Free The Other Boy by Hailey Abbott Page A

bread.
    “Nice sourdough baguette—someone in your house has good taste,” he said, ripping off two big hunks and wrapping them in a paper towel.
    “I guess this means you’re making lunch,” Maddy said from her spectator’s seat. David glanced over.
    “If you don’t mind …”
    She held her hands up. “Be my guest.”
    He sliced the cheese and radishes and put them in a plastic Tupperware container. Then he searched through the drawers until he found a short, thin knife and chopped the olives into bits, his hands moving quickly and confidently. He mixed the chopped olives with a little olive oil, a squeeze of a lemon from the bowl on the windowsill, and a smashed clove of garlic and spooned the whole mess into another container.
    “A little olive tapenade for our bread and cheese,” he said, turning to Maddy, who realized she had been watching with her mouth hanging open a little. She shut it abruptly and got up.
    “Wow,” she managed. “Definitely better than PB&J.”
    David grinned at her and started stuffing things into a grocery bag. They grabbed bottles of cold SmartWater from the fridge, and by tacit consent headed out through the vines to the banks of the little stream.
    For a while after they plopped down on the soft grass and spread out the food, they just chewed quietly, staring straight ahead. Some of the ease of the morning had disappeared, and the silence stretched out until it became a little awkward. Maddy surreptitiously glanced over at David. He was picking through the container of radishes. He flicked one with a brown spot away over his shoulder. Maddy flipped her hair behind her shoulders and took a bite of the thick, chewy bread and tangy cheese. “So, did you grow up around here?” It came out a little snotty-sounding and she winced. But either he didn’t notice or he was pretending not to.
    “Yeah—but now I only live here in the summers.
    During the year, I go to Westside Public in San Francisco.”
    “Really? I didn’t know you were from the city.”
    He shrugged. “Yeah. I live with my aunt and uncle during the school year. My dad didn’t think any of the schools in Napa were up to his standards.” He took an enormous bite of bread and cheese and chewed with his cheeks puffed out.
    Maddy dipped into the olive tapenade. “This is really good, by the way,” she told him. “So, do you hate the city or what?”
    He looked startled. “No, I love the city. What made you think I hate it?”
    “Well, I mean, you really seem to love it up here—
    messing around with the shed, riding bikes.”
    “You didn’t like the bikes?”
    “No! I did! It was fun, but it’s so different back home.”
    He shrugged and pressed the top back on the empty container of tapenade. Stretching his long legs out in front of him, he answered, “It is different. But my friends and I bike all the time in the city. There are some amazing trails. I have friends up here, too, but it’s obviously way more fun to go out in the city. Napa doesn’t exactly have a rockin’ nightlife, in case you wondered.”
    Maddy giggled. “Hanging out with the cricket on my porch doesn’t count as an awesome night out?”
    “Are you kidding? Up here, that would get you on Page Six. But I like all the space up here.” He gestured to the flower-strewn field in front of them and the acres of vines at their backs.
    Maddy let out a little snort. “There’s definitely enough of that around here.”
    “Yeah. It’d be nice to have a little more space in our house though.” He took a long drink of water and leaned back on his hands.
    “Where do you guys live?” she asked, feeling a little silly for not knowing.
    “Stand up for a second.” They both climbed to their feet. Maddy brushed the dried grass off her pants. “Now look over there.” David put his hand on her shoulder and turned her to the left. She started a little and jerked before she could stop herself. David dropped his hand and looked at her