Free Sparrow by Sara Mack, Chris McGregor Page B

self-certified in CPR.
    Addison: I know ;)
    Me: Seriously.  I could come over tonight.
    Addison: I wish.  Dad says he has a surprise for us and we’ll probably be out late.
    Me: It better be something good to keep you away from me.
    Addison: Right?!  I’ve never missed anyone so much.
    Me:  I miss you too, Sparrow.  You have no idea.
    After
I arrived home from Buhl Lake, I had a week of football camp, which meant
getting up at six a.m. every day to make it to the high school by seven.  As I
mechanically fed myself Rice Krispies each morning, I would stare out the kitchen
window that overlooks our backyard.  The birdfeeder I made years ago in shop
class hangs just outside of it, and the only thing that would show up to eat
were sparrows.  Lots of them.  They reminded me of Addison, and I took their
presence as a sign that she was thinking about me.  When I told her about the
birds, she said that was sweet and most likely the truth.  I nicknamed her
Sparrow after that.
    I
finally arrive at my exit and glance down at the directions Addison wrote out
for me.  After a few more miles, I end up at the entrance of a swanky subdivision
called Glendale Oaks.  The winding roads are lined with impressive brick homes
that sit on manicured lawns with sprinkler systems.  I inwardly cringe at the
thought of her visiting me.  My house is a three bedroom, one-story ranch with
white siding and black shutters.  These houses look like they have in-home movie
theaters and bowling alleys.
    At
last, I find her address and turn into the paved drive.  I park, turn off my
truck, and stare at the structure before me.  Three car garage.  Fenced in
yard.  Wrap-around porch.  Professional landscaping.
    Nice.
    Despite
my excitement to see Addison, I exit my truck slowly.  My heart rate picks up
as I make my way to the front door.  A weird lump forms in my throat, and I
realize I’m nervous.  Unpleasant thoughts start to creep into my brain.  I’ve
only been here about ten seconds, but my subconscious is tapping me on my
shoulder and whispering in my ear.  It says I’m not good enough to be here.
    I
press the doorbell and wait, listening to the chime on the other side of the
door.  Almost immediately, I hear Sam’s bark from somewhere deep inside the
house.  I didn’t notice until now, but I’ve really missed that furry guy, too. 
I glance around the porch absentmindedly and rock back on my heels.  Call me
arrogant, but I expected Addison to be waiting outside, anxious to see me.  I
thought she’d be in my arms as soon as I got out of my truck.  That’s how I
envisioned it, anyway.
    I
press the doorbell again and hear Sam’s bark.  Minutes pass, and the
nervousness I felt in my chest spreads to my stomach.  Why isn’t anyone answering
the door?  There is no way Addison would forget I was coming.  We talked about
it yesterday.
    Immediately,
I pull my phone from my back pocket.  No new messages or missed calls.  I find
Addison’s number and dial it.  I get her voice mail and hang up.  A strange mix
of worry and anger starts to take over.  No one is home, which means she’s with
her family somewhere.  Do her parents despise me so much that they would purposefully
make her leave the house today?
    I
step to my left and peer in the window, cupping my hands around my eyes so I
can see inside.  My eyes search what looks like a den.  Newspaper is spread on
the coffee table, and a glass half full of something sits beside it.  I can see
down a hallway and spot what I think is the entrance to the kitchen.  It’s then
my eyes catch a blur of white fur and realize Samson isn’t in the house.  He’s
in the backyard.
    Quickly
moving off the porch, I head toward the fence gate I saw when I first pulled
in.  I yank the handle, and it’s not locked.  Closing the door behind me, I
yell for the dog.  “Sam?  You back here?”
    Sam
comes barreling around the side of the house, nearly knocking me down when