Guardian (The Guardian Trilogy) by Sara Mack Page B

course!”
    “Thanks
for having us,” my mother smiles at her.  “Where would you like the food?”
    “Oh, I’ll
take it,” Mrs. Randall says, taking the salad.  “Go ahead and make yourselves
comfortable.  Dan’s firing up the grill as we speak.  There are drinks at the
bar,” she nods toward the patio.
    “Thanks,”
we all say.
    Mrs.
Randall gets distracted as more guests arrive and starts to walk away.  “I’ll
be busy until the food’s ready, but I hope we get a chance to catch up!” she
says over her shoulder.
    We head
to the bar.  I make things easy and grab a bottle of lemonade.  I spy a
grouping of empty chairs and head that way.  “I’ll be over there,” I tell Shel.
    I plop
down in one of the lounges and prop my feet up.  The sun is shining and it
warms me.  I take a drink of lemonade and close my eyes.  I could get used to
this minus all these people.
    I sense
Shel arrive and sit down on the lounge next to me.  I open my eyes and squint
at her.  “What’d you get?”
    “Margarita.”
    We sit
in the sun, sipping our drinks.  It’s a fun and friendly atmosphere, although I
don’t recognize many people.  I notice my parents talking with someone across
the yard by the fire pit.  Soon I start to smell meat cooking on the grill and
my stomach growls.
    “Whoa! 
Was that you?” Shel asks.
    I pat
my belly.  “Yep.”
    Within
minutes Shel’s stomach growls just as loud.  We burst out laughing.
    “What’s
so funny?” Matt asks as he walks up behind us.
    “Our
stomachs are talking to each other,” Shel explains and swings her feet off the
lounge so he can sit.
    “That
looks good,” he says to Shel and takes her drink from her hand.  “What is it?”
he asks as he tastes it.
    “Margarita. 
A strong one.  Who’s your bartender?”
    Matt
laughs.  “My uncle Al.  You might want to take it easy with those.”  He hands
Shel’s drink back to her and looks at me.  “What have you got?”
    I hold
up my bottle.  “Lemonade, straight up.”
    “Ah. 
Living on the edge, I see,” he smiles.
    I
notice people making their way toward the tent with plates.  “Must be time to
eat,” I say and stand.  “I’m starving.”
    Shel
looks at me with wide eyes.  “Really?”
    I give
her an exasperated look.  “Yes, really.”
    “I’m
starving too,” Matt says.  “Let’s go before everything’s gone.”
    We make
our way to the buffet table and fill our plates.  We return to the lounges to
eat instead of heading to the crowded tent.  Shel and Matt carry on effortless
conversation as usual; I concentrate on my barbeque ribs.  They’re delicious.
    After
we finish, Shel gets another margarita.  She and Matt decide to play a game of
horseshoes with a couple of Matt’s cousins while I watch from a nearby hammock. 
Everyone is so carefree; it feels nice to be taking part in it, albeit a small
part.  I think of James and how much fun we would have had here.  At first I
smile, but then my face falls.  I try to stop it, but I miss him so much.
    As dusk
falls, a fire is lit in the fire pit.  I wander over to make a quick s’more.  Sitting
down on one of the benches, I skewer my marshmallow, and hold it over the
fire.  Once it’s good and crispy, I pull it off the stick by squashing it
between two graham crackers and pulling.  I keep the chocolate separate, taking
a bite of it and then a bite of the marshmallow/graham cracker combo.  The
chocolate doesn’t melt all over your fingers this way.
    “I
thought I was the only one who did that,” someone says as he takes a seat
beside me.  I look over to see some guy I don’t know.
    I scoot
over to give him some room.  “It’s less messy,” I shrug.
    He
skewers his marshmallow and begins the same process.  “I’m Dane,” he introduces
himself and shifts his marshmallow stick to his left hand to offer me a
handshake.  “You are?”
    “Emma,”
I shake his hand tentatively.
    “How do
you know the