For Sure & Certain (8 page)

“You’re right. Peach cobbler, made by my mom and I don’t cook anything other than toast.”

She wiped grease off his chin as if she’d done it a million times.

“Favorite holiday?” Four.

“Thanksgiving, only if I cook it.”

His eyes brightened, “So you’re a serious cook, ja?” Five.

“Very,” she said. “But you can’t keep avoiding the questions.”

“I’m not meaning to,” he said sheepishly.

“Then why are you?” Six.

“You’re distracting me.”

“That’s a good answer.”

The game was deserted, but they kept talking, and walking the neighborhood as if they had known one another for ages. Marigold had forgotten what it felt like not to be judged.

She liked it.

Abel

He wanted to hold her hand on the way back, but didn’t want to be too forward. Last time he’d taken her soft, milky hands out of instinct, this time he was more self-conscious.

Marigold caused him to blush, to stammer, to act shy. She caused him to laugh, and say more than he ought, to say all the things he should. His family would take one look at her and think she was wrong for him, but he didn’t think anything could be wrong that felt this right.

He bought her frozen yogurt and all he could think was, this girl is rainbow sprinkles and my life has been vanilla.

He walked her home, wanting to kiss her, to taste the lingering sugar on her lips.

He didn’t, but he wanted to.

Marigold

She wanted him to lean down and kiss her hands or her cheek or her anything. Instead he stepped away, as if an invisible wall shot up between them the moment Lily walked through the front door.

“Tomorrow?” he asked as they stood on her front steps.

“Yes.”

“I’ll be here, Marigold.”

“You guys are so creepy,” Lily said, dismissing them. Marigold was used to it, and she didn’t care.

She sat on her stoop, watching him walk away with Lily, not quite believing this boy who landed in her life. He turned back and gave her a smile.

She waved good-bye, blushing. Pulling her hair into a braid, twisting it around in her fingers, she looked out at the neighborhood she’d known her whole life. Her heart beat hard as she realized this boy she’d met was going to change things for her, for always.

He wasn’t just some boy she met one summer. It was his chocolate eyes and chestnut hair and his heavy hands and his soft laugh, and she knew she had no claim to him. He had an entire life she know nothing about, and that was the one in the city when he took classes at Jamestown -- not to mention the one in Lancaster. But somehow none of that mattered.

Some things are clear even if they’d make no sense to anyone else. Like not going to Machu Picchu with Tabby or not enrolling in college for the fall. She knew people believed her to be a floater, flighty, an attention-grabbing girl that had never been comfortable in her own skin.

What they didn’t see was that this past year, after she left high school, she emerged a new mariposa. She had crashed after the near arrest, but now she’d found her footing. She was intact. She had wings; she just didn’t feel the necessity to fly in the same way as everyone around her.

She sat still while the night grew dark, watching as the streetlights popped on up and down her street. They turned bright, one by one. The final light in the row wavered in hesitation, as if deciding whether or not it was ready to turn on. Flickering in the moonlight it moved to a steady glow. Marigold wavered in so many things, but with this she was firm. 

Abel was hers, for sure and certain.

chapter five

Abel

The common room was filled with the twenty students he had class with. A few stragglers hung on the perimeter. He noticed the girl Lacey had “the hots” for wore what looked like a costume, but looking around, he wasn’t sure what was typical “fashion” for the English teens he met.

After a week and a half, he was no clearer on what constituted cool, even after looking at the museum exhibit with Marigold. Most of his classmates laid on couches, legs hanging over the edges, or huddled around a computer screen watching something that caused random outbursts of laughter. Another group sat around a pile of opened textbooks, ones he recognized as course materials. He scanned the room for Lacey but couldn’t see him.

Abel had never been a good old boy like his friend Joshua who seemed to charm his way through life with his parents, the girls, and the bishop. Not Abel, he’d always forged his own path, even if it was a divisive one. He’d done that with school and insisting on taking over much of his dad’s farm when his brother Eli voiced his worry about him being so young and taking on too much responsibility. Abel had initiative and drive and had never been swayed with the idea of being liked. He figured people would either take to him or not, but it wasn’t much of his concern.

But standing at the mixer, he wondered how he’d ever find common ground among the classmates gathered here.

“Just follow me and don’t mention that you’re like dating my sister or whatever you two are doing. I don’t want people to think I’m hanging out with you because I have to or something, okay?”

“Ja, Lily. I’ll be sure to let them know you’re friends with me because of our collective interests, I’m sure they’ll believe that.”

“Is that sarcasm from the holy boy?” she feigned horror, holding her hand to her mouth. “We do have a common interest, Abel. It’s called acing the freaking test at the end of the summer. We’re a team, and we are going to find the smartest people to be our other partners. Just scout it out, okay?”

