"Thomas, I told you not to use the plastic spatula." Luke's mom took the melted utensil from him and handed him a longer metal one. "Here. Use this one."

Luke snorted and glanced at me. "My mom's not big into *no' with the youngest."

He stepped out onto the deck. "Hey, Mom. I brought a friend over."

As one, the four Parkers turned and looked at me. It was hardly comfortable being studied so intently by so many people. Their gazes held, seeing me.

Mrs. Parker's brows lifted. "Oh."

"This is Amy."

They were still looking. No one turned back to the sandwich that was now on fire, sending up smelly smoke signals for a fire extinguisher to rescue it.

"Amy! Of course." Mrs. Parker moved our way, both hands outstretched. When she reached us, she moved around Luke and took my hands in hers. "The girl who beat an entire soccer team."

Um, wow. I glanced at Luke who was definitely not looking at me.

"Yes, ma'am."

She dropped one of my hands and led me to the checker-covered picnic table.

"We're making grilled cheese, minus the skillet." Taking the gla.s.ses from Luke, she poured another gla.s.s of the sweet tea I was getting so used to from a large pitcher. "I think one more and they'll realize you need something between the sandwich and the grill."

I glanced toward the boys as Luke pulled out the chair next to me and joined us.

"Twins?"

"Yup," he said. "Mom was so worried that I wouldn't feel special enough being, you know, just a solo-birth baby, so she had to go and have Thomas too."

"Oh, please." Mrs. Parker gave Luke a friendly swat across the table. "He knows he's the perfect one. Just ask his brothers. His record is the bane of their existence."

"Amy," one of the older boys called. "If you could get him to break curfew, or better yet a law, we'd love you forever."

The boys all laughed as Luke crossed his hands behind his head and leaned back. "I can't be blamed if Mom got it right the first time and had to double up for perfection after that."

They must have finally decided they were hungry, because the two oldest took over. Putting a battered looking cookie sheet on the grill, they toasted everyone a sandwich while Thomas set the table and brought out chips and potato salad.

"Can you tell them apart, Mrs. Parker?"

She scooped more potato salad on my plate and smiled. "Of course. You will too. It's easier than you think."

Luke ignored the chaos around him. "Jared and Justin will be juniors this year. Jared's in blue today. Thomas is nine."

"So, Amy, how'd you beat all those bigger guys at the running thing?" Thomas asked when his brothers went back to their sandwiches.

I eyed Thomas, and it dawned on me that he was about the age of the kids I'd taught at art camp this summer, but a little thinner, a little smaller. No wonder he wanted to know how to beat the bigger guys considering this crowd.

"I run a lot. When I got serious about it, I worked my way up, making each run a little harder. The trick is in the training. When you want to stop, pick a number and run that many steps more. When other people stop, make sure you pa.s.s them."

Thomas glanced at Luke, sizing him up, and then back at me. "That sounds hard."

"Do you want to run?" I asked, trying to figure out if I could help somehow.

"I don't know. I want to do something." He pushed the potato salad around, watching it leave white streaks on his red plate. "Everyone else does something."

"Like what?" I asked, studying each brother.

"Well, Luke plays soccer. Jared and Justin play baseball." He glanced at his mom but she waited him out, letting him decide for himself. "I couldn't breathe when I was little, but the doctor said I can do stuff now."

Jared and Justin, who had been in their own nonsensical conversation at the end of the table chimed in with "of course you can" and "especially if it's baseball" and then went back to their discussion which seemed to focus on pitchers' weights versus their fast ball speed. Luke leaned over and b.u.mped Thomas shoulder to shoulder in what I could only a.s.sume is guy-speak for "I'm here for you" and waited.

Wow. Families were complicated. All these people involved in your life every day. Watching you. Hearing you. Seeing you.

It seemed complicated... Almost as complicated as not seeing someone. Conversations with my dad-in the tiny event that one happened-were a practice in not saying anything upsetting. The biggest problem was I had no idea what "upsetting" ever was.

