already know, “We’re engaged!” She and Craig skip down the steps, and she wraps me in a hard hug that makes me gasp.
“You’ll stand up with me. Right next to me, Lex.”
Suddenly, there’s a lump in my throat. “Okay.” I peel myself away from Kayla and say, “Tell us the whole story.”
And then they do. Except there isn’t one really.
Because couples don’t get engaged on Wednesdays. (Unless Valentine’s Day or Christmas happens to fall on Wednesday, which makes an engagement perfectly acceptable.) A guy shouldn’t pop the question at Mr. Hoback’s Apple Festival and Corn Maze right after he’s bought a candied apple with extra nuts. Usually there’s a story. A romantic one.
There are rules for this sort of thing. Expectations. Every girl in Rickman knows them, and every guy should too.
Except, it appears, Kayla and Craig.
Lame.
Even lamer, their nonstory is absolutely precious. And simply Rickman County. Like them.
“So it was just time to make it official?” I say, after Kayla rattles on about the hay wagon and the candied apple.
“Yeah.” She strokes Craig’s chest, and I swear he purrs. “We decided we can’t wait another minute to be engaged.”
Craig looks like his football team has won the state championship. “So, uh, Lex, do we have your blessing?”
“Blessings are for dads,” I say. “I’m just glad you have to replace that promise ring. Kayla’s finger is permanently green.” I laugh.
“Hey, not fair. I was eighteen, and it was all I could afford.” Craig gives me a shoulder punch, his favorite form of affection, and looks down at Kayla with adoring eyes. “She’ll have a real ring as soon as we talk to your parents.”
“Well, shouldn’t be a prob for you.” I repeat the words Mom uses all the time, “You’re practically family.”
“He is. Isn’t he?” Kayla beams.
My sister is radiant. The thought is like a flaming brand applied to my heart. I’m not jealous of her thick, dark hair that’s always straight and the eyelashes she seems to have in triplicate. I’m especially not jealous of her relationship with Craig. I don’t want to be Kayla, and I don’t want what she has. But I wish she wasn’t the physical standard by which I measure myself.
“Bodee, we’ll soon be saying the same thing about you, man,” Craig says.
“What does that mean?” I snap.
“I only meant he lives here now, Lex. You know how your mom and dad are. That makes him practically family.” Craig gives Bodee an easy smile. “This is like the best family in theworld. Don’t you think?” Craig asks him.
Bodee drops his tent in the driveway and scratches behind his ear. A blue strand of hair hidden behind a bold stripe of red is now visible. He doesn’t bother to fix it. His hairstyle doesn’t matter to him, and a week ago it didn’t matter to me. But now, I want to smooth it down for him. Want to offer him words so they don’t look so painful on his lips. Want to give him lyrics the way I do with the Captain.
“I had a family,” Bodee says.
And then there’s nothing to say.
Bodee lifts the tent, swipes the gravel dust off, and slips into the house like a ghost. Even the front door, which usually squeaks, is quiet. Bodee’s loss is so unimaginable that it squeezes my heart. And from the looks of it, Craig and Kayla are disturbed too.
“Craig, you have to help him,” Kayla says.
“I don’t think he’s ready for help yet, Kay. It hasn’t even been a week. But maybe I can do something,” Craig says.
“Don’t. Please,” I say to both of them. “You can’t buy him some new wardrobe or cut his hair and make it all happy. His mom’s dead. His dad killed her. No matter how badly you want it, there’s no magical cure that makes it go away. Sometimes life just sucks.” At some point, maybe I forget the speech is about Bodee. “So do Bodee a favor and get on with your giddy little love story and leave him alone. He doesn’t need fixing.”
I
“You’ll stand up with me. Right next to me, Lex.”
Suddenly, there’s a lump in my throat. “Okay.” I peel myself away from Kayla and say, “Tell us the whole story.”
And then they do. Except there isn’t one really.
Because couples don’t get engaged on Wednesdays. (Unless Valentine’s Day or Christmas happens to fall on Wednesday, which makes an engagement perfectly acceptable.) A guy shouldn’t pop the question at Mr. Hoback’s Apple Festival and Corn Maze right after he’s bought a candied apple with extra nuts. Usually there’s a story. A romantic one.
There are rules for this sort of thing. Expectations. Every girl in Rickman knows them, and every guy should too.
Except, it appears, Kayla and Craig.
Lame.
Even lamer, their nonstory is absolutely precious. And simply Rickman County. Like them.
“So it was just time to make it official?” I say, after Kayla rattles on about the hay wagon and the candied apple.
“Yeah.” She strokes Craig’s chest, and I swear he purrs. “We decided we can’t wait another minute to be engaged.”
Craig looks like his football team has won the state championship. “So, uh, Lex, do we have your blessing?”
“Blessings are for dads,” I say. “I’m just glad you have to replace that promise ring. Kayla’s finger is permanently green.” I laugh.
“Hey, not fair. I was eighteen, and it was all I could afford.” Craig gives me a shoulder punch, his favorite form of affection, and looks down at Kayla with adoring eyes. “She’ll have a real ring as soon as we talk to your parents.”
“Well, shouldn’t be a prob for you.” I repeat the words Mom uses all the time, “You’re practically family.”
“He is. Isn’t he?” Kayla beams.
My sister is radiant. The thought is like a flaming brand applied to my heart. I’m not jealous of her thick, dark hair that’s always straight and the eyelashes she seems to have in triplicate. I’m especially not jealous of her relationship with Craig. I don’t want to be Kayla, and I don’t want what she has. But I wish she wasn’t the physical standard by which I measure myself.
“Bodee, we’ll soon be saying the same thing about you, man,” Craig says.
“What does that mean?” I snap.
“I only meant he lives here now, Lex. You know how your mom and dad are. That makes him practically family.” Craig gives Bodee an easy smile. “This is like the best family in theworld. Don’t you think?” Craig asks him.
Bodee drops his tent in the driveway and scratches behind his ear. A blue strand of hair hidden behind a bold stripe of red is now visible. He doesn’t bother to fix it. His hairstyle doesn’t matter to him, and a week ago it didn’t matter to me. But now, I want to smooth it down for him. Want to offer him words so they don’t look so painful on his lips. Want to give him lyrics the way I do with the Captain.
“I had a family,” Bodee says.
And then there’s nothing to say.
Bodee lifts the tent, swipes the gravel dust off, and slips into the house like a ghost. Even the front door, which usually squeaks, is quiet. Bodee’s loss is so unimaginable that it squeezes my heart. And from the looks of it, Craig and Kayla are disturbed too.
“Craig, you have to help him,” Kayla says.
“I don’t think he’s ready for help yet, Kay. It hasn’t even been a week. But maybe I can do something,” Craig says.
“Don’t. Please,” I say to both of them. “You can’t buy him some new wardrobe or cut his hair and make it all happy. His mom’s dead. His dad killed her. No matter how badly you want it, there’s no magical cure that makes it go away. Sometimes life just sucks.” At some point, maybe I forget the speech is about Bodee. “So do Bodee a favor and get on with your giddy little love story and leave him alone. He doesn’t need fixing.”
I
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