Page 13 of Claiming What's Mine

Chapter Three

Jayden

Fifteen years old

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“You ready?” I asked, looking back at Blue over my shoulder.

“I don't know, what exactly are we doing?”

“Did you get your mom to buy a pie yet?”

“Why are you even asking me that? You know I haven't.”

“Still? I can't believe you've lived here this long and still haven't had one of Mrs. Vicki's apple pies yet.”

“My mom bakes all her own, she doesn't see the need to buy something if she can make it herself.”

“My mom. . .” Scrunching my face, I teased her, making my voice high and scratchy as I repeated what she had said.

Balling her fist, she punched my arm, giving me a dirty look. “Stop it, I don't sound like that.”

Lifting my arm to protect myself from her blow, I smiled. “I know, I'm only kidding. It's just you have no idea what you're missing.”

“How much are they? I can ask my mom for money, or maybe. . .” she started to say as she began to dig around in her pocket.

“No, we don't need money, we're just going to. . .” Pausing, I joggled my head on my shoulders. “Sample one.” It took me a second to come up with a word that wouldn't send her running in the opposite direction.

Blue was a good girl. She went to church on Sundays, she didn't get into trouble, she went home when her mother expected her, she followed the rules, and she never went against the grain.

Her father was a pastor, and she was the definition of a pastor's daughter. Except for one little chink in her armor—me.I was able to get her to do things she wasn't supposed to do.

We spent an afternoon last summer jumping off Isle of Capris Bridge. We shouldn't have hopped the fence, we shouldn't have trespassed onto the Ferguson Railway property, but if we never did things we weren't supposed to do, where was the fun in living?

We balanced each other nicely, a perfect ying and yang if there ever was one.

For me, she became my voice of reason. She stopped me from playing chicken with a train a week ago, and it was a good thing too, because my foot got stuck and I lost a sneaker long before the train even reached us. She also helped me get a C on my last math paper even though I was a whole grade higher.

Blue was smart as shit. She knew things I didn't, she could understand a lot more and never had a hard time in school. She could remember what she read, all of it, every little detail, it was amazing. And some how, some way, we had become best friends.

“So she does samples?”

“It's sort of like a sample I guess.”

“I don't understand, what does that mean exactly?”

“We're going to. . . borrow one.”

“You mean we're just going to take one?”

“No,” I barked, scoffing as if I was insulted. “We're not just taking it, we're. . .”

Shit. Think think think!

“Making her a different one to replace it?”

“Yes!”I blurted out. “We'll make another one to replace it. Like a trade, we'll trade them.”

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