She had been waiting for this day for weeks, but now that we were here, she was hesitating.

"There are so many boys," she whispered, fiddling nervously with her wrist guard.

I nodded, trying to settle the nerves in my own stomach. She was right; the skate park was riddled with teenagers, all of them of the male persuasion. Jacy's pink helmet, her wrist guards, and her knee pads—they all seemed to stick out like a sore thumb. I took a deep breath and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Guess you gotta show them what a girl can do."

"Will you stay over here... by the cars?"

"I can't come watch?"

"No one else brought their mom."

A cursory glance around revealed yet another shrewd Jacy-observation. There was a noticeable lack of parental units present, and maybe I stood out as badly as her helmet.

"Ok, fine."

She stood at the edge of the concrete for a while, just watching, and I resisted the urge to call out to her. To tell her to go on or tell her to come back—I wasn't sure which. She set her board down and put one foot on it, rolling it along as the big boys swooped around, diving into a big hole and then flinging themselves back out. Sliding along pipes and low walls and bits of curb. Jumping down ramps and hurtling over them, their soft bodies propelled by little rubber wheels and sheer unjustified lunacy.

This looked terrifying.

Jacy skated around the edge of the park, doing a slow lap as the boys whizzed by her. She was better than she put on, zooming around the house like a madwoman for the last three days, leaving little black skid marks all over my floors.

She was only intimidated, and I knew she'd get over it if I let her do her thing without interfering.

A boy rolled up on Jacy, and I stood, ready to jump to her rescue. Seventeen, maybe twenty, and he was certainly going to tell her to get out of the way. Instead, I watched with my mouth hanging open as he knelt beside her, took her bony little ankle in his big hand, and shifted her heel against the back of her board, angling her back foot out to the side. I couldn't hear what he said to her—a couple of kids zooming between us with loud laughs and screaming wheels—but he was still gripping her back ankle and still talking to her earnestly, his other hand making a motion through the air as though he had his arm out a car window, riding the wind.

Jacy nodded, her helmet bobbing enthusiastically, crouching like a runner at the starting gate of a race, her arms out to the side.

Jacy wasn't tall or short. She got the best of both of us, somewhere comfortably in the middle. It was something that she'd done a lot of when she was inside me, fusing cells and making neurons, melding Jake and me into a perfect mix. He had been tall, so imposingly tall, and I've always been so painfully short. Her hair wasn't my light brown or Jake's midnight black—it was the color of expensive dark chocolate. Her eyes weren't his deep onyx or my deep blue; they were calico green and gold. She didn't get his russet skin or my pale white; she was the color of slow-cooked butter. She wasn't loud like him or quiet like me. She wasn't his outgoing, bubbly personality or my quiet introvert.

She didn't like motorcycles, and she didn't like books.

She liked skateboards.

The boy stood, tall and thin, dark brown curls folding the edge of his baseball cap, t-shirt stretched against him as though he'd grown too fast, too quickly to find clothing that fit him right. He got back on his own board, and I expected him to ride away, but instead, he spun his hat backward to see better and crouched beside Jacy, his feet miming hers. I watched him shift his weight onto his back foot, hopping the front wheel of his board across the sidewalk with the tips of his toes. He was still saying things I couldn't hear, and then, quick as a rabbit, he rode a tight circle around her, poised on the back wheels of his board.

My heart thumped a sigh of relief.

He had a nice face.

They talked a bit more before Jacy pushed off, and he watched her intently, calling out "Lean!" as she neared a low wall. She shifted her weight and picked up the front of her board like he'd just taught her, smoothly sailing down the length of the low wall without crashing into it.

A boy with flaming red hair and a face full of freckles nearly took her out as she cleared the end.

"Hey!" The boy watching her yelled. "Watch it, dipshit!" The red-haired boy flipped him off and sped away toward the opposite end of the park.

I cringed. It wasn't the first bad word she'd heard, and it wasn't the first time she'd seen someone flip the bird—she lived with me after all. People drove like idiots, and I had a short fuse for stupidity. I wondered what other colorful phrases she might pick up here and how I was going to explain them to her teacher or to the other aghast mothers at the next birthday party. Right after I told them I'd bought her a skateboard of my own free will.

What was I thinking?

I watched the boy wave Jacy closer and bend at the waist to say something to her. She looked a little glum at first, but she perked up as she listened to him, nodding some more.

He held up his hand, a high five between them.

I kind of hated him for being cool enough to get high fives from her. She'd just rolled her eyes at me last time I tried it.

AN:

Props to my girl, HH. *whispers dramatically* She's the one lone star in my big old sky.

I'll be back tomorrow.

XO

HB