5. Opal
FIVE
Opal
I lead Alex down the dusty gravel path that leads to the swimming hole, and now I’m nervous that I’ve talked it up way too much and when we get there he’ll just laugh in my face. I bet in Colorado they have big, giant lakes with clear blue water and mountains in the background. This is going to be a big let down if that’s what he’s expecting.
The little pond is only a few yards wide, and probably only six feet deep. But it’s surprisingly clean looking, and it’s in the shade of a big oak tree. A ray of sunlight shines through the thick leaves and reflects off the water, turning it a pretty greenish-gray color.
I look over at Alex, he doesn’t look super impressed, but he doesn’t seem entirely disappointed either.
He picks up a smooth looking rock out of the sand and dusts it off with his fingers. His hands are big, which is probably a weird thing to notice, but I do. They look strong, and tough, and for some reason I want to know what it’d feel like to hold his hand in mine.
“You know how to skip a rock?”
“No,” I answer.
He tosses the rock into the water, flicking his wrist, and the rock skips once before disappearing into the other side of the pond. “Like that.”
A little laugh escapes me. “That wasn’t much of an explanation.”
“Here, you try.” He picks up another rock, this one smaller, and hands it to me. I try to replicate what he just did and I fail miserably, the rock sinking sadly into the water.
“Like this,” he grabs another rock and walks over to me. He steps behind me, softly grabbing my hand in his and manipulating my fingers so that they’re holding the rock the way he wants them to. I suck in my breath and hold it, my whole body tingling like television static. What the heck is going on?
It’s not like I’ve never had a crush on a boy before. Last year I had a crush on Chase Turner. He’s the typical sporty-type guy that every girl seems to have a crush on at some point in her life. Swoopy brown hair, blue eyes.
But he and I hardly ever spoke to one another, and any time we did it was very obvious that my attraction was completely one sided. On the last day of school he and his other popular friend came up to me and told me one of the other boys in our class liked me. I stood there confused and surprised, waiting for an explanation, until both of them bursted out laughing. “You really thought someone liked you? Nobody likes girls like you.”
That ended the crush pretty abruptly.
This, however, feels different. Not saying I think that Alex likes me, I’m sure he doesn’t, but at the very least he wants to be my friend. And he’s not too disgusted by me to touch my hand.
When he asked me if I wanted to come over, part of me was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Probably because most of the time when a guy doesn’t completely ignore me, he’s saying something mean.
He shows me how to twist my wrist. “Then you just let go. Try it.”
He backs away, and finally I feel like I can breathe again. Once I’ve caught my breath and returned to reality, I do what he showed me. The rock lands on the water, then skitters across the lake the same way his did. My mouth drops open in shock.
“You did it!” He holds his hand up to give me a high five, his face lights up with a brilliant smile. I can’t help but mirror the expression, slapping my hand against his.
“I can’t believe that actually worked,” I laugh. “Thanks for teaching me.”
“You’re welcome, bluebird.”
I swing my head in his direction. “Bluebird? What does that mean?”
He looks surprised, like maybe he didn’t mean to call me that. “You just remind me of a bluebird…for some reason.”
The air between us crackles with something similar to awkwardness, but not quite the same. I’m completely confused about why he’d call me that, but I don’t hate it.
“Did your dad teach you how to do that?”
He scoffs and it’s just barely audible, but I don’t miss it. “No. My brother did.”
I decide to ignore the hint of aggression that he seems to have towards his dad, hoping not to upset him. “That’s cool. How old is he?”
His shoulders seem to slump suddenly, and his eyes flick to the other side of the pond, a faraway look overtaking them. “He would be eighteen now. He died last year.”
My stomach lurches. He died? No wonder he didn’t want me touching his guitar… Oh god, I feel horrible for bringing up the subject.
“I’m so sorry, Alex… Do you want to talk about it?”
His gaze swings over to mine, and I notice how his green eyes almost perfectly match the mossy shade of the water in front of us. “You might be the first person who’s ever asked me that.”
“Asked you what?”
“ Do I want to talk about it ? No, I don’t, but people always assume that I do. That I want to share every detail about the situation just because I bring it up. They act like I owe them an explanation about how he died.” He bends down and picks up another rock. This one skips two times. “Thanks for not assuming.” A tiny grin plays on his lips, and I automatically mirror the expression.
“You’re welcome.”
“So, I guess your parents don’t care that you come down here by yourself?”
“My mom doesn’t care, my grandma doesn’t know.”
“You live with your grandma?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh. Where’s your dad?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never met him.” I bite the inside of my cheek, hoping he won’t press the issue any further. Generally I try not to even share that information with people, but since he told me something personal it felt like fair game.
A grimace forms between his brows. “Oh, sorry.”
“It’s cool. I don’t really care,” I say breezily. The lie comes out so smoothly that even I believe it at this point. Why should I care? I never knew the guy anyway.
“If it makes you feel any better, my mom took off after Ezra died. So it’s just Dad and I.”
I can’t even imagine. His brother and his mom are gone? I’ve always felt like my family’s situation was…weird. Not bad, just different. But I’ve never met my sperm donor, so I can’t really miss what I’ve never had.
“That’s awful,” I say, even though it’s a lame excuse of a response.
He shakes his head. “I don’t really blame her. I mean, I wish she would’ve taken me with her.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets, still staring at the ripples in the water from the last stone that was tossed. “Dad changed after Ezra died. He started drinking more, became more of a dick. I guess Mom couldn’t take all of it at once, so she just left.”
Suddenly I understand why the guys picking on him at lunch didn’t seem to faze him. He’s dealt with much harder stuff than most people our age have.
Even if he doesn’t blame her, I can’t help but feel angry at his mom. How could she leave behind her only son? I hardly know the guy and my heart is breaking for him. Maybe it’s partially due to my own situation, but I have zero sympathy for parents that abandon their kids. But I don’t say any of that, because what good would that do?
“Guess neither of our families are perfect, huh?” He smiles, but I can tell it’s in vain.
I nod. “Guess not.”