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HARLEY
Four Years Ago
The sun is unrelenting, and I scoot towards the shade that keeps moving. Sweat dots my forehead and upper lip. I use my shirt to wipe my face before lighting the end of the joint and taking a deep breath.
It’s quiet down here. A few of the boys and I often come down to the agriculture shed and roll up. No teachers venture down here, except the ag teacher, who is often too busy being inside his own head to even notice us, although we do make an extra effort to be discreet.
The insistent buzzing of Brennon’s phone is driving me mad. I stare at him. “Who are you texting?”
Brennon’s lips curve upwards. “Rianna.”
I tilt my head. “Aren’t you seeing Elise?”
Brennon shrugs. “You know how it is with Elise. On and off. She only likes to sink down to my level every now and then.”
I snort. That’s sort of right, though. She’s little miss Perfect with her goody-two-shoes friends. Elise only every now and then takes a walk on the wild side with Brennon. Little does she know, he has girls on the go every moment her attention is turned off him. Well. Even when it isn’t.
When I think about Elise, my mind wanders to her pretty little friend, Josephine Mayor. I can’t get that girl off my fucking mind. There’s so much more to her than meets the surface. She first caught my attention looks-wise—her stunning blue eyes, that gorgeous blonde hair, her cute round face. But the moment I became … well … a little infatuated was when I overheard her father grilling her one afternoon in the supermarket. He was shredding into her, tearing little bit by bit off her.
She stood there, chin jutted out, taking every comment from him with a fierceness I admired. I could see it from a mile away. Father with high expectations that no child could ever meet. Although not the exact same situation as mine, I really felt for her. Not many people around here experience the harsh reality of life like me. And then I saw that. And it intrigued me. Because there was a fire in her eyes so similar to how I felt around my own father. With her bright smile, perfect hair, and prim clothes, you’d never have thought her life was anything other than picture-perfect.
That’s not the only similarity between Josephine and myself.
We don’t fit in here. We long for more. A taste of adventure. The thrill of change. The hunger for life. I’ve learned a lot about Josephine since I started taking more notice of her.
Fern Grove suddenly seems a little less torturous, knowing that I might have a kindred spirit here. Our paths are going to cross. Very soon.
She just doesn’t know that yet.
