Page 13 of All the Ways You Save Me
But maybe my mom is right, and Maple Ridge will surprise me. I should stop being so judgmental and give it a chance.
A dark red Ford Bronco that’s old enough to be called vintage turns onto my street and comes to a stop in front of the house. The door opens, and Adam climbs out. He gives me a tentative smile as he shoves his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, and I’m charmed that he seems a little shy. Suddenly, my own nerves kick in. I dated on Sandy Harbor, went to the movies and high school dances with a couple of guys in my class, but everything about this feels different.
“Nice car,” I call to him as I start down thesteps.
“Thanks.” He smiles and pats the roof affectionately. “It was my dad’s when he was in high school.”
For its age, the car looks well-kept with only a few hints of rust around the bumper. “It must be fun to drive,” I say as I approach.
He laughs. “After nearly taking my life in a moving vehicle, I’m not sure you’re going to get to find out.”
“Oh, come on.” I stop in front of him and cross my arms. “Am I ever going to live that down?”
He leans forward, just the tiniest bit, his tall frame filling the space between us. “Maybe… someday.”
My cheeks heat at the thought that this is only the beginning as my gaze skates over him. He’s wearing another worn band T-shirt, and the fabric clings to his chest. I notice a scar about two inches long running horizontally along one bicep, and I want to reach up, run my finger along it, and ask him how he got it.
This date hasn’t even started yet, and already I’m thinking of all the ways I can touch him. I clear my throat and step back. “Well, I can’t wait for you to impress me withyourdriving skills.”
Adam rounds the car to open the door for me and then walks back to his side to climb in. I have to admit, he does seem like a safe driver as he turns on his signal and looks both ways before easing into the intersection. We head toward town. There’s not a lot to see beyond the grocery store and strip mall. Adam points out an ice cream shop with great milkshakes and promises to take me there someday before continuing down the road past the high school. At the next intersection, he turns down a quieter road that winds past a couple of old farmhouses. Eventually, we pull up to a housing division with a metal gate blocking the road and a small brick building with a security guard sitting inside. Beyond it are rows of houses with expansive front porches and double-sized lots. The security guardcomes to the window and nods at Adam. A moment later, the gate slowly eases open.
Adam gives the guard a quick wave of the hand to indicate that we’re not coming in. “This is where Jason’s family lives.”
In class on the first day, Jason reminded me of the private school guys on Sandy Harbor who belonged to the sailing club, so it doesn’t completely surprise me that he lives in a gated community. There’s just something about his confidence and the way he talks about all his sports and activities that makes him seem wealthy. He dresses like someone who comes from money, too, with expensive brand labels on his clothes and backpack.
A Mercedes SUV pulls up to the gate, and the security guard speaks to the driver for a moment before waving them through.
“You must come here a lot if the guard knows you,” I say.
Adam tilts his head, and I get the feeling that he’s weighing his words. Finally, he says, “I guess you could say I spend a lot of time here.”
I can’t help but feel like he’s holding something back. Does Adam think I care about gated communities and high-end labels? Is that why he brought me here? I steal a glance in his direction. There are no obvious brands on his band T-shirt and nothing special about his slightly worn sneakers. His car is so old that it’s come back around to being cool again, but I doubt it’s expensive. And one day he mentioned going to work after school, but the bell rang, and I didn’t have a chance to ask what he does.
Maybe he thinks that growing up in a beach house, my life was more extravagant than it was. But he saw where we live now, and there’s nothing fancy about it. So, maybe I just imagined his hesitation.
“What about you?” I prompt. “I’d love to see where you live.”
Adam clears his throat and stares out the front window. “Well, actually… I don’texactlylive anywhere…”
I look at him sideways. “What do you mean by that?”
He takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly. “I’m sort of homeless.”
I glance in the back seat, half expecting to find a mattress, but all I see are a small backpack and a throw blanket. “So where do you sleep, and eat, and…” I trail off. “What about your parents?”
“Both my parents are dead.”
My eyes widen. I had no idea. The subject never came up when we were walking from my car into school and joking around at lunch. “Adam, I’m so sorry.” I reach over and put a hand on his arm, my heart aching for him. When he said he’d got this car from his dad, I assumed it was a hand-me-down. Not an inheritance after he’d passed. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He turns to look at me. “My mom died when I was young and then my dad… He passed last year. When that happened, Jason asked his family to take me in. So now I live in their basement, and that’s how the security guard knows me.”
I try to imagine what it would be like to lose your parents like Adam did. My dad passed away when I was a baby, but I don’t have any memories of that time, so it’s not the same. But I’d be completely devastated if I lost my mom. When she told me we were leaving Sandy Harbor, I cried and begged to be allowed to live with a friend instead of moving to Pennsylvania. But deep down, I don’t know if I could have gone through with it, even if she had agreed. I can’t imagine not being with my mom, or Josie when she comes home for the holidays.
“I don’t know where I’d be without Jason. I’d do anything for him,” Adam says.
I’ve gotten to know Jason better in English class and at the lunch table this week, and I’ve been slowly learning that there’s more to him than the guy I met on the first day.There’s a lot of teasing that goes on between him and Adam, but they clearly care about each other, too. I’d had no idea about the depth of their friendship, though. My view of Jason completely shifts. “It sounds like youdohave a home with people who are like your family.”
He swallows hard. “Yeah, I guess I do.”
