June

I was sitting on the couch, pretending to read a book, when in reality, I was waiting for Nathan to either come home or not. It was dark out; I was probably illuminated like a mannequin in a shop window, but I wanted to be able to see him coming (or not), so I couldn't bring myself to close the curtains. Sam was staying over at the place of some boy from our year, probably instastalking Jennifer together, or fulfilling dangerous dares, or whatever boys did when they were together. I suppose it would've made more sense for me to have gone to my parents' house. I didn't have much of that left in my life, though, sense.

Today was the day the judges were going to make a decision about the girl, if she would be allowed to stay, or needed to go back to Mexico. This morning, I'd seen the answer written in Nathan's eyes. Charlotte had been fussing all over him, straightening his tie and flattening his hair, and whatever. It seriously annoyed me when she touched him, but I was slowly getting used to it. I'd intentionally hugged him very tight, causing his shirt to crease again. I saw her purse her lips at the sight. Luckily, she didn't try to fix it again.

She left with him, to my relief, and she wasn't coming back for a while due to her exams. The only question was, after the court had announced their decision, would he be driving home or to her?

I shuffled a bit to the right to be at a better angle with the windows. Something nervous was tickling the inside of my stomach, and I pulled my shirt a little lower, as if it would help. I was wearing one of my new skinny jeans, the ripped light blue ones, combined with a simple, long-sleeved, black off-shoulder top. My hair was down, a rarity. Somehow, I thought if I'd look pretty, he'd earlier return to me than to her. Pathetic. Still, I couldn't shake the idea off.

My new wardrobe had had a few consequences, nothing of them as big as that I felt more confident than ever. The other one was that Jennifer had now started to call me 'wannabe slut' instead of 'thrift shop princess', a weird insult I didn't get at all. Wannabe slut was a lot more creative than 'chile shitter spaz', which was how Matt Granton continued to refer to me, and I was kind of starting to get used it. Would I ever be a real slut? No idea. It would be nice and concise for Jennifer to shout, I guess. The last and most messed up consequence of having new clothes was, however, that I hid them from my mom and dad.

They could never know. They worked their ass off for me, and here I was, being gifted first-hand bags of clothes by a girl I barely knew. It meant sometimes having to change in the school's bathroom stalls, it meant always needing to be aware of when I would see them. It was absurd. By now, there seemed to be nothing normal left in my life.

I startled as headlights flashed by the house, and I heard tires coming up the driveway. Nathan. He was here!

Quickly, I pretended to be reading again, heart beating loudly in my chest. What should I do when he walked in? Say something? Hug him? Offer him food? Wine? Whiskey?

Seconds passed by, my body tense, listening for footsteps.

They never came.

After ten minutes, I decided I had to go see what was wrong. I left the house, on my socks, surprised by the brisk wind greeting me.

Nathan was sitting in the car, in the dark, staring right ahead.

I sighed, opening the door on the passenger's side and climbing in. He turned to me, face completely white from exhaustion.

"Hi," I said softly. "It went bad, I think?"

He didn't say anything, just nodded. Poor girl. Poor him. He'd tried so hard not to let her down... The law had been against them from the start. There was nothing he could've done. Without hesitation, I leaned towards him, wrapping my arms around him. Hugs were always useful. For me too. I closed my eyes, enjoying the sound of his heartbeat and the feeling of his hands on my back. He smelled way too nice, and I could've stayed that way forever.

But that was impossible, so after a while, I let go, remaining close, looking up at him. "What do you want me to do? I can leave you alone, or I can cook something for you, or we can just talk. Whatever you want."

He examined my face as if searching for something. "Sam home?"

"No. He's at Jake's."

"Good. You wanna go somewhere with me?"

Something in my stomach fluttered, and I smiled at him. "Of course. Let me just get my shoes." I hurried to the house, trying to quickly tie my laces — it didn't work, I never could get stuff done if I wanted to be fast. Giving up, I got back in the car, putting my feet between the two front seats. "Tie them for me?" I asked.

A smile flickered over his face, and he bent over my shoes, tying them carefully, as if it was the most important job in the universe. Done. We looked at each other for a moment, before he started the car and we drove off.

