Free Camo Girl by Kekla Magoon

what happens next.
    It wobbles a little when the wind blows. Just a little. But I step outside to get it, bring it inside where it’s safe. There’s bound to be a good spot for it in the garage somewhere.
    I don’t know what it means to have a basketball that belongs to Bailey but lives here. Is he trying to make an every-day plan?
    I have every-day plans already, and they’re with Z. I don’t see how I can do both.
    There’s an empty spot on the tool shelf, between the box of nails and the pile of sandpaper. I slide the basketball into place, study it. It sits there, listing forward a bit, like it’s not sure it wants to stay.
    I pat its rough burnt-orange skin. At least we agree on something.
    I didn’t take the basketball. Bailey gave it to me, and when he figures that out, he might just come back long enough to take it away.

CHAPTER 27
    B ailey rides his dirt bike over the lawn, instead of coming down the street and up the driveway. This is called a hypotenuse, which we learned yesterday in math.
    â€œIt’s a good thing you don’t have a driver’s license,” I say. “Lawns everywhere, beware.”
    He grins, hopping off the seat and leaning the handlebars down onto the grass. “Efficiency.”
    It’s Saturday afternoon. He’s wearing a New York Knicks jersey.
    I come off the porch and head for the side of the garage, carrying my small bag of trash. He can’t know I was waiting. Hoping.
    He pokes around a bit, looking, then fetches thebasketball from my garage. “You got a bike?” he asks. “There’s someplace I want to show you.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œOh, no. I’m not telling.”
    He sticks the ball under his arm, hopping back on his bike. I yell to Grammie that I’m going for a ride, and we take off down the street. Bailey rides hard, glancing back at me occasionally, but every time I’m right there, keeping up. This, I know how to do.
    We make a wide left turn beyond the edge of our subdivision. The desert stretches out all around us, and Bailey leads me down a well-trampled path of scrub dirt, every rut of which is all too familiar. I know where we’re going. I slow my riding.
    I brake, nearly toppling over. “Wait,” I say. “I don’t want to.”
    Bailey circles around me. “What? Don’t want to what?”
    â€œCan we go back? Please?”
    â€œNaw, man. This is so cool.”
    He’s excited, thinks he’s discovered something. My old worn-out world is brand-new to him. He grins, and I do what I can to smile back. He’s excited, and maybe it’s just for today. Someday, this place we’re going will be old to him, and me along with it. Maybe this is all I get.
    â€œOkay,” I say.
    â€œYes.” He rides on eagerly. I follow. I only have him for a little while longer. He’s the kind of boy for whom there’s always something new. I don’t know how I know this about him, but I feel how true it is.
    The sky stretches out, and the world drops away in front of us. The mesa in the late afternoon light takes my breath away. It always has.
    I’ve only ever been here with my dad.
    I let my bike fall over and I step to the edge, where a thick ridge of rocks rises up, just before the cliff that falls into the desert below. I turn my face to the billowing clouds.
Hi, Daddy.
    When I come around again, Bailey’s taking in the sights, and I’m one of them. “You’ve been here before.” He doesn’t seem disappointed.
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œI don’t know much about you,” he says thoughtfully.
    My pulse speeds up. Why? “I don’t know much about you either.”
    Bailey shrugs. “You know I can handle a ball. That’s pretty much all there is.”
    I sit on the rocks with my legs dangling toward him. It is a beautiful spot. I don’t want to be sad here, now, but I am.
    â€œI thought you