When I open my eyes and see that the guitar is still on top of me, I’m thankful that I never seem to move in my sleep. Unless I have a nightmare, that is, so I’m also thankful that I didn’t have one of those. I don’t remember anything I dreamt, though.

Looking at the clock on the wall, I see that the shorter hand is on the eight, and the longer one is on the three. This is around the time I usually wake up on days I don’t have school.

After putting my guitar away and completing my morning routine, I check my phone for any notifications, then open the email app. I usually receive around seven emails every morning by this time. Mostly junk mail, but nothing has been sent to Abigail Coulson yet today. Just as I think this, though, and as soon as I put my phone down, it buzzes in my palm.

Mandy: Did you hear what happened?

Before I can even pick up the phone, a bubble appears at the bottom of the screen, letting me know that she’s typing again.

Mandy: Elena fell out of a tree and broke her arm!!

Me: Oh no!! L

Mandy: She’s at the hospital now with Chase. They’ve been there for a while, and their neighbor had an emergency of her own, so no one is there to watch the other nine kids.

I know where this is going.

I care about Chase’s family, but I just wish he wasn’t in it.

Mandy: I’m heading to their house with a few of the other volunteers. Devon’s driving. Do you want to come help?

Me: Chase won’t be there, though, right? Lol.

Mandy: Abigail…

Me: Alright, I’ll go. What time should I be ready?

What in the world was Elena doing climbing a tree this early in the morning? And where was Chase while this was happening? Seems like Mr. Arrogant needs more help than he pretends to.

I share the news with my parents, and my father leads the three of us in a prayer for the Jones family. He prays especially for protection from the attack of the enemy.

“Amen,” we all say in unison.

 “Grab your bag. They’re here,” Mom says after glancing out the window.

Halfway out the door, I remember that I wanted to bring the song I was working on, in case I have a moment to write while I’m there. After stuffing the songbook into my bag, I kiss my mom, then fly out the door.

Sliding in the last available seat beside Mandy, I say hello to everyone. Even Clarissa is here!

“Abby!” she says, bending forward to see me. Her big brown eyes show her joy. “Hi!”

“Hey, Claire!”

“I’m so excited for tomorrow!”

“I’m excited, too,” I reply. “That is so awesome that your parents are coming to church!”

Claire nods. “Yeah.”

“So, Abigail,” Devon says, “Claire and I have been trying to convince Mandy to come to the church picnic, but she simply won’t agree to it!”

“Aw, why not?” I ask, turning to Mandy. “It’ll be so much fun! But not as fun without you.”

“I… I just feel uncomfortable around a lot of people,” she answers shyly, her voice quiet.

Devon frowns. “But you go to church. How is that any different?” It becomes apparent that she is getting more uncomfortable as he probes further.

Mandy hesitates before answering, then simply says, “I don’t know.” It can easily be sensed that she prefers that we not talk about this subject anymore, so we all drop it.

♥ • ❤ • ♥

“Chase? Elena?” a few voices say in different orders. The pounding of feet can be heard on the dark wooden floor as some of the kids rush out to see us. Dylan’s face falls when he discovers it’s only Devon, Mandy and me, and not his siblings.

Soon after our arrival, other volunteers enter the Jones’ house. Surprisingly, there’s not much work to do around the house, so we mostly just sit down and try our best to entertain the worried siblings of Chase and Elena. The younger siblings, to be exact, because the older ones have their electronics and seem as if they don’t even know what happened.

“Abby, I’m starving,” Dylan, the five year old eating machine of the family states as he marches toward me. His face is a light shade of red, his nose is scrunched up and his hands are balled into fists at his sides. He looks as if he’s getting ready to literally fight me for his food! “Sarah won’t let me have pudding! I want pudding!”

“It’s too early for pudding,” I tell him. “Why don’t we make some real breakfast, like cantaloupes in a Greek yogurt smoothie and omelets?”

