Ellie Sandberg would love to reinvent herself. When she earns a spot at an elite boarding school for young inventors, it seems like the perfect opportunity: A summer away from home, away from her overprotective parents, and away from the hopeless cr...
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M A D D OX
I'm suddenly aware of how close I'm standing to Ellie. She went all pale when she finally turned around and saw the cliff's edge. I put my arm around her waist when her knees looked like they might buckle, and she grabbed my shoulder for support.
The color is back in her cheeks now, but my arm is still around her. I should probably let go. Somehow she has me hypnotized. Her eyes are doing that thing again. So big and round, they seem to take up half her face.
She pushes lightly against my shoulder and I release her. I cover up my momentary lack of composure by examining my visor. I cue up the video I just recorded. "Do you want to see?"
She holds my visor to her eyes. "Oh my God," I hear her breathe, a few seconds into the playback. "I can't believe you had me do that!"
"You weren't in any danger."
She hands the visor back. "I was literally walking backward toward the edge of a cliff!"
"Not within ten feet of the edge, though. That seems like a safe distance, no?"
She hands the visor back to me. "That's not the point! What if the code hadn't worked? What if there was a glitch or something?"
"I would've warned you. I was standing right here!"
She wraps her arms around herself and shivers, despite the heat of the sun beating down against the exposed shelf of rock where we're standing. I grab her elbow and gently tug her in the direction of the trailhead. "Come back in the shade. Do you want some water?"
She seems to collect herself and follows me to the spot where I left my backpack. My stainless steel water bottle pokes out from a side pocket, and I hand it to her. She tips back her head and takes a long gulp. There's a drop of perspiration running down the side of her neck, and I'm staring at it. I have the strongest urge to reach out and stop its progress before it disappears down the V of her t-shirt collar.
I avert my eyes, and push the thought away. "Snacks. We need snacks." I snagged some extra muffins from the dining hall this morning. I rummage through my backpack and pull them out. "Blueberry or chocolate chip?"
She ignores both options and sinks down on a large rock. She takes another long drag of water and then extends the bottle toward me. "I'm not hungry," she says. She takes off her sandals and flexes her bare feet, closing her eyes with a sigh.
"You paint your toenails," I observe.
I shouldn't have said anything. Her eyes fly back open and she looks suddenly self-conscious. She draws her knees up to her chest and covers her toes with her hands.
"Don't hide them," I say, grinning. "They're cute."
I expect her to blush. I haven't missed the way her face changes color any time I look at her a certain way or accidentally brush her arm. This time, though, she glowers at her feet.
