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Kelley nudges his foot into Penny’s. “You should've gone with your friends and had some fun,” he says.
“I’m already having fun,” she replies simply. “And me and Alex are going to start a birdhouse condo today.”
“Actually, we’re dragging Alex out. We’re gonna grab some food, shoot some pool, and throw some darts,” Mikey says.
Penny’s gaze sweeps from the guys to me. “You’re going with them?” she asks.
Kelley and Mikey also turn to look at me and I suddenly feel like I’m under a high-powered microscope.
An odd uncertainty creeps up my spine as I reply, “Yeah.”
Penny’s smile falls from her face, slow and fluttery, like a leaf falling from a tree. “But… I thought we were going to start the birdhouse.”
I take a sip of my lemonade. A heart-shaped slice of strawberry floats among the ice and presses against my lips. “We can start it tomorrow. I promise.”
Her cheeks redden with a flare of instant despair. “You said we were going to do it today. I’ve been looking forward to it all week. I made a mood board. I picked out colors that attract birds, I hunted around for tiny twigs, and—”
“Hey,” Kelley interrupts softly. “Take it easy. There’s no reason to get upset. You can do it tomorrow. It’ll still be awesome.”
“But we had a plan,” she protests. “And now he’s just ditching me.”
“I’m not ditching you, Penny. You know I never ditch you.” I’ve been looking forward to building the birdhouse condo with her all week, too, but Kelley and Mikey threatened to literally drag me out of the house if I said no to a guys’ night out again.
Penny crosses her arms. “It sure feels like it.”
Mikey laughs. “Join the club. He’s been blowing us off for years, kiddo.”
“Whatever,” she mutters, standing. “I’m going home.”
“Why don’t I drive you to town to meet your friends?” Kelley offers. “Call your mom and ask her if it’s okay.”
“No, thank you,” she answers, sniffling. “I’d rather just be alone.”
“Penny,” I call after her as she steps off the porch. “C’mon, don’t be mad. I promise we’ll start the birdhouse tomorrow.”
Her eyes are damp and glistening when she turns to me. “I’m not mad, Fox. I’m upset.” She lifts her chin in an attempt to compose herself as much as a twelve-year-old girl can. “There’s a difference.”
Dumbfounded, I watch Cherry escort Penny to the end of the driveway, then return to the porch.
“What the hell was that all about?” I mutter.
“She’s got a crush on you,” Kelley says.
“What?” I scoff. “No, she doesn’t.”
“Yup,” Mikey agrees. “A wicked bad crush.”
I blink at them in surprise. “Have you guys lost your damn minds?”
“Alex, wake up. She does. Don’t you see the way she looks at you? How she brings you snacks and drinks? How she’s totally at home in your house and in your studio?”
“She’s twelve, Kelley. She’s too young to have a crush. She brings the dog snacks and toys all the time, too. It’s just how she is—she likes to do nice things. And she’s been coming here for years, so of course she’s comfortable here. Why is that wrong?”
“Trust me,” Mikey says. “She’s not too young to be crushing. I have a cousin her age, and she’s totally crazy about a boy in her class. Wants to marry him and everything.”
“Maybe your cousin is weird.”
“We’re serious, Fox,” Kelley pipes up. “The kid has a major crush on you. We noticed it a while ago, how she’s here all the time and totally focused on you, always wanting to be around you, sitting close to you. Her eyes totally light up when you talk to her.”
Her eyes do light up, but I love that about her. She’s always so bright and excited to start new projects or to talk about art, or something she read or saw on TV. I love the way she listens so intently to me.
“She helps me out. She sorts through the trash and helps me with ideas, and I pay her. She saves her money to buy books and art supplies. She sits at the desk in the corner and draws and writes for hours. Her mother knows she’s here. She doesn’t mind.”
“Yeah,” Mikey says. “Because you’ve basically been free childcare for years.”
“Seriously? Fuck off.”
Kelley throws Mikey a warning look, then faces me. “Look, it was cute and sweet that you let her hang around when she was younger, but I think you gotta put a stop to it.”
I sit forward. “I think you guys are overreacting. I feel bad for her. Her parents are always working. All she wants is a little attention. She loves coming here to help, and doing her own thing. It makes her happy. Have you seen her drawings and poetry? Her talent is endless. She’s incredible.” I don’t tell them the extent of her unique, mind-bending talents—like the memory pictures or her uncanny ability to know things.
