1
Ashleigh
The first time I met Marc Campbell I was ten and he was twelve.
His was a sad story with a pretty happy outcome. At least I thought so.
His mom was going into rehab for drug addiction and Child Protective Services had removed him from the home. He’d been in foster care for a month until his mom had reached out to her brother, George, to step in and raise Marc until she could get better.
George, who worked for my father, was bringing him here to live on the estate. See, like I said, a happy outcome. And yes, I knew it was weird to live on an estate instead of in a regular house. It’s because my dad was rich. I didn’t think about that too often except for when I had to say things like,I live on an estate.
Ours was one of the biggest properties in Harborview, New Jersey, which was about an hour south of New York and not too far from the coast.
Anyway, today was the day George had gone to pick up Marc from his foster family.
I sat on the porch overlooking the long driveway and scratched my knee as I waited for the car to roll up.
My dad wasn’t here. He was at work, I supposed, because that’s where he usually was. So it was just me here to greet them. George, Marc’s uncle, was my only friend on the estate so it was important to me for him to know I supported him and would be nice to his nephew.
It was probably another weird thing that my only friend was a grown man in his fifties. But George not only took care of the house, my dad’s cars and all the cooking, he also took care of me.
Did I mention that Marc was only twelve! Which wasn’t even that much older than me. He might want to play and stuff. Things George didn’t do.
I remember when George heard about what had happened to his sister and his nephew. He’d gotten really quiet. Nothing I did would make him smile or laugh. I could tell he was sad. Maybe even a little guilty, too. He didn’t hesitate to ask my dad if it was okay for Marc to come live with him at the carriage house.
He asked me first, of course, and I said yes right away.
George would make it all right. George made everything all right. He was kind and super cool for an old guy. I knew eventually he would win Marc over. It was just going to take Marc time to adjust to his new home. That’s what George said. That I would have to give Marc some space and time because of what he’d been through with his mom.
I bent down to scratch the mosquito bite on my knee again, even though I knew it was only making it worse. I jumped up when I heard the engine of a car and, a second later, George was pulling up to the house in the big, black Mercedes SUV, one of five cars my dad kept on the estate.
Waving my hand, maybe a little too excitedly given this was mostly a sad day, I waited as George, then Marc, got out of the car.
“Hi, George!” I called.
“Hey there, Peanut,” he said.
Marc was wearing a suit. George had said the plan was to let him visit with his mother before coming to the estate. He must have wanted to look his best for her. Except as soon as he was out of the car, he started pulling his coat off. His tie was already loosened, and his dark blonde hair looked as if he’d been running his hand through it, as chunks of it fell into his eyes.
“Hi. I’m Ashleigh,” I said.
He rolled his eyes at me just as George walked up behind him. “Marc, we talked about this.”
I could see Marc’s face turn red and I didn’t like the way he was looking at me. Like he hated me already.
I didn’t have friends my age because I didn’t go to school. I had tutors because my father didn’t trust the public or private school systems to deal with my condition. So I was eager to make a good impression with someone close to my age who would be living on the estate. But it felt like he’d already made up his mind.
He pushed a lock of hair off his forehead and I could see his eyes were brown.
“Hey,” he said.
“Peanut, why don’t you show Marc around the grounds? I’ll take your coat and tie, son, then go fix us something to eat.”
George walked inside the main house, even as Marc glared at him the whole way. I tried to take Marc’s hand to get his attention, but he jerked it away.
“Don’t touch me,” he snapped.
“Okay. Come with me,” I said, pretending he didn’t already hate me. I started to walk around the main house, surprised he was following me. I didn’t bother to point out the main house. It was pretty big, so it was obvious. But as we followed the stone walkway around it, I did stop and point out the pool.