“But we don’t have any cheese! Chase was supposed to get cheese, but Elena had to break her arm. We can’t have omelets without cheese,” he whines. “And Greek yogurt is too gross! I’d rather… um… uh… I’d rather eat Lenny’s poo!”

“Dylan,” I say, shaking my head as I try not to laugh. The only reason I find it funny is because I used to feel the same way. “Who’s Lenny?”

“Our Rottweiler,” Dylan says, crossing his arms. “Now give me pudding or I’ll tell Chase that you made me starve! He doesn’t like you, anyway, so he’ll really, really not like you if you don’t give me pudding!”

Matter-of-factly and with a shrug, I say, “I’ll live.” I have to resist the strong urge to roll my eyes. “C’mon, I’ll make smoothies of your choice and omelets for all of you. Or wait… I have an idea! Do you know if there is a laptop I could borrow?”

Dylan knits his brows and taps a pointer finger on his chin. “I’ll go ask Sarah,” he says, suddenly running off. He returns after a few minutes, hugging a laptop to his chest as if it’s a newborn baby. “Here. Sarah said that it’s okay if you borrow hers. Just be very extra special careful with it… She would get really, really mad if it broke.”

“Okay, I will.” Cupping my hands around my mouth, I shout, “Thanks, Sarah! I’ll be careful with it! Promise!” I take the laptop from out of Dylan’s arms, thank him, and then turn around to find a place to sit.

“No problem.”

Startled by the voice, I almost drop the laptop. Sarah raises a brow, eyeing it in such a way that makes me consider giving it back to her and figuring something else out. She doesn’t say anything more, though.

I take a seat on the sofa in the family room and open the laptop. There’s no passcode necessary to get in, so I don’t need to bother Sarah again. She still uses the old version of Windows on her computer, so it’s super easy to navigate and I’m able to find what I need very quickly. Thankfully, she has Publisher installed, which is what I use to make the menu for my new restaurant, The Jones’ Place.

♥ • ❤ • ♥

When the front door opens, my heart immediately leaps into my throat. He has returned.

“It smells amazing in here,” says the voice I wasn’t at all ready to hear. I detect a faint smile in his voice… and it doesn’t sound sarcastic… at all. Weird. Sounding much closer now, Chase asks, “What are you guys making? It smells just like an Italian restaurant.”

“Look!” Surprisingly, Elena sounds excited as she says, “I have a cast!”

“Just remember what we talked about, all right, Elena?” Chase says, sounding concerned. “No more climbing trees without my ‘okay’ and supervision. It terrified me to see you on the ground like that, and so early in the morning?”

“I just wanted to show you how high I could go… I’m sorry, Chase.”

“It’s all right,” her brother replies. He sounds as if he’s right around the corner now. Part of me wishes I could sneak out the back door, but the other half knows wishing that is wrong. “It’s just because I care. I don’t want you to get hurt.” Silence follows for a minute, then he adds, “Go wash your hands. It seems as if lunch is ready.”

The pounding of feet can be heard on the stairs, and then the sound of a creaking door.

“Abigail, could you get the garlic, please?” Mandy asks from the dining area. I pause in my spot, cringing. Now Chase is sure to know I’m here. Like he wouldn’t have found out in a second, anyway.

“Sure…” I say slowly and quietly, as if I believe Chase can’t hear me. But when I turn around to get the garlic powder off the counter, I find that he was standing right behind me. I stare up into his eyes, too startled to muster up and return the glare he’s giving me.

“Abigail,” he says.

“Chase,” I reply. My voice sounds soft and almost kind compared to his harsh tone. I blame my mind, which is still trying to understand how this is the same boy who was just expressing concern for his little sister. His look of hatred changes to that of irritation. “What?” I ask, hoping my voice mirrors the annoyance I see in his eyes.

Chase gestures toward me, causing me to glance down at my outfit. Yes, it has spots of sauce and dashes of flour on it, but I’ll be surprised if he decides to comment on the mess instead of being grateful for the food I helped make. That would be low, even for him.

