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Authors: Jessica Warman
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roommates won’t listen when I ask them not to smoke.
“I like your hair,” Del says, stepping closer to me. He leans forward and touches one of the braids lightly. “Neither of your parents has red hair, do they?”
“No.”
He looks at my face, into my eyes. “Where did it come from?”
“I don’t know.” It’s warm enough that Del is wearing a short-sleeved white T-shirt. I stare at his tattoo.
“It’s a mystery, then?”
I’ve never thought of it that way. “I guess.”
“I see.” He nods toward the path at the edge of the woods. “Well? Are you ready?”
After a few moments of walking along the path, we meet up with a stone wall that surrounds campus. On the other side of the wall, there’s a stream. Without saying anything, Del takes me by the hand and helps me as we both climb over the rocks.
Being so close to the water gives me chills. It isn’t only the water in my dreams that scares me; it’s running water, still water, all water. Even if there’s no breeze, even if I’m standing in a hot shower in my own house, it chills part of me right down to my bones. I hate it. It terrifies me like nothing else—nothing except fire.
“Do you want to sit down?” Del asks.
I give the stream a hesitant look. It’s not just being near the water that makes me uncomfortable; it’s being alone with Del, who I barely know, and who I shouldn’t even be out here with. “I thought we were going for a walk.”
“We did.” He follows my gaze. “What’s the matter? You don’t like water?”
“Not really.”
“It’s just a stream, Emily.” He tugs me gently to the ground. “Relax. I won’t bite.”
We sit quietly for a few minutes, both of us staring at the water. Del leans back on his elbows and gazes at the clear sky. “I like it here, in Connecticut,” he says. “It’s nice being near the ocean.”
“Where does your family live?”
“Outside Boston.” He bites his lip. “If I tell you something, do you promise you won’t laugh?”
I nod. “Yes. I promise.”
“I had never been to a beach until a few years ago.”
“Really?” Even though I don’t like water, I’ve still been to the beach a million times with my family and my friends. Who hasn’t?
“Really,” he says. “Nobody ever took me when I was in foster homes.”
“Wow. That’s … too bad.”
He swallows. “That’s not all. I didn’t even learn to swim until I was fifteen. Nobody ever thought to teach me, not until my parents—I mean, the people who adopted me—found out I’d never had lessons.” He squints at the stream. “My adoptive dad took me to a swimming pool one Saturday and taught me how. You should have seen me in the water with all those kids. There were six-year-olds swimming circles around me.” He continues to stare at the sky. “I looked ridiculous. It was pretty awful.”
The breeze is chilly. I pull my knees against my chest, trying not to shiver. My braids are so long that I can feel them resting halfway down my back. For a second, I remember the rumor that’s going around about him taking a baseball bat to someone at his last school. I can’t imagine Del hurting anyone.
“So … you’re adopted,” I say.
“Yeah.”
“What are your parents like? I mean, your adoptive parents?”
“My father works for the government. You know, top secret kind of stuff.” Del seems proud of the fact. “And his wife—my mom—she’s a dermatologist.”
“Why did they send you here right away?”
He shrugs. “It’s not that interesting. I lived with them for something close to three years, and I went to Howard Academy the whole time. Boarding school’s nothing new.”
“But how did you even get in here? We never take new students like this.”
He smiles. The expression goes right to my gut and makes me feel like I’ve been punched in the best kind of way. For just a moment, the coolness of the stream vanishes, and I’m warm all over. Say my name say my name say my
“I like your hair,” Del says, stepping closer to me. He leans forward and touches one of the braids lightly. “Neither of your parents has red hair, do they?”
“No.”
He looks at my face, into my eyes. “Where did it come from?”
“I don’t know.” It’s warm enough that Del is wearing a short-sleeved white T-shirt. I stare at his tattoo.
“It’s a mystery, then?”
I’ve never thought of it that way. “I guess.”
“I see.” He nods toward the path at the edge of the woods. “Well? Are you ready?”
After a few moments of walking along the path, we meet up with a stone wall that surrounds campus. On the other side of the wall, there’s a stream. Without saying anything, Del takes me by the hand and helps me as we both climb over the rocks.
Being so close to the water gives me chills. It isn’t only the water in my dreams that scares me; it’s running water, still water, all water. Even if there’s no breeze, even if I’m standing in a hot shower in my own house, it chills part of me right down to my bones. I hate it. It terrifies me like nothing else—nothing except fire.
“Do you want to sit down?” Del asks.
I give the stream a hesitant look. It’s not just being near the water that makes me uncomfortable; it’s being alone with Del, who I barely know, and who I shouldn’t even be out here with. “I thought we were going for a walk.”
“We did.” He follows my gaze. “What’s the matter? You don’t like water?”
“Not really.”
“It’s just a stream, Emily.” He tugs me gently to the ground. “Relax. I won’t bite.”
We sit quietly for a few minutes, both of us staring at the water. Del leans back on his elbows and gazes at the clear sky. “I like it here, in Connecticut,” he says. “It’s nice being near the ocean.”
“Where does your family live?”
“Outside Boston.” He bites his lip. “If I tell you something, do you promise you won’t laugh?”
I nod. “Yes. I promise.”
“I had never been to a beach until a few years ago.”
“Really?” Even though I don’t like water, I’ve still been to the beach a million times with my family and my friends. Who hasn’t?
“Really,” he says. “Nobody ever took me when I was in foster homes.”
“Wow. That’s … too bad.”
He swallows. “That’s not all. I didn’t even learn to swim until I was fifteen. Nobody ever thought to teach me, not until my parents—I mean, the people who adopted me—found out I’d never had lessons.” He squints at the stream. “My adoptive dad took me to a swimming pool one Saturday and taught me how. You should have seen me in the water with all those kids. There were six-year-olds swimming circles around me.” He continues to stare at the sky. “I looked ridiculous. It was pretty awful.”
The breeze is chilly. I pull my knees against my chest, trying not to shiver. My braids are so long that I can feel them resting halfway down my back. For a second, I remember the rumor that’s going around about him taking a baseball bat to someone at his last school. I can’t imagine Del hurting anyone.
“So … you’re adopted,” I say.
“Yeah.”
“What are your parents like? I mean, your adoptive parents?”
“My father works for the government. You know, top secret kind of stuff.” Del seems proud of the fact. “And his wife—my mom—she’s a dermatologist.”
“Why did they send you here right away?”
He shrugs. “It’s not that interesting. I lived with them for something close to three years, and I went to Howard Academy the whole time. Boarding school’s nothing new.”
“But how did you even get in here? We never take new students like this.”
He smiles. The expression goes right to my gut and makes me feel like I’ve been punched in the best kind of way. For just a moment, the coolness of the stream vanishes, and I’m warm all over. Say my name say my name say my
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