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Leaves and branches provided protection from the sun and created a magical canopy. Out here I felt free. No one else mattered.
Sometimes I liked to pretend the ground and I had a connection. We understood each other. I needed to feel important. And the ground needed me to help it feel needed.
I could ride these trails with my eyes closed!
The freedom I felt exhilarated me. I peddled harder, going up a small hill, and then squealed as I rode down the other side.
Every twist, turn and hill took me closer to the treehouse someone built near the creek. Inside that treehouse, nothing elsemattered.
I crested over a hill and felt my stomach drop. It reminded me of Henry invading my space.
With a shake of my head, I cast him from my thoughts.
Henry Walsh was part of the “in” crowd and there’s no reason to give him a second thought.
The path twisted towards the water and I slowed my bike to not fly down the last dip. The last thing I wanted to do was land in the creek head first.
Like two years ago.
I pulled up to the huge tree, parked my bike at the base, and climbed the ladder up inside the house. The moment my head entered the space, I saw him.
Henry Walsh sat against the wall, looking at me.
I couldn’t stop the snarl on my face as I retraced my steps to leave.
“Wait!” He poked his head out of the opening. “Miranda!”
“What!” I snapped and glared up at him.
“I came here to talk to you.”
“When did we become friends?” I jumped down to the ground. “Because I didn’t get that memo.”
“C’mon.” He looked down at me and flashed a smile that showed off a perfect dimple in his right cheek. “I’m not a bad guy.”
“That remains to be seen.” I blew my bangs off of my forehead and climbed back up into the treehouse. “Don’t make me regret this.”
When I reached the top and climbed inside, he was sitting back against the wall again.
“What happened to your parents?” His soft voice punched me in the gut, especially since he was the second person to ask me.
“That’swhat you want to talk about?”
“Look. Sometimes I wish mine were dead.” He shook his head. “And when you said your mom was dead … I don’t know. It made me feel weird.”
“They were hit by a drunk driver.” I looked at my lap and played with the hem of my shirt.
“Did you get along with them?” He pulled his legs up, folding them underneath his butt. “Were you with them?”
I shook my head and glanced up through my hair. “It was Christmas eve. They went to midnight mass, and I stayed at my grandparent’s.”
“Oh, damn.” He ran his hand through his hair. “They went to church and then …”
“Yeah.” I looked up, nodding. “Makes ya wonder if there even is a god.”
“I really am sorry.” He moved closer to me as I swiped at my face to clear the errant tears. “Maybe wishing my parents were dead is a bit extreme.”
“You could turn yourself in at the fire station.” I shrugged and jumped when he barked out a laugh. “What?”