“Well, my roommate Lacey is with me.”

“Seriously?” Lily groaned.

“He’s smarter than he acts,” Abel defended. “Plus he likes to share.”

Abel detected a slight smile from Lily’s lips and he wondered if she fronted as much as Lacey. Maybe she wasn’t so straight-laced as she pretended.

“Fine, but I’ll be the judge of that.”

Lily walked away, using her hands to urge him to move, mingle. Act like a normal teenager. Abel took a deep breath and put his straw hat in his hand, running his fingers through his dark hair. He could do this.

“Abel? You look like a lost puppy standing here all alone.” Kiera came up to him with a red plastic cup in her hand. “Do you want something to drink?”

“No, I’m good, thanks though.”

“Do you know any one else?” Abel shook his head still not seeing Lacey. “Want me to introduce you?”

“Sure, that’d be great.” He walked with her around the room, knowing all eyes were on them when she introduced him as if he was her personal pet.

Surprisingly, all anyone required of Abel was the answers to a few questions:

What high school do you go to?

Which was quickly followed with,
then how did you gain admittance without going to school?

Which was trailed with the all around favorite,
what was your SAT score?

Once those were out of the way people seemed to forget the hat he held, the collared shirt he wore, and the thick accent he tried his best to soften. The other students were bright, and didn’t hold his background against him any more than they gave one another a hard time for asking too many questions in class or debating who had the best chance of getting Trape’s prized recommendation. Once they realized he had earned his spot, they didn’t scowl anymore than they did to one another.

It was easier than he thought it would be. Eventually Lacey showed up and Abel saw him talking to Lily in a corner. She was probably quizzing him on his IQ, and he hoped Lacey would be sober enough to answer.

“Okay, everyone,” Kiera said, standing on a folding chair in the middle of the room. “Time for the draft!”

“Draft?” Abel said to Lily who’d found his way back to him.

“Yeah,” Lily shook her head, frustrated.  “So I guess everyone decided they didn’t want to leave anything to chance and figured the quicker we decided on our groups, the better edge we’d all have. So we’re drafting tonight. ”

“And Trape won’t be annoyed that we didn’t follow his basic instructions? Aren’t we supposed to take the week to decide?”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be the sole dissenter.”

“What are you two talking about? I’m trying to explain the rules,” Kiera called out to them.

“Oh, nothing. I mean, just keep explaining,” Lily said, clearly intimidating by Kiera’s bossy tone.

“Actually, Kiera,” Abel said stepping away from Lily. “I don’t feel good about this draft idea. What if there is a purpose to Trape’s order? We should take all week to get to know one another, not just an hour or two.”

“Aww, Abel, it’s probably hard to take a risk like this,” Kiera said jutting out her bottom lip, patronizing him.  “I know things have been sheltered for you, but you’re at a University now, you’ve got to step up if you want to keep up.”

“I’m not scared of risks,” he scoffed, knowing his choice to be here a risk. Changing the way Dad’s sheep farm operated had been a risk, turning down the possibility of Esther and him was a risk. He knew risks, but he also knew stakes.

The stakes here were simple: if he didn’t play by the rules this group had decided on, he’d be an outcast the rest of the summer. Going against the tide would sweep him away. He wasn’t ready to try and swim to shore alone.

“Well then, draw a stick,” she got off the chair and walked to him with a jar of Popsicle sticks.

He drew a stick, flipped it over. “It’s a five. What does that mean?”

Kiera explained that out of the twenty sticks, only five had numbers, and those were the captains of the teams of four. Draft order was one through five, five getting second pick because it would go back in reverse order. Four people per team. Three picks per captain.

“So this is good, ja?” he asked the room of people eyeing him.

“Yep, lucky you.” Kiera walked around the room with the jar in her hand. Each student plucked a stick, and then the captains lined up in a row. Abel wished he’d had more time to get to know people.

The other captains quickly called out names, and they gave “Whoops” and “Aww yeahs” as they went to stand next to their new teammates. When it was Abel’s turn, he gave a sigh of relief that Lily hadn’t been picked yet, having drawn a blank stick herself.

“Lily.” At least he had his first choice pick, but it was his turn again right away.

“Any suggestions?” he whispered in her ear.

“Lacey. You’re right, people think he’s a stoner, which he is, but he’s also smart.”

“Like you?” Abel asked, bringing a smile to Lily’s face. Abel was glad to see her frosty opinion of him begin to melt. “I pick Lacey.”

There were raised eyebrows, but Lacey looked Abel and Lily over with a nod. “Cool,” he said, giving them both high fives, clearly relieved he hadn’t been chosen last.

The picks went again, Kiera chosen for another team, and Abel was grateful to stay clear of her. He wanted to avoid being put on a leash.

