TWENTY-THREE

I pound on the door. The ugly yellow sign shakes with the force of my fist.

What does this mean? Is Ben still here, or have he and his dad been kicked out already?

My mind spins with images of Homeless Ben wandering the streets, busking for spare change, digging through trashcans for scraps of food. Ben and his father, dirty and thin, curled up inside a pair of tattered sleeping bags as they pass night after night on the beach. I pound on the door again, louder this time. The date stamped across the top of the letter jumps out at me. September 16. Last Monday — the day before Ben had his angry meltdown in the hallway. Three days before he quit school and ditched his job at McCool Fries. My head spins even faster as all the awful dots start connecting together in my brain. A few seconds later, the door swings open. It’s him. I have to bite my lower lip to stop from crying with relief. He’s wearing a faded pair of jeans and an old U2 concert tee. And his hair’s all tousled and messy. From sleep or a night full of tossing and turning? Jeepers creepers! I’m so happy to see him, I have to stop myself from hurling myself into his arms. My eyes drop down to my shoes.

“Ben,” I say. Yeah, the Pop Rocks are still going strong.

“Hey.”

I peek up around him and see big stacks of cardboard boxes littering the floor. Merde! I have to act fast!

“Can we talk for a minute?”

Ben glances over his shoulder. “Yeah, but my dad’s not up yet,” he says, stepping out onto the porch and pulling the door closed quietly behind him. “So it has to be out here.”

His dad’s sleeping … or passed out drunk? I don’t ask, ’cause I’m not sure I really want to know.

He puts a hand to his forehead, shielding his eyes from the bright sun shining behind me. “So, did your father calm down yet? He looked pretty wound up yesterday.”

What’s going on? He’s getting kicked out of his home and he’s asking about me?

I jab my finger against the yellow sign behind his head. “Mind telling me what this is about, Ben?”

He actually has the nerve to laugh. “Just a love letter from the bank.”

Unbelievable.

“How can you joke around at a time like this? I mean, are they really going to take away your house? Where will you go?”

My voice is breaking to pieces over these words. I think Ben senses it because his lips press into a grimace and then all of a sudden, I see his carefully guarded walls come crashing down. No more mask of boredom. No more flippy jokes. Finally, he offers up a glimpse of his real feelings. And the pain I see in his eyes slices through me like a knife. His face crumples and he leans against the doorframe, like he’s suddenly lost the energy to hold himself up.

“I’ve made a couple of calls. We’ve still got a few days to figure it out.”

A couple of calls? That’s it? Not exactly what I’d call a plan.

Reaching past him, I yank the paper off the door and scan my eyes down the page. It says the residence has to be vacated in ten days. I crush it between my fingers and let it fall to the ground. Time to get serious. I pull in a few deep breaths while my eyes fixate on Ben’s hand — the one that seems to be saluting me. It looks strong but tired at the same time. And the healthy-looking suntan I’d noticed back on that first night we met has almost completely faded away to nothing. I want so badly to reach up and take that hand in mine. And then the other hand. And then wrap them both around me like the night in Aunt Su’s cabin. I take a small step closer. Another breath — shuddery like wind blowing through a tunnel. My eyes float down to his face. Zut, why am I so nervous?

“Listen, I came here because … well … I don’t even know where to start. This is going to sound really strange but,” another deep, calming breath, “I came here because I, well I-I have a present for you.”

His salute drops like a dead weight down to his side. “What?”

“Aunt Su’s cabin. I’m giving it to you. Well, you and your dad, actually. You guys can have it for as long as you need it. Just give it back to me whenever you’re done.”

His eyes widen. “Lily, I —”

“No way!” I say, holding up my hands to stop him. “You’re absolutely not allowed to say no to me this time!”

“It’s just that —”

“No, Ben!” I squeeze my eyes closed and shake my head. I am not going to let him turn this down. “Unh-unh. This is something I have to do. And you have to let me do it. I know that little cabin isn’t anywhere near as nice as what you’re used to, but it’s free. And once we fix it up, nobody’s going to kick you out. There wouldn’t be any mortgage payments or property taxes to worry about. And you wouldn’t have to quit school and … and I want to help.”

I have to stop speaking. One more word and I’ll collapse into pieces right then and there. I just know it. Ben stops speaking too. Maybe he’s one word away from collapsing also. The birds chirp in the birch tree beside us. The silence between us grows and grows until it becomes a giant sinkhole. Another minute and it’ll swallow both of us up.

“So?” I finally ask. “Are you going to say something?”

Ben shakes his head. His answer is a dry whisper. “Why does it always feel like you’re trying to come to my rescue?”

I reach for his hand. “Can you give me one good reason why the hell a girl can’t be the knight in shining armour once in a while?” I tilt my eyes up to his and give him my best badass face. At least it revives his smile.

“No, I can’t.” His face drifts down towards mine. “Which means that yes, I can.”

Oxymoronic. Yeah, this is definitely going to work.

He pulls me close and I can feel his heartbeat thumping against my chest through the thin fabric of our T-shirts. Ben seals our deal with the world’s most delicious kiss. His smooth lips slide like melted honey against mine. About a bazillion times better than soft-serve chocolate ice cream on a hot, summer day. When we finally come up for air, I open my eyes and drop my heels back down to earth. That’s when I see it. The moon hanging out over the lake. It’s only mid-morning, but there it is. A pale crescent swinging in the big blue sky.

Kind of like a smile from above — a crinkly, heartbreakingly familiar kind of smile.

I tilt my face up to heaven and smile back.