Emily For Real by Sylvia Gunnery

over here.”
    Caroline’s all quiet as we leave. Leo’s telling her he’ll phone at the usual time and he’ll see her in a few days. No one’s mentioned the father again.
    We get to the wharf and it’s pretty windy. Whoever Angela is, she’s not here yet. Lobster traps are stacked high in neat, tight rows beside where boats are tied up. Rose Krista . Double B . Homeward Bound . High waves are pounding against the breakwater that’s protecting this little cove.
    â€œThat’s you out there, Leo,” I say.
    â€œWhat’re you talking about?”
    â€œWhen you get mad. All those waves crashing in, over and over and over, exploding on those rocks.”
    For a second he doesn’t say anything. Then he picks up a small rock and puts it roughly in my hand. “That’s what getting mad feels like. Not waves crashing or exploding. It’s a rock right here in your guts.”
    A car horn toots behind us. Leo walks over and gets in the front. The driver, who must be Angela, throws a cigarette butt out her window. I get in the backseat, still holding the rock in my fist.
    â€œThis is Emily,” says Leo. “This is Angela.”
    â€œHi,” I say. “Thanks for the drive.”
    â€œSorry I can’t take you all the way into the city.”
    â€œWe won’t have a problem once we’re on the 103,” says Leo.
    This time he doesn’t joke about me guaranteeing a lift. I know he’s still fuming about what I said. Which sort of proves I’m right.
    I open my hand and take a closer look at the rock. It’s mostly white, with little gray and black flecks all over it. Some of them catch the light and sparkle. It’s beautiful. I put it in my jacket pocket and look out at the gray ocean and the gray sky and the gray shoreline going past.
    Dad’s in the backyard filling his bird feeders when I get home. He does this twice a day. “Breakfast and supper,” he says. I like how birds know the routine. It even seems like they know him.
    â€œYou’re home,” says Dad.
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œPretty good day?”
    â€œNot bad,” I say. “I went with a friend of mine, Leo, to see his little sister. She’s living at his aunt’s now because his mom’s an alcoholic.” I don’t say anything about hitchhiking. “His sister might have to go live with her father who Leo says is an idiot.”
    â€œSounds complicated,” says Dad. He pours some black sunflower seeds from his hand into mine.
    â€œIt made me feel sad.” I stretch out my arm and hold up my handful of seeds.
    â€œIt is sad,” he says.
    There’s a whir of little wings as a chickadee lands on the tips of my fingers. It grabs a seed and whirs away. I watch it land on a branch and pound the shell to get at the food inside. Then another chickadee lands. Its thin black legs and feet make me think of pencil doodles on a page.
    Dad’s just standing there, watching the chickadees land on my fingers and take off, land and take off.
    â€œI don’t remember you saying anything about someone called Leo,” says Dad.
    â€œHe’s new at school. We’re friend-friends,” I say to make things clear. I toss the rest of the seeds on the grass and put my cold hands into my pockets. Leo’s anger rock is still there.
    â€œI see.”
    â€œHe can be very funny when he wants to, but a lot of the time he sort of stews.”
    â€œMakes sense with all that’s going on with his family.”
    â€œHis little sister adores him.”
    â€œThat’ll probably get him through the complications.”
    â€œYeah,” I say.
    â€œYour mom told me about you and Brian, Emily. I always liked Brian. But whatever reason he has for changing his mind, it’s got nothing to do with you…who you are, what you look like, nothing. Who knows what people want? Sometimes even they don’t know