The punishment is stiff for rule breaking and I want to stay out of trouble.
I toss my popsicle stick and return to the lawn mower out front, yanking on the starter until it fires up with a loud rumble. By the time I make my way across the yard and back once, the girl is standing in my driveway. I kill the motor.
Her sapphire eyes gleam. “Hi. I’m Arissa.”
“Sara,” I return hesitantly.
“How old are you?” she asks.
“Fourteen.”
“I’ll be fourteen in October!”
“Arissa!” the woman shouts from their doorway.
Arissa flashes a beaming smile at me. “Come on!” She takes off for her house but I remain rooted in place.
Do not leave without permission. Chores first. Do not make friends.
She stops and turns, gesturing for me to follow.
A girl I just met is inviting me to get to know her. The part of me that longs for a friend, something my parents never let me have, pushes the rules aside. I run after her.
“Mom! Can I show Sara our house?” Arissa calls out as we reach her yard.
“As soon as the movers are done, sweetie. I need you to check the furniture placement in your room before we unpack anything in there.”
“Okay!” She runs into the house.
Arissa’s mother walks towards me and I shift back and forth on my feet. “Sara, is it?” she asks.
“Yes, ma’am,” I answer, my fingers worrying at the frayed hem of my denim shorts.
“I’m Rose Jericho,” she says, holding her hand out and smiling with light blue eyes like crystal.
“Nice to meet you Mrs. Jericho. Welcome to the neighborhood,” I say, taking her hand.
“You can call me Rose. Which house is yours?”
I point to my house across the street. A plain stucco house with minimal landscaping.
“Pardon me, Sara.” Rose follows the movers inside while giving more directions.
I venture up to the door, watching as Rose points and the men move. She knows how to take command and still be polite. Arissa’s dad hunches over a taped box with a box cutter in hand.
Rose notices me watching and in between directions, invites me in. “Andrew,” she calls.
He stops and looks up at Rose as if he expects a new direction. “Yes, dear.”
“This is Arissa’s new friend, Sara. She lives across the street.”
He straightens himself and steps over to shake my hand. “Nice to meet you, Sara.” His soft smile plays across his lips and into the same deep blue eyes as Arissa’s.
“Nice to meet you too, sir.”
He laughs deep and hearty. “‘Sir’ is for men in the military and I’ve never been a military man. Call me Andrew.”
“Do you need help unpacking?” I ask.
“Don’t be silly,” Rose answers, then addresses Arissa as she bounds down the stairs. “Arissa, why don’t you take Sara up to your room or out to the backyard.”
Arissa grabs my hand and runs up the stairs with me in tow. Boxes are piled up on each other in her room and a black iron daybed stands out against the red walls with a trundle stowed away underneath. A black desk sits beside the bed with a matching dresser next to the closet.
Rose brings ice water while Arissa tells me about moving from Mira Mesa so her dad can start an electrical engineering business focused on natural power sources. She turns on a portable radio, tuning in a station as she finishes talking. She cranks up the volume and jumps around the room to an upbeat song I don’t know, grabbing my hands and leading me around with her.
“Arissa!” Andrew yells from the doorway.
I drop onto the bed and stare at the ground with my hands in my lap.
She turns the volume down. “Sorry, Dad.”
“Do I need to move any of your furniture?” he asks.
The interaction is like a new pair of comfortable shoes, unfamiliar and inviting at the same time. It is warm, tender, and intimate. Everything I lack.
“No. I like it the way it is.”
His mouth spreads into a bright smile. “You two have fun, then.”
Arissa digs through a box and finds some issues of Seventeen. I join her on the floor with the magazines spread between us. I have no idea who the people in the magazines are and tell her so. She points out her favorites, explaining who they are, but I’m lost without a point of reference.
“Who lived here before?” Arissa asks, flipping a page.