Page 1 of As They Are (Strawberry Springs #2)

Fifteen Years Ago

The worst sound in the whole world was that of a crying four-year-old. Or maybe it was just Ginnie’s cries.

When she fell onto the concrete walkway next to the playground, Mom rushed over and doted on her, checking on every inch of her skin.

The scars on my knees panged. Years ago, she’d told me falling was no big deal.

I was playing chase with Ginnie, even though Mom had just been ordering me to slow down. My half sister had fallen before Mom finished her sentence. I immediately knew I was in trouble.

I’d been getting in trouble the second I’d arrived two weeks ago to stay for summer. Dad was out of state working on a new apartment complex, and it was either I come to stay with Mom or I be in our tiny trailer by myself.

As Ginnie’s cries turned into soft whimpers, I started to think that being by myself would have been better.

“Say you’re sorry,” Mom said as she looked up at me.

“I’m sorry,” I replied. “I was about to slow down.”

“You’re way too big to play with her like that.”

“But she wanted to?—”

“I don’t care! You’re the older sister here. Be responsible. She’s fragile.”

Ginnie whimpered once more, burrowing into Mom. My eyes narrowed. She’d bugged me all day, begging me to play with her. She’d suggested chasing and nagged at me until I’d obliged.

I felt bad that she fell, but I hated that I was the bad guy in the situation—the one who should always know better. Was I not allowed to have lapses in judgment? To make mistakes?

Apparently not.

Mom told me I needed to be nice to Ginnie all summer. I was trying my best to, even if I had to fight with the annoyance that she had everything .

“Do you want me to go get some Band-Aids?” I asked.

“Go find something else to do. She needs to be away from you.”

“But—”

“Go,” Mom said before turning back to Ginnie.

I bit my tongue and walked away. In the hot summer sun, the only place that was bearable was under the playground.

It was an old wooden structure that had seen better days. Most kids didn’t go on it. I’d heard parents telling their kids to play in the field instead. Underneath it was a touch cooler than out in the sun, and I found a support plank to sit on and stay out of the way until Mom remembered I existed.

I plopped down as my irritation rose.

The plank fell out from under me.

I yelped as I dropped straight onto my back. My head hit the ground, aggravating the building headache in my temples.

Now my shame made my face impossibly hotter.

Was I too big for the playground? The summer before my freshman year had given me an unwanted growth spurt.

I towered over most kids my age and a few of my old classmates had whispered about it behind my back, calling me a giraffe, or whatever other animal they could compare me to.

“You better not be getting in trouble over there!” Mom called.

“I—”

“I don’t wanna hear it, Wren!”

My back ached. Now I was hurt.

And she didn’t care. At all.

“Fuck this shit,” I said under my breath, not caring if Mom heard me curse. She was too busy to do anything anyway.

I sprang up and glared at the piece of wood. One of the nails had failed, leaving it dangling. I grabbed it and yanked it out of its spot before looking at the other ones. They were all hanging on by their last nails, all ready to break on someone.

This was supposed to be a nice neighborhood. Mom always wanted the fanciest of things. And her new, perfect husband could provide it. Obviously, it wasn’t that perfect if the playground was falling apart.

If one broke, more would too. I grabbed another board with both hands, pulling it with all of my might. It came loose, and the feeling pushed away my anger for a second.

In fact, it felt good .

I moved to another and did the same thing. It put up more of a fight, but I didn’t mind. Taking it apart distracted me.

When I was done, there was a stack of boards. Nails stuck out at odd angles and I had more splinters than I could count. My chest heaved, but I felt like I was finally doing exactly what I was supposed to be.

“Wren Harper Hackett!” Mom screeched. “What do you think you’re doing?”

My tenseness returned.

Suddenly, the pile of destruction was another one of my mistakes.

“I . . . It was broken!”

“Yes, because you broke it! Why would you ever?—”

“I fell!”

“That doesn’t mean you can ruin my neighborhood playground! What’s wrong with you?”

She’d asked that before too. More so than ever since I came to stay with her.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it. I’m calling your father so he can deal with this.”

She never called Dad unless I’d done something wrong. He’d begged me to make this work with Mom. I told him I would.

“No, wait! I can fix it.”

“Oh, really? You can fix all of this?”

I looked back at it. Dad had let me watch him when he fixed our old porch. I’d been fascinated by how he was able to hit a nail and make it go clean through the wood in one go.

“Yeah, I can.”

“You have until the end of the day,” she said as she hoisted Ginnie on her hip. “Go see if one of the neighbors has a hammer and some nails.”

“I don’t know anyone here.”

She rolled her eyes. “Then knock on doors.”

“Don’t you have?—”

“I’m busy with Ginnie. I’m not fixing your problems too.” She turned and walked away, leaving me in the heat. I wondered if she would use her soft voice while dressing Ginnie’s wounds and give her the apple juice that she never gave me when I was her age.

It made me feel worse. I took a walk of shame on the hot sidewalk, knocking on two doors with no answer.

I was going to give up after the third one, but then a girl with brown hair answered. She was shorter than me, coming up to my collarbone like most kids my age did.

“Uh, hi. Do you have any hammers or nails?”

“Me? I don’t.” She shook her head. “But I think my papa gave us some to use a while ago. They’re in the garage. Why do you need them?”

“The playground is busted and I need to fix it.”

She perked up. “Finally someone’s taking it seriously! I’ve been saying that it needs work, but the HOA always tells my mom it’s fine.”

I had a feeling she wouldn’t be very thrilled if she knew I broke it. “So, can I borrow the stuff to fix it?”

She nodded and led me to the garage. She grabbed nails, a hammer, and a saw.

“I don’t know if you’ll need this,” she said as she handed it to me. “But the wood is so old, I figured it would help.”

