of his mouth lifted into a smile.
“Thank you,” I breathed. Opening a trail map, I launched into a description of one of the trails and tried to appear calm as I heard the back door swing open. Dad came directly to the living room, and when he saw us on the couch, his expression turned surprised.
“Hey, Dad,” I said, standing and gesturing to Thomas. “This is Thomas, our new neighbor.”
Thomas stood and offered his hand. “Hello, Mr. Kinsley.”
Dad came over, took his hand, and then, smiling, said, “You Frank’s grandson?”
“Yes, sir.”
Dad released his hand and folded his arms across his chest. “I’m sorry to hear about your grandpa. He was a good man.”
“Yes, he was. Thank you.”
“I’m surprised to see you here,” Dad said. “You’re the first person Aria’s brought home in years. And here I thought she’d get through high school without making any friends.” He meant to tease, but his words hurt.
“Aria was just showing me some trail maps.” Thomas gestured to the open map in my hands.
“You hunt?”
“I fish, but I’ve yet to move on to bigger game.”
“You should try Rampart.” Dad pointed to the three-foot rainbow trout mounted above the television. “It’s where I caught that beauty right there.” Dad plunged into the story of how he’d caught the fish, a story I’d heard him tell a dozen times. I watched the way his hands moved and his eyes lit up with the enthusiasm of a zealous fisherman telling his story. It made me happy to see him this way, cheerful and sober. “I’m going to Rampart tomorrow morning with a couple buddies,” he said. “You’re welcome to come with me if you want.”
Thomas glanced at me as if looking for permission. I smiled and shrugged, and Thomas turned back to Dad. “Sure. School’s out tomorrow, so that sounds great. Can Aria come too?”
Dad eyed me with raised eyebrows. “You want to come, Aria?”
It had been years since Dad had taken me fishing. It used to be one of my favorite things to do, but after he banned me from the piano, I stopped going with him so that I could spend the time in the parlor. “Sure,” I said, willing to give up a few hours of piano time in exchange for spending time with Thomas.
“Well, I better get home,” Thomas said. “I told my dad I’d clean up the orchard this weekend, and if we’re going fishing, I’d better get a head start.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said, handing him the trail map. “You can return this to me then.”
He took it, a small, intimate smile crossing his lips and touching his eyes. I couldn’t help but notice Dad studying us from the corner of my eye. “Tomorrow,” Thomas said, then he turned to Dad. “I’ll see you bright and early.”
six
E arly Friday morning, Dad woke me up with a hand on my shoulder. “Aria, wake up.”
I stretched and yawned, opening my eyes halfway in the dark room. “Is it time to get up already?”
“Listen, I got called into work. I should be back in the afternoon, but we’ll have to go fishing another time.”
“Okay,” I mumbled and closed my eyes, wanting to go back to sleep.
“I need to leave right now, so I need you to get dressed and go tell Thomas that we won’t be going.”
I sat up and rubbed my eyes. “Why can’t you just call?”
“I don’t have their number. Besides, it’s too early to call. I don’t want to wake up his parents. Just get dressed and run over there.”
“Can’t you just stop there on your way to work?”
“Just do it, Aria,” he said firmly. “I need to leave now or I’ll be late.”
I staggered out of bed, and Dad walked out. A few seconds later I heard the back door shut and Dad’s truckroar to life. I flipped on the light and shuffled to the closet, debating how dressed up I should get to deliver my message. Unsure if he was already waiting for us and not wanting to make him wait longer than necessary, I threw a green hoodie over my T-shirt and pulled on some
“Thank you,” I breathed. Opening a trail map, I launched into a description of one of the trails and tried to appear calm as I heard the back door swing open. Dad came directly to the living room, and when he saw us on the couch, his expression turned surprised.
“Hey, Dad,” I said, standing and gesturing to Thomas. “This is Thomas, our new neighbor.”
Thomas stood and offered his hand. “Hello, Mr. Kinsley.”
Dad came over, took his hand, and then, smiling, said, “You Frank’s grandson?”
“Yes, sir.”
Dad released his hand and folded his arms across his chest. “I’m sorry to hear about your grandpa. He was a good man.”
“Yes, he was. Thank you.”
“I’m surprised to see you here,” Dad said. “You’re the first person Aria’s brought home in years. And here I thought she’d get through high school without making any friends.” He meant to tease, but his words hurt.
“Aria was just showing me some trail maps.” Thomas gestured to the open map in my hands.
“You hunt?”
“I fish, but I’ve yet to move on to bigger game.”
“You should try Rampart.” Dad pointed to the three-foot rainbow trout mounted above the television. “It’s where I caught that beauty right there.” Dad plunged into the story of how he’d caught the fish, a story I’d heard him tell a dozen times. I watched the way his hands moved and his eyes lit up with the enthusiasm of a zealous fisherman telling his story. It made me happy to see him this way, cheerful and sober. “I’m going to Rampart tomorrow morning with a couple buddies,” he said. “You’re welcome to come with me if you want.”
Thomas glanced at me as if looking for permission. I smiled and shrugged, and Thomas turned back to Dad. “Sure. School’s out tomorrow, so that sounds great. Can Aria come too?”
Dad eyed me with raised eyebrows. “You want to come, Aria?”
It had been years since Dad had taken me fishing. It used to be one of my favorite things to do, but after he banned me from the piano, I stopped going with him so that I could spend the time in the parlor. “Sure,” I said, willing to give up a few hours of piano time in exchange for spending time with Thomas.
“Well, I better get home,” Thomas said. “I told my dad I’d clean up the orchard this weekend, and if we’re going fishing, I’d better get a head start.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said, handing him the trail map. “You can return this to me then.”
He took it, a small, intimate smile crossing his lips and touching his eyes. I couldn’t help but notice Dad studying us from the corner of my eye. “Tomorrow,” Thomas said, then he turned to Dad. “I’ll see you bright and early.”
six
E arly Friday morning, Dad woke me up with a hand on my shoulder. “Aria, wake up.”
I stretched and yawned, opening my eyes halfway in the dark room. “Is it time to get up already?”
“Listen, I got called into work. I should be back in the afternoon, but we’ll have to go fishing another time.”
“Okay,” I mumbled and closed my eyes, wanting to go back to sleep.
“I need to leave right now, so I need you to get dressed and go tell Thomas that we won’t be going.”
I sat up and rubbed my eyes. “Why can’t you just call?”
“I don’t have their number. Besides, it’s too early to call. I don’t want to wake up his parents. Just get dressed and run over there.”
“Can’t you just stop there on your way to work?”
“Just do it, Aria,” he said firmly. “I need to leave now or I’ll be late.”
I staggered out of bed, and Dad walked out. A few seconds later I heard the back door shut and Dad’s truckroar to life. I flipped on the light and shuffled to the closet, debating how dressed up I should get to deliver my message. Unsure if he was already waiting for us and not wanting to make him wait longer than necessary, I threw a green hoodie over my T-shirt and pulled on some
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