Page 1 of Rock and a Hard Place

1

Libby watched the cars zip by on the highway, longing for her dad’s SUV with out-of-state plates to drive up and put her life back together. From her spot under an ancient oak, she spied a red SUV exiting the interstate and turning the opposite direction.

She sighed and tried to refocus on the sketch pad in her lap and the wildflowers she’d stuffed in a soda bottle. But instead, she traced the scars on her palm with the tip of her drawing pencil. If only she could wash the marks away along with the memories of that tragic day. She wiped her palm against her jeans, but only the pencil marks disappeared.

She focused on her drawing and rubbed the side of her pencil on the page, shading a leaf. A rumble caught her attention, and she glanced up; a large, gleaming bus turned off the exit and onto the county road toward her.The shiny silver-and-black exterior and darkened windows of the vehicle made it look like some sort of VIP ride or maybe a tour bus.

The bus approached the nature preserve and turned in. In all the months she’d come to Parfrey’s Glen, cars rarely pulled in, and she liked it that way. She thought of Parfrey’s Glen as her own secret place where she could get lost in her thoughts.

The rumble grew louder as the enormous bus turned and pulled to a stop in the gravel parking lot on the far side of the clearing. She waited for the door to open and reveal the famous person within. Maybe it would be some country singer. Her mom loved country music and had always dreamt of going to a big concert. But it never happened.

A moment later the door opened, and Libby’s hopes were dashed. Her quiet nature preserve had been invaded. By teenage boys.

A trio of noisy guys poured out. The first leapt from the top step and landed several feet out on the dirt, followed closely by another. The last twirled a Frisbee on his finger as he descended.

She watched them undetected from her spot under the tree, an eavesdropper on this group of loud, young strangers.

The Frisbee sailed through the warm September air as one of the guys raced to catch it. A man and woman exited the bus, their arms loaded with picnic supplies. Thewoman walked to a sunny spot of grass, set down her load, and spread out a couple of colorful blankets.

They were just a family; okay, a rich family. But no one famous.

Libby enjoyed a perfect view of the group. Their interaction and happy banter reminded her of her own family and made her heartsick.

Her drawing forgotten, she soaked in their every move. One of the boys turned around, providing her with a clean line of view. He tilted his head to the side and pushed away a lock of sun-kissed hair. A tiny thrill flipped in her stomach. He held his phone and a wireless speaker, and loud music filled the air.

“Peter, turn it down,” the man hollered as he set up lawn chairs.

“Dad, come on, you never let me play it loud.” Peter grinned. He adjusted the volume and set the speakers down.

“Real funny. Now get out of here before I put you to work.”

Peter darted through the long grass toward the other two boys, his movements swift and athletic. Libby’s eyes trailed his every move.

“Garrett, over here,” he yelled.

The Frisbee flew smoothly through the air. Peter leapt high and caught it. “Oh yeah, baby,” he bragged, dancing as if it were a touchdown.

He flung it back, his body grace in motion, this time to the boy first out of the bus. This one appeared younger. His hair was a mop of loose dark curls and he wore a constant grin. They continued to torpedo the disk at one another and trash talk in the hot sun of early fall. Occasionally, Peter would do some crazy move to the music playing in the background. Libby stifled a giggle.

Peter suddenly glanced her way.

Uh-oh.

“Heads up,” the grinning boy yelled as the Frisbee sped toward the unsuspecting Peter.

Peter ducked as it whistled by and landed not far from Libby. He looked straight at her, jogged over and grabbed the Frisbee from the grass, and whipped the disc back. He turned around and grinned as he sauntered to where she sat against the giant oak, and then plopped down in the unmowed grass, his chest rising heavily.

“Hey.” He looked at her with curiosity. “Whatcha doing?”

Libby’s mouth went dry as this great-looking guy stretched out before her. Apparently, he expected her to respond. Her tongue felt numb.

A year ago, she would have been comfortable with him. Now, that confidence was a distant memory. These days, guys—anyone really—rarely talked to her anymore. Libby was an outsider to the kids in Rockville, which was finewith her. She had been left in this crummy town and preferred to be alone. It was easier. She’d grown comfortable with solitude, except for now. She prayed for her former confidence to come back.

Libby held the sketch pad as a shield. “Uh, drawing,” she uttered.

“Oh.” He lay in the grass propped up on a muscular arm and watched her with casual interest, as his breath came back. He was clearly nothing like the guys at Rockville High School.

“Are you drawing those?” He pointed at the wildflowers sticking haphazardly out of a diet soda bottle.

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