I'm surprised Kelsey wants to have anything to do with me.

I think back to not long ago, just a lifetime ago, when Rachel figured out a way for me to ask Jocelyn out.

Maybe one day eventually I'll grow up and learn to ask girls out on my own.

"Hey."

The universal word for teen boys everywhere. This can mean many things. It can be a sign that we're alive, or it can mean that yes we've just crashed our car into the tree, or it can mean absolutely nothing.

Kelsey no longer paints by me, but today I've brought my painting over by her.

"Can I-do you mind?"

Those eyes peer behind her glasses like a face hiding behind a window. She blushes.

"How're you doing?"

"Fine," she says.

I can't imagine a date because I can't imagine her talking enough to me to make it last longer than ten minutes.

"You like what I'm doing to my fruit?"

She glances at my canvas and nods.

"See, that was a test. That's not fruit. Those are people. That's a portrait of my family."

Kelsey looks at me, then back at the picture. "Really?"

"No. Just kidding."

She can't help but laugh, and that means I see her braces.

For a while I try to make some kind of conversation, but most of the things I say sound so stupid. It's really amazing this girl wants to go out with me. I'm still hoping that Dan wasn't pulling a prank on me.

"So, uh, hey."

There it is again. This time it means Look, I'm about to go out on a limb when I've been hiding behind the tree for some time now, and you might laugh in my face but that's okay because I can always follow up your rejection with another hey.

"Do you know Dan?"

I'd say his last name, but I don't know it because we're not quite buds.

"Yes."

"Well, I was just wondering-we were talking today-"

"You were talking to Dan?"

Already Kelsey sounds like she doesn't believe me.

"Yeah. And we were wondering about maybe-well, sometime maybe on Friday or Saturday-"

"He made you do this."

"What?"

"How'd he do it?"

"Do what?"

Kelsey looks annoyed, and suddenly she doesn't seem like such a wallflower.

"He's been trying to go out with Georgia since forever, but I never thought he'd do something like this."

"Something like what?"

"I didn't know that you knew Dan."

"Well-I mean-not really well, but-"

"So then why?"

"I was just-we were just thinking-"

"Chris, please. I'm not that stupid."

"What?"

"Do you do everything someone asks you to do?"

"No," I say, genuinely surprised. "It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

Yeah, Chris, what is it?

I'm not sure how to answer this. I'm also not quite sure why Kelsey is irritated. With me.

"Look, I'm sorry, I just-"

"Is this some joke or something?"

"With who? What? I was asking the same thing."

She nods, looks serious, then goes back to painting.

"I just thought it'd be fun."

"Hanging out with Dan?"

I laugh. "Are you kidding? I mean, seriously ... why would I want to hang out with Dan?"

"Then what are you talking about?"

"It'd be fun hanging out with you. And not by some stupid picture that looks like death that I'm painting while not even looking at you."

For a second, I really have no idea if Kelsey's going to laugh or sneer.

Thankfully, she lets out a slight giggle.

"I wasn't trying to do anything," I say. "I just-I thought it sounded like a fun idea."

"Okay," Kelsey says.

I nod. Then let the silence make me wonder exactly what she just okayed.

"By okay, do you mean-?"

"Saturday evening. You guys come over to Georgia's house by seven. We'll figure out the rest then."

"Okay," I say.

And yes, I guess it is okay.

Not sure how this will work out, but I'm not worried.

I'm just glad Kelsey's talking to me again.

It would sure be awkward if we weren't speaking on our first official date.

56. The Nest "That's a nice haircut, Chris."

Iris notices things like this. She's all about being on time and minding your manners and being proper (insert quasi-British accent here). But that doesn't mean she's mean or even cold.

"Yeah, decided it was probably time. Mom cuts it, so that's always a bit scary."

"It's nice to not see bangs dropping in front of your eyes. You have pretty eyes."

I'm not sure how to answer that one, so I nod and smile.

"I assume that means you have big plans this weekend?"

"Not really."

"Is that a genuine 'not really' or more of an 'I'm not feeling like telling you'?"

"No-neither-I mean, I have a date tonight, but it's nothing."

"Your date is nothing in terms of how you feel toward it, or rather how little you'd like to discuss it?"

"I'm doing a guy a favor-he likes this girl who's friends with another girl who kinda-well, long story. No big deal."

Iris is holding that leather journal again. It's thick and looks like it's from the Civil War or something. I always see her carrying it around. Occasionally I see her writing in it. She places it on the table as she sits across from me. I've only now stopped sweating from clearing weeds and bushes outside with a sling blade.

"No big deal for you, or for the girl you're going with?"

I start to say something, then suddenly feel this is one of her insightful traps. She does that every time we speak, trapping me with some idiotic thing I've said and making me eat those words.

"Do you know something, Chris? I met my husband on a blind date."

"Really?"

I knew that Iris had a son but had never heard anything about a husband.

"Stanley. He was tall and skinny and looked absolutely wrong next to me. We could never fit into a picture together, so how could it be? I did the same thing you are doing-a favor for someone. So you never know."

"That's a pretty big leap," I say, chuckling more out of nervousness than humor.

"Nothing is a big leap in this world. Nothing."

I nod. I know Iris well enough now to recognize this as her opportunity to share a little more with me.

This is the routine. I work and she feeds me well and pays me well and then we end the day with these chats. Usually I'm trying to suck in air because the elevation is high here and because I've been working my tail off. I'm drinking something, and Iris comes in her stylish pants and dark shirt, her long hair pulled back in a ponytail and those wide eyes staring at me in wonder, and then proceeds to tell me a story with an insight.

"If this is but a tiny drop in a vast ocean, isn't it sweeter if you get to share it with someone you love and trust?"

"I'm sixteen. I don't think Mom is going to want me to run off and get married anytime soon."

"I'm not talking about marriage. I'm talking about love and trust. I'm talking about the journey."

"Okay."

"Do you know how old I am?"

I shake my head. Mom has reminded me it's not polite talking about women's ages, including hers.

"I'm just a month away from turning ninety."

For a second I don't believe her. Iris looks old, but not that old. She still walks around with energy and life. Her face is full of wrinkles, but not that many.

Is she somehow starting to look younger the longer I'm around her?

"I've always been told I looked young. I can see it in your eyes-even you thought I was younger, though what's a decade or two when you're this age? I'm thankful for my time here. But as every day passes, I grow to understand that this is like a nest for a baby bird."

"This inn?"

"This world. This life. We're born, and we're warm and secure, but one day it's time to fly away. And some make it. Some birds are able to soar. Others aren't so lucky."