“I found a little shed in the woods today,” she told him, trying to keep her voice low so nobody would hear.
Vin, who had been looking up at the stars, looked at her with wide eyes. “You went to the woods alone? Are you crazy?”
“Shh,” she looked around, scared someone older would hear him. If the news got to her ma, she’d be grounded. She hated being grounded. After a second, when no one came, she relaxed slightly.
“The woods are dangerous,” Vin reminded her softly. That’s something every single adult around them had told every kid. Don’t go into the woods.
Amara rolled her eyes. “I didn’t go in deep.”
“But-”
“Oof,” Amara exclaimed in annoyance, punching his arm to shut him up. “I wasn’t the only one there. Mr. Maroni’s son was there too. With a girl,” she whispered, remembering the thrill of going into the woods, only to stumble upon the two teenagers.
Vin blinked, his eyes widening in excitement. “With a girl? An outsider?”
Amara nodded, grinning. Vin whistled. Or tried to. He practiced every day.
“They were kissing,” Amara informed him, her voice dropping even lower. “Kissing! Can you imagine? He was kissing an outside girl!”
Vin tugged at his collar, looking at the entrance door, looking uncomfortable. “That’s cool.”
Amara grinned. “Are you blushing?”
His chubby face flushed even more. “Of course not.”
Laughing, she nudged his side with her elbow and hobbled to the door. Ma always told her to never make people uncomfortable. Though Vin was her best friend, he was uncomfortable, so she stopped.
“Don’t go there alone again, okay?” he told her, entering the building behind her.
She went straight to her door and smiled at him. “Good night, Vinnie.”
He shook his head, heading towards the stairs, already knowing her well enough to know she would sneak out again. Amara watched his back under the lights in the hallway, seeing the bruise on his leg under his shorts turning a nasty color, but he wasn’t limping. She didn’t know what they were doing to train him, but she didn’t like it. Not one bit.
Angry at the thought of something hurting her friend, she opened the door to her apartment and entered the dim living room. It was late and her mother was most likely already asleep, tired from all the work she did during the day.
Her ma was the head housekeeper at the big mansion. She had joined as a cook in the kitchen and over the years gotten promoted. Now, she overlooked the entire kitchen and cleaning staff and the gardeners. And there were lots of them because the grounds were so big. It was one of the highest positions for the staff, which was why she had such a lovely apartment with three big bedrooms, even though it was just her and her mother. Her father had left them years ago. She remembered him sometimes, but she had always loved her mother more. As long as she had her ma, she was happy.
Making her way to the bathroom next to the living room where the first-aid kid was kept, Amara turned on the light.
“And where were you, young lady?”
Amara looked up at her ma, only a few inches taller than herself, her pleated hair falling over one shoulder. People said she looked like her – same dark green eyes, same inky black hair, same sun-kissed skin.
“I was walking with Vin,” Amara told her the half-truth, knowing her mother trusted Vin.
Ma shook her head, sighing, before her eyes fell to her knee. “Oh Mumu, what happened?” she asked, reverting to the little nickname she loved.
“I just fell, Ma,” she sat on the closed toilet seat, already knowing her mother would clean the little wound. As she thought, her mother quickly took out the box and got on her knees, putting Amara’s feet on her lap.
“Does it hurt, Mumu?” her ma asked her quietly. It did hurt. Amara shook her head. After her father left them, she had become her mother’s whole world. Any pain of hers, any happiness of hers, anything she felt, Ma felt. She was her other best friend.
“Ma?” Amara broke the silence as her mother put ointment on her wound, wondering if she should voice her question.
“Hmm?” her mother started putting the box away.
“You know Mr. Maroni’s son?” she asked finally, feeling her face heat oddly.
Her mother’s green eyes, so like her own, came to her. “Little Damien?”
Amara shook her head. “No, the older one.”
“Dante?”
Amara nodded, her heart thumping. Hopping down from the seat, she walked out to her bedroom as her mother followed, turning down the lights behind her. Amara walked to her closet and picked out her nightdress. She didn’t like to wear shorts or pants. Even for school, she preferred skirts and flowing dresses.
“Of course I know him,” her mother said. “Why?”
She sat on her bed as Amara stripped to her underwear with the pretty blue flowers and put on the simple cotton nightdress.
“I just saw him today, that’s all,” Amara tried to be casual as she climbed on her bed and sat in front of her mother. “You never speak of him.”
Feeling her mother’s hands in her long hair, Amara tilted her head back as the nightly braiding started. Braiding the hair at night, her mother always told her, made it more beautiful and healthy in the morning. For as long as she could remember, her mother had been braiding her hair every night, and every morning they were wavy and pretty.
“He’s a good boy, that one,” her mother told her, her hands moving.
Amara had seen him from a distance for as long as she’d lived. He had always been there, but she had never focused on how soft his hair looked or how tall he already was. She felt a little flutter in her belly and rubbed it to shoo it away.
“How old is he?” she asked, tugging at the hem of her nightdress.
“Fifteen,” her mother replied. “Poor boy lost his ma so young. He’s taken care of his brother since then. And Mr. Maroni is… a very strict man.”
Amara stared at the chest of drawers across from her, imagining how not having a mother must feel to him. Not very nice, she supposed. Kids should always have mothers like she did. Well, she could share hers.
“You should make him some sweets, Ma,” Amara commented, feeling the wisdom in her idea. “Cookies. The chocolate ones. Yes, he’d like that I think.”
Finished with the hair, her mother moved off the bed, letting Amara climb in. Pulling the covers over her, tucking them around her just as she liked, her mother smiled softly. It put a little dimple on her cheek that Amara wished she had. Vin told her she’d get one if she poked her finger into her cheek. So far, it hadn’t worked.
“That’s very thoughtful of you, Mumu,” she stroked her cheek softly. “I’ll do that tomorrow.”
Amara smiled, taking a hold of her ma’s right hand. It was rough and slender and not too big. She loved it. “Make me some too.”
Chuckling, her mother dropped a kiss to her forehead. “Don’t ever lose your heart, my baby.”
Amara didn’t really understand what that meant. How could someone lose their heart? Wouldn’t they die? It was such a strange thing to say. But she just smiled as her mother left the room, feeling happy and safe and loved.