Love Is . . .

Chapter 1

Fourteen years earlier . . . 

          This is it! It is like Christmas morning - such is my excitement. Except it is like 100 degrees outside, and I am sweating through my dirty overalls as I lay crouched in the bushes, watching and waiting for their arrival. This will be better than Christmas! I tell myself since my Christmases aren't the typical holiday card variety with a tree beautifully decorated and a ton of presents underneath. Being poor doesn't allow for such 'nonsense,' as my father would say.  But I never saw a lot of 'sense' in the booze and cigarettes he had enough money to buy daily. 

             I have been waiting so long for this day to come. From the moment the land sold, I prayed that someone would come build a home and have a little girl ready-made and just my age. Someone I could finally play with and talk to and be the best friend I've never got to have. I live down a long dirt road in the middle of nowhere. I am home schooled to the best of my mother's ability. It is yet another benefit of being poor, no money to spend on even the simplest necessities  for public school. We have only one car that Daddy takes to and from the factory when he is not laid off, that is. So, for the most part, it's just my mother and I stuck in our little two-bedroom, one bath house that is in desperate need of repairs. For all that we don't have, the one thing that my father had loads of was pride. Or well, he did have. A good chunk of it was just taken out of him. You see, all we really had left that was of any value was this land. It had been passed down for generations. But with each inheritor, a little bit more was sold off. So, what used to be a great inheritance is now officially no more. It killed my father to sign the papers, but we were so behind in property taxes that he had to sell for way less than what it was worth. 

            But when life throws you a lemon, you make lemonade, right? So, this is my lemonade. Whoever bought our land has built a house, no, a mansion. It is an easy bike ride from my home. All my life, I never had anyone I could call a neighbor, and now I do! The wait has been an agony, though - the clearing of the land and then all the months of building this ginormous house. It even has a swimming pool! I was already imagining how great that water would feel as me and my bestie raced each other across it. 

           I'm quickly brought back to reality as I covertly watch the brand new shiny sedan park in front of the house in the circle drive. I cross my fingers and close my eyes.

"Please, oh please, oh pretty please have a child!" I whisper anxiously. 

I hear the car door open, and a middle-aged man gets out. He walks around to the front passenger side and opens the door for a beautiful woman. I am taken aback by her beauty, long blond hair styled to perfection, and an elegant baby blue pants suit. She immediately hugs and kisses the man in obvious excitement. He grabs her hand and starts to lead her towards the house. And in that moment, my dreams are crushed. Tears start to well up in my eyes. There will be no best friend for me after all.

            Or will there be? Suddenly, the man turns and jogs back to the car. He opens the back passenger side door. I see him bend down talking to someone inside. The man seems a little agitated, and whatever he says next brings the backseat occupant out of the car. The sinking feeling returns to my stomach. He's not a girl. Though he does appear to be close to my age, but it is hard to tell from this distance. I take in his appearance, blue jeans, polo-like shirt, and a baseball hat low on his head, shadowing his face. He does have blond hair sticking out the sides underneath his hat. Hands in his pockets, he shuffles and drags his feet towards the house. 

             His parents, I'm assuming, are already inside. My immediate disappointment is replaced by curiosity. Why is he acting so glum? Hello? You are entering a sparkly brand-new mansion, after all! I move my position so I can see the back of the house, figuring that they will eventually want to check out the awesome pool. To my surprise, it wasn't very long and the back door was open. It is him again, alone. He has a baseball glove and a ball that he starts tossing up in the air. He looks so, so . . . sad. Maybe he is as lonely as me. Maybe, just maybe, we could be friends. I started to revise my previous fantasies of makeovers and sleepovers to possible bike rides, playing catch, and not to forget that swimming pool. There are possibilities . . .

              Then, suddenly, I am tackled. Being crouched down in a squatting position, I was knocked off balance and tumbled down the slight embankment. When I finally come to a stop, I am bombarded with wet sloppy kisses all over my face, the kind that stinks like dog food and something else that I'm scared to know exactly what. Bullet. He is my golden retriever mix that was named for all the times my dad threatened to 'put a bullet in his butt.' He is notorious for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Bullet was overjoyed at winning hide and seek - a game I didn't know we were playing. 

"Stupid, stupid dog! Get down! Stop it!" I yell.

"You know it's not nice to talk to your dog like that."

            I jump and spin around. And there he is, the boy, right in front of me. I feel my face getting really warm. I can't imagine what I must look like. Old, well-worn overalls, plaid T-shirt, and now leaves stuck in my unruly wavy auburn hair. Bullet immediately trots over to him and obediently sits for him to give a good scratch behind the ears. Traitor, I think, and give him a glare.

"I'm Ben, by the way," he says as he looks out from under the low baseball hat.

"I, um, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to spy . . . well, actually, I guess I did, I mean, I don't know what I mean," I stammer as I stare down at my worn-out shoes. 

"Well, I will need to know your name so when I call the cops . . ." he starts to say, and my head jerks up to look directly in the most beautiful bright blue eyes I have ever seen.  He starts to smile, a one-sided slow grin, and I realize that he is joking about calling the cops. 

"Abby, my name is Abby," I say shyly. "And that is Bullet."

"What are you doing out here anyway?" he asks.

"Oh, well, I live nearby. Actually, we used to own this land." I immediately regret telling him that. I hope he doesn't ask why we sold it.

"At least now I know that we aren't totally isolated out here," he says instead.

"Is that why you looked so sad?" I blurted out stupidly. Now I really  look like a stalker. There is an awkward silence, and he just shrugs his shoulders. I don't know what to say next, so I start to take a few steps backward. "Well, I should probably go. My mom will be wondering where I am." As I turn to leave, he grabs my arm tentatively.

"Wait, will I get to see you again? I mean, school won't start for a couple of months, and with me not knowing anyone yet, it's going to be a long summer." He looks beseechingly at me, and I know instantly that I want to see him again as well. He wasn't what I had hoped for initially, but he didn't seem too bad for a boy. He would be an escape from my loneliness, maybe even a friend.