There was something soothing about speeding down the highway in the night, lantern lamps reduced to stripes of light, someone behind the wheel you trusted with everything you had. I didn't ask where we were going. I didn't need to know.

Only when he took a turn, and I spotted the sign pointing in that direction, I realized what our destination was. I smiled reassuringly at him, making sure he knew I understood. For a brief second, I reveled in the fact that it was me sitting in the car. Me. Not Charlotte. It didn't matter, though. Not tonight.

He parked in a completely empty parking lot. I looked up at the buildings in front of us, his former and my future high school location. It had plants, and trees, and wood to counter the concrete. As far as a school could be, it was alright, I suppose.

I reached for the handle, but: "Wait."

I laughed as he got out of the car first, going around it to open the door for me. "Always the gentleman."

He didn't say anything. Silently, I followed him through the deserted bike area, then through empty galleries enclosing squares filled with picnic tables, finally arriving in a secluded corner. There, a large wall had been used as a canvas.

Two giant eagles, the one gazing at the sky, wings spread, the other nuzzling its friend with his beak, eyes closed. Each of their feathers had a vibrant, joyous color, and their yellow eyes were so intense, the night shadows created the illusion they were moving. Some other people had partially ruined it by spraying their tags all over the birds, but there was enough left to be impressed. And there, in the corner, was her name.

Lena.

Her last, majestic work of art before she took her own life.

"It's beautiful," I said, gingerly touching her name — I didn't know why. Maybe a form of paying tribute. I took a few steps back, settling myself on the concrete floor; it remained warm after today's sunshine.

Nathan joined me. He was close, and my body shivered from his proximity. Would it be weird if I held his hand? Probably.

"Is it you and her?" I asked.

"The eagles?"

"Yeah."

"Never thought of it like that." He seemed pleased with the idea; something that could be the beginning of a smile touched his face.

"She was talented."

"Incredibly. I always felt really incompetent next to her."

"You know you're not, right?"

"There's my lawyer again." But he smiled, and this time, his eyes participated as well.

"Maybe I should go to law school as well, then."

He shook his head, focusing on the mural again. "You're too good for law school, June."

I wanted to hide the fact that my stomach seemed to be riding a rollercoaster. There was no need, though: "Who's there? What do you think you're doing? Get out, or I'm calling the cops!"

"Oh fuck..." Nathan mumbled, jumping up and pulling me up by my hand. He didn't let go, and my stomach went for another round. "That's Mr. Pyke. Never liked me. Come on."

Quietly, he led me through the labyrinth of galleries. My heart was beating rapidly in my chest, and adrenaline buzzed through my veins, making me extra aware of Nathan's fingers intertwined with mine. Then —

"Stop right there! You are trespassing and—"

Nathan didn't wait for him to finish. Abruptly, he broke into a run, dragging me along with him. While I knew we'd be in trouble if that man caught us, something about the situation was incredibly freeing, like there wasn't anything in the world we couldn't do.

I almost tripped over one of the bike racks, but his strong arms caught me in time, and we shared a grin before continuing our way. Back through the entrance, and there was the car...

This time, I opened the door myself. I had barely closed it shut, or Nathan stepped on the gas. I grabbed onto him to not fall forwards, and there we went, racing away from the building, as a tiny man in the distance waved at us angrily.

I started laughing, full belly, bent over double because I couldn't breathe. He laughed as well, uncontrollably, eyes trained on the road. Back on the highway.

I brushed my hair out of my face, taking in gulps of air to calm myself. With shaking hands, I clicked my seatbelt on. I met his gaze in the rear-view mirror, the ocean blue alive like I'd never seen before. We didn't say anything.

I'd never been that grateful for my existence.

We pulled up at the house.

"You okay?" he said.

"Yeah. More than. You?"

"Yeah. More than." He squeezed my hand, and I wondered if he had any idea what that did to me. "We're not doing that again, though."

"Probably shouldn't. Probably also shouldn't tell Sam." Trespassing. Figures.

"Shouldn't tell Charlotte either."

"Our secret, then?"

He nodded. "Come on, let's go inside. I'm hungry. It's never too late for some tamales, right?"