Page 20 of Every Thought Taken

Mom played the gracious, artificial hostess inside for a few minutes, then suggested the ladies go out too. Start a fire, catch up, and roast marshmallows.

Not once did anyone offer to include me. Again, no shock. More often than not, I am a ghost among the families. Among my peers.

With everyone except her.

And tonight at dinner, she threw me a lifeline. She took my hand in hers and pulled me back to the surface. To the light. To her.

She held me with gentle strength. She quieted the violence in my thoughts. More than anything, her simple touch told me she cared. Told me I had someone. Told me I was not alone.

Rising from her seat near the fire, Helena says something to Ales then walks toward the door. Paper plate in one hand, she opens the sliding glass door with the other. Loud conversation filters in and drowns out the movie for a moment before she closes the door.

“Brought you something.” She gives the plate a light shake before she glances at the television. “Harry Potter?”

I shrug. “Nothing else on. Figured we can do a marathon this weekend.”

She parks next to me on the blanket, folding her legs and crossing them. Holding the plate out, she offers, “Marshmallow?” The corners of her mouth kick up. “I burned them just for you.”

I sit taller and survey the blackened marshmallows. No chocolate or graham crackers, just marshmallows. Exactly how I like them.

“You didn’t have—”

“I wanted to.” She pushes the plate closer. “Hope I made them right.”

I take the plate from her and smile down at the charred sugar. Warmth blooms in the middle of my chest. “They’re perfect,” I whisper before meeting her waiting gaze. “Thank you.”

She leans her head on my shoulder and hugs my arm. “You’re welcome.”

Half the movie plays before Ales and Mags join us with more sugary and salty snacks and fresh drinks. By the time the parents come in, we are almost to the end of movie two.

We pause the movie to say our goodbyes. Helena is staying the night, but Mags is leaving since she has dance class early tomorrow. With all the farewells and hugs given, we settle back on the floor.

“Not too late,” Dad says, then pats my shoulder. “Maybe turn it down a notch. Please.” He gives me a crooked smile and I nod.

Ales falls asleep ten minutes into movie three, her soft snores background noise to the movie. But Helena is wide awake, her head more on my arm than shoulder now. Eyes on the screen, but not really watching.

I rest my head on hers. “Everything okay?”

Her arms around mine shift and tighten. “Yeah. Was going to ask you the same?”

I peek over at Ales and double-check she is asleep. Mouth slightly open, eyes shut, steady breaths. Yep, she is out.

“Same crap, new day,” I answer.

“What about school?”

I hate talking about school and the imbeciles I can’t seem to shake. It shouldn’t surprise me. Starting middle school doesn’t mean I don’t have the same classmates. Curse of a small town. But I’d hoped maybe some of the idiots would have grown up over the summer.

Wrong.

“School is a joke.” I laugh without humor. “I’m smarter than most of the student population, bored out of my mind, and subject to fists and boots and more.”

She sits up and waits for me to look at her. “Not that I expect you to, but have you told anyone? Aside from me.”

“No.”

“Maybe they—”

“No,” I repeat, firmer. I take a deep breath and shake my head on the exhale. “I like that you want to help.” I take her hand and thread our fingers like earlier. “But no one understands. Not like you.” My eyes drop to our hands and I stare at her thumb as it strokes my skin.

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