hand. “I’m all set.”
“Try it,” she insists. “It’ll make being up in this tree so much better.” I hesitate another second before giving in, scooping out a conservative helping. When I put it in my mouth, Nyelle notices my expression. “Good, right?”
I nod. “You were right. The tree makes so much sense now.”
“I love frosting,” she says dreamily, ignoring my sarcasm. She scoops out another helping. “What could you eat every day without getting sick of it?”
After swallowing down another fingerful, I answer, “Cereal. I’m convinced I could eat it for every meal.”
“You’re such a guy.” Nyelle laughs. “I’d eat potato chips every day for the rest of my life. I’d mix it up and have a different flavor or brand each day. I love chips.”
“And frosting,” I note, watching her mindlessly consume the whipped sugar.
“Have you ever dipped potato chips in frosting?” she asks excitedly—like it’s the best idea.
“No.” I grimace. “That sounds disgusting.”
“No way. Salty and sweet is the best combination. Now that I’m thinking about it, I’ll have to try it.”
I chuckle, expecting her to reach in and pull out a bag of chips from her pocket. But she doesn’t.
Nyelle becomes distracted by a flock of birds flying overhead and watches them land on a tree across the park. A light gust sweeps a few strands of hair across her cheeks. I like it when she wears her hair down, wavy and untamed. Her eyes flicker with thought, although her face remains calm and content. “If you could have a superpower, what would it be?” She glances over at me, and I realize I haven’t taken my eyes off her. I blink and look around.
“Uh,” I stall. Not expecting the question. “Are we
reflecting
?”
“Yeah,” she answers with the smile. “Don’t worry. What’s said in the tree stays in the tree.”
I wonder just how honest we’re about to be. “Okay.” I nod, hoping I’m not going to regret this. “I think… superstrength. Probably because I was such a scrawny kid.”
“You don’t look very scrawny now,” Nyelle observes, tilting her head to look me over, causing me to shift uncomfortably.
“Yeah, but it doesn’t change my childhood. What about you?”
Her translucent blue eyes scan the sky. She’s sitting back so casually like she’s sitting on the bench below us—not at the top of a tree. “I’d fly. But more like… float. Let the wind carry me and set me down wherever it wants.” She arches up with her eyes closed, like she’s tempting the wind to take her. Her chest rises and falls dramatically, filling her lungs with the air she wants to be a part of. When she opens her eyes and looks at me, I sit up straighter and focus on the leaf above her head. I keep getting lost in her. She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever known.
“Do you ever wish you could do something over again?” she asks, her tone more serious. Her eyes are dark and troubled. I’m wondering where her thoughts took her in that quiet moment in the wind. “There are so many times I think about a decision I’ve made and wonder, ‘What if I had done it differently? Who would I be? What would my life be like? What if…?’” She takes a deep breath, leaving the thought unfinished.
Without warning, the storm passes from her eyes and a mischievous smile cuts across her face. “What if you could do something over again? What would you choose?”
I open my mouth but don’t know what to say. The irony of her question keeps the words trapped. If anyone has something to confess, it’s the girl sitting across from me.
“Don’t torture yourself,” Nyelle says with a laugh. She looks off in the distance at two little girls running down the sidewalk. “What if I had one more day?”
“For what?” I ask automatically.
She presses her lips together, not saying more. I guess these confessions are meant to be as cryptic as everything else about her.
I look around for inspiration and
“Try it,” she insists. “It’ll make being up in this tree so much better.” I hesitate another second before giving in, scooping out a conservative helping. When I put it in my mouth, Nyelle notices my expression. “Good, right?”
I nod. “You were right. The tree makes so much sense now.”
“I love frosting,” she says dreamily, ignoring my sarcasm. She scoops out another helping. “What could you eat every day without getting sick of it?”
After swallowing down another fingerful, I answer, “Cereal. I’m convinced I could eat it for every meal.”
“You’re such a guy.” Nyelle laughs. “I’d eat potato chips every day for the rest of my life. I’d mix it up and have a different flavor or brand each day. I love chips.”
“And frosting,” I note, watching her mindlessly consume the whipped sugar.
“Have you ever dipped potato chips in frosting?” she asks excitedly—like it’s the best idea.
“No.” I grimace. “That sounds disgusting.”
“No way. Salty and sweet is the best combination. Now that I’m thinking about it, I’ll have to try it.”
I chuckle, expecting her to reach in and pull out a bag of chips from her pocket. But she doesn’t.
Nyelle becomes distracted by a flock of birds flying overhead and watches them land on a tree across the park. A light gust sweeps a few strands of hair across her cheeks. I like it when she wears her hair down, wavy and untamed. Her eyes flicker with thought, although her face remains calm and content. “If you could have a superpower, what would it be?” She glances over at me, and I realize I haven’t taken my eyes off her. I blink and look around.
“Uh,” I stall. Not expecting the question. “Are we
reflecting
?”
“Yeah,” she answers with the smile. “Don’t worry. What’s said in the tree stays in the tree.”
I wonder just how honest we’re about to be. “Okay.” I nod, hoping I’m not going to regret this. “I think… superstrength. Probably because I was such a scrawny kid.”
“You don’t look very scrawny now,” Nyelle observes, tilting her head to look me over, causing me to shift uncomfortably.
“Yeah, but it doesn’t change my childhood. What about you?”
Her translucent blue eyes scan the sky. She’s sitting back so casually like she’s sitting on the bench below us—not at the top of a tree. “I’d fly. But more like… float. Let the wind carry me and set me down wherever it wants.” She arches up with her eyes closed, like she’s tempting the wind to take her. Her chest rises and falls dramatically, filling her lungs with the air she wants to be a part of. When she opens her eyes and looks at me, I sit up straighter and focus on the leaf above her head. I keep getting lost in her. She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever known.
“Do you ever wish you could do something over again?” she asks, her tone more serious. Her eyes are dark and troubled. I’m wondering where her thoughts took her in that quiet moment in the wind. “There are so many times I think about a decision I’ve made and wonder, ‘What if I had done it differently? Who would I be? What would my life be like? What if…?’” She takes a deep breath, leaving the thought unfinished.
Without warning, the storm passes from her eyes and a mischievous smile cuts across her face. “What if you could do something over again? What would you choose?”
I open my mouth but don’t know what to say. The irony of her question keeps the words trapped. If anyone has something to confess, it’s the girl sitting across from me.
“Don’t torture yourself,” Nyelle says with a laugh. She looks off in the distance at two little girls running down the sidewalk. “What if I had one more day?”
“For what?” I ask automatically.
She presses her lips together, not saying more. I guess these confessions are meant to be as cryptic as everything else about her.
I look around for inspiration and
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