Chapter Thirty
Lucy
Lucy wiped a shaking hand across her brow as soon as the door closed. The rational part of herself—the part she almost never listened to, usually to her regret—was telling her that no matter how she felt right now, she and Dylan were too different to ever work out for long. That ending it today was for the best, and would save some pain later.
The heart-led part of her was sobbing its eyes out.
She sighed and tried to finish embroidering the bear on the edge of the skirt she was working on. It was toddler size and perfect for a fifties sock hop costume. If she and Serena failed with their protest today, plan B was to raise money to help Serena’s family move the chickens to private, free-range farms. She probably wouldn’t make enough, but Lucy had gathered up every piece of work she had that wasn’t spoken for and started posting it online in one of those charitable auction sites. If by some miracle the town chose to grant Serena’s farm an exception, they could use the money to build misters around the pens to keep the birds cooler in the summer.
Serena had texted earlier to check on her, and Lucy had insisted she was fine. But when her mom dismissed her quilting class and came back, asking, “So?” in a soft tone, Lucy put the skirt down and covered her face with her hands.
“Oh, honey.” Her mom’s wrapped her arms around Lucy’s shoulders. “You know, it looked like he ditched camp to come see you. That has to count for something.”
“Not enough.” Her words came out muffled and choked. “He feels bad now, but he’s never going to see me the same way. I’m not enough. What he’s looking for, no girl can fix.”
“People say very stupid things when they’re hurt.” Mom bent to kiss the top of her head. “But I’ll pick up Otis today and drive him tomorrow, if you want.”
Lucy dropped her hands and nodded. “Thanks.”
The front bell dinged, and Mom bustled out to tend to the customer. Lucy picked up the skirt a third time, trying to drown out the hurt with mind-absorbing detail work. Put the needle into the fabric, pull it through, repeat, repeat, repeat.
And it worked, until the needle slipped free and jabbed her in the thumb. Lucy stuck it in her mouth to staunch the bleeding and went to the bathroom. The hole was pretty deep, but it would mend. Kind of like the hole in her heart. She was hurt, but she’d mend.
She had to.
By the time Mom returned with Otis, the bear skirt was done, and Lucy was sewing a beak onto a yellow duck made with fuzzy thread and feathers. This one was a baby’s bathrobe, made of soft, butter-colored terrycloth. Mom looked at it and chuckled. “That’s cute enough to make me want another baby.”
“No,” Otis and Lucy said together. Lucy, because she remembered how sick her mother had been with Otis. Otis, probably because he was too used to being the baby himself. Lucy smiled at him. “How was camp?”
Otis glowered. “I yelled at Coach Dylan, then his Coach came over and sent him home. Maybe he was in trouble. He should be in trouble. No one messes with my sister.”
Otis’s chest was puffed out, and Lucy bit her lip to keep from chuckling…or crying. Or both. “Thanks for defending my honor.”
Otis gave her a regal nod and went to the counter to microwave some chicken nuggets. Mom watched him go. “He’s growing up. And he’s very overprotective of you.”
“He is. I’m just glad he’s not mad at me for attempting to go out with Dylan.” Lucy sighed. “I have plans with Serena this evening. Is that okay?”
“Definitely. You need friend-time.”
Mom said it so warmly Lucy instantly felt guilty. If they got arrested, how would Mom feel? Hopefully, she’d see it was for a good cause.
Or she might ground Lucy for a year. At least that way she wouldn’t have to worry about seeing Dylan again.
Not much of a bright side.
“You’re sure about this?” Serena asked, scanning the street in front of Town Hall. It wasn’t very busy, but it would be soon. The meeting started in forty-five minutes.
“Yes.” As the afternoon had worn on, Lucy’s frustration and anger over…well, everything, had hit the boiling point. She was spoiling for a fight, and this one might actually do some good. “Let’s go.”
They hauled the large crates full of straw out of the back of Lucy’s Jeep and lugged them over to the sidewalk right by the stairs leading up to the Town Hall building. Signs on sticks rested in the straw, ready to be held up. She and Serena wore custom T-shirts—embroidered, of course—that said “Save Our Chicks” with a baby chick peeking out of a hatched egg.
Lucy spread a towel onto part of the straw and sat down in her “nest.” The idea was to have the boxes look like nesting stations in a hen house. They’d spray painted things onto the wood like, “Vote for Chicken” and “Got Eggs? We Do.” The signs, which Serena had made up, both said, “Save the Chickens. Vote Free Range!”
Slowly, people started coming down the sidewalk as Lucy and Serena chanted, “Save our chicks! Save our chicks!” A lot of people chuckled at the display, and a few nodded. One old lady with a cane said, “Are you from Blake farm? I love your eggs. Best in town.”
Serena had given her a brilliant smile. “Yes, they are. But if the town closes us down, you won’t be able to buy them anymore. They’re voting tonight on whether or not we can stay.”
“Closes you down? That’s ridiculous.” The older lady started for the stairs. “I’m going in to find out what’s what.”
And older gentleman followed her, tipping a worn-out fedora.
But not everyone was supportive. As the meeting time grew closer, some council members eyed them with distaste, and an aide came out to hassle them. The woman couldn’t have been more than twenty-three, dressed in a pencil skirt and black heels. “Girls, do you have a permit? If you don’t, you’ll need to move on.”
Lucy sat up straighter. “You’re about ten minutes older than I am. Where do you get off calling us ‘girls’?”
The woman’s eyes narrowed. “I’m going to ask you again. Where’s your permit?”
“What permit?” Serena asked, angry. “This is free speech.”
“Yes, but you need a permit, even if it’s a peaceful protest.” The woman crossed her arms. “Are you going to go?”
“Nope.” Lucy waved her sign at the woman. “We’re here to save our chickens. You can’t make us go.”
