I rest my elbows on the rigid wood of the window ledge, my hand at my cheek as I gaze at the boy who has always made my heart skip a beat.
He's sitting cross-legged in the moonlit meadow, gazing out at the vast expanse of the woods and the lake.
He's far, far away from me. A good forty feet and it's dark, bordering on nine, but I can see him.
I always see him.
Dominic D'Agostino.
The youngest of the D'Agostino pack. The girls at school call them "the Godlike Boys." There are four of them: Andreas, Massimo, Tristan, then there's him... Dominic.
Against the silver moonlight, I can just make out the outline of his jet-black hair. He's always had it longish on top with a lock hanging over his eye, making him look more alluring, and I can't remember a day when I didn't feel this way. Like watching him was an escape into a fantasy. A dream my heart wants.
He's seventeen years old. Older than me by two years, eight months, and five days. Exactly. I used to count down to the hour and minute, but I stopped doing that a while back. Maybe about the same time I started trying to learn everything I could about this guy.
Like the way he tries to be as badass as his brothers—and he is—make no mistake about that, but he also tries his best to hide his intelligence.
People like me spot things like that straightaway. We're the help. We see everything and notice things others might not.
I'm not sure how long he'll be able to keep that up though, because he has the kind of intelligence which will overpower his desire to hide it.
Like today when Humphrey Damson, one of the Ivy league wannabes, insulted his intelligence and told him there is no way a Stormy Creek rat like him could figure out some difficult equation they were arguing about.
Dominic didn't hesitate to put him in his place by solving the equation in seconds. The classic look of shock on Humphrey's face was one I don't think anyone will forget anytime soon.
Now Dominic's doing the usual Friday night routine. It might look like he's just sitting there, but he's not. The ritual is partly to avoid the sadness of going home and partly for reflection, a time to remember his mother.
She died when he was eight.
Ahead of him is the D'Agostino home. Inside it, his father, Giacomo, is playing that old jazz song he used to dance to with Dominic's mother. Giacomo always called her his doll.
If I were to open my window and listen carefully, I'd be able to hear Billie Holiday's melodious voice singing, "The Very Thought of You," like a whisper on the wind. A voice singing a song filled with memories of his true love. When Sariah D'Agostino died, it was like the stars fell from the sky.
Everyone knows how much Giacomo loved his wife. He used to dance with her on the porch every Friday for date night. I know I wasn't the only one who watched them. They brought life and light to this dark place.
Sometimes when I look down there, I still see them dancing. Like ghosts of memories imprinted on my soul.
My family has worked for the D'Agostinos for generations. In that time, the years of friendship made us as close as family could be. I know that is why my parents followed them to Stormy Creek when Giacomo lost everything and they still continue to work for him in some capacity.
We've lived here for eleven years. I would have been too young to remember what it was like to live in the lavish mansion they still talk about.
I've only known this life in Stormy Creek, a place reserved for the poor and destitute. It's a place filled with broken souls trying to make their way in the world from one day to the next, one where dark things happen behind closed doors.
Or maybe... that's just in my house. I don't know.
Most of the people who live in this godforsaken place do all kinds of shady shit. But at least those people don't pretend to be something they aren't.
They aren't like us, under the façade of the vanilla cereal box family. The Mother, father, daughter, and the uncle who seems to support them. All that's missing is the white picket fence and the shaggy dog.
That's how people see me and mine, and I wear the mask well. I do such a good job they