"Is running what you do, Amy?" Thomas asked.

"And she paints."

All the blood rushed from my head leaving me dizzy. I flattened my hands on the table on either side of my plate. I'd never shown my work to anyone but Mrs. Cleary and just the idea was enough to make me pitch over backwards. Trust me, college apps for art school were a bit of a challenge without a portfolio.

Luke glanced down at my hand stretched out tight, resting next to his, and his gaze rose to my face. "She's really good."

I closed my eyes, waiting for... something. I don't know what. Sharing things, showing myself, had never been easy. Then, as I was left more and more to myself it became down right hard. But, as I sat there waiting, nothing happened. No one gasped or pointed or laughed. And then I realized what he'd said and I opened my eyes.

"How do you know?" I asked, forcing my hands to uncurl and relax. "You didn't see my stuff."

"Oh. I might have looked around a little while you packed up. There might have been a couple of things sitting out with your name on them." His ears flushed pink and I had to wonder if the heat was getting to him or he was blushing. "And they were. Good, I mean."

We sat there, him seeing me and me finally starting to see him when his mother slapped the table.

"This is perfect." Mrs. Parker nearly leapt up. "Amy, can you come in the house and tell me which colors go with the carpet? We don't want to tear it up so I need to pick a new sofa covering and I have a horrible eye for these things."

Before I knew what had happened, I was in the Parker's oversized living room struggling to see the rug through the piles of books, games, toys, and sporting equipment I couldn't even identify. Mrs. Parker moved things around, opening shades and turning on lights. She showed me all sorts of ideas weighing each one against the damage four boys-five if she counted her husband-could do.

The afternoon started to slip by without me noticing, when a rap came on the back window.

"Mom! We need Amy!" Thomas shouted. "She's going to be on my Scrabble team!"

Chapter 12.

I blinked against the bright sunshine as I stepped out onto the porch where a mini-Parker waited for me.

"You can call me Tom."

"What?" Luke stopped, his hands going to his hips as he stared down at his littlest brother. "You won't let any of us call you Tom."

Tom shrugged. "I like Amy."

He tipped that tiny smile up at me and I thought for a moment how great it would be to have little brothers. Catching the looks from the rest of the guys, I amended that to one little brother.

"She's so much better than Katie," Tom finished.

Luke's smile slipped away. Laying a hand on Tom's shoulder, he turned his full attention on the youngest Parker.

"Buddy, walk with me over to the tire swing." Luke led Tom away, the little guy looking worried, glancing over his shoulder as they went.

"Heads up, Amy!"

I turned in time to catch the football Jared threw at me, a helpful brotherly distraction if I'd ever seen one. Which I hadn't but, whatever.

Fumbling to get a good hold on it, I walked it back to him instead of humiliating myself with a three-foot short toss. Jared avoided my gaze as I approached and took the ball. If awkward were a paint, he'd be covered in it.

Might as well get it over with.

"Who's Katie?"

Jared glanced at Justin, the two of them looking pained in a weird, identical way.

"It doesn't matter, you know," I said, trying to put them at ease. Instead, they just looked more worried.

Jared rolled his neck, looking at the sky as he spoke. "Katie was the girl Luke was kind of seeing a little before we moved here."

Justin nodded... whether in agreement of the facts or the wording, who knows? Both stood there looking behind me every so often, letting the moment draw out, waiting for me to say something. Jared staring at the clouds, Justin at his feet.

"I'm kind of seeing someone," I finally said when the comfort level didn't seem to be heading back in the right direction.

Jared's head whipped down and he looked at me again fully... that deep stare his brother did so often. "Really?"

"Yeah," I said, as my day ripped back over me.

In that flash of a moment, I saw Chris driving away with Cheryl, leaving me rideless at school. Luke's face as he tried to mask his pity when Ben mentioned the party and my missing it. But then I saw Chris as he leaned in to brush his lips across mine.

