I laugh, rubbing his head. Been cooped up in here way too long. There’s only so much you can do without contact with the outside world before you slowly start losing your shit.
One bar. Still. I’ve now tested all the corners of the house, searching for a signal. Buddy follows me around like we’re playing a game, sniffing behind each spot I leave.
It’s time to go exploring. The neighborhood seems pretty walkable. Helpful, considering Mom and Alec made it clear there’s no way in hell I will ever get a car again. They barely let me walk to Tamara’s house alone. That, along with an eight thirty curfew and mandatory bag inspections . . . you could almost mistake my situation for house arrest.
“Where are you going?” Sammy asks from the top of the stairs.
I clip Bud’s leash to his collar and slip on my sneakers.
“Gonna take Bud for a walk. See if I can get better service on the corner or something. Wanna come?”
Sammy shrugs, thumping down the stairs. “Sure. Can’t believe Alec’s still not back with Piper yet. It’s been hours.”
“Dude, the longer that brat is gone, the better,” I say, and throw the door open, running right into a fist.
“Mari!” Sammy screams before catching me as I fall back on my ass. Buddy barks frantically and I’m seeing white spots.
“Oh shit! Damnnn, you okay?” a deep voice says from . . . somewhere. The room is spinning too fast for me to place him.
Wait, him?
“Mom!” Sammy screams. “Mom, help!”
Mom rushes out of her office. “Marigold! What happened?”
“Aye yo, my bad! I was just about to knock, your doorbell’s broke . . . and . . . yo, I’m so sorry! Here, let me help.”
Two rough hands grip my arm, trying to pull me up, but I yank away.
“Dude . . . what the hell,” I snap, eyes refocusing.
The man who punched my right eye wasn’t exactly a man. Couldn’t be much older than me, with light brown eyes and thick dreads hanging by his neck. I’m suddenly aware that I’m sprawled out in front of him like a chalk outline and quickly sit up. The room twirls as Mom examines me.
“Can I help you?” she asks, mildly annoyed.
“Uh, yeah. Yusef Brown. I’m with Brown Town Mowing Company. We, um, met your husband at the gas station around the corner. Said y’all looking to do some yard work and asked us to stop by.”
He’s a rich mocha brown. The hot chocolate with coconut milk on a chilly day by the beach type of brown. God, I hope these stupid flowery words dancing in my head aren’t leaking out my mouth.
Mom huffs. “Help me get her to her feet, Sammy. We need to walk around, make sure she doesn’t have a concussion.”
“Nah, let me,” Yusef insists.
“I’m fine, I . . .”
Swooooosh . . . and I’m on my feet, a wobbly spin top.
“There ya go. You aight? And . . . daaaamn girl. You tall!”
“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” I grumble.
Except he’s tall too. At least six foot five. Didn’t think they even made boys this size. In Cali, I just about towered over everyone in my sophomore class.
“Nice place you got here,” he muses, walking me around the kitchen island. “How about some water? Whenever I get my ass beat, I always ask for water first.”
“Yes. Water,” I groan, unwilling to talk in full sentences.
Mom shakes her head. “Let me make an ice pack. Sammy, get your sister some water.”
Sammy moves about the kitchen, the color drained from his face, feet dragging, never taking his eyes off me. Same look he had six months ago when he found me. Poor kid, I’ve scared him. Again.
“I’m fine, Sammy, it’s okay.”
He nods and gives me a cup of water, hand trembling. Yusef offers him a fist bump.
“What up doe, Sam. I’m Yusef. Aye, don’t worry about your sis, she’s a champ.” He stops to wink at me. “I punched homie up the block yesterday and he still sleep.”
Sammy’s eyes widen. Yusef cracks a brilliant smile and pats him on the shoulder.
“I’m messing with you, man! Aye, you want some candy? Might be a little melted but I got a Snickers and—”
“NO!” I scream.
“Drop it!” Mom shrieks.
Yusef drops the Snickers, holding both hands up.
“Sorry, Sammy is allergic to . . . well, everything,” I explain. “But especially nuts.”
“That’s probably why my husband reached out to you. I mentioned last night needing to keep the weeds down for Sammy’s allergies.”
“Oh. My bad. Ain’t trying to take out both ya kids.”
Mom chuckles while gently laying an ice pack over my eye. I hold in a whimper, wincing through the crisp cold.
Yusef studies me. One hand still holding my elbow, he leans forward and sniffs.
Is he smelling my hair?
“Mm. That smells good,” he says. “What is that?”
“It’s lavender,” Mom says. “Will help with the bruising.”
He nods and replaces her hand with his, holding the ice pack in place. So close, I’m able to snag a good look at him. He’s cute, in a cute-and-I-know-it type of way. I’m allergic to nuts like this too.
There’s a knock at the door.
“Oh, that’s probably my uncle, wondering what I’m doing up in here.”
“I’ll get it,” Mom says, jogging over.
“So, didn’t catch your name,” he says, grinning.
“Marigold Anderson,” I answer flatly.
“Marigold,” he muses. “An annual. Bloom, then die. Interesting.”
I don’t know how to take that, so I change topics. “You live around here?”
“Ain’t far. Over on Rosemary and Sweetwater, by the middle school.”
“Hey! That’s where I’ll be starting next week,” Sammy chimes in.
“Oh, for real? I went there too. Watch out for Ms. Dutton. Miserable old bird!” He smiles at me. “So I guess you’ll be starting at Kings High?”
I roll my eyes. “Guess so.”
“New schools are tough, but at least you’ll have one friend there to start.”
Who said anything about us being “friends”?
Mom returns with an older bald-headed man, the resemblance striking. Yusef’s uncle takes in the room—the Snickers bar on the floor, his nephew icing some random girl’s face—and huffs.
“Boy, what you get yourself into this time?”
“Hey yo, Unc, this here’s Marigold and my main man Sam.”
He chuckles. “Nice to meet y’all. I’m Mr. Brown.”
Mom walks Mr. Brown to the backyard, showing him the hedges that needed trimming and Sammy takes Buddy out front to calm him, leaving Yusef and me alone. He keeps the ice pack pressed on my face, his eyes wandering from the ceiling lights to the floors, like he’s taking inventory.
“You know I could handle this on my own, right?” I grumble.
“Yeah, but it’s way more fun with me helping, right?” He leans over my shoulder, nodding at my terrarium. “That’s a fly-ass succulent garden you have there. Biggest sempervivum I’ve ever seen. And that stone pattern pretty . . . what? What you laughing at?”