Derrick followed Macy down into the meadow.

Macy sat down in the icy grass and he joined her as she began, “I used to come out here all the time with my friends. We’d just hang out here in the grass, sharing fun memories.” Macy’s face altered into a grimace. “Maybe I shouldn’t tell you this. Yep, I’ll save it for later. So tell me about yourself.”

Derrick gazed at her and her face was contorted into some kind of silent pain, but he still began, “Well, I go to that stupid rich private school at the end of the street. Uh I love the outdoors and…um I uh write.”

Macy asked, “You write? Oh you have to bring me something tomorrow. You’ll be here right?”

Derrick nodded and continued, “So what about you? What school do you go to?”

Macy murmured, “I uh go to your school. I’ve just uh never seen you?” It came out like a question. “I like to paint. Everything in the buildings is my work.”

Derrick bellowed, “Whoa, you painted those murals?” Macy nodded, but the pained look hadn’t left her blue eyes.