David trailed off.
Maddy cringed as Rain laughed. “See? You can’t think of anything. You might as well just face it—she’s a spoiled suburban brat. I mean, she practically gagged at dinner when I told her what I was doing this summer.”
I did not, Maddy thought.
David laughed a little. “She’s definitely nothing like I expected she’d be, that’s for sure.”
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Maddy had had enough. She couldn’t believe they would talk about her this way. As she backed away, her toe caught the edge of a wicker rocker and sent her stumbling forward, almost off the porch steps. Crash! The tray fell, shattering the glasses all over the porch. David stopped talking. Overwhelming silence was broken only by the constant cheeping of the crickets. Maddy stood rooted in place. Slowly, David’s figure turned and peered up at the porch. As soon as he saw Maddy, his eyes went wide. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but Maddy shot him her most scornful glare and turned her back, walking into the house with slow deliberation. She could feel his eyes burning into her back until the door shut behind her with a bang.
Forgetting about the mess of broken glass, Maddy tore up the stairs to her room and slammed the door. Her heart pounded under her ribs, and her breath whistled through her nose with anger. With fists clenched, Maddy threw herself onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling, where a small spider was peacefully spinning a web in one corner. Everything was quiet and then . . . cheep, cheep, cheep!
“Shut up!” Maddy shouted, and bolted from the bed. Furiously, she yanked open the porch doors. The cheeping stopped. Silence again. She stood still for a second and then turned and slowly went back into the room. She laid down and reached for her BlackBerry to call 69
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Kirsten. CHEEP, CHEEP! CHEEP, CHEEP! It was never-ending. Maddy threw the phone on the bedside table and rolled over, pulling a pillow over her head. Forget it. Why was everything going wrong? She had never felt so out of place. No wonder David liked Rain better. At least she wasn’t a spoiled suburban brat. 70
Chapter Nine
!
Maddy woke up at six and lay in bed for fifteen minutes, convincing herself that she was going back to sleep. The morning had dawned clear and cool, the sun burning the dew off of the sagebrush as it climbed higher in the sky. Her porch cricket had long since quieted down—or gone to do whatever crickets do during the day—and the room was as peaceful and silent as a church. The pale sunlight painted patterns on the sheets, and the fresh breeze blew across her cheeks from the open porch doors.
She dreaded having to see David again. It was going to be humiliating. But there wasn’t any way around it. It wasn’t like she had a whole lot of other options or a choice about whom she’d be spending her days with. 71
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Maddy got up, leaving the sheets in a wad at the end of the bed, and pulled on a pair of Sevens and her favorite American Apparel scoop-neck tee. She braided her hair, letting the end hang over her shoulder before tiptoeing down the stairs to the silent early-morning kitchen. The room had a tidy, expectant feeling. Debbie’s collection of pottery vases on the windowsill stood in the sun like a still life. Maddy dumped coffee into the coffeemaker and leaned her elbows on the counter, listening to the burbling and watching dark brown droplets stream into the glittering glass carafe. It felt good to be up. She realized that she was humming under her breath.
When the coffee was ready, Maddy poured it into a thick blue ceramic mug and wrapped a roll from last night in a napkin. She pushed through the screen door and paused a moment on the porch, sipping her coffee and looking at the mist shrouding the grapevines before making her away across the grass to a path through the fields. The sandy soil felt soft under her feet, and the grape leaves brushed her bare arms, leaving little streaks of wet on her smooth, tanned skin. In front of her, birds took flight at her approach, calling into the cool morning air above the vines before wheeling back around to perch on the trellises.
Maddy reached the edge of the field and approached the shed in the clearing. But instead of going in, she 72
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wandered over to the stream and climbed onto a rock, still cool from the night. She brought her knees up to her chest and rested her coffee mug against her leg. Taking a giant bite of her roll, she stared idly at the tangled field in front of her and the mountains beyond, draped in the last strands of the morning fog. The warming sun baked the top of her head.
“Hi,” said a voice behind her. “You’re up early.”
Maddy started, nearly falling off her rock into the stream. She turned around, her mouth still full of bread. David’s curly hair looked like he had combed it with a fork, and he was wearing baggy khaki shorts and one of his apparently endless supply of holey T-shirts. He held a foil-wrapped plate in his hand.
“Hello,” Maddy said, trying not to spray crumbs. She pointedly looked away and swallowed.
“I made you some cookies.”
What? She whipped her head around, trying not to betray her surprise.
“Chocolate-chip apricot. Your mom said you were a chocolate girl.”
She couldn’t help it. “You talked to my mom?”
“Well, I had to find out what you like.” He widened his eyes innocently and took the foil off the plate. Big, beautiful cookies studded with dark chunks of chocolate and bits of orange apricot were arranged in a pile. Maddy sat uncertainly for a second. Of course she 73
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was still mad, but man, those cookies looked good. Without her mind’s consent, her hand reached out and took one. She bit into it.
Ohmygod—moist, fantastically chewy, and not too sweet. The melted chocolate chips pulled apart in goopy strands. The apricot bits added perfectly tart little zings. She finished it in about three bites and looked up. David was watching her closely.
“Well?” he asked, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth, waiting for her approval. Maddy forced her face into a frown. This is the guy who was laughing at you, remem- ber?
“Um, good,” she offered uncertainly. This wasn’t how she’d pictured her morning starting. David smiled widely. “Cool.” He pushed the plate into her hands and strode over to the shed. The big doors rumbled as he shoved them open.
Just ignore him, she thought as she carefully climbed down from the rock, brushing the last roll crumbs from her lap and placing the empty coffee mug and the plate of cookies on the ground. She joined him in the doorway. The shed looked about a hundred times better. He cleaned while I was getting my seaweed wrap, Maddy thought semi-guiltily. But it still didn’t make up for his rudeness last night, even if he had made her cookies. He must have found soap somewhere, because the floors, walls, and windows all gleamed. The place had 74
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the feel of a blank canvas. She strolled around the edges of the room, running her fingers over the smooth plaster walls and gazing through the rafters at the soaring peaked roof above. She took a deep breath, inhaling the mixture of wildflowers, soap, and old wood that permeated the air.
“Hey, listen.” David walked over slowly and stood in front of her.
She watched him warily. “What?”
“Those cookies?” He paused and stuck his hands in his front pockets.
“Yeah?”
He took a deep breath. “Well, they’re sort of a bribe.”
“What are you talking about?” She narrowed her eyes.
“I’m trying to bribe you to forgive me for last night.”
His voice was steady and calm, but his eyes looked anxious as he waited for her reaction. “I don’t know what was wrong with me. I acted like a total jerk.”
Maddy’s face grew warm, but standing in the clear morning light, with David’s sincere eyes looking straight into hers, it was hard to summon up the righteous anger that had coursed through her the night before. David dropped his chin, pouted his mouth, and looked at her with pleading, puppy-dog eyes. He looked so ridiculous and adorable that Maddy couldn’t help cracking a smile.