anyway.”
Boone let out a quick sigh of relief. “That’s good to know.”
Cleo grinned in the rearview mirror. “I was hoping maybe you could play some songs for us. The girls ain’t ever heard you play. You bring your banjo?”
“Nope,” Boone clipped. He chewed on his bottom lip, the same way Mama does when she’s nervous. “Honestly, I don’t know if I’ll ever play that banjo again. Every good love song I played came to me because of her . Now they’re all ruined.”
Mama turned around and patted Boone’s knee. “I’m sorry, sweetie.” She said it the same way she talks to us when we’re hurt or sick or sad.
Aunt Cleo wasn’t quite as comforting as Mama.
“Boone!” Cleo hollered. “Stop being so dramatic. Holly, don’t baby him. If he’s a real musician, then he’ll find a new song. A better song. It’s time to face the world again! Ain’t that right, girls?”
“Cleo’s right,” I said quietly. I patted his shoulder. “You’ll find a better song.”
Frannie Jo lifted her arms up toward heaven, like she was about to shout “Hallelujah.” “Felicity can help you! She catches poems for me! She sees words on people sometimes.”
I shook my head at Frannie Jo and tapped my finger against my lips. Shhhh. I didn’t want Boone to know aboutmy word-collecting ability because I didn’t want him to think I was a freak.
“Is that right?” Boone turned around to look at me. I felt my cheeks go red, every freckle on the bridge of my nose tingling like a little lava drop.
Boone smiled. “Do you see any words hovering around me right now?”
I nodded. I definitely saw some words:
Regret
Has-Been
Idiot
Deadbeat
“Well?” Boone blinked at me. “What words do you see? Can I use them in a new song?” Boone had the same blue eyes as Mama and Frannie and Cleo. My eyes are a different color from theirs. I wonder if my eyes look as sad as theirs, though. I wonder if I see things the same as they do.
I know I see words they can’t see.
I wonder if I can see other things they can’t. Jonah can read a sad story in the newspaper and find a way to help somebody. I’d like to do that, too, see things better than they are.
“New beginning,” my voice crackled. “Those are your words: new beginning .” I didn’t make eye contact with Mama. She’d know it was a fib. And anyhow, I wasn’t lying, not exactly . I might not have seen those exact words sitting on my uncle’s shoulders, but they were still true words. They could be, at least.
“Yeah?” Boone’s cheek dimpled like he was about to smile at me. “New beginning?”
I nodded. “Your words are shaped like sparrows. They’re perched right on your shoulders.”
“Ain’t that something,” Boone said softly, like he was amazed by my skills.
Frannie Jo smiled back at me as if I was the coolest girl who ever lived. Someday she’ll probably stop looking at me that way, but I hope it’s not for a long time. Mama wasn’t looking at me. She had her face turned toward the light of the window. The sun was doing its best to shine on her, to warm up all the cold places down in her heart.
Aunt Cleo caught my eye in the rearview mirror, though. She winked at me. I winked back.
“New beginning,” Cleo drawled. “You heard it, Boone. Today’s your day for starting over.”
A smile stretched full and easy across Boone’s face. He sat up taller in his seat and nodded, just once. Affirmative. He believed me.
Craziest thing happened then:
Regret, Has-Been, Idiot, Deadbeat …
I watched every last one of those words pop like bath bubbles and disappear.
My heart kicked hard against me: Yes. Yes. Yes.
Maybe sometimes the words I say are as magical as the words I see.
“I used to be that way,” Boone said. He looked out the window, at Midnight Gulch blurring past us. But I knew hewas talking to me. “When I was a kid, I could see things, too. Not words, like you see. But when somebody played a piano, I saw the notes
Boone let out a quick sigh of relief. “That’s good to know.”
Cleo grinned in the rearview mirror. “I was hoping maybe you could play some songs for us. The girls ain’t ever heard you play. You bring your banjo?”
“Nope,” Boone clipped. He chewed on his bottom lip, the same way Mama does when she’s nervous. “Honestly, I don’t know if I’ll ever play that banjo again. Every good love song I played came to me because of her . Now they’re all ruined.”
Mama turned around and patted Boone’s knee. “I’m sorry, sweetie.” She said it the same way she talks to us when we’re hurt or sick or sad.
Aunt Cleo wasn’t quite as comforting as Mama.
“Boone!” Cleo hollered. “Stop being so dramatic. Holly, don’t baby him. If he’s a real musician, then he’ll find a new song. A better song. It’s time to face the world again! Ain’t that right, girls?”
“Cleo’s right,” I said quietly. I patted his shoulder. “You’ll find a better song.”
Frannie Jo lifted her arms up toward heaven, like she was about to shout “Hallelujah.” “Felicity can help you! She catches poems for me! She sees words on people sometimes.”
I shook my head at Frannie Jo and tapped my finger against my lips. Shhhh. I didn’t want Boone to know aboutmy word-collecting ability because I didn’t want him to think I was a freak.
“Is that right?” Boone turned around to look at me. I felt my cheeks go red, every freckle on the bridge of my nose tingling like a little lava drop.
Boone smiled. “Do you see any words hovering around me right now?”
I nodded. I definitely saw some words:
Regret
Has-Been
Idiot
Deadbeat
“Well?” Boone blinked at me. “What words do you see? Can I use them in a new song?” Boone had the same blue eyes as Mama and Frannie and Cleo. My eyes are a different color from theirs. I wonder if my eyes look as sad as theirs, though. I wonder if I see things the same as they do.
I know I see words they can’t see.
I wonder if I can see other things they can’t. Jonah can read a sad story in the newspaper and find a way to help somebody. I’d like to do that, too, see things better than they are.
“New beginning,” my voice crackled. “Those are your words: new beginning .” I didn’t make eye contact with Mama. She’d know it was a fib. And anyhow, I wasn’t lying, not exactly . I might not have seen those exact words sitting on my uncle’s shoulders, but they were still true words. They could be, at least.
“Yeah?” Boone’s cheek dimpled like he was about to smile at me. “New beginning?”
I nodded. “Your words are shaped like sparrows. They’re perched right on your shoulders.”
“Ain’t that something,” Boone said softly, like he was amazed by my skills.
Frannie Jo smiled back at me as if I was the coolest girl who ever lived. Someday she’ll probably stop looking at me that way, but I hope it’s not for a long time. Mama wasn’t looking at me. She had her face turned toward the light of the window. The sun was doing its best to shine on her, to warm up all the cold places down in her heart.
Aunt Cleo caught my eye in the rearview mirror, though. She winked at me. I winked back.
“New beginning,” Cleo drawled. “You heard it, Boone. Today’s your day for starting over.”
A smile stretched full and easy across Boone’s face. He sat up taller in his seat and nodded, just once. Affirmative. He believed me.
Craziest thing happened then:
Regret, Has-Been, Idiot, Deadbeat …
I watched every last one of those words pop like bath bubbles and disappear.
My heart kicked hard against me: Yes. Yes. Yes.
Maybe sometimes the words I say are as magical as the words I see.
“I used to be that way,” Boone said. He looked out the window, at Midnight Gulch blurring past us. But I knew hewas talking to me. “When I was a kid, I could see things, too. Not words, like you see. But when somebody played a piano, I saw the notes
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