When will I ever need to know this? This is all that runs through my mind as I attempt to tackle my calculus homework. My fingers tug lightly on my overgrown bangs, as I squint at the jumbled numbers and letters in my textbook. Shaking my head to myself, I declare the effort pointless.
Looking up, I take in the row of empty swings before me. I don’t know how long I’ve been here, maybe a few hours. I never keep track. There is nobody else here but me. The happy cries and shouts of the elementary school kids are long gone. The sun is setting behind the trees across the athletic field behind me, a light dusting of gold across the horizon, and the leaves provide a comforting background noise as they rustle in the late breeze. It’s almost peaceful. Something close to a smile forms on my face, and I allow my drowsy eyes to fall shut.
Not even ten seconds later, my cell phone blares obnoxiously from within my leather satchel, disturbing my moment of peace. Groaning, I reach inside and pull it out, checking the caller ID.
It’s her.
"Hello?" I wait for her to pounce.
"Do you have any idea what time it is? Your father and I are about to set dinner on the table."
Your father and I. As if she’s part of our family.
Jessica is my stepmother. The wedding was earlier this year, and to my unfortunate dismay, I don’t think she’s going anywhere anytime soon.
I roll my eyes before replying, “I told you, I’m at the park near the school. And I’m not hungry right now, anyway.” My pencil point snaps in the midst of jotting down useless equations.
"Well, your father wants you home, soon. You can’t just blow off dinner all the time, Alexa," I hear her huff as the subtle sound of the TV floats into my ear.
Cradling my phone between my neck and shoulder, I search the contents of my bag for a substitute writing utensil. ”I promise I’ll be home in an hour, I’m just trying to get some homework done.”
Trying being the key word, I joke silently.
I hang up before she can argue with me further and proceed to turn my phone on silent in case she attempts to call me again. Just then, a gust of wind blows my calculus notes across the playground and I watch them twirl and scatter with a helpless sigh.
Of course, I think. Why wouldn’t they? Everything else is going wrong.
The deserted playground reflects the hollow feelings that have taken root inside of me since my mother passed away three years ago. I tell myself not to think about it, and immediately search for a distraction. Pulling out my copy of Game of Thrones, I lose myself within the captivating words and images of another world. A better world.
Suddenly, a shadow falls over the pages and brings with it a deep, Southern accent. “Are these yours?”
I look up at my intruder. He’s wearing a red checkered flannel shirt, jeans, and brown cowboy boots. His brown hair is cut military-short, and a pair of soft blue eyes stare down at me, enhanced by a friendly, boyish smile. In his hand are my pile of loose papers.
A light crimson blush washes across my pale cheeks as I reach out and grab them, stuffing the crumpled notes in my satchel.
"I don’t believe we’ve met," the boy says, holding out his hand. His fingers are long and callused, I notice. Like that of a guitar player.
"I’m Scotty," he continues, not seeming to care that I haven’t spoken a single word. Hesitantly, I offer him my hand and he takes it, his palm radiating warmth around mine.
"This is the part where you tell me who you are and we talk like the oldest and dearest of friends, instead of the strangers that we really are." Scotty’s playful tone, mixed with his sweet accent, brings the smallest of smiles to my rose-hued lips.
"I’m Alexa," I mumble shyly.
"Nice to meet you, Alexa." He smiles even wider and I wonder why on Earth this insanely cute boy is talking to me. And that is certainly not a Pennsylvania accent.
”I take it you’re not from around here?” I decide to ponder.
"Nope, I live in North Carolina. I’m up here for spring break with my family," he grins, lowering himself next to me. "We’re staying with relatives about twenty minutes from here. I was just taking a drive in my truck."
"Oh, that’s nice," I say with a smile. Why do I have to be so awkward?
"I take it you’re not on spring break yet?" he asks, mimicking my previous question.
I shake my head. “My spring break starts in a few days.”
"Well," he says, smirking in my direction, "this leaves us plenty of time to get to know each other, huh?"
I nod, at a complete loss for words. Can he tell how nervous I am?
We sit there for a while, just looking around. I hear the sound of his low, heavy breathing next to me and catch a whiff of woodsy cologne.
"I should probably get going." Scotty says after a few minutes, breaking the silence. He stands up and brushes the dirt from his jeans. "It was nice meeting you. Do you need to be somewhere? I could give you a ride home or something."
I think of Jessica, probably dialing my number over and over while complaining to my father about how irresponsible I am. I picture him sitting at our table, nodding his agreement over a plate of roast beef.
I spy Scotty’s pick-up truck idling in the parking lot, and I almost say yes. Then it occurs to me that I don’t even know this boy, and while he seems nice, I definitely don’t think he’d appreciate driving me to my house where he’d witness Jessica storming out the front door, screaming at me. What kind of impression would that make, considering his mother is probably a sweet Southern belle who has a pie and sweet tea waiting for him after a long day?
"No, I’ll just stay here for a little while. Thank you, though."
He nods, and before turning to go he says with the same sly grin, “See you around, Alexa.”
I watch him walk across the grass, leaving behind imprints from the soles of his boots. He hops in his truck and waves at me before driving off.
Sighing, I pull the wrinkled notes out of my neglected satchel, forcing myself to finish the last few problems. Cute boy or not, I still have to pass my senior year.
It’s then that I notice the ten digits hiding in the corner of the top sheet, written in black ink.