Luke was wrong. There had to be a good reason Chris told Ben I couldn't go to the party. He probably thought about how much I hate crowds. How much easier it was for us to just hang out alone.

Coming here had been a much better idea than going home to think it all over by myself. But now that's where I needed to be.

"Tell Luke not to worry about it. I need to get my run in. And I have stuff to do."

I headed toward the house, raising my hand in farewell to Luke and Tom as I hit the back porch steps. Justin leapt all three in one.

"Amy, stop. Jared was right. It wasn't anything serious with Katie. Luke kind of got sucked into seeing her and he didn't know how to escape without hurting her feelings. Then we were moving so he let it play out."

His words stopped me halfway across the deck.

I couldn't believe Luke would toy with some poor girl like that. That was horrible. Guys were always looking for the easy out. Looking for what's best for them. Did he measure her feelings for him as they hung out knowing it would be a hard emotional break when he left? The only thing in that plan's favor was Luke didn't have to be the bad guy.

"Listen." I could hear the annoyance slipping into my voice and tried to adjust. It wasn't Justin's fault his brother turned out to be a typical guy. "Thanks and all. I know you're trying to make something look better than it is. And while I think that's a c.r.a.ppy way to deal with a girl's feelings, it doesn't matter. I told you, I'm kind of seeing someone. Luke and I are just friends."

"I swear -"

I put my hand on his arm to stop him. "Honestly, Justin. And this was just a reminder that I had stuff happen today that I have to take care of. Tell Luke I'll see him at tryouts."

I peeked my head in the living room as I went by. "Thank you for lunch, Mrs. Parker. I really appreciated being included."

"Are you leaving?" Mrs. Parker dropped a pillow and came toward me. "We loved having you here. Come back as often as you like."

Before I knew it, I was wrapped in a warm mom-hug and counting the seconds until she let go, afraid this would be the final straw that had me in tears after everything else.

"Thanks," I mumbled, trying to remain polite. I rushed through the front door, hoping Tom still held Luke in Twenty Question Land.

I made it further than I should have, considering Luke and those manners-and that stubborn streak. I was almost to the little bridge when I heard the truck behind me and sped up as if making it across would stop him from coming.

Luke pulled up beside me, the rev of the old engine blurring out his words. "Amy! Get in the truck."

"I'm almost home. I'm getting my run in."

"You aren't getting your run in. You're running away. Get in the d.a.m.n truck."

My head whipped up, the shock of hearing Mr. Manners curse throwing off my stride and tripping me up. My toe caught the edge of the bridge and before I knew it, I was face down, my hands bleeding and splinter-kissed.

I rolled to sit, braced my back against the bridge's truss, my head b.u.mping the bottom of the rail. Dirt and pebbles covered my palms hiding the damage.

"Amy?" Luke squatted in front of me, the truck idling behind him.

I glanced up at him, angry, annoyed, sad, and thankful all swirled into one.

"Come on," he said, wrapping his hand around my wrist and pulling me to my feet. "Now will you let me take you home?"

I let him tuck me into the pickup and buckle me in. Leaning my head against the cool gla.s.s, I watched the trees go by, wondering how I could have spent so much time in this truck in the last couple of days. In front of the cottage, Luke turned the engine off and I waited for him to come around and open my door, for once glad of the manners his mom had driven into him.

He grabbed my bag off the floor and carried it with him to the front door.

"It's unlocked."

He turned the k.n.o.b as though he didn't believe me. "You come home at night to a dark, empty, secluded, unlocked house?"

"Well, when you put it like that..."

He shook his head and found his way to the kitchen. Pushing me into a chair, he filled a bowl with warm soapy water. The bowl made a heavy thud-swash sound as he set it down on the table with the dishtowel, making me feel like a guest in my own home. With a light touch, he took my left hand in his and began tugging the pebbles out.

The moment was so still-so oddly intimate-and I hoped that now, with just the two of us, I could make him understand.