Page 6 of Taking It To Overtime
I don’t think the woman talking with Jack is Vera Novak. I don’t.
Except I’m only a few feet away from them now and Spags looks smug and self-satisfied, like he just pulled off the heist of the Millennium. There’s a riot of pale brown freckles spilling over every exposed inch of the woman’s smooth back, and when she turns to see whoever is walking up behind her, I recognize the pinpricks of brown in the grass green of her eyes. Those same eyes widen, pink lips parting on a sucked-in breath. It feels like she pulled it frommylungs instead of her own.
“Vera.” My voice chokes, strangling on the word. There isn’t enough air out here. There isn’t enough air anywhere. She’s staring up at me like she’s suffocating, too. It’s been sixteen years.
I do the only thing that feels natural.
I slide my arm around her waist and press a kiss to her temple.
“Welcome home.”
The playground was overflowing. Not a surprise given that it was one of the last weekends before summer’s end, and there was a pleasant breeze to keep everyone from overheating. A game of tag circled the bottom of the climbing structure. There was a line six kids deep for the zipline, and a raucous game of tether just dissolved into noisy tears.
Vera Novak reached up to tighten each of her auburn pigtails, one by one, and grinned at the chaos before her. This was her moment. Her chance to meet some kids before the start of the school year. Her mom had already driven them two towns over to the nearest office max and she’d picked out her set of Lisa Frank folders and some mechanical pencils. Her old school didn’t allow mechanical pencils, but this new one had put nothing on the supplies list that said shecouldn’tpick the sparkly pink and purple ones. She even had a pen that could write in four different colors, but her mom had been clear that it was only for at home, which was fine by Vera.
Her dad was at practice, getting the high school varsity football team geared up for the new school year, and her mom needed to run a few errands, and Vera had convinced her that being dropped off at the bustling playground was a great way to spend her time. It had been surprisingly easy. She hadn’t even needed to use any of her secret-weapon talking points and now Operation Make-New-Friends was in full effect.
Vera was more excited than worried. She’d had plenty of friends in her last hometown, and they been writing letters back and forth all summer. She wished she had an “i” in her name so she could dot it with a heart the same way Chrissy did. Or a star like Emily. Although, she thought to herself,she’d probably dot hers with flowers. Aster flowers. Like her middle name. Not that she knew what asters looked like, but her dad said they were purple, which was her all-time favorite color after flamingo pink, robin’s egg blue, and key-lime green.
How hard could this making-friends-thing be? She was a cool kid. One-of-a-kind. Unique and precious. Her dad said so every day.
“Vera Novak,” he’d say, his calloused palm ruffling the top of her head. “You are one-of-a-kind, kid. Unique and precious and irreplaceable. I’m glad you’re mine.” He’d said that to her mom once—“I’m glad you’re mine,”—and wasn’t that just the most beautiful thing in the universe? Vera thought so.
So yeah, this was going to be easy. She just had to decide who to approach first.
A group of boys whooped and hollered, running up and down the asphalt with sticks in their hands.Street hockey,she thought,and turned away. There was a group of girls sitting on some giant boulders by the wooden playhouse, their heads all pressed together as they giggled. She could start there, except they were all wearing sundresses, giant bows holding back their hair. Vera wasn’t sure if she was the right fit for that group, either. Not in her baggy overalls and yellow t-shirt. She had a bright red Band-Aid plastered across her knee from tripping on her new porch, but at least it matched her hair baubles.
There was a trio of tall metal slides off to the side and she almost headed that way except the metal would be hot, she was sure, and burning her legs didn’t seem like the best use of her time. Vera turned and headed for the monkey bars. She hadcallouses on callouses on callouses, but she could do the monkey bars no problem. She could even skip every other one and go backwards. That might impress someone enough to want to be her friend. She loved her parents, but she was getting bored having no one else to talk to each day.
There was a small line forming, and Vera stepped up behind a blond boy wearing a dark green ball cap. He was probably a fifth grader, or would be next week when school started, so Vera didn’t bother with introductions, just kept her eyes peeled for anyone else to impress.
“Go away.”
She was so busy looking around that it took a moment for Vera to realize the boy was speaking to her.
“Are you stupid or something? I said go away.”
She frowned. No one had ever told her that before. Or called her stupid. Her stomach pitched and her ears went mushy, like she was hearing him from underwater.
“Me?” Vera made an exaggerated point of looking behind her before pointing to the center of her chest.
“Wow, you gingers really are dumb. Yeah, you. Who else would we be talking to?”
It was the word “we” that had Vera noticing the attention of two other boys in line. All three were sneering at her like she was the flattened squirrel she’d seen in the middle of her new street last week. The one with its eye ball all red and bulgy and its guts hanging out. Her mom had told her not to go near it, but she’d snuck over anyway when her parents were busy. She kind of wished she hadn’t looked at all.
“I’m not a ginger,” she said. She hadn’t planned on introducing herself, but maybe she should. “I’m Vera. Vera Novak. I just moved here.”
“Does it look like we care?” The trio laughed. “Scram dummy. This playground’s for big kids only. No baby gingers allowed.”
“I’m not a baby.” Vera propped her hands on her slim hips, her fingers dipping into her pockets. “And I already told you, I’m not a ginger.”
The leader turned around to the two friends sniggering behind him. “She’s so stupid she doesn’t even know her own hair color.” The soft laughter turned to louder guffaws.
Vera frowned. She wasn’t stupid. No matter what these kids said, but her hair wasn’t orange, and she wasn’t a baby, and she didn’t need these bullies ruining her chances at showing off her strengths.
“You’re being a meanface,” she said, with her sternest glare pasted across her face. Her eyebrows actually hurt a little from how hard she was squeezing them together.
“No one cares, baby.” The ringleader grinned at her. His front two teeth overlapped just the tiniest bit.
