Renata Santos doesn't expect her heart to flutter when she catches a boy stealing flowers out of her backyard. But as she unravels his reputation, she realizes puppy-eyed delinquent Isaac Marshall may just be the sunshine she needs to turn her life...
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T A M A R I S K
[tamarix aphylla] ➳ guilt.
HIS BIKE WAS MISSING from the rack. I skated an aimless loop around the block, coming up empty save for the realization that Isaac had abandoned me.
At school, our drinks drew every gaze in the hall to my hands. My shoulders sagged and I kept a death-grip on the plastic cups, condensation on my fingertips. I fast-walked to my locker, head down and insides all twisted up.
Leo approached as I placed a folder into my backpack and held my locker door ajar. He smelled nice, if ordinary, like library books and cheap shampoo. "Hey, Ren," he greeted. "Are those for me?"
He nodded pointedly at the drinks on the top shelf of my locker, his expression curious but watered-down. Thinking fast, I passed him the one that should've been Isaac's. "Of course. Do you like Mountain Dew?"
It was dripping wet but still icy, and its contents sloshed when Leo accepted it. He investigated inside the cup, grimacing. "Yeah, but... who has Slurpees for breakfast?"
"Not me," I said honestly, though I took my cup from the shelf regardless. I gently pried his fingers from the door and closed it, snapping my lock into place before facing Leo again. "Maybe it'll be better for you than coffee."
Leo moved away from my locker, adopting a look of resignation. "Maybe," he said, taking a cynical sip from the straw. His brow tightened as he swallowed. "Did you really get this for me?"
"Um," I started sheepishly, turning and watching the stream of students moving through the hall. "There was a two-for-one deal."
His smile was so boyish yet barely there. "Well, thanks, Ren."
I beamed back at him, trying to hide the anxiety that erupted inside of me as I tried to locate the root of the problem: Isaac. I knew I wasn't doing anything wrong, since I paid for the drink myself. But I couldn't help studying every face in the corridor.
As if Isaac would ditch me just to get to school.
Truth was, I didn't know anything about him — what his grades were like, who his parents were, where he lived. And that thought was an advancing storm cloud that never would release its downpour: the anticipation was surely the worst part.
Leo stood next to my locker, arms crossed over his chest. I sucked on my straw, hesitating just briefly before asking, "So what is it with Isaac Marshall?"
He noticeably held his breath before answering, like I was a troublesome child wondering why the sky was blue. "I don't know," he said evenly. "What is it with him?"
"I've heard a lot since you mentioned him that day." For some reason, I was certain Leo remembered our conversation on my second day of school just as vividly as I did. "About him being a drug addict, sleeping with prostitutes... stuff like that."
