The Sun, The Moon, and Their Stars

40 : Back

Kimberly

I'm up a little earlier than usual.

My parents are still around having breakfast when I cross the kitchen and go to the bathroom.

I yawn when I step out and close the door. And my mother asks if I'm going out later today.

"Yes," I reply, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand.

"Don't stay out too late," she says, standing from the chair, holding her mug of decaffeinated coffee. "We'll be back early."

I nod at my parents and go back to my room.

They're leaving tomorrow morning to attend my brother's graduation this weekend. We already talked about this. I'm supposed to stay here with my grandmother and cousin for three or so days, and they'll stay at my uncle's in the Metro. I want to go too, but they said no, for some reason.

I lay back on my bed, but I'm already fully awake. So, I get up again, fix my sheets and pillows, and tune in to the radio. Then I grab the book from my desk. And I continue reading where I stopped last night.  

***

Benjie is already laughing when I open the gate. And I know why.

I'm wearing the same set of clothes that I wore when we went to the bay a few months ago. They're comfortable and functional, so why not?

I roll my eyes. "This time, it's intentional," I say.

He's still smiling when I close the gate. "Whatever you say, Kim Possible," he says. Then he turns around and goes back to their scooter.

He hands me his sister's pink helmet, and I put it on my head before I hop onto the seat to his back. He's also wearing a black shirt. It's contrasting his skin, making him lighter than he already is. And black looks good on him, among other things.

"Really?" he asks after I place my hands on his shoulders. "Still on my shoulders?" And he sounds like somewhere in between joking and frustrated.

I lean my head forward and closer to his ear. "Just...shut up," I say.

I can also smell his shampoo and cologne, the combination of mint and a woodsy-dewy scent. He always smells nice and fresh.

He chuckles and shakes his head. Then he twists the key and brings the ride to life.

It's not like I don't want to. It's tempting, but I'd rather not entertain the idea.

If this were months ago, I would have never let him pick me up with this ride for all the neighbors to see. But who cares about them? I mean, why should I limit myself according to what they might think and say? I'm sorry, mother, but that's worse than crap. If they have nothing else better to do than treat the neighbors' lives as a telenovela, that's not my problem.

It's two in the afternoon, and the roads are empty. We just turn left from that ongoing housing development. The fields on our sides are not as green as the last time. The crops around are wilted, and the earth beneath them is dry. The air also feels parched, but that's how summer is like. This part of town now seems familiar to me; the whole town does, actually.

Yesterday, when he said back to the beginning, I knew he meant the beach. Technically, things started at the school, but that day meant something else.

He parks in the same spot as before, and I get off the scooter first. I remove the helmet and hand it to him. I dig through my pocket for a rubber band and tie my hair in a messy ponytail while I look around the parking lot. There are three cars, a van, and a tricycle on our opposite side.