farm, full of big-eyed animals and pumpkin patches, rather than a couple rickety outbuildings, falling into utter disarray?
I’m sorry that Grammy died for a lot of reasons—including the fact that I really loved her—but whether this sounds selfish or not, I must say that I’m sorriest for me.
Like, what am I even supposed to do here today? This is Saturday, for heaven’s sake. Back home, I’d be out shopping with my BFF Whitney, or planning my costume for the big Halloween bash that I was sure to have been invited to at Aaron Rydell’s house. But instead, I’m stuck here, in this claustrophobic excuse for a house, with rooms so small you can hardly breathe in them, and—
“Harper?” Mom snaps her fingers in front of my eyes. “What in the world are you daydreaming about? Didn’t you hear what Uncle Lenny just asked you?”
I stare at her, then down at the biscuit in my hand, about to drip peach jelly onto my jeggings. I tip it upright quickly, lick the sticky jelly from my fingers, and turn to my uncle. “No, I’m sorry. I was… thinking .”
Uncle Lenny assesses me, reaching one hand beneath the table to acknowledge Grammy’s old cat, Muffin, who’s brushing against his ankles. “About how much you wish you hadn’t left Chicago?” he probes.
His flinty eyes are emotionless, and I can’t tell whether or not I detect a note of humor, even sympathy, in his voice. It’s funny how everyone from out of town calls the suburbs “Chicago.”
“Ummm,” I hedge, dabbing my lips with a napkin. I stare at it intently, at the peach jelly and lip gloss smudge I’ve left.
Uncle Lenny laughs. “You don’t have to lie, Harper. But you’ll get used to it here, I promise you. I was just suggesting that you and your brother take Granddad’s old car and drive into town. I’ve got my pick-up here for errands, and I hear this weekend’s the annual Autumn Fest. Brings out a lot of people; maybe you’ ll even meet someone your age.”
Uncle Lenny’s trying to be understanding, and I’m touched. At the same time, I’m not exactly crazy about the idea of attending some Hick Town event. Then again, what alternative do I have? I could sit in my room and read all day, I guess….
I glance over at Chase. He’s just ended his phone call with Monica, and now he slides off the kitchen counter, stretching his arms. His hoodie pulls across his torso, and I notice how filled-out he’s gotten lately. It’s weird to see stuff like that happening to your brother.
I can tell he heard what Uncle Lenny said to me. “You want to go into town?” I ask. I’ll take my cue from him.
Chase shrugs, tucking his cell into the back pocket of his jeans. “Didn’t have any other plans,” he says. That confirms it.
Chase and I don’t have much of a problem finding our way from Granddad’s farm to the small downtown area of Oak Leaf.
“What a stupid name for a town,” Chase says, pulling into a parking space in front of a pretty sad-looking little bank and trust. “Oak Leaf. It’s like an afterthought or something.”
“Probably was,” I agree. “I mean, look at this place.” We get out of Granddad’s rusty Buick, and I make a sweeping gesture with my arms.
Downtown Oak Leaf encompasses about one-and-a-half block lengths of shoddy-looking establishments: two diners, a hokey coffee shop (What? No Starbucks?), several novelty shops, an absolutely ancient five-and-dime, a pharmacy, a bakery, a puny library, the bank and trust, a gas station, the hardware store where Uncle Lenny works, and a small food mart. The whole place looks stuck back in the 1970’s. It’s an out-of-body experience .
Across the street from where we parked is a large open park, filled with white tents and an assortment of food vendors and stands selling homemade kettle corn and bakery goods. A (very bad) local rock band jams on a makeshift stage in one of the
I’m sorry that Grammy died for a lot of reasons—including the fact that I really loved her—but whether this sounds selfish or not, I must say that I’m sorriest for me.
Like, what am I even supposed to do here today? This is Saturday, for heaven’s sake. Back home, I’d be out shopping with my BFF Whitney, or planning my costume for the big Halloween bash that I was sure to have been invited to at Aaron Rydell’s house. But instead, I’m stuck here, in this claustrophobic excuse for a house, with rooms so small you can hardly breathe in them, and—
“Harper?” Mom snaps her fingers in front of my eyes. “What in the world are you daydreaming about? Didn’t you hear what Uncle Lenny just asked you?”
I stare at her, then down at the biscuit in my hand, about to drip peach jelly onto my jeggings. I tip it upright quickly, lick the sticky jelly from my fingers, and turn to my uncle. “No, I’m sorry. I was… thinking .”
Uncle Lenny assesses me, reaching one hand beneath the table to acknowledge Grammy’s old cat, Muffin, who’s brushing against his ankles. “About how much you wish you hadn’t left Chicago?” he probes.
His flinty eyes are emotionless, and I can’t tell whether or not I detect a note of humor, even sympathy, in his voice. It’s funny how everyone from out of town calls the suburbs “Chicago.”
“Ummm,” I hedge, dabbing my lips with a napkin. I stare at it intently, at the peach jelly and lip gloss smudge I’ve left.
Uncle Lenny laughs. “You don’t have to lie, Harper. But you’ll get used to it here, I promise you. I was just suggesting that you and your brother take Granddad’s old car and drive into town. I’ve got my pick-up here for errands, and I hear this weekend’s the annual Autumn Fest. Brings out a lot of people; maybe you’ ll even meet someone your age.”
Uncle Lenny’s trying to be understanding, and I’m touched. At the same time, I’m not exactly crazy about the idea of attending some Hick Town event. Then again, what alternative do I have? I could sit in my room and read all day, I guess….
I glance over at Chase. He’s just ended his phone call with Monica, and now he slides off the kitchen counter, stretching his arms. His hoodie pulls across his torso, and I notice how filled-out he’s gotten lately. It’s weird to see stuff like that happening to your brother.
I can tell he heard what Uncle Lenny said to me. “You want to go into town?” I ask. I’ll take my cue from him.
Chase shrugs, tucking his cell into the back pocket of his jeans. “Didn’t have any other plans,” he says. That confirms it.
Chase and I don’t have much of a problem finding our way from Granddad’s farm to the small downtown area of Oak Leaf.
“What a stupid name for a town,” Chase says, pulling into a parking space in front of a pretty sad-looking little bank and trust. “Oak Leaf. It’s like an afterthought or something.”
“Probably was,” I agree. “I mean, look at this place.” We get out of Granddad’s rusty Buick, and I make a sweeping gesture with my arms.
Downtown Oak Leaf encompasses about one-and-a-half block lengths of shoddy-looking establishments: two diners, a hokey coffee shop (What? No Starbucks?), several novelty shops, an absolutely ancient five-and-dime, a pharmacy, a bakery, a puny library, the bank and trust, a gas station, the hardware store where Uncle Lenny works, and a small food mart. The whole place looks stuck back in the 1970’s. It’s an out-of-body experience .
Across the street from where we parked is a large open park, filled with white tents and an assortment of food vendors and stands selling homemade kettle corn and bakery goods. A (very bad) local rock band jams on a makeshift stage in one of the
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