Savannah Burning

Chapter Eight

After I realized Savannah had been talking to me, the second bell rang, warning us we were going to be late for class. She ordered me to wait for her after school before bolting to her next class with Heather and Emily not too far behind her.

At the end of the day I shut my locker – glitter still falling from it days after my birthday – and scanned the hallways for the blonde ponytail. She was walking over to me, arm in arm with Daisy, their height difference adorably shocking.

“Hey,” Daisy said when she reached me. “I told Savannah I’d give her a ride home.”

“Robbie’s going to be so pissed,” I warned.

“Why am I going to be pissed?” The boy in question asked from behind us.

“I’m giving them a ride home,” Daisy replied proudly, rocking up onto her toes.

Robbie’s jaw dropped, a hand slapping to his chest. “What? You can’t do that! That goes against best friend protocol.”

“Sorry,” Daisy shrugged.

“You’re inducting a new person to the group while one third of said group is going to be absent,” Robbie said, crossing his arms.

“It’s not my fault you have practice,” Daisy argued back.

“How about this,” I jumped in before Robbie could argue back. “I’ll let you come over for dinner with me and my mom sometime this week.”

He eyed me suspiciously. “Are you going to yell at me for flirting with her?”

“No,” I said through clenched teeth. I felt bad, pawning my mom off like that, but it was all in good innocent fun…I think. Plus it got Robbie to stop complaining.

“Shall we?” Daisy jingled her keys, shooting Robbie a s**t-eating grin.

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“This is your car?” Savannah asked as we approached the Wagoneer.

“It was my grandpa’s,” Daisy explained.

Savannah, who got shotgun out of generosity, turned around to face me, resting her elbows on the center consol. “So, boy-next-door,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Why do I remember the Terror Twins but I can’t remember you? I mean, we must have been friends, right? When I asked Karen about you she said you basically grew up in their backyard.”

“I wasn’t around when you were here, to put it simply,” I explained.

“Oh, my God! Were you kidnapped, too?”

“No, not exactly,” I laughed uneasily. “I . . . moved here. Shortly after you disappeared.”

She grinned at me. “I think I like you more now that I know you weren’t around for the mess.” She shot a quick look at Daisy. “No offense. It’s just hard to try and make friends in a town where the people feel like they already know you.”

“I can only imagine,” Daisy agreed.

“Besides,” she went on to say as Daisy idled up to the Skye’s house. “I was never going to forgive myself if I forgot the cute boy who lived behind me.” Next to her, Daisy snorted with laughter and Savannah was out the door, walking up to her house before I could think of a response.

“Did she just call me cute?” I asked in disbelief.

“Yeah, she did,” Daisy laughed.

I soaked this in. “Like, ‘oh look at that cute puppy’ cute or like, ‘damn he’s fine’ kinda cute?”

“Tyson?”

“Hmm?”

“You sound like Robbie.” That shut me up, but the compliment rang through my head for the rest of the night.

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Mom left me a note on the kitchen counter, letting me know she was working late and that there was some meat defrosting in the fridge.

I didn’t know anybody else my age who liked to cook, let alone actually know how to. Mom has been teaching me for as long as I can remember, claiming she didn’t want me to end up like Dad, forty-five and unable to locate the microwave. When I was younger I would wear a Mickey Mouse wizard’s hat and a cape, pretending I was cooking up potions and spells. It was one of the first things Mom and I had bonded over.

Dad got home first. I was too into my cooking -- with the Harry Potter theme song blasting from the stereo – to notice that he was watching me from the doorway, screaming made-up spells at the stove while I stirred the pasta.

“Most fathers would be worried,” he stated, staring at my apron. “I’m just happy you’re not a drug dealer.”

Mom came home shortly after, right as I was wrapping up. “Smells good,” she inhaled deeply. “What is that? Chicken parmesan?”

“Yes ma’am!” I responded.

“No guacamole?” Dad joked, coming out of his office.

“We ran out of avocados,” I said with a shrug, “but don’t worry, I added it to the grocery list.”

“How was school today?” Mom asked.

“Good. Savannah sat with us again.”

“My, my,” Mom hummed, “lately all we’ve been hearing about is this Savannah girl.” She raised a knowing eyebrow at me and I ducked my head, shoveling more food into my mouth.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said through a mouthful of food.

“Is she pretty?” Mom asked, leaning onto her elbows.

“Mom, really?” I asked, the back of my neck burning with embarrassment.

“Are you planning on spending more time with her?” Dad asked.

“I think so, yeah,” I nodded.

“Just be careful, okay kiddo?” Dad asked.

“Dave.” Mom’s voice was quiet, but the warning echoed in the small kitchen.

“What?” I asked as my parents exchanged a glance. “What now?” I asked, exasperated by their secret conversations.

“Savannah . . . well it just appears as though she’s been through quite a lot. Kidnapping, Tyson? That’s pretty big. That’s pretty traumatic. We don’t know what that girl has been through. Or what kind of person she was raised by, so just be careful around her.”

“Dave,” Mom said, a little more firmly.

“Look,” I said swallowing my food. “The way I see it is that a ton of people felt the same way about me when you adopted me. Especially when they found out the kind of home I came from. And now look at me – the worst thing you have to worry about is me screaming spells at the stove. Can we drop this now?”

“He just doesn’t want you to get hurt,” Mom said softly, “nor do I. Just please promise you’ll be careful.”

I sighed, picking up my plate and placing it in the sink. “I’ll be careful,” I promised, “but that’s not going to stop me from being her friend.”