You Are Here by Liz Fichera Page B

door. With his other hand, he lifted the rim of his cowboy hat higher on his forehead. His face was flushed from riding. His blue shirt, jeans and boots were smudged in a dozen places.
    Marisela looked as if she wanted to bolt out of there, away from his glare, almost as much as I did.
    “Maybe I’ll just leave you two alone, Jenn. ” She punctuated my name as though it were bull’s-eye on a dartboard.
    She slunk around Finn and through the opened stall door with her palms up.
    “Wait, Marisela,” I said, reaching for her. “I can explain—”
    “Oh, you will,” she chuckled. “Trust me. The ride back will be informative.” She fluttered her fingers at me. “I’m going to go make friends with Cisco Oil,” she added, but I knew by her tone she wasn’t mad at me, not really. “Take your time.” She would expect an explanation, though, not the half explanation I’d shared on the car ride to the stable. I’d told her a little bit about Finn, that he loved horses as much as I did, that he was homeschooled, that we were in love once—at least I was. Without a detailed confession, I was pretty sure I’d be hitchhiking back to our apartment.
    When Marisela’s footsteps faded away, I thrust my hands in my front pockets, thumbs out, and stared up at Finn. The whites of his eyes were both curious and livid. He was still breathing as heavily as I was. I also noticed that he hadn’t shaved in a while, which was unlike him. There were circles below his eyes but that could have been dirt and dust from mucking stalls and riding horses all morning.
    “Do you know how worried I’ve been?” He shook his head in more frustration. “How could you leave without telling me? And then you show up here, just like that? Without even calling?”
    “I don’t have a phone anymore.”
    “So I’ve discovered.”
    I swallowed and tried to slow my breathing, tried to think about all that I should share. Or not share. But my heart still pounded like a freight train.
    “And what did you do to your hair?” he added. The Adam’s apple on his long neck rose to the top and stayed there.
    Nervously, I reached up to tuck a short strand behind my ear. I finally found my words, the ones that had been bottled up inside of me for weeks. “What do you care?” I shot back.
    He leaned back, pressing a palm to his chest as if I’d pushed him. “What do I care?” He gasped. “I can’t believe you would say that!” But then he lunged forward and reached for my shoulders. He shook me. “You didn’t answer my texts. Then your phone got disconnected. I went to your house—”
    “Don’t!” I said, shrugging off his hands, but they wouldn’t unlock from my shoulders. “Don’t say it.” I didn’t want to hear how we’d lost our home amplified throughout the barn. I didn’t think I could stand hearing it out loud in this place, of all places.
    “I saw what happened.” He shook me a little. “I saw the auction notice. I get it. But I didn’t know how else to get ahold of you. And of course that stupid school wouldn’t tell me anything, either.” Our noses were inches apart. His eyes were a fiery blue. “I didn’t know what else to do. It was like you and your family just...disappeared.” Then his voice turned softer. “Why would you do that to me? Why wouldn’t you tell me?”
    “I didn’t want to bother you. You had your hands full last time I saw you,” I said coolly, even though on the inside I was a hot mess of nerves and confusion. “I didn’t want to get in between you and Nobody.”
    There. I’d said it.
    “Nobody?” he scoffed. “What are you talking about?”
    Honey began to paw her front legs again behind us and Finn steered me around so that his back was to her. “The girl I saw you getting ready to perform a tonsillectomy on right here, right in front of my horse, the same damn day my family lost our home!” I was yelling. I was becoming hysterical. “You could say it’s kind of a day I’ll