The girl was right. Even if I used new nails, the wood was gray with age and sagging.

“Do you know anyone who has the wood for it?”

She nodded, rocking onto the balls of her feet. “My neighbor two doors down does woodworking for fun! Come with me.”

She ran out the front door. I followed her, but she was already halfway across the street. She was fast .

“Wait!” I called out after her. “I can do it by myself!”

“You said you had to fix it!” she answered. “And I wanna help!”

“But we don’t even know each other!”

She stopped, lips pursed as she considered it. “You’re right.” She jogged back over to me. “I’m Mollie. What’s your name?”

“Wren.”

“Cool. Now we know each other.”

I jerked back. Was it that simple?

To Mollie it was. She was back on her mission of going to the neighbor’s house.

If anyone questioned why a fourteen-year-old girl needed wood and a saw, they didn’t say anything. I had a feeling it was because they didn’t think I was young at all.

Soon, we were back at the playground, everything spread out on the ground.

I followed what Dad did when he worked on things. I measured the wood twice, cut it slowly, and then nailed it in place. Mollie watched it all with wide, hazel eyes and kept asking if she could help. I wasn’t sure what to do with the attention.

With each swing of the hammer, I felt better. Mollie cheered me on, even when the first nail bent at a bad angle.

I finished as the sun set. I wiped sweat from my brow and let out a sigh of relief as I saw new wood mixed with the old.

“You are so cool,” Mollie said. “I wanna be like you when I go to high school in a few weeks.”

“You’re about to be a freshman?” I asked. “Me too.”

Mollie’s jaw dropped and she gasped. “No way! Where are you going?”

Mom had told Dad to enroll me in a school near her. Not so she could watch me, but just so I could go to a school that was better than any of the ones in the outer city. She said that she was terrified I would ruin my life if I got a second-rate education.

I hadn’t been excited about it until I said the name to Mollie. Her entire face lit up. “We’ll be at the same school! Yes!”

My hand went to the back of my neck. “Um, I don’t think I’m as cool as you think I am.” I gestured to the old boards. “I ... kinda got in trouble for taking this thing apart myself. I broke it.”

Mollie blinked. “You got all of those boards off with just your hands ?”

“The first one broke when I sat on it, but the rest were because I was mad.”

“Holy shit— I mean, wow! You’re so strong.”

“But I broke the playground that you love.”

“Technically, time made it super weak. If it wasn’t you, it could have been some little kid. Plus, you fixed it. Now it’s as good as new.”

I looked over at my work. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

“You’re good at fixing things.”

I slowly nodded, realizing that for the first time since I came to stay with Mom, I felt ... okay. Like I wasn’t miserable.

“Is there anything else that’s broken?” I asked.

Mollie thought about it. “I think the tennis court net is messed up. Wanna go see?”

“Yeah, I do. Lead the way.”

I followed Mollie and stayed out until way past sunset, trying to figure out how to fix the net. Mom didn’t come and check on me until after nine when Ginnie was in bed.

“So, you fixed it.” Her hands were on her hips. “At least I won’t get fined for it.”

“Did I do a good job?”

“It looks about like what a fourteen-year-old can do.”

“Hi!” Mollie said. “Are you Wren’s mom? I’m her friend.”

“You’re the Wilsons’ daughter, aren’t you?” Mom tapped her chin. “You’re a good kid. Did she ask you for help?”

“No, she did it all and I watched.”

Mom looked in between us as if sniffing out a lie. I twisted my hands. I let Mollie carry some stuff. Did that count?

“Anyway, you need to take your little friend home and clean up. Your dad is on his way.”

“He’s on his way? But you said you wouldn’t call him if I fixed it.”

“I can’t have a destructive teenager near my daughter. You went way too far today, so I called him the second I was finished patching Ginnie up.” She shook her head. “I hope you learned your lesson.”

“But I—” I didn’t get to reply. Mom turned and walked off without another word.

“Whoa, she’s kinda mean.” Mollie’s voice was quiet.

“Yeah, a little. Sorry we won’t get to hang out more.”

“I’ll find you at school, don’t worry. We’ll be besties there.”

“Are you sure you wanna hang out with me?”

“Um, duh .” She rolled her eyes. “I’m so nervous for my first day. But now I can go in and know I have a friend.”

Despite everything, I smiled. Normally, I didn’t believe someone when they made a promise, but I hoped that this time it was true.

“Me too.” I looked down at my mess. “I should clean up, though.”

“I’ll help you!” she replied. “I know where it all goes anyway!”

Mollie carried half of the things we needed to give back, completely unfazed by the fact that she was covered in wood dust. I hugged her before saying goodbye and heading to Mom’s.

When I returned to the house, Dad was waiting for me and silently opened the car door while Mom came out with my duffel bag.

“I told you this wouldn’t work out,” she said.

“I guess you did,” he replied, not meeting her eyes. “What do I need to fix?”

“Nothing,” I muttered. “I did it.”

His thick eyebrows raised. “ You did it?”

“Hopefully no one notices,” Mom said, crossing her arms. “You need to watch her. She gets mad.”

“Only because of you,” I snapped.

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t you even start with me. I can’t do anything right with you anyway.” She threw her hands up in the air and walked off without saying goodbye.

“She’s never like this with Ginnie,” I muttered as I slammed the door.

“Ginnie’s her perfect kid,” Dad said.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped. I wanted to fix it so she wouldn’t call you.”

“She’s lookin’ for a reason, Wren. Don’t worry about it. You can call her in a few days after she cools off.”

I stared out the window as we drove away, trying to think of what Mom wanted to hear when I called. Eventually, we passed by Mollie’s house, and my gaze locked on it, even as we drove by.

At least I’d made a friend throughout all of this.

That was the only thing that made it easier when Mom didn’t pick up when I called three days later.