked Grady Pope’s butt at tennis, and he wasn’t super happy about that. I didn’t care. Seemed to me playing with an ex that I sort of detested had seriously improved my game. Win! I thought, climbing down.
Ivy got out of her car looking a little tentative, like she was not sure she was in the right place. She was wearing jeans rolled up at the ankle and an elliptical hemmed white tee that hung below her hips. She was short, so she looked a little like an oompaloompa, but adorable. Her great hair hung in those wild curls, and she was wearing her aviator sunnies. I walked over to meet her.
When she saw me, she cocked her head. “Hey, Mia.”
“Hey! You found it.”
She smiled, shyly. “Good GPS.”
I laughed. It was Wednesday in early June, and there was no one on the football field and just a few guys on the track. “Do you care if we walk?” I said. “I need to cool down a bit.” I looked at her feet. “You’re wearing flip-flops. Are those okay? Do you have any other shoes?”
“Not really. I mean, I have some, but they’re too small. Daniel bought them for me.”
“You call your dad Daniel? That’s cool. Well, we’re just walking, so not a big deal.”
Ivy smiled. “I told him I needed some runnin’ shoes. You should see what his secretary got me.” Ivy sighed .
I laughed. “We can fix that. A girl has to have the right shoes. There are a lot of trails near my aunt’s house. My brother runs every day, he can show you where they are if you’re interested.”
Ivy nodded. “That would be great. I have to do something.”
We crossed the street, and I took a deep breath. “How are you feeling about all this?” I broached. “I wasn’t sure the other night if you were totally down with the idea of moving into my aunt’s pool house.”
Ivy looked over at me. “I’m sorry about being so off-putting when I first met you. It wasn’t you. It’s just that Dad and me…we’d been arguing…” She waved the words away. “Long story, but no, I’m awful grateful to be moving in with y’all. But I should be able to find my own place soon…I just need a job first.”
“That would probably help,” I smiled. “What kind of work do you do?”
“I just barely got certified. I’m an X-ray tech. I was fixin’ to get a job when Tim and I got back from our honeymoon. Aside from that, I’ve been helping Bree. My mama owns a shop in Savannah. I make paper for her.”
“Really?”
“Mama’s an artist. She paints on fancy paper that she makes and sells—that I make. It’s fun. She’s real talented.”
“So, do you live in Savannah?” I asked.
“Yeah. We live above our shop on Montgomery Square—right in the heart of Savannah. I live there about half the time, and the other half, I stay with my grandmother, Geneva, a few miles away. I’m very fluid, and Mama and I do our best when we aren’t always together, if you know what I mean.”
I laughed. “I so do! I absolutely adore my m—” We were suddenly interrupted by the irritation of a wanna-be jock who was trying to get by us.
“To the left, Stick and Tubby,” he muttered loud enough that we heard him. He was smallish and over-muscled, and my first reaction was to run after him and…I don’t know what, kick his rather un impressive bum. He loped ahead, and when he reached the bleachers, he stopped and grabbed a bottle of water from a blue gym bag. I looked over at Ivy. “What a little toad.”
Ivy looked slightly wounded but tried to wave it off as mere annoyance.
“I think I hate him,” I said.
Ivy chuckled, and I knew I was winning her over.
When we reached the bleachers, we stopped. “Let’s sit for a minute,” I said. Jogger boy was across the field, so I walked over to the blue gym bag he’d left unattended and unzipped it.
“What are you doing?” Ivy gasped.
“Gee,” I said. “Someone has left a perfectly good bag here. We should investigate,” I winked. There was a six-pack of Dasani with one missing, a pair of sweats, and a wallet, which I opened. It belonged to one Roger Wallace.
And on cue, Roger Wallace shouted from a quarter track away, “Hey! What are you doing?” I looked up and waved at him. “I’m parched. What about you, Ivy?” I checked the seal of a water bottle, and when it popped, I handed it to her.
“No!” she said, pushing it away.
I took a gulp just as Roger Wallace skidded to a breathless stop in front of us. “What the hell?” he panted.
“Hi, Rog.” I smiled. “We just wanted to introduce ourselves. I’m Mia, and this is Ivy.”
“What?”
“Mia, Ivy. You owe us an apology.”
“What are you talking about?” he said grabbing his bag.
“Yeah. You called us Stick and Tubby back there. Are you twelve?”
“Seriously?” he said, clawing through his bag.
I took another sip, then opened the wallet Roger Wallace didn’t know I had. “5’4” 168. No wonder you run.”
“Give me that!” he seethed.
I pulled it to my chest. “The apology? ”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Now give me the damn wallet.”
“Oh, you can do better than that, Rog,” I said, still clutching his wallet.
He took a calming breath. “I’m sorry,” he said from behind his teeth.
I cut my losses and held the wallet out to him with a smile but pulled it back. “For what it’s worth, Roger, it seems to be working—the running. You look pretty good out there,” I fibbed. “He looks good, right Ivy?”
“What?” she coughed.
I handed him back his wallet. “Friends, Rog?” I stuck out my hand, and he seemed confused but shook it. When he finally did, despite himself, it was with a bit of a grin. I elbowed Ivy and she stuck out her hand. Roger Wallace scratched his temple, then shook Ivy’s hand. “I… I’m sorry about what I said back there.”
“I just knew you were a decent guy, Rog,” I told him. “Ivy said you were a jerk, but I didn’t believe it for a minute.”
“I did not!” Ivy yelped.
I drained the bottle of Dasani and handed it back to our new friend, and we all got back on the track. Roger Wallace took off at a dead run—he might have even been showing off a little. And Ivy and I continued on our stroll. After a minute, she said, “How did you do that?”
I looked over at her.
“I mean it. How—why did you do that?”
“Ivy, you always have to stand up to put downs. It’s the first rule of being a girl. Didn’t your dad ever teach you that?”
“Uhhh. No. Daniel’s not really that kind of dad.”
“Really? What kind is he?”
“He’s more of a dad in name only.”
“Oh,” I said, thinking this was not hard to believe at all. I nodded. “Well, I guess I’ll have to work fast to impart all of my dad’s best stuff.” I grinned. “You in? ”
Ivy looked down and shook her head. There was a smile in her voice when she said, “You called him a toad.”
“What? Who?”
“That guy.”
“I did?”
“Geneva called Tim a toad.”
“Geneva is…”
“My grandmother.”
“And Tim is…” I asked even though I knew.
Ivy let go of a deep breath, and her blue eyes got watery.