“We’ll see about that.”
The woman click-clacked off in her heels, and Lucy craned her head to watch her. The mayor was standing just inside the door, watching them.
“Do we really need a permit?” Serena asked, worried.
“No idea. We’ll probably get a ticket, but we knew that already.” Lucy sighed. “Let’s keep this up as long as we can.”
They shouted and waved their signs as more people went into the Town Hall building. When Serena’s dad appeared, he groaned. “What are you two doing?”
“Peaceful protest, Dad,” Serena said. “You have your part, we have ours.”
He looked at both of them. “This might be taking things too far.”
“You know us, Mr. Blake. If there’s a line, we’re on the wrong side of it.” Lucy grinned. “Now go in there and give them a scolding. We’ve got your back.”
Mr. Blake tugged at his bow tie, his suit looking all wrong on him. “Stay out of trouble. I’ll be back in a bit.”
Lucy saluted him as he walked up the stairs, then went back to chanting with Serena. They’d slowly gained a crowd, mostly people out for dinner downtown and not interested in the meeting. The sidewalk was full, and a few people were standing on the Town Hall stairs to have a better look.
Because they couldn’t see around all the people, Lucy didn’t notice the police officers until they’d pushed their way into the crowd. Okay, this was it, then. They were about to be cited and sent home. Ms. Pencil Skirt must’ve called them.
“Ladies, we’re going to have to ask you to leave,” the first officer said. “You’re blocking the sidewalk.”
“We aren’t,” Lucy said, her voice trembling. “The crowd happens to be, but they aren’t with us.”
The second officer, younger and probably new, said, “Doesn’t matter. You’re violating rules of peaceful protest because you’re blocking the sidewalk. Get up.”
The first officer gave him a flat look before turning back to Lucy. “Come on now. Your parents wouldn’t want you to be stirring up trouble. You look like good girls. Clear the area, and let’s call it a night.”
Good girls? That made them sound like a pair of spaniels. Lucy’s frown deepened. She’d been so angry all day her filters had been turned off. Bad timing, but she couldn’t make herself care. “No.”
“No?” The officer’s eyebrows rose. He reached for his citation pad. “The ticket for protesting without a permit is five-hundred dollars, young lady.”
“Yes, but we’re exercising our First Amendment right to speak against the town government. They’re going to make the farm close.” Lucy stood, her arms crossed over her chest. “It’s not fair.”
“You’re breaking the law,” the second officer said, taking a step toward her.
“Hey, now,” a woman in the crowd called. “I’m recording this. Better watch out, Officer Friendly.”
The younger cop scowled and held his ground. “Let’s go. You know the rules. We’re here to make sure you follow them.”
Serena got up and started packing up her crate, but Lucy didn’t budge. She’d had enough. “And what does following those rules get us? Seeing my friend’s chickens shipped off to some butcher’s farm to live in tiny cages and never see the sun? I love those chickens. They’re sweet and they’re happy where they are. The farm is barely inside town lines, and they don’t have any next-door neighbors. This new ordinance is silly.”
“Lu,” Serena said, urgent. “Let it go. We’ve done what we came for.”
Tears welled in Lucy’s eyes. She couldn’t give up. “Fine.” She raised her voice. “Everyone here? Since we have to leave, go inside and tell the council to let the farm stay.”
She hopped out of her crate, leaving it on the sidewalk, too angry and sad to pick it up. Lucy kept walking until a hand caught her arm. She stared up at the younger cop, surprised he’d grab her like that. “You can’t leave the crate. Pick it up.”
“But…but you asked me to go.” At the edge of Lucy’s vision, Serena stood on the sidewalk, looking worried. Was this the part where she got Tasered or something?
“I’ve got her crate,” a man said, a complete stranger. He was about her dad’s age, and he smiled at her. “And my wife went inside to petition for the farm.”
The older cop came over. “Let go of her, Simons. Young lady, take this.” It was a ticket. The officer frowned, almost apologetic. “The mayor insists that we cite you.”
Lucy took the ticket with shaking hands, keeping an eye on the younger cop. That guy needed to change professions. She stared at it in confusion. “Littering?”
“He said to cite you without saying for what. I took that to mean it was up for interpretation. Run along home, now.” The cop winked at her, then turned to Simons. “Let’s go. Our shift’s about over.”
They turned to go, and Lucy glanced at the ticket again—it was for fifty dollars. Not five hundred. She snorted. “Well played, sir. Well played.”
Once the man helped Serena load the crates into the Jeep, Lucy sagged against the tailgate. “Not sure if we did any good.”
Serena pulled her into a hug. “Whether it worked or not, thank you. I was scared you were going to be arrested, though.”
“Me, too.” She shuddered. “That Simons needs to find a new job.”
“I think his partner will straighten him out.” Serena let Lucy go and looked toward Town Hall. “I wish we knew what was going on.”
Lucy rolled her neck and bent to stretch her back. The tension from her run-in with the cops had knotted her muscles. “We could go in.”
She laughed. “No. We might get arrested for real if we set foot in that building.”
“Then we’ll hang out here until your dad comes.” Lucy went and rummaged in the back seat, returning with two bottles of water.
“Now that the excitement is over, are you going to tell me?” Serena asked between gulps. “Did Dylan say anything about his behavior last night, or are you two ignoring each other?”
“He came by, supposedly to apologize, but it’s over.” She forced a brave smile. “I’m good, though. It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not.” Serena sighed. “It’s really not.”
She didn’t press for more answers, and Lucy was grateful. If she was going to worry, it needed to be about things that counted: chickens, her dad, her mom’s health, and whether or not her auction would be enough.
Her heart didn’t need to make room for anything else right now. No matter how much it ached.