At first it was enough just to see the house. Then I began to wonder if she was inside. I wondered what she could be doing. Light came from every
window I could see. There was a car in the driveway. The longer I hung
around the closer I wanted to be. I crossed the street and practically dashed
the house. As I went by, I scooped up a stone from the yard. I went up
the street, turned, and looked at her house in the distance.
I whispered to the salt-sprinkled sky, “That's where Stargirl Caraway lives.
She likes me.
I headed back toward the house. The street, the sidewalks were deserted.
The stone was warm in my hand. This time I walked slowly as I approached.
I felt strange. My eyes fixed on a triangle of light in a curtained window.
I saw a shadow on a yellow wall. I seemed to be drifting, footless, into the light.
Suddenly the front door opened. I dived behind the car in the driveway and
crouched by the rear fender
I heard the door close. I heard steps. The steps
matched the movement of a long shadow cast down the driveway. My breath
Cropped. The shadow stopped. I felt both ridiculous and weirdly, perfectly
placed, as if crouching by that car was precisely what life had in store for me
as that moment.
Her voice came from beyond the shadow. “Remember when you followed
me into the desert that day after school?”
Absurdly, I debated whether to answer, as if doing so would—what? Give me
away? I leaned into the smooth metal of the fender. It never occurred to me to
stand, to show myself. Hours seemed to pass before I finally croaked, “Yes."
"Why did you turn around and
go
back?"
Her tone was casual, as if she held conversations every night with people
crouching behind the car in the driveway.
​