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Harleigh
“This was a good call,”Miles said as we headed toward the bench, ice cream cones in hand.
I’d gone for something classic. A simple mint choc chip. It reminded me of better days. Of being a kid and playing over at Mrs. Feeley’s house while my mom slept off another hangover. She always kept a pint of ice cream on hand for the days when I was sad about my mom. Me and Nix would easily get through half the tub before she pried it off us and made us eat something nutritional.
“Harleigh, you going to stand there all afternoon?”
“W-what?” I blinked and realized my mistake.
Miles and Celeste were already seated at the picnic bench. I’d obviously zoned out again.
“Sorry.” I slid in next to Miles and he grinned at me.
“Have you been here before?”
“No. It’s pretty.”
“Wait until the season changes, the leaves turn these amazing gold and red colors. It’s really something.” His eyes twinkled with excitement.
“You’re really into the trees, huh?” I said, fighting a smile.
“I-I… uh, I guess.” He stuttered out, rubbing the back of his neck, and Celeste smothered a laugh.
“Relax, Miles,” I added. “I’m teasing you.” My lips pulled into a thin smile.
“So how was your first day?”
“I survived. Guess that’s the best I could hope for.” Taking a bite of ice cream, I tried to ignore their heavy stares. “Nate tried to talk to me in fourth period, it was weird.”
“Ugh,” Celeste grumbled around her ice cream. “He is such an ass.”
“Miller’s pretty harmless. But if Marc Denby says anything again, Harleigh, I want you to tell me.”
“Why would I do that?”
Miles gave a small shrug. “So I can beat his ass, obviously.”
“I don’t want you to fight over me,” I said.
“It wouldn’t be fighting over you,” he corrected. “It would be helping you.”
“I’m not so sure about that. Marc has it in for me…”
“Because of Phoenix Wilder, right?”
Wow. Miles went straight for the jugular.
I threw him an incredulous look and he rolled his eyes. “Come on, Harleigh. People talk. The kids at school talk. And no one talks louder than Marc Denby and his guys. Rumor has it you and Wilder were—”
“Don’t,” I snapped, my appetite recoiling as much as my heart.
“Shit, sorry. It’s a sore subject, got it. I won’t mention him again.”
“Good, don’t.” I leaned over and dropped the remainder of my ice cream cone into the trash can.
Pulling my legs up onto the bench, I folded my arms around my knees and dropped my chin onto them. Miles was right, it was beautiful out here. The big idyllic oak trees gave it an ethereal atmosphere. The chime of a child’s laughter and the gentle whir of the generator from the ice cream stand only added to the ambience.
I focused on the sounds, losing myself in the caw of the birds; the rush of water as kids played at the small water table in the park, shrieking with delight every time it overflowed, soaking their bare little toes. The gentle ripple of the breeze whistling through the trees. That was the sound I loved the most. I could get lost in it, especially when I felt it brush the back of my neck.
