Page 16 of Saving Sparrow
“Um, is that appropriate?”
I shrugged. “Why not?” Granted, Quentin and I weren’t exactly the poster kids for what was and wasn’t appropriate, but this seemed harmless enough to me. “Only if you want to, though.”
Elliott looked me up and down before inspecting himself, as though he needed to be sure we were both clothed. He nodded, lowering slowly onto the couch as I plopped down. I turned first, facing away from him and stretching my legs out in front of me. A few minutes later, I felt his stiff back lining up with mine, his soft hair brushing my neck.
I started reading, not wanting to draw attention to our position and how uncomfortable he seemed. About five chapters into my book, Elliott relaxed, his spine curving as he fully leaned his weight into me. I smiled as my chest warmed, then picked up where I’d left off. As we became engrossed, our breathing synced, our shoulders rising and falling at the same time. More than two hours passed before he popped our silent reading bubble.
“My aunt has a cottage about five hours from here. Well, she just sold it. I guess she realized she hates noise, so that’s where we were for the past week while things got finished with the new house.”
“Oh.” The answer to the question I’d asked earlier came out of nowhere, but it felt like the start of something. A warm-up, maybe. I quietly closed the book and waited.
“What does it mean to have a friend?” he whispered.
I wanted to turn to him, wanted to see the truth on his face when I asked if he’dneverhad a friend before. He’d said he didn’t have any, but I thought that meant now, notever.
I was too scared to look his way, though. Scared I’d ruin whatever mood he was in by making him face me.
The truth was, I’d never had a friend either, not really. When I was young, I moved around too much to keep any, and then I met Quentin and didn’t need any after that.
Did Elliott at least have siblings? Someone who he felt so close to that the word “friend” didn’t feel big enough? Someone loyal who loved him for him?
Quentin and I were that for each other, so I based my answer on how I felt about him. “It means having someone who’ll be there for you when you need them. Someone who lets you be yourself, who cares about you no matter what mood you’re in. Someone who chooses you,always.A friend will have your back.” I leaned into him more, emphasizing the point. “And they’ll keep dresses on hand for when you need them.” I glanced over my shoulder to see if my joke landed, but I couldn’t see his face.
I couldn’t resist asking, no matter how hard I tried. “Do you not have friends because you left them behind when you moved here with your aunt?” Five hours isn’tthatfar away, but I could see how it might be hard to keep up long-distance friendships.
“It’s because I was homeschooled.”
“By your aunt?”
“No…” he hesitated, taking a deep breath before continuing. “By my mother.”
“Elliott, can I ask you something that might make you upset? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” I blurted when his back went stiff again.
“O-okay,” he answered but didn’t loosen up.
“You said you don’t remember how your parents died… What about your aunt? Couldn’t she tell you?” It was an excruciating wait before he replied in a voice even smaller than the one he used to thank me for the dress.
“Maybe. Or maybe she won’t because she blames me for whatever reason. Or maybe she loves me and doesn’t want to see me hurt.”
Something about the way he’d presented those options made my stomach lurch. He’d said the first as if afraid of it, and the second with a sad type of hope. “Which do you think it is?” I breathed, my hands tightening on my book.
I heard a page turn, signaling the end of our conversation. I wanted to beg him to answer me, not to leave me hanging. I wouldn’t push him, though. He’d already said more than I thought he would.
I went back to reading, having to go over several passages twice because my thoughts kept carrying me away. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when his voice reached my ears.
“My aunt Amelia never loved anyone.” His broken tone cracked something inside of me.
Miguel
Then
A heavy palm closed over my mouth, waking me with a start. Quentin knelt in front of me, gesturing for me to be quiet. He let his hand fall away, looking over at Elliott’s sleeping form.
I couldn’t remember when we’d decided to take a break from reading to nap. My book rested on its side on the floor, as if it had fallen from my hand. Elliott’s book rested next to it. Maybe we hadn’t consciously decided anything.
I scooted to the edge of the cushion to wrap my arms around Quentin. He hugged me tight enough to crack ribs. “Ew, you stink.” I pulled back. “And what took you so long?”
“Camp ran over,” he whispered, then flashed me a cocky grin. “The Wembly scouts couldn’t get enough of me. Plus, Coach made me stick around for a lecture on the importance of being on time. I mean, doesn’t he know the star player has to make a grand entrance?”
