Laura Miller - By Way of Accident

I get to its bank, and I look at my watch. It’s 9 a.m. I was pretty sure she wouldn’t be here before now, even though the day is already startin’ to get warm. I packed a lunch. I even packed an extra peanut butter and jelly sandwich for her. I put strawberry jelly on hers because that’s the way my sister likes it, and I figured all girls are about the same. But now I’m thinkin’ I could be wrong on that point because somethin’ tells me this girl’s a little different.

There’s a part of me that thinks I’m crazy. I’m not even sure she’ll show. I pull her necklace out from underneath my tee shirt. I twist the heart to make its prisms catch the sun just right before I squeeze the heart in the palm of my hand. Surely she’ll want her pretty necklace back. I take the heart and tuck it back under my shirt. There’s a nice shade tree where I am next to the creek’s edge. I take a seat under it and stretch out my legs, and at the same time, I rest the brown paper bag on a fallen tree trunk. I suppose if she doesn’t show I could always eat the other sandwich. My mom has this thing about wastin’ food. She says there are kids every day just wishin’ they could eat what she sits in front of us every supper. For a long time growin’ up, I just pictured this clan of kids that lived under a bridge and all they ate was burnt stuff. It took me a little while to figure out what she really meant — and to figure out that not all food is burned to a crisp. But anyway, I’m not plannin’ on wastin’ this lunch, but I also know not seeing her today would kill me, so in the end, I guess the two sandwiches would go to waste anyway.

I refit my cap over my head and take off my work boots and kick ‘em to the side. Then I look down at myself — at my tee shirt and jeans. I’m good, right? The jeans are still pretty clean, and I don’t smell bad — as far as I can tell. I lift up my cap and run my fingers through my hair. Then I squeeze the cap back over my head. Damn, I’m nervous. I pick up a rock and throw it into the creek. Then I find a flat one and skip it into the water too. It jumps and flies three times before it finally sinks. I throw two more rocks into the water and watch them sink before I look around for another one. There ain’t any more around me. I’ve thrown them all in. So instead, I stare at the ripples the hot breeze makes on the water’s surface for a little while before I slide my cap a little more over my eyes. Then I lean back against the dirt and the grass and rest my head in the palm of my hands. The shade feels pretty good. I breathe in the sweet smell of corn growin’ in the next field over, and I close my eyes. And without warning, she pops up on the back of my eyelids. I smile and let out a happy sigh. God, she’s so smokin’ beautiful. I try to remember every inch of her — from her pretty, long hair to her sexy, long legs. And then there’s her eyes — not just the color of them, but there was somethin’ else about them that made her seem fearless or mysterious or somethin’. There was somethin’ about her that made you want to know more. I yawn and feel myself startin’ to drift away just as that hot breeze trickles past my face. And the last thing I remember thinkin’ is that I really hope she shows.

I’m not sure how long exactly it’s been when I feel somethin’ tickling my arm. It snaps me awake. I must have fallen asleep. I open my eyes to find a girl with long, brown hair hoverin’ over me. I jump a little — not really because someone’s hoverin’ over me, but because it’s her who’s hoverin’ over me. I feel a little unarmed — as if I’m naked or somethin’.

“I thought you were dead,” she says with a tiny half-smile.

I sit up quickly and glance at my watch. It’s eleven. I slept for nearly two hours. I refit my cap over my head and wipe my eyes only to catch her still starin’ at me.

“Hi,” I say. I try not to sound as nervous as I feel.

She seems to hesitate before she opens her mouth. “Hi.”

“What’s your name?” she asks.

“River.”

She pauses, resting back on her heels.

“Like the Big Muddy?”

I nod. “That would be it. What’s yours?”

“Brooke.”

I smile. “Like a babblin’ brook?”

If I wasn’t payin’ attention like I was, I wouldn’t have noticed her laugh a little. “Almost. Just add an e.”

“I like that name,” I say. It probably was a dumb thing to say, and I had never really thought about that name until just now — I don’t know anybody by it. But I wasn’t lyin’ either. As of today, Brooke is the most beautiful name I’ve ever heard.

“Thanks,” she says.

She sits back on the ground and brings her knees to her chest. I watch her for a moment, but I avoid her eyes. Her eyes still make me nervous.

“Why do you move around so much?” I ask.

She tucks her hair behind her ears and turns her gaze my way, forcing me to make eye contact. “My dad sells seed.”

“Seed?” I ask.

She’s already turned her attention to somethin’ else. I watch her manage to find a small rock I must have missed. She turns it over in her hand and then tosses it into the water. “Yeah,” she says. “And once he’s sold it to everyone he can sell it to in one place, we move to another.”

I survey her face. There’s not a trace of emotion written on it. It makes it harder to figure out what to say. “That’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah,” she says, quietly. “But moving sucks. I think it’s what they do in hell.”

What? I don’t think I’ve ever heard a girl say hell before. I picture a bunch of little devils movin’ chairs and tables with pitchforks. And the chairs are on fire, of course. Then I catch her pretty stare.

“I’m sorry you have to move so much.” And I was sorry — sorrier than I think she knew.

She shrugs her shoulders. “I guess you just gotta take what life throws at ya.” Her light eyes find mine. “You get used to it. But you do lose a lot of stuff.”

“Like friends?” I ask, grabbin’ a short stick off the ground.

She looks sad all of a sudden. “Yeah…And other things.”

I tilt my head a little to the side. “Like what?”

Her chest rises and then gradually falls. “Like there was this one sweater that I really liked. I have no idea where it is now.”

I poke the ground with the end of the stick. I guess when you’re a girl, a sweater’s a big deal, so I nod my head in a desperate attempt to show some sympathy. I guess if I lost my work boots, I’d be pretty pissed. But then, maybe I wouldn’t have to work.

I dig the stick deeper into the dirt.

“And I had this stuffed animal,” she goes on, breaking my thoughts. “It was my favorite when I was really little, so that’s why I’m sad I can’t find it. I’ve looked everywhere.”

She still looks sad and maybe a little embarrassed now. I don’t want her to feel either.

“What kind of an animal was it?” I ask.

She gazes up at me through her long eyelashes, as if I’m the only one in the world worth lookin’ at — or maybe that’s just my wishful thinkin’. A girl’s never looked at me like that before. I don’t know what it is about it, but it makes my breaths short and my smile awkward.

“Don’t laugh,” she pleads.

“I won’t,” I manage to say.

She glances at the ground and then back up at me.

“Winnie-the-Pooh. My grandma gave it to me.”

I take a second to parade every bear that’s stuffed into Rea’s toy box through my mind, until something sticks.

“Isn’t that the yellow one that eats honey?” Thank God for sisters.

She nods.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

She takes a breath and then lets go of it, as if she never wanted the breath in the first place. “It’s okay. Maybe I’ll find it later. Or maybe it dropped off the truck, and some little girl who didn’t have any toys found it. My mom says there’s a lot of kids that don’t have any toys.”