Spotlight on Nobody

- 36 -

~ song: Groceries by Mallrat ~

"And what football team does your dad like?"

"The Eagles," I say, suppressing a smile.

"Okay, the Eagles," Leo mutters to himself. "Your sister is studying criminology, your mom is gluten-free, your cat's name is Cleo, I shouldn't talk about –"

"Hey," I interrupt Leo, and he gives me a glare as if I've just interrupted him as he's cramming right before an exam. "You're cute when you're nervous." I kiss him sweetly in the backseat of the Suburban.

I'm leaned against Leo in the backseat of his SUV as Logan drives us down the highway to my parent's house. I turned in my last exam – au revoir Français! – less than 4 hours ago, and I am officially free for the summer. The thought of freedom is like popping a bottle of champagne in my belly: light, bubbly, airy, intoxicating.

"I just want them to like me," he says earnestly.

"What's not to like? You're good-looking, you're attractive, you have great hair, your jaw-line is incredible... Oh! And don't even get me started on that six pack!"

"Nell!" Leo reprimands, but he's smiling, and I can tell I've loosened him up a bit. "Be serious."

"I am being serious; your six pack will blow them away." I bat my eyelashes and Leo just rolls his eyes. I lean over and kiss him on the cheek; once, twice, then once on the lips.

"I love you," I say softly. "You make me happy. In my family's eyes, that's the best they can hope for."

He turns his head to face me completely and looks me in the eye, but deeper, as though he's looking at the essence of me hidden somewhere inside. It's scary, sometimes, when he looks at me like this. It feels like he knows parts of me that I'm unaware of, undisclosed baubles of my personality that he's unearthed as he searches farther within me. And each time he digs deeper and finds a new part of me in some nook in my mind, he leaves a little reminder of himself, so that every piece of me has a piece of him too.

"I love you most," he says and kisses my forehead. The rest of the drive passes with Leo asking more random questions about my family, Logan imparting words of wisdom, and me tucked contently under Leo's shoulder with his arm around me, watching the world pass us by.

My childhood home is only thirty minutes outside the city, but to me it's always felt like a different world. An old fixer-upper farmhouse built in the 1930s, it's every handy-man's dream - lucky for my dad. He's had a different house project every weekend since as long as I can remember, though, to me, the house has been perfect for a while now. My dad is a guy who likes to keep his hands and brain occupied, and for him, the best way to do so is either with a hammer or a paint brush. The result is a place that is so uniquely Greene, I can't imagine feeling at home anywhere else.

With a raised eyebrow, Logan turns off the main street onto a tiny road hidden among the trees, which I assure him is actually my driveway. He only relaxes again when the white-washed brick of my house peeks through the greenery.

"You never told me you grew up on a movie set," Leo mutters to himself. My house isn't grand by any means, but it's picturesque. Buttressed by a wrap-around porch adorned with rocking chairs and a swing, ivy vines creep up the chimney and shutters are painted to match the forest around us. Anyone can see a lot of love has gone into my home. The driveway wraps around a giant weeping willow, which the original owner planted as a mere sapling almost 100 years ago. Through its thick foliage you can see a white-washed tree house, a mini version of its larger counterpart, that my dad built for Savannah and me.

Before the car is even parked, the screen door slams open and the colorful mess of my sister comes fluttering down the porch steps in a whirlwind. She's enveloped me before I'm even out of the car, stuck sitting on the seat but my feet on the gravel driveway, unable to move under her crushing embrace.

"Hey sissy," my voice muffled in her shoulder. "New dress?" I ask, knowing it's the only way to get her to release me.

As if on cue, Savannah steps back and does a twirl for me, showing off a flowing patchwork of wax print fabrics. I clap and cheer as she models her new look for me, as all supportive sisters should.

As far as appearances go, Sav and I are different in just about every way; the only shared trait is our height. Sporting high cheekbones, a long neck, and her signature afro, she has all the features I long for. Her dark skin boasts her Sudanese heritage, and her dream to be an FBI agent is evidenced by her athletic build and intelligent eyes.

Savannah bows with a flourish as Leo and I clap.

"I'm Savannah," she says, hand extended to Leo, a bit breathless from her performance. "But you can call me Sav."

"I'm Leo," he says with a smile, and shakes her hand. "And please, never call me Leopold."

"Come on in, Leo-hold-the-pold," Sav laughs, "and meet the rest of the family."

Logan pops the trunk and pulls out my two bags of clothes, along with a more compact roller suitcase for Leo. After Leo assures him that he'll be in bed by 1 A.M. – at which I stifle a laugh – Logan drives off, leaving us officially un-chaperoned for the weekend.