no match for the cheering from Dale and Graham as they raced around the room and stormed past me to the garage.
Everett was the last to leave, and I watched as he scrubbed his hands over his face. He looked tired, the kind of tired that weighed down the spirit as well as the shoulders.
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask if he was okay, but when he looked at me, defeat warring with the fake smile he maneuvered into place, I knew there was little use.
He stood, grabbing the tiny notebook he carried with him in the back pocket of his jeans.
“Can I get a T-shirt?” I asked before he entered the garage. “You know, with the orange apple on it?”
A slight shake of his shoulders was the only sign he’d even acknowledged my question, and then the door closed behind him.
I clicked my pen and smirked at the way it made Everett’s jaw shift. “You hardly ever do homework here anymore.” If he sat with me at the dining table, it was to write in that journal of his. “What’s got you behaving?”
“Finals,” he grunted out, then cursed and put a line through the last sentence he’d written in his book.
I turned my attention back to my own work, noting the countries that bordered Australia on the notepad beside me.
“Why is it you’re always behaving?”
“Huh?” I shoved my pen between my teeth to tighten my ponytail.
Everett followed the movement. I spat the pen out, and his lips curled. “You’re never out.”
I felt my brows lower. “Am too. Adela and I went to the movies just two nights ago.”
His eyes turned down to his notebook. “Not talking about the movies. I’m talking about parties. I see girls your age at them all the time.”
“Oh.” I wasn’t sure what to do with my hands or eyes.
“Not interested?” he prodded.
“I am,” I said too quick. “I mean, I’m curious, I guess. But I don’t know… I wouldn’t be allowed to yet. And I’m not like Hendrix. I don’t have the guts to sneak out.”
“It’s good,” he finally said after a few beats, “that you don’t do that shit yet.”
He was still staring at his messy notes, and I laughed. “Okay then.”
Sighing, he pushed his things away and folded his arms on the table. “You’re too smart to be getting mixed up in the wrong crowd is all. You’ve got goals.”
“I’m not that smart.” It wasn’t a lie. I was an average student with average plans. “And I just want to be around flowers all day, keep things minimal to better experience what comes. How’s that for goals?”
After blinking at me three times, he lifted a broad shoulder, and my eyes dropped to his tanned forearms. “It’s a goal, and a unique one at that. Doesn’t matter what it is. If it’s important to you and it’s what you want, don’t talk it down.” He went to get a drink, and I sat there, stewing over his words.
I was sure it was the most he’d ever said to me in one afternoon in the whole time we’d been hanging out.
“And what about you?” I asked when he came back with two cans of Coke in his hands.
He set one down in front of me and popped his open, taking a sip. “What about me?” He said it so nonchalantly as if I wasn’t supposed to expect him to have any plans.
Watching him swallow, the way his throat dipped, I shook my head and scratched my cheek. “Uh, well, your goals. Don’t you have any? College? Music?”
He licked his full lips, then smacked them together while studying my face too intently. “Nah.”
“Nah?” I repeated. “But you sing like a god, not to mention the way you play the guitar.” I paused then, remembering him and Mom on the piano in our living room last week. He wasn’t half bad at that either. “And soon, you’ll be able to add the piano to your list of skills.”
“That’s just fun. I’m not equipped for college.” He rapped a fist on the table, his knuckles tapping twice, then pausing before a triple tap. “And if I’m being honest, I’ll do just about anything that’ll take me away from here.”
Taken aback, I straightened my spine. “You’re leaving Plume Grove?”
“Yeah,” he said, pulling his books back and closing them. “It’s stagnant here, and I don’t know if I can do stagnant. Especially in a place where…” He stopped and blew out a breath.