Interrupted by Zondervan

poetry.”
    “And you don’t strike me as the kind who writes it.”
    I shot up again. “How did you —”
    “Relax.” Sam spread out his hands. “I saw it on the page of that journal you were scribbling in yesterday. Don’t look at me like that: I promise I didn’t read it. I just saw the first line.”
    Giving him my darkest look, I growled, “You’d better not tell Beatrice. No one knows about what’s in that notebook. Not even Charlie. I’d kill you if —”
    “Charlie?” Sam was looking at me funny.
    “A girlfriend. Charlie Cooper. She lives right over —”I began to point.
    “I know where the Coopers live,” Sam snapped in a girly voice.
    I paused for a minute, then allowed myself to smile.
Touché
. “Sorry.”
    “So, does this … Charlie … write poetry too?”
    I snorted. “Hardly.”
    “So who inspired you?”
    I took a deep breath. “Mama.” I looked at him and tried to look happy. He was watching me intently, as if I were an insect or something. I squirmed and focused on the rock. “It was her dream for me to become a famous poet. Our dream.” I swallowed. “I’m going to do it one day.”
    My heart crumbled a little around the edges; I’d put all thoughts about my life with her out of my mind a long time ago.
    “You know, I can remember what she was like before the sickness,” Sam said, rubbing his hands together. “I never did see her much, but the few times I did she was really sweet. She treated me like I was an adult, not a little kid.” He turned and looked at me. “I think you’re a lot like her.”
    “Really?” I smiled. “How so?”
    Sam shrugged. “Your mother lived out her fantasies. And I think you live out yours too.”
    I barked out a laugh. “You think it’s my fantasy to live here in Maine?”
    He shook his head. “No. It’s to write.”
    “Yeah. I guess you’re right.” I pressed my lips together.
    Sam took a deep breath and let it out. “I’m sorry, Allie. I know it must have hurt.”
    I twisted the end of my pajama top around my finger and then let it go. “Not at first. But as she got worse … the things people said … That’s what hurt. They called her crazy. It got to the point where I couldn’t even go into town anymore.” My eyelids slid shut, blocking out the tears. I cleared my throat and tried again.
    I bit the side of my mouth and tried to swallow the lump in my throat. What was this? I never cried anymore. I was like these ocean-side rocks now.
Firm, steady
. “I didn’t understand how people could be so cruel. So judgmental.” I shrugged and trailed to