“Your stepfather’s Senator Barton?”
“Yes, sir,” she says proudly. Then she moves in closer to me. “What’re you workin’ on?”
“We’re buildin’ a treehouse.”
“A treehouse?” The excitement in her voice has me turning her way and I notice she smells nice. Like that coconut sunscreen my mom sometimes uses. “I’ve always wanted a treehouse.” The way she says it in a sad kind of way bothers me for some reason.
I shrug. “When we finish, maybe you can hang out sometime.”
Her eyes go wide, and her mouth forms an O. “Really?”
“Sure.” Geez, you’d think I said I’d take her to Disney World or something. Her face brightens, and when she smiles this time, I smile back.
“I can bring over some of the sweet tea and banana bread our housekeeper makes.”
“Uh…” I glance over at my dad, who looks like he’s trying not to laugh. “Sounds great.”
“Mr. Jay, do y’all need any help?” She links her hands behind her back, looking eager. “I’d like to pitch in somehow if I’m invited inside after it’s finished.”
Dad glances at her dress and shoes. “It’s probably not a good idea to do much in those nice clothes, Magnolia.” He gestures to his own old holey jeans and T-shirt. “Just in case.”
“Oh.” Her face falls.
“Plus, we’re fixin’ to call it quits for the day.”
“What about tomorrow?” She looks up at him hopefully.
Dad turns to me, and I know he’s silently asking me if it’s okay to invite her to help. I’ll feel like a jerk if I say no even though I really want this time with my dad to be just us guys.
I blow out a long breath. “Tomorrow, we’ll be workin’ on the roof, if you wanna help.” Maybe she’ll say no.
She blinds me with her gap-toothed smile. “I’ll be here. And I’ll bring refreshments.”
“Great.” I try to act excited, but I’m not too sure about this. Plus, I’m not really a fan of banana bread. Chocolate chip cookies are more my thing.
All I know is, she’d better bring over some killer sweet tea.
Four days later…
Magnolia comes over every morning to help with the treehouse, and each time, she wears fancy clothes.
Example: The other day, her jeans and shirt looked like they’d been ironed.
Not only that, but her sneakers have no scuffs or dirt stains. Basically, she doesn’t wear the kind of clothes folks put on to mess around building.
She does bring over some of the best sweet tea I’ve ever had. Her banana bread isn’t that bad either.
I’d still pick chocolate chip cookies over it, though.
I glance at her while I hold the electrical outlet box for Dad. We’ve finished the roof, and he’s run electricity from his work shed that stands a few feet away from the treehouse. He said he doesn’t “believe in doin’ anythin’ halfway.” I reckon he’s trying to make up for us not having a real house or backyard before.
“Where’re your mom and stepdad?” I ask.
“My stepdad’s at work. He had to go to Montgomery for meetin’s.” Her voice changes, and I’m not sure why, but she sounds beat down when she adds, “My mother’s at her women’s tea, plannin’ some social events.”
After a few hours, Dad says we need to stop for a lunch break. We’re all sweaty—even perfect Magnolia. I eye her shirt.
“I can give you a shirt to wear so you don’t have to worry about messin’ yours up from now on.” I lift my chin toward what she’s wearing. “It should fit.”
Her eyebrows rise, blue eyes flicking back and forth between me and my dad. “If you’re sure that’s okay.”
Dad nods with a small smile and I tip my head toward the house. “We can run inside and get it.”
My dad dusts off his hands. “Why don’t we all take a break in the A/C? I’ll get the fixin’s for some sandwiches.”
“Yes, sir.” I look at Magnolia. “Come on. I’ll get you a shirt or two for tomorrow.”
We rush inside the house and both of us sigh when the cooler air hits our hot skin. Slipping off our shoes by the door, I tell Magnolia to follow me while Dad heads to the kitchen.
“Come on.” I lead her down the hall to my room.
The instant she steps through my doorway, she gasps and covers her mouth, eyes wide in shock.
I whip my head around, looking for a Palmetto bug—which is really just a nice name for a cockroach—since they’re pretty common around here. Or a ginormous spider. Something. Anything. But I don’t see whatever’s got her acting weird.
“What?”
She blinks and drops her hand. “I’m sorry. Your room is just so…” She trails off, glancing around.
“Messy?” I mean, it’s not a pigsty, but I just flung my covers up instead of actually making my bed. Dad makes me keep my room mostly clean.
“It’s the coolest room I’ve ever seen.” She breathes this out like one of those princesses out of a Disney movie.
I’m really not sure about this girl.
“Uh, thanks?” I glance around at the bookshelf Dad put in my room. My favorite books are on two shelves, but on the other two are models of a 1950 GMC truck and a 1959 Chevy Impala I put together. Nothing worth gasping over.
She moves over to the models and stares at them. “Wow.” Turning to me, she asks, “You made these?”
I nod. “Sure did.” I step beside her. “Took me a while, but Dad told me to have patience. Said stuff that’s worthwhile needs extra care and time.” After I think about it, I add, “Just like the treehouse. He said it’d take a while since we were makin’ it better than any of the others we’ve seen, but it’d be worth it in the end.”
She turns her head to look at me and I realize how close we’re standing. I can see her eyelashes. They’re a little darker than her hair and crazy long.
“Hollis?” she whispers.
“Ma’am?” As soon as it slips out, I wince at how formal it sounds, but Dad’s drummed it in my head to be polite.
Lucky for me, it doesn’t faze her.
Her eyes drop to the floor for a second before darting back to mine. “Will you be my friend?”
I wrinkle my nose, confused. “I thought we were.”
Magnolia’s entire face brightens, like I’ve told her tomorrow’s Christmas or something. Her smile is wide, that gap flashing at me. “Thanks, Hollis!”
She catches me off guard when she throws her arms around me and hugs me tight. Geez, this girl’s stronger than I expected.
“The other kids aren’t so nice,” she mumbles, still hugging me. I pat her back awkwardly because, well…I’m not used to getting hugs from girls. Plus, Mom’s never been much for them.
Or anything even close to that kind of thing, really.
Then, Magnolia whispers, “The other kids make fun of my teeth.”
Anger. It’s the only thing I feel when she tells me that. I don’t know her well, but it’s plain as day that she’s nice. Without realizing it, I hug her back.