True handsomeness had escaped him by millimeters. His features were too blunt and bold, and his nose had a crook near the bridge from having been broken once. But he had a slow burn of a smile, and blue-on-blue eyes that seemed even brighter against the sun-glazed color of his skin, and a tumble of dark brown hair as shiny as mink fur.
"You got nothing to fear from those dogs," he said. "They're full of mischief, but as far as I know they've never bitten anyone. Here, take my hand."
As he pulled me up and set me on my feet, my knees felt like they'd been set on fire. I
hardly noticed the pain. I was so occupied with the fury of my heartbeat. The grip of his hand was strong around mine, his fingers dry and warm.
"Where do you live?" the boy asked. "Are you moving into the new trailer on the loop?"
"Uh-huh." I wiped a stray tear off my chin.
"Hardy..." The blond girl's voice was sweetly cajoling. "She's all right now. Come walk me back. I got somethin' in my room to show you."
Hardy. So that was his name. He remained facing me, his vivid gaze shifting to the ground. It was probably just as well the girl couldn't see the wry smile secreted in the corners of his mouth. He seemed to have a pretty good idea of what she wanted to show him.
"Can't," he said cheerfully. "I have to take care of this little one."
The disgruntlement I felt at being referred to as if I were a toddler was promptly replaced by the triumph of being chosen over the blond girl. Although I couldn't figure out why in the world he wasn't leaping at the chance to go with her.
I wasn't a homely child, but neither was I the kind people made much of. From my Mexican father I had inherited dark hair, heavy eyebrows, and a mouth I thought was twice the size it needed to be. From Mama I had gotten a skinny build and light-colored eyes, but they weren't a clear sea-green like hers, they were hazel. I had often longed to have Mama's ivory skin and blond hair, but Daddy's darkness had won out.
It didn't help matters that I was shy and wore glasses. I was never one to stand out in the crowd. I liked to stay in corners. And I was happiest when I was alone reading. That and the good grades I got in school had doomed any chance of being popular with my peers. So it was a foregone conclusion that boys like Hardy were never going to take notice of me.
"Come on," he urged, leading the way to a tan single-wide with concrete steps at the back. A hint of a strut livened Hardy's walk, giving him the jauntiness of a junkyard dog.
I followed cautiously, wondering how mad Mama would be if she found out I'd wandered off with a stranger. "Is this yours?" I asked, my feet sinking into the crackling beige grass as we went toward the trailer.
Hardy replied over his shoulder. "I live here with my mom. two brothers, and a sister."
"That's a lot of people for a single-wide." I commented.
"Yeah, it is. I've got to move soon—there's no room for me in there. Mom says I'm growing so fast I'm like to bust the walls of the trailer out."
The notion that this creature still had some growing to do was almost alarming. "How big are you going to get?" I asked.
He chuckled and went to a spigot attached to a dusty gray garden hose. Turning it with a few deft twists, he started the flow of water and went to find the end of the hose. "Don't know. I'm already taller than most of my kin. Sit on that bottom step and stretch your legs out."
I obeyed, looking down at my scrawny calves, the skin covered with childish dark fuzz.
I had experimented a few times with shaving my legs, but it hadn't yet become an established routine. I couldn't help comparing them to the smooth tanned legs of the blond girl, and the heat of embarrassment rose inside me.
Approaching me with the hose, Hardy sank to his haunches and warned. "This'll probably sting a little, Liberty."
"That's all right. I—" I stopped, my eyes widening in amazement. "How did you know my name?"
A smile lurked in one corner of his mouth. "It's written on the back of your belt."
Name belts had been popular that year. I had begged Mama to order one for me. We'd chosen pale pink leather with my name tooled in red letters.
I inhaled sharply as Hardy rinsed my knees with a stream of tepid water, washing off the blood and grit. It hurt more than I expected, especially when he passed his thumb over a few stubborn particles of rock to loosen them from my swollen skin.
He made a soothing sound as I flinched, and talked to distract me. "How old are you? Twelve?"
"Fourteen and three quarters."
His blue eyes sparkled. "You're kind of little for fourteen and three quarters."
"Am not." I replied indignantly. "I'm a sophomore this year. How old are you?"