Page 28 of When You Wish Upon a Wideout

Beau sat. “I want to take you somewhere after I’m done with work.”

“Where?”

He smiled, making a move to leave the roof. “Flying. But we’ll be landing on water, so wear your swimsuit.”

The next day, I was eyeing the lake from the passenger seat of his truck and asked, “Where does the flying part come in exactly?”

Beau hopped out of the truck and pointed to the marsh beside us. “We need to go through that and up the hill a bit.”

“That sounds like hiking, not flying,” I countered, immediately lowering my gaze when Beau pulled off the Weezer shirt he wears all the time and tossed it on the seat. I didn’t want him to see that even though it was overcast, my cheeks probably looked sunburnt.

“Come on. It’s not far.”

I followed him out of the truck before slipping off my jean shorts and pulling my shirt over my head. Beau awkwardly looked away as I adjusted the top of my bikini. We walked into the marsh, my bare feet slipping and sliding along a small path as I tried not to staresostrongly into his back that he might feel it. But I did stare strongly, wondering what it would be like to run my fingertips along his smooth and tight skin, down the valley of his spine flanked by strength.

“Here.” He stopped.

Mud and pieces of loose grass painted my bare feet and legs. When I looked up, Beau was walking over to a tree, reaching for a rope.

“I need some time for the motorcycle. And well... your convertible is kind of out of reach at the moment. But this is more like flying anyway.”

I held my breath as Beau reached, hoisting himself on the rope, gripping long enough before heflewinto the lake, dropping into the murky water and then resurfacing. He swung his head to banish the soaked hair from his face.

“Come on, Sienna. Man up,” he joked, moving to float on his back. “You wish you could fly?Makethat come true. Don’t wait.”

Eyeing the rope, I moved up the hill, still stumbling, until I reached the tree the thick twine hung from. Beau righted himself in the lake and began to tread water, waiting as I held the rough rope in my hands. I took a deep breath, reaching as high as I could before jumping, catching it between my feet.

And I flew. For just a few seconds, I was weightless. I was floating and free, and I felt nothing but lightness in the moments I soared through the air before my body met the water.

I couldn’t see anything underneath the surface. But somehow, I found Beau through the haze without even trying. Panting, I opened my eyes, meeting Beau’s brown pair. His warm breath fanned across my face, and I blinked hard, just to make sure I didn’t imagine his hand lingering against my cheek after he pushed back wet, tangled hair. I knew I wasn’t. Because Beau’s other hand floated to my waist, and do you know what I felt, Mom? The chill of goose bumps under warm water. Like laughing while painfully grieving, the idea was almost impossible to imagine.

I thought that about flying too.

But there Beau was, painting the unimaginable as a reality. There he was, making wishes come true.

Love,

Sienna

i wish i was brave enough to ask

Dear Mom,

I wonder if I should write you every day instead of these sporadic entries. Summer is over now. All the days were the same—work in the mornings at the diner, the lake with Beau in the afternoons, or get this, bike rides like we were kids (I can still beat him, by the way). And nights, well, they were for Beau too. He’s now routine, and I don’t just like our nights spent together, but I’m finding myself eager for the sun to set, and that’s strange. Because after you died, I dreaded the night, yet here I am craving it.

I’ve been trying to look after Dad, but he’s in full work mode. Sometimes he doesn’t come home until almost nine. I don’t know why, because practice wraps up at six. But he trudges into the house, eats whatever I left for him in the oven and goes to bed. People arestillbringing casseroles. No offense, but at this point, I think they are doing it more because they all love Dad, not because you died. With the season about to kickoff, it’s clear he’s the hometown hero. That sounds nice in theory, but honestly, I’m annoyed because that means me and Henry are the offspring of said hometown hero, and the school wanted to includeusin the season opener.

Get this, Mom. They wanted us to flip the coin.

I argued with Dad over and over. Henry didn’t, so I argued on his behalf. But apart from telling me I should consider law school, Dad only said it was nonnegotiable. I was dreading the entire thing. Beau tried to make it better when I told him the news.

“You don’t get it. Ihatecrowds.”

Beau opened a tin of over baked cookies his mother made that were too hard for a customer but still delicious enough for us. “Just pretend everyone is naked.”

He wiped crumbs from his mouth with the back of his hand. He missed one. I couldn’t exactly process what he said because I was too busy focusing on the smudged chocolate right next to his bottom lip and wondering if the sweetness would taste sweeter—better—off his skin rather than straight from the cookie.

But I heard enough of his comment because I tried to picturehimnaked.

---