He motions for me to follow him, then he starts running.

He runs along the tree line, then darts inside and disappears. I can’t see where he went.

I should feel afraid. A boy I barely know leading me who knows where. But my own words come back to me. Eventually, you have to trust someone.

In my world, trusting someone can get you killed.

But I don’t feel afraid.

With Jackson, I feel safe.

I jog a little more and see a break in the small tree line. There’s a little path with a bridge over the tiny stream, but I still don’t see Jackson. I walk slowly now, looking around. The little batch of trees is only about ten feet wide. It seems to split two rows of houses; their backyards aren’t visible to each other only because of this little forest.

A dog barks, but I pay no attention. Right now I’m not in the burbs. I’m in my own mini Central Park.

Inside the batch of trees, there’s a tiny clearing with two chairs and a log on its side. Sprinkled around the area are cans of soda and beer, an empty bottle that looks to have once been filled with Jack, and a couple of cigarette butts.

Did Jackson take me to his secret party spot?

Does Jackson really have a party spot?

I walk over the little wooden bridge, and then I see him standing next to a tree, waiting for me, a playful smile on his face.

“What did you want to show me?”

He smiles. “My favorite spot.”

I turn back to the clearing full of beer bottles. Not as glamorous as I’d imagine Jackson would be into, but…

“Oh, not there,” he says, following my gaze. “Some of the kids in the neighborhood meet up here sometimes, but my spot is a bit farther down.”

“Your spot, huh?”

He straightens his shoulders. “Yeah. It’s mine. I claimed it when I was seven.”

He climbs back down into the stream by stepping on some big rocks. It’s almost like he has the path memorized.

“So you did grow up here?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I was just wondering, you know, if we would have played together as kids if…”

He blinks. “I didn’t know you grew up here.”

I nod. “My parents didn’t let me out much.”

I was only ever allowed in my backyard. They didn’t even trust my friends’ parents to watch me. Sometimes me and Lo, my only friend my age, played back there, climbing the one big tree and swinging from the play set. But as we got older, that just wasn’t enough. We both wanted more, except I wasn’t allowed any more.

So I had to find new ways to live.

Ways they couldn’t keep me from trying.

I follow Jackson down into the little stream, slowly and carefully stepping on the stones. One of them wobbles beneath me, and I almost fall in, but Jackson takes my hand and keeps me steady. He won’t let me fall.

When we come off the stream, Jackson takes me to a big rock on the bank. Above us is a particularly big tree with branches that hang down just a little. It looks almost like a weeping willow, but the leaves don’t hang down that far.

“Is this your tree?” I ask.

He nods. “You can get to it through the trees, but I figured it was better to take the scenic route with you.”

“Yeah, thanks, I could use a bath.” I lean down and touch the cold water with my fingertips, then flick it at him. He tries to cover his face with his arms. He looks at me like he’s ready to throw a slew of curse words at me, then laughs. “I’ll remember that.”

I smile and join him on the rock. I look around at the trees and the gently flowing water.

I stand and walk back to the tree with saggy branches. I grab on to one of the limbs, like I’m going to climb.

“Want to go up?” he asks me.

I look through the branches and notice a few pieces of wood nailed to the bark leading to a tiny little makeshift tree house.

When I say makeshift, I mean it looks like a death trap. Boards haphazardly joined together, none of them lined up, everything askew. I mean, it looks like I made it. Old, uneven wood and rusted nails.

“Is that thing even safe?”

Jackson smiles. “It’s nicer than it looks. You’ll see.” He hops over the bank of the stream and joins me by the tree. “But you have to get onto that first branch to make it to the ladder. Think you can handle it?”

I shake my head in disbelief. I can’t believe I’m going to do this, but I can’t say no to a challenge.

I take a jump and hang on to the branch. I swing my feet up to it, impressively ungraceful, and cling to it however I can. I pull my up body up and awkwardly am able to twist so I’m sitting on top of the branch. It shakes beneath me.

“You need practice,” Jackson says.

I look at my scraped-up arms. “I’m not bleeding. I call that a success.”

I stand on the branch and test out the ladder. This isn’t going to be fun, but I don’t let myself second-guess it. I’m already this far.

While I’m climbing the boards, trying to keep myself from shaking, reminding myself not to look down, Jackson easily pulls himself into the tree with just one quick jump and makes it all the way up to the tree house without using the ladder at all.

I pause to watch him. He makes it look so easy it’s crazy.

“Cheater,” I say when I finally reach the bottom of the tree house and pull myself up.

“How am I cheating?”

“You’ve climbed this tree too many times.”

He laughs, and I roll my eyes.

The tree house is like four feet wide. Just enough for a little bookshelf full of junk and a couple of beanbag chairs. Technically, you’d be hard-pressed to call it a house. It doesn’t even have walls. There are wood beams for a floor and a small plastic sheet he can pull out as a canopy, I guess in case it rains.

“See? Not everything is as it seems.”

I smile. “Yeah, this tree house definitely isn’t trying too hard.”

“Hey!” he says. “This is my house. I built it with my own two hands. You think you can do better?”

I shrug. He’s joking, but I can tell he’s also serious. “Jackson.”

“Yeah?”

“I think it looks great.”

He rocks his head back and forth, like he’s deciding whether to accept my sort of apology, but the smile on his face tells me he’s just giving me a hard time. “Okay,” he finally says.

He flops down on the beanbag chair and pats the spot next to him.

I pause for a beat, then sit next to him, my arm brushing his as I do.

Thanks to the lack of walls and all, there’s actually a pretty good view. You can see a baseball field not too far out and the big blue sky.

For a while we sit there, watching the clouds roll by, a slight breeze trickling in and blowing my hair back just slightly.

“Anna?” Jackson asks lightly.

I blink, his seriousness taking me by surprise.

I look into his kind hazel eyes, which are a bit closer than I’m used to in this tiny space. I wish I knew more about him and what those eyes have seen.

But that would mean him knowing more about me and what I’ve seen… I don’t even want to know the things I’ve seen. I definitely don’t want him to.

Now he’s looking at me. At my mouth. And suddenly I find it very hard to do anything but feel an excited anticipation.

For a second, I think he might kiss me.

For a second, I want him to.

I lean toward him, hoping he’ll meet me, ready for it to happen, when he instead asks me something I didn’t expect.

“What happened to you?” he says lightly, looking down at his hands like he’s afraid of my reaction.

My stomach drops, and I look away. I was kind of hoping to avoid this conversation…like forever. “What do you mean?”

“Well, we said we needed to get to know each other…for the project, I mean.”

My eyebrows pull up, and I look away, unsure of how I should be feeling about this right now.

“I don’t mean to pry. It’s your business, it’s just… I’m curious about you.”

I nod but won’t look him in the eyes anymore. “What do you want to know?” I force myself to say.