Free Dismantling Evan by Venessa Kimball

boy. He doesn’t look like a boy, period. He looks older than me for sure.
    “I’m Evan. Evan Phillips,” I say without pause.
    He keeps his eyes focused on Gavin as he asks, “Evan? That’s your name?”
    “Yeah, it’s short for Evangeline,” I quickly say. I always get that same question.
    “Evan... that’s nice,” he says, more mildly now. Yeah, he made it sound hot too, which I should totally not be thinking about now.
    “Ferguson,” he says, suddenly.
    Lost in the fog of Brody saying my name, I stare at him blankly.
    “Our last name is Ferguson. Brody and Gavin Ferguson,” he says.
    “Oh,” is my brilliant response; apparent lack of oxygen to the brain. Feeling stupid now, I defer to looking at the house behind me; age has settled on it. The paint is peeling around the door frame and the porch roof above us tilts slightly, like it has shifted.
    The brief silence between us is filled with the sound of cicadas and crickets. Gavin’s low humming actually calms my nervousness a little.
    “I didn’t call you an idiot. I was calling myself an idiot for not watching him closer,” he says.
    I look out at Gavin. How old his he? And, why would someone his age need to be watched closely?
    “Okay,” is all I say as I’m still running questions about Gavin through my head. I want to ask Brody all of them, but sitting next to him, this close, I’m kind of intimidated by how much bigger he is than me in a jock kind of way. I mean, what if I ask him and it pisses him off like the thing that happened with Darren back home?
    “Why can’t you sleep?” he asks as he removes his boots from the table.
    Yeah, I am not about to tell Brody Ferguson THAT story. I look down at my tightly interwoven hands and wing it. “Um, I guess it is because I’m in a new place; first night here and all.”
    “Evan!” I look up at Gavin who is no longer spinning, but focused on me.
    “What are you doing here?” he asks, his hands raised in wonder.
    The way he asks me in the raspy mid-pitch voice he had earlier today, I’m not sure if I should have come over here after all. I start to rise and prepare to say good night, when Brody surprises me, gripping my wrist gently, just enough to get my attention. “It’s okay. Stay,” he says, firmly.
    Gavin walks toward us in his odd stride, but in this instant it looks like he has a purpose. His eyes focus on me and his pace quickens. Brody rises just as Gavin steps up on the porch and stops in front of me. I can’t help but grip the sides of the chair, nervous by his demeanor. With furrowed brows, similar to his brother’s, Gavin looks between Brody and me. “Why are you here?” he asks
    “I asked her to come over, Gavin,” says Brody as he slowly sits back down in the chair.
    He looks at Brody curiously, like he has said something outlandish, then sits cross-legged on the porch in front of us.
    Appearing to ignore me, he speaks to Brody. “It’s late. Why is she awake? Why is she out here?”
    Why isn’t he speaking to me? Do I scare him?
    Brody glances over at me and asks, with genuine concern in his tone, “Why are you awake and out here?”
    I look at Gavin and speak to him. “I couldn’t sleep and I heard you talking out here from my window.”
    He looks up at my house, then down at me. “I’m sorry,” he says in a milder tone, but I’m not sure what he is sorry for.
    I look down at my nervous, fiddling fingers. “Sorry? For what? You didn’t do anything.”
    “For today, when I met you.” Gavin says as he starts to sway side to side, just like he did earlier. Does he do that when he gets scared?
    “I didn’t mean to scare you. I told myself today when I saw you again I would apologize and that is what I am doing. I’m sorry.” He pronounces this chain of words in tight, clipped vocals.
    “No, you didn’t scare me. I’m the one who should be sorry though. I shouldn’t have touched you on the shoulder,” I tell him.
    Gavin stops swaying and places