The orange exterior of the truck matches the rust that eats away at the interior bottom of the door. The seats are worn to threads in parts and showing their inside cushion in others. Beau hops in the driver's side and reaches into the small backseat.
"Can you hop out for a second?" he asks.
I'm not sure what he's planning, but I oblige. He places a soft blanket over the spot where I was sitting to cover the holes.
"Better?" he asks.
"Sure." I sit back down.
He starts the engine. It coughs and sputters like it has something stuck in its throat before roaring to life. Without a word, he begins driving the thirty minutes it takes to get to school. The sky leads a blue, blue path out of the bog, and my thoughts trail behind.
It's not until we're moments from the school that he finally speaks. "I'll break up with her today. Would you like that?"
"No," I say. "You shouldn't end a relationship because someone new comes along."
"A relationship?" He laughs.
"Or whatever you want to call it. Either way, it should be ended because you want it to be, flat out," I reply.
"I do want it over."
"Because of me?"
"Or because of how annoying it is that she wants to hang out every single day," he says.
"Maybe she likes you a lot."
"Or maybe it's because she always steals my food when we go out to eat. She can order anything. Doesn't need to eat mine," he says.
I see where he's going with this. "Are even one of those possibilities the truth?"
"No," he says.
I look into his eyes. Hold his stare. "Is that the truth?"
"No."
"Are you ever going to tell me the truth?"
"No," he answers, pulling up to the school.
"Did you just tell the truth now?"
"Yes."
I think maybe, for once, Beau did tell me a truth. And actually, his truth might be scarier than his lies.
"Will you ride with me every day, Willow?"
"Why should I do that?" My insides jump at the thought of spending a half hour every school day so near to Beau, smelling the scent that is deliciously him. Like bonfires and mud.
"Because I want you to," he says. Problem solved.
"Maybe I want to think about it." I open my door to a parking lot of students shuffling toward classes. Some stop to stare. Soon, others do, too.
"Will it help if I tell you that I'm definitely not gonna be with Samantha anymore? The real reason is because I didn't want to be with her anyway. Now you come along, and I think maybe we can be friends. Or more than friends. If you'll let me, I'll see you after school. I'll meet you on the swamp path, and we'll go on all the boat rides and walks and whatever it is you like. And you'll tell me the things you want. And I'll hope that I'm one of them."
I don't have time to react because a girl comes into focus, angry face, tears welling.
"What are you doing, Beau?" she asks.
Her hands shake. She is beautiful. Long golden locks that fall to her waist. A slender face and frame. Cheeks and nose rosy like she's trying her damnedest not to cry.
It hits me who she must be.
Beau stills. "Why, hello, Samantha."
8
Beau
I wait, a long pause like a person taking his last breath, trying to decide what to do. Willow looks like she's attempting to figure me out. It also appears as though she feels bad for Samantha.
Samantha is on the verge of tears. Her lip trembles. She bites it to keep her composure. Then repeats herself.
"What are you doing?"
Her voice is barely a whisper now.
"Samantha, this is my new neighbor, Willow," I say. It would have been easier if she hadn't seen us arrive together. There's nothing to Willow and me-we are only friends-but I can see how Samantha might think something else. "Willow, this is Samantha."
I hate that the entire school is watching. This would be so much easier without a crowd. Samantha doesn't deserve a public breakup.
"Samantha," Willow says, voice strong. "So you are real."
Willow thought my riddles might not be true. That maybe I wasn't involved.
"Real?" Samantha asks, confused.
Willow sends me a hardened glance. She doesn't seem to care for the way the situation is unfolding, either. She offers Samantha a look of sympathy. It's unnerving, how none of my schoolmates seems to care that the bell will ring soon. No one moves or offers privacy.
I spot Grant trying to peer over the crowd. He's standing next to Pax, who has no problem seeing the situation unfold.
"Willow, would you mind if I meet up with you later?" I hate to see her go, but I have something to take care of first.
Willow nods and disappears into the crowd.
"Beau?" Samantha says my name, trying to pull my attention back. She's looking at me, hopeful.
"Want to take a walk?" It's the only way to get her away from the crowd.
"Okay," she replies.
Her anxiety shows in the fidgeting of her fingers, the slight tremor that she can't quite hide. I wonder if she, too, feels that it hasn't been working, this thing between us.
"We've been together almost a month now," she says as we escape the onlookers.
I suspect she knows what I mean to say to her, that our time is over.
"We were never really together," I reply. "Not officially." My voice is soft, meant to lessen the blow.
"What about the times we shared at my house?"
"I remember."
We make our way around the rear of the school, where only a few stragglers ever venture, leaving the crowd behind. I keep quiet as we pass two smokers leaning against a wall. They pay us no mind, more concerned with putting out their cigarettes and hurrying through the back entrance before the bell rings.
"Go ahead, Beau," she says when we pass them. "It seems you want to say something, so do it."
"I'm sorry." I really am. I don't mean to hurt her, it's just that I don't get close to people, which she's known from the beginning. We were never meant to be anything more than casual, though it seems to have developed into more for her. "I don't think it's working out."
She hides her face behind a blond blanket of hair. I almost reach for her. Not because I want her but because it would be nice, for once, to not be so unyielding.
"Are you sure this is what you want?" Her tone is sad, but there is a look of understanding when she meets my eyes.
"Yes."
She sighs and blinks several times quickly. "I kind of thought we were good together."
Shows how much I know about girls. I figured she understood that we are two worlds apart.
"Do you honestly think it's working, Samantha?" I ask. "We haven't spoken as much lately. We lead different lives. We don't have any of the same friends. You live on the other side of town, and school is the only real time we spend together, unless I make the trip to your place."
"I think it could work." She reaches for the door, opening it and glancing inside to make sure we're still alone.
A blast of cool air-conditioning hits both of us, ruffling our clothes and hair. We have a ways to walk to get to class, and we will likely be late, but it's better than the entire school witnessing our breakup.
"Maybe, occasionally, I should head to your place."
But even as she says it, she cringes. I don't hold it against her. The swamp isn't for everyone. It takes a certain person to be happy in such a quiet, eerie place.
"We both know you don't mean that," I say with a small grin.
I nod toward Samantha's outfit, a beautiful flowery dress and heels. Her hair and makeup are perfect. I can't help thinking about how quickly it would melt off in the swamp heat. Her clothes would be dirty in an instant, and her heels would never work.
"I have some shorts and T-shirts," she replies, a small smile in her voice. "That would be okay for the swamp, right?"
"Sure. But it's not just the clothes. You don't like the swamp. It scares you. You told me that from the start. And I don't want you to pretend to like it for me. You should never have to pretend for someone else."
We take the hall to the front of the school, where classroom doors are shutting, the final bell ringing.
"Maybe you're right. But I could still make more of an effort."
"It's probably best to let it go," I reply.
She'll find a guy more suited for her, I'm certain of it.
Samantha doesn't protest. She simply bites her lip and offers one more look.
"Goodbye, Beau."
…
"Man, did you hear?" Pax asks as he meets me for lunch in the library lounge. "Samantha left early today. Did that have anything to do with you?"
It's odd to hear of her early departure, considering that she seemed fine when I last saw her. Maybe a little disappointed overall about our breakup but not too upset. I frown, thinking back over it. I can't find any reason she'd need to leave school because of me. Unless it upset her more than she let on.