In the Shadows

Part Thirteen: the Thornes

She shrugged, "Kind of, I guess. We carpool but she doesn't talk much. I don't know if I would say we're friends."

"I need to talk to her, but she doesn't have her phone. Can you tell me where she lives?"

She looked at me suspiciously and thought for a moment before speaking again. "You're not going to be stupid, are you? That last guy she was hanging out with messed her up. I don't know what happened but it was bad. And it ended really bad. I mean, you've heard what people are saying about her."

I haven't heard, and I didn't want to. I don't think anyone could tell me anything about her that would change the way I felt. At this point, I was in too deep. "Please, just tell me where I can find her."

"I mean it, Anthony, don't be stupid. She doesn't need another dumb boy making things any harder than they already are." Hannah reluctantly said, "57 Gold Oak court."

I patted the roof of her car and hopped back on my board, shouting a thank you as I turned around to go into the neighborhood I had just passed. She was in there.

I rode down the street, reading each sign carefully until I saw Gold Oak. I picked up the board and looked in the side mirror of a car parked in the street. I had to check that my hair looked right and that I wasn't too sweaty. A quick sniff check of my armpits and I was back on my way, counting the house numbers.

49, 51, 53, 55...

There was a boy who looked close to my age sitting in the driveway, tinkering with the battery of a remote control car. He was deeply focused on the wires, and visibly frustrated, when another car came zipping out of the garage and smacked into the kid's ankle.

"AH! What the ffff..." He refrained from cursing as his dad stepped out of the garage, bent over and laughing. His dad struggled to drive the little car. Flooring it in reverse, the small car turned quickly and flipped into the neighbor's grass. That's when they noticed me approaching.

Smiling with a polite nod, his dad asked, "Hey, how's it going?"

"Hi. Do you know, um, are you Stephanie's dad? Mr. Thorne, I mean." My mouth was completely dry, I was suddenly so nervous. I don't think I was ever really nervous in my life until I met this girl, the pressure was really on.

"I am." The two walked over to me. Her dad's expression became a bit more serious, "Who's asking?"

"My name is Anthony Slater, sir. I was hoping to talk to Stephanie. Is she here?" I stuck my hand out to shake his. He grabbed it firmly. I squeezed back.

      "Cam, go see if your sister's around." He nudged her brother and motioned me to follow him. He carried the cars into the garage and set them on a work bench. I looked around at the array of tools, power tools, oil, and loose car parts. Nailed to the far back wall, I noticed several street signs that I don't think were bought from a store.

"You must be the friend who had a baseball game last night." He said.

"Yes, sir. Third base. You ever play?"

"Well, congrats on your win. And no, I'm a football guy."

I nodded, noticing the photos, banners, and helmets of his favorite team.

"Have you ever seen one of these?" Her dad asked, holding a tennis racket.

Of course I have seen a racket before.

He saw the confusion on my face and continued, "Here, let me see your arm."

I reached my left arm toward him and he swung the racket at my elbow.

ZAP! I jumped. The strings crackled with electricity. Her dad burst out laughing.

"Dad! Put that down!" Stephanie scolded him from the doorway. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun on the top of her head, several strands of her soft brown hair fell in front her face. A little bit of black make up was smudged under her eyes. She stepped barefoot into the garage, zipping up a grey hoodie over her black tank top and plaid pajama pants. She looked adorable.

She took me by the hand and led me into the house, groaning under her breath, "Geez, could you guys be normal for a minute?"

    I was laughing to myself as I followed her down the hallway to the living room. Suddenly, I was hit with the overwhelming smell of spices and meats. Oil sizzled and splattered in a large pan in the hazy kitchen across from the living room. Stephanie's mom was busy chopping away at some herbs and talking on the phone, dropping in and out of English and an Asian dialect.

    "Let me see." Stephanie spoke calmly, pulling me to sit and examining the red hash marks on my elbow. She shook her head, "I'm so sorry. Does it hurt at all?"

I chuckled, "Not at all. It was funny, just surprising."

She looked up at me, her big blue eyes shimmering with worry. I put my hand on her cheek and repeated, "It's okay, it doesn't hurt."

"What are you doing here anyway?" she asked with a gentle smile. Before I had a chance to answer, her eyes widened. She looked down at her pajamas and gasped. "I need to- I'm sorry- hold on. Wait here! I'll be right back!"

I watched her frantically run around the corner and heard a door slam. From the corner of my eye I saw a cat coiled into a tight ball, crushing the pillow it slept on. Everything in the living room was an eclectic collection of mix-matched pieces; things lost and found through a lifetime of travels. The dark wood coffee table covered in water rings, the frayed and faded throw blankets, the gallery wall of family pictures, their family may be new to this house but it felt deeply lived in.

"Did she offer you a drink yet?" Stephanie's mom called over to me.

"Oh, um, no. But that's alright."

"Don't be silly." She walked over with a glass of ice water anyway, "It's hot today. Stay hydrated."

She stayed close by, as if waiting for me to drink the water. I took a large sip, the cold actually felt really nice. "Thank you, Mrs. Thorne."

"When did you meet Stephanie? She doesn't have many friends, and certainly never brings them home. Are you the boy who took her out a few months ago? She never said his name but told me about some boy she was seeing. What is your name?"

"My name is Anthony. I haven't known Steph for very long. I haven't taken her out yet, but I would like to."

"Easy with the interrogation, mom." Her brother hollered, walking back into the garage. Just then, Stephanie came trotting around the corner. Hair brushed and face washed, she was wearing a white long sleeve shirt, denim shorts that looked like she cut short herself, and the cutest dirty cowboy boots I have ever seen. I smiled, standing as she walked in the room.

She took my hand, "Let's go for a walk. I know a cool spot."

I thanked her mom and followed her out the front door. We ran down the street, hand in hand, giggling like little kids off on an adventure. The greatest adventure of my life.