Rather than giving me the Cinderella insult I expected, he says, “You’re kind of in my way.” It takes a moment for the meaning of these words to register in my mind. It’s not until he says, “Uh, excuse me?” that I step out of his way. It wasn’t an intentional lingering that was meant to get him to use his ‘manners’. I was actually stunned that he didn’t mention my messy clothes.

Chase walks in further and looks around, first scrutinizing the kitchen. He raises a brow, and I find myself watching his face as if I’m an insecure little girl waiting for approval. “I’m impressed,” he says, glancing at me quickly before staring, almost open-mouthed, at his ten siblings. They are all sitting around the long table as they devour the pizza and fettuccini in silence. I can’t help it as the left corner of my lips twitches up into a satisfied smile. I cover it up with a smirk when he returns his gaze to me.

“You’re welcome,” I say sarcastically, folding my arms across my chest.

Chase narrows his eyes, and I can practically see a remark of his own forming in his mind. His response, however, isn’t half as bad as I imagined. “Yeah, thanks, because I desperately needed your help.”

I roll my eyes. “Come on, Chase. It’s pretty clear that you need help in more ways than this. A ‘special’ kind of help. The type that comes in the form of a small white pill, or maybe that wouldn’t even meet your mental needs. I’m just doing what I can.”

I can see when understanding of my words comes to him. He visibly stiffens as his brows raise and his eyes widen. He copies me by crossing his arms, most likely without realizing what he’s doing with them. Embarrassment threatens to swallow me whole, and it does exactly that when Sierra says my name in both a shocked and a mildly scolding tone.

After standing on the border of the kitchen and dining room for a while, the awkwardness and embarrassment becomes unbearable. I unfold my arms, squint my eyes and spin on my heels, then exit the room. I regret being the first to leave, but I couldn’t take it anymore. And to think I came close to apologizing! I won’t until he does, for all the years of pain he’s caused. On second thought, he wouldn’t deserve my apology even then.

I pout like a child all the way to the family room at the opposite end of this massive house, all the while putting perhaps a little too much weight into each footstep. I’m almost sure that I can be heard from the kitchen. That thought causes me to walk with less force.

I wish I could call my mom or dad to come pick me up, but they’re both at work. I plop down onto the sofa in front of the television and sigh, knowing I’ll have to wait until the other volunteers are ready to leave. Although I’m thankful that I’m alone in this room, part of me wishes I had something to distract my mind from the uncomfortable situation I just walked away from. It’s not fair that Chase can get away with saying practically anything to me, but I can’t reciprocate?

I sound so childish right now and I know it. “Backsies,” Chase had said in one of his very dreaded text messages. “Very mature.” I find myself glaring at the black screen of the television unintentionally. All I see is a much shorter Chase’s face as he smirks across the classroom of an elementary school in Germany, knowing that he knows I found out about what he did. Then another image of him comes to mind, and another. Memories of Chase and his bullying rush back to me all at once.

I’m surprised to find myself becoming tired. Perhaps thinking of Chase, his hurtful words and mean actions are enough to wipe me out. Determined to stay awake, I decide to put my brain to work, hoping writing a little in my songbook will revive me. I am, all of a sudden, dead tired, and end up zoning with the book open beside me.

When I awaken from my nightmare, I end up looking right into the eyes of another.

Chase is carefully placing something – my songbook – into my lap, but stops suddenly when he sees that I’m now awake. His face, from his wide eyes to the slight change of color in his cheeks, shows a mixture of embarrassment and, what surprises me the most: guilt.

“Sleeping on the job?” he asks.

“Yes, actually,” I reply, now wide awake. “This job is extremely taxing. Anyway, I know you’re trying to change the subject. What were you doing with my book?!”

“If we’re so, as you put it, ‘taxing’, why do you still come here?”

“Just answer the question! What were you doing with my book?”

Chase appears uncomfortable for a moment. He visibly relaxes when my name is called and Mandy tells me it’s time for us to go. While I’m tempted to stay and demand an answer, I’m glad to finally be leaving.