Page 24 of Wicked

Harper: How can a thirteen-year-old kid have such mean intentions?

Me: I can count the ways

Harper: Because you’ve done these things?

She’s onto me.

Me: Yep. He can knock my drink onto my lap, making it look like I pissed my pants. He can belch and fart

Wide-eyed emoji from her. I chuckle.

Harper: What else?

Me: He can swipe my keys and take my truck for a spin

Harper: No!

Me: Oh, hell, yes

Harper: You’re such a bad guy, Ryker. I can’t believe you did all those things

Me: But hey, it saved my dad from making a business deal with a guy that only wanted to be near my mom to get under her skirt

Harper: I take back my words. You’re not so bad after all Ryker Conway

Me: Does that mean u like me?

Me: I have a chance with u?

Fuck’s sake, stop texting. Not wanting to see her reply, I toss the cell on my bed. But I’m liking our conversation.

I grab my phone, find her in my text messages, and scroll up, believing I missed her response to my asking if she liked me. If I have a chance with her. Nothing.

I fall back onto the bed and stare at the ceiling. The tables have turned just as she predicted. Karma. Damn. I bring my cell to my face. Something’s been bothering me. How the hell did Harper end up in Oregon?

Me: If u don’t mind me asking, what happened after your parents

I’m at a loss for words, unable to describe what her dad did other than WTF?

Harper: I went to live with my uncle, my father’s brother

Me: That must’ve been nice, spending time with your cousins

Harper: He didn’t marry. It was just me and him.

Me: How’d you end up in Oregon?

Harper: My uncle told me if anything happened to him, to move to Prescott. He died my senior year. After his death, I lived with Shephard before we moved here

Her truth hits me like a bag of jagged rocks. Reeling and needing time to catch my breath, I return to what I wanted to tell her before our conversation was derailed with talk of the kid and this damn Shephard guy.

Me: I like when u send me poems. I wanted to tell u earlier

Harper: My mother wrote a lot of them

Me: Love poems?

Harper: Haunting ones of love and hope

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