Seers by Kristine Bowe

feel him looking at me. And suddenly my knees are Jell-o-ey.
Play it off. Play it off.
    “Leesie …”
    Why does my name sound so good when he says it?
    “Leesie.”
    This time I turn my head and raise my chin slightly. I let him have a view of my face for a second before I lift my eyes to meet his.
There you go. Make him wait.
    I am making him wait, but I am also thinking of how to answer. I can’t say, “What?” That’s standoffish and slightly rude. I don’t want him to change his mind if he wants to talk to me about something. I can’t say, “Yes?” That is too passive and dumb-girlish. In the end I go with the only response that makes sense to me. A play for a play. This is my inning after all.
    “Luke,” I say. I see his chest rise slightly as he watches me say his name. He sucks in air and clenches his jaw.
    This is now the second time we are deadlocked in a staring contest, only this time we have uttered each other’s name. What is this thing? He’s not doing anything. He’s not saying anything. He isn’t making a face. He isn’t smiling or smirking; he’s just looking at me. Into my eyes.
    In an instant I can almost see him change his mind about talking to me. He’s lost somewhere in the moment. His eyes dance over my face, and then his serious stare becomes playful.
    “Leesie,” he says again. He turns the corners of his mouth up a bit.
    “Luke,” I raise my eyebrows slightly and smirk. I leave my lips parted.
    “Have fun on the farm today.”
    “I will, thanks.”
    “Leesie!” Daisy interrupts. “You ready for this? I’m so glad you’re coming!” She bounds over to the car. Eri is a step behind.
    Luke and I break our gaze and turn toward the girls. Eri mouths something to Luke that I can’t catch. I look back at Luke in time to see him shake his head no.
    No? No, what? Was he supposed to tell me something?
    “I’ll see you ladies later.” Luke gives a general wave and turns away. I wait to see if he’ll brush past me. You know, the whole accidentally-on-purpose-touching guys do that they don’t think girls know about. But nothing. Not even an over-the-shoulder look as he walks away. I stare after him for a minute until reality comes back to me. In my reality, I don’t watch boys walk away or hope for a second look or a random brush-against. No. That’s their job. I hate how I have to keep reminding myself of my own rules. This guy is jumbling everything up.
    “Well, get in already! We’re missing the prime time! Perfect weather, perfect breeze, nice and sunny—let’s go!”
    Daisy’s enthusiasm is infectious, and by the time we pull out of the parking lot, I am ready for this trip. I can’t wait to see the fields, the riding ring, the barn, and the pastures.
    Saanan Stables is only a ten-minute drive south. I love how within minutes of driving down the main road out of Preston, we’re on full-blown country roads. No sidewalks, no streetlights. Open fields for miles. The only crop we pass that I can name is corn, but the fields are filled with so much green that I’m sure there isn’t a salad ingredient missing out here. We slow down through a blinking yellow light. There isn’t even enough traffic to warrant an operating traffic light. The only time we have a blinking light in the city is when there’s a power failure or an accident, and the blinking light usually results in another accident or at least a lot of beeping and profanity.
    “Here we are!” Daisy announces as we make a right onto a dirt driveway. It winds us past a house and a vegetable garden and down to an unpainted barn with the words
Saanan Stables
etched into the wood above the double doors. One of the doors is open, and inside I see the stalls, some with horses’ heads poking out of them. As I get out of the car, I take a deep breath. Deeper than I have in a long time. And it smells good. The way the manure and alfalfa mix together to make a smell that screams nature is something I could never