Like living in a house

Every day after school I'm allowed to walk the first five blocks from school by myself, because I'm old enough now, and smart enough. Jenny used to meet me at the school front steps, which was five blocks out of her way, but now it's more convenient, and I'm an adult. Now I walk the five blocks and I get to have my me time, where I can talk to myself or sing songs or just think about how long my hair is, you know, me time. Then I get to five blocks where I wait for Jenny, who is coming from high school, to come meet me. One time I waited for a very long time. Jenny never came. That was the bad day. But now it's all good.

Today I left school, excited for my five block me time, but Sam Reynolds was there in his dumb hat. I pretended not to see him and walked by him. Sam was leaning against the fence, eating an apple, even though it wasn't lunch time. I hated him.

"Hey...." he said. "Can I walk with you?"
"I guess."
We walked for about two blocks in silence. I sweat through my sweatervest flannel shirt combo I had picked out. Just my armpits were sweaty; my back stayed good. Suddenly Sam looked up abruptly.
"So you live in the house on the hill on Mulberry Ave?"
I shrugged. "Yeah." I said.
"Oh."
We walked a little bit more.
"What's that like?"
"Um. Like living in a house."

We got to the rendezvous. Jenny was waiting in her cheerleading uniform and hoodie that she seemed to wear every day now. There was a stain on the top, kinda a brownish copper color. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail and her eyes looked tired. Her face was sickly white. I would have worried but I was used to it.

"Hi Brenda," sighed Jenny.
I smiled at her.
"Who's this?" she asked.
"Sam Reynolds," I said.
"What?" Sam asked.
"Your name."

Sam shook his head and frowned. After a beat he added bluntly,

"Brenda, let's go," said Jenny. She reached for my hand, but obviously didn't get it.
"Can Sam walk with us?" I stuttered through my teeth, trying to subtly let her know that she was embarrassing me.
"Who are you talking to?" asked Sam.
"Rude," said Jenny.
"Rude," I said.
"Okay I don't need this. I was just being nice to you because of what happened," said Sam.
"Um, whatever," I said.
"Let's go Brenda," said Jenny.
"You are really weird," Sam said.
"Don't listen to him, Brenda," Jenny said.
"I'm not. He doesn't get it."
"Who are you talking to?" Sam asked.

Jenny led me away. Sam stood at the rendezvous watching and then he left. We started walking up the hill. I could see our house peeking up over a fence, glancing down the gravelly road at us, like an angry old lady who really didn't want to buy girl scout cookies.

"So, how was school?" I asked.
"What are you, pretending to be mom?" Jenny said.
"Sorry."
"You're not mom, okay!"
"I know, Brenda."

Jenny started crying really hard. It wasn't fake crying like you do when you want mom to think you're sick so you don't have to do the dishes. It was fat slug like tears squirming out of her eyes, and her shoulders shook forward.

"Don't cry, Jenny, it's okay." I said.
"I didn't want this for you," she said.
"It's not your fault."
"No, it is. It really is. I got... too mad. It's my fault."

I didn't know what to say; I never do. I looked up at the house. The yard was filled with trash and old furniture we had thrown out. It felt like clambering through a playground. The house was in need of a new painting. Some of the outside was peeling. The front porch was dented. All the windows were dark. I squinted at a blurry shape near a shutter, wondering if mom was home. She would make Jenny feel better. I opened the gate and let myself in. The gate swung shut behind me. Still crying, Jenny walked through the closed gate.

I reached up for Jenny's hand. She couldn't hold it, but she let hers hover through mine. An icy shiver shot through my body. Goosebumps erected all over my neck, legs, and arms, and I knew I was loved. Hand in almost hand, we walked up the rocky pathway together towards our house.