Only a few people were left in the common room, and Abel hated that they had chosen teams this way, he’d wanted something more organic, less demoralizing for the few people left standing.

He had the final draft pick, but it wasn’t really a choice. He got the last one standing.

“Oh god,” Lily said, her face deflating, the same time Lacey’s face spread into a smile.

“What’s wrong?” Abel asked, as the costumed girl walked toward them.

“It’s the cosplay girl,” Lacey said, as if that would explain everything.

“I have no idea what that means.”

“You will soon enough.” Lily rolled her eyes as the girl in a purple knee length dress walked over. She had a few large belts wrapped at her waist, and a large blue crest hanging from the side. Bright white hair was twisted in ribbon, but she smiled brightly, tucking a stray hair behind her elfish ears. Abel caught himself looking closer, wondering if they were real. They weren’t.

“Hi, I’m Jenna.” She stuck out her hand to Abel, then Lacey and Lily. “I’m so glad I’m with you guys. Have you seen those other douche bags here? I’ll bet my rupees we win. Look at us, we’re totally bad ass.”

Abel’s eye got wide, not accustomed to so many assertive girls.

Kiera’s voice boomed again, “Okay, you have your groups, but none as good as mine, so good luck suckas!”

The room scattered and each group huddled together conspiratorially. Abel followed his group to a couch, everyone animated by the new dynamics.

              Abel looked around, analyzing each member. Lacey, the smart stoner. Jenna, the powerhouse with passion. Lily, impressive but insecure, and also the sister of the girl he was falling for.

The girl he couldn’t have forever. The girl he had to see again.

Abel knew he had it bad because all he’d wanted for so long was to get in this program, but his mind wasn’t on the three people in front of him who would make or break this experience.

His mind was on Marigold.

Marigold

            
 
Marigold woke to her phone peeping with an incoming text from Tabby:
The tour guys are so hot. Miss you. Wish you were here.
Marigold buried her phone under her pillow, annoyed at being woken from a dream where her and Abel were doing very un-Amish things.

She crawled out of bed, throwing her hair in a messy bun, slipping her feet in her favorite slippers and wrapping a bathrobe over her gauzy nightgown. Walking into the silent kitchen she opened the fridge, pulling out heavy cream and a basket of blueberries for scones.

She’d been avoiding her parents by locking herself in her air-conditioned bedroom with hot tea and balls of yarn and her trusty hook. A purple and green shawl was almost complete, even though the sweltering D.C. summer was in full force.

“Goldie?” her mom asked, catching her off guard.

“You scared me right good,”

“Right good?”

Marigold blushed, knowing it was a turn of phrase Abel used.

“I didn’t know you were here,” Marigold said recovering.

“I was working in my room. I’ll go into the office on campus later, but I wanted to wait so I had a chance to talk with you.”

“Yeah? What about?”

“You’ve been avoiding me and you father since Saturday night. We need to talk.”

“Seriously? You made it very clear you weren’t interested in talking to me. In talking about any of it.”

“I wanted you to have a chance to cool down. To think things over, and decide what you really want.” Her mom sat on the stool at the island, biting her lip, just like Marigold did when she was scared to say the thing she really wanted to say.

Without measuring Marigold began pouring flour into a mixing bowl. She added salt and baking powder, a half pint of cream, a few handfuls of berries. Mixing gently, she took the doughy ball in her hands and smashed it on the counter and shaped it into a circle, careful not making eye contact with her mother. 

“You okay there, Goldie?”

“Mom, I’m fine. I’m happy. Can’t I just make scones and that be enough?”

“Enough for what?”

“You.”

“Marigold, did you read your father’s apology in the Post?”

“No. ”

“I sent you the link.”

“I don’t want a link from my own dad apologizing for saying hurtful things, and I’m not going to pretend that’s okay with me.”

“He put out a press release apologizing, saying he misused the word lazy, that he meant undecided.”

“I’m not undecided.”

“Oh really? You’re going to school?”

“Well, not school.”

“What then? Because your father’s and my connections aren’t going to hold you a spot forever. The name Asher isn’t a magic wand.”

“Isn’t it though?” Marigold asked softly. “Isn’t that how you got a publishing deal with your first book that hardly sold? Or the second that was read because you put it in your syllabus?”

“Marigold, watch your mouth!”

“Or what, Mom?” Marigold wasn’t yelling, she spoke all these words delicately and that infuriated her mother even more. Marigold didn’t want to fight, but she did want the truth to set her free. She didn’t want the name Asher to do anything for her.

She wanted to be her own messy, mixed up, kind of girl. She wanted to figure it out on her own.

“Did you get a job?”

“No. I’ve tried.” It was true; she’d gone to the mall and applied at some places. None had called her back.