36 · Lucy
The terms of my prison sentence allow me to go to Apple Tree Lane and the Full Loon. Nowhere else. For four weeks, until school starts. I’m okay with it, except that I don’t get to see Hannah. Simon sends texts and leaves voicemail messages while I’m at work: Can’t wait till u can kick my ass at mini golf again. Miss u. Any chance u can bring me a slice of 5 layer chocolate?
He’ll leave for the summer before my sentence is up. There won’t be any more mini-golf. I can’t say that I’ll miss it. Him.
One afternoon, my parents both at work, I take a chance and walk into town for a few books at the used bookstore.
Mom and I used to love coming to the Broken Spine. “We’ll just pop in for a minute,” she’d say, “to see if there’s anything we can’t live without.”
We couldn’t live without a complete set of the Little House books, which she read to me the winter of second grade, or the Betsy-Tacy books, set in a town in southern Minnesota. We couldn’t live without Kneeknock Rise and The Search for Delicious. Of course we couldn’t live without Harry Potter.
After I buy a few books, I step through the open doorway between the Broken Spine and Sweet Pea’s. I love the combination of the musty bookstore and the sugary sweetness of the candy shop.
I stand at the fudge display for a long time. They’ve added new flavors since I was here last—maple bacon and white-chocolate cake batter and salted caramel.
“Hey, Lucy,” Mrs. Stewart says when she sees me at the counter. “What can I get for you?”
I ask for my family’s favorites: peanut butter, rocky road, mint chocolate chip, maple.
I think about the last time I bought fudge for Ben, the week before Trixie died.
“It’s a sign, you know,” she’d said as we left the store to walk back to her house. “That you and Ben both love maple fudge.”
A sign. I laughed and Trixie swatted me on the arm.
“You laugh now,” she said, “but just you wait and see.”
“Sorry,” I tell Mrs. Stewart now, “can you make that two maples instead of the mint chocolate chip?”
I furrow my brow. I think I just bought fudge for Ben. I don’t know why I would buy fudge for someone who’s hurt me. But I do it.
My phone buzzes with a text as I pay. It’s from Simon: Break out of prison today?
How did he know?
What do you mean? I send back.
Why r u at Sweet P’s?;) I’m across the street.
I step outside into the sunshine with my bag of used paperbacks and box of fudge. Simon meets me on the sidewalk and reaches for the bag from the bookstore. His tan is deeper, dark against his Dr Pepper T-shirt, the one he was wearing the first day we met. He smiles, a slow, lazy grin that’s become so familiar the last few weeks. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since South Dakota. He’s still my boyfriend.
I can’t help but think of the extra piece of maple fudge, wrapped in light green tissue.
He reaches out and touches the brim of my Twins baseball cap, pulled low on my forehead. “Your clever disguise isn’t working. I’d recognize you anywhere.”
“What are you doing here?” I try to smile.
“I should ask you that! Sneaking off to buy—what’s in this bag?”
“From the bookstore? Books.”
He opens the bag and pulls out the books. “Wuthering Heights. The House of Mirth. The Awakening. Light summer reading or what?” He slips them back into the bag.
“Well, I have a lot of extra time on my hands now.”
“Yeah,” he says, “sorry about that. What did you buy at Sweet Pea’s?”
“Fudge.”
“Ooh.” He takes the box and sniffs. “Maple? Do I smell maple?”
I grab the box back.
“Whoa, this must be pretty good fudge. Who’s it for?”
“No one. My family.” My words are sharper than I intended, but he must not notice.
“Lucy, I’ve really missed you.”
I nod and reach for my books. “I’ve missed you, too. But I should get going. I need to get back home before anyone else sees me.”
Simon tucks the bag under his arm and reaches for my hand. “I’ll give you a ride, okay?”
No. No, it’s not okay. Not today, when I’ve just bought maple fudge for Ben.
“Oh, no,” I say, “it’s fine. You must have other things you’d rather do.”
“Nope. I want to, Lucy, really. I was headed home anyway.”
He’s so nice about it, so earnest.
“Well,” I say. “I guess.”
That’s when I see him—Ben, coming out of the drugstore, a plastic bag in each fist.
He pauses when he sees us, but only for a second. Without thinking, I drop Simon’s hand.
“Lucy, you okay?” Simon asks, and then, “Oh.”
Ben nods at us and walks around the side of the building to the parking lot.
That’s why I hadn’t noticed the Firebird.
Simon is talking to me, but I have no idea what he’s said. “What?”
“I asked if there’s a reason you don’t want Ben to see us holding hands?” His tone is crisp, but there’s hurt there, too.
I don’t have an answer. There are too many reasons.
But I don’t want to hurt him.
“Oh, shoot.” I reach up on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “There’s someplace else I need to go. Don’t wait.”
“Where? Won’t you get in more trouble if you get caught?”
I ignore that question, too. “Mom brought home some caramel pecan rolls last night. I’ll try to sneak one over later, okay?”
I take the box of fudge from him and walk away before he can say anything else.
I cut through the woods behind Goldilocks to the trail that leads to Sullivan Street Park. It’s safer than walking through town and risking being seen by my mom or someone who’ll tell her they saw me. It’s cooler here under the shade of the trees, but it’s still humid and, with my quick pace, I’m sweating and breathing heavily in no time. I stop at a bench, sit down, and take a long drink from my water bottle with my eyes closed.
When I open them again, I see a stack of rocks on the shore at the base of a birch tree—the largest one at the bottom the size of a bowling ball. I think about how we tried to stack rocks at Lake Superior last year, how my towers and Trixie’s toppled and we laughed, but Ben—Ben was so careful and methodical about it, so intent on achieving balance where there should be none.
I could stay here at the park for the rest of the day, at home among the trees, a cool breeze coming off the lake. But I’ve wasted too much time here, and I’m worried that Dad will get home before I do. I pull my cap down lower on my forehead, cross the parking lot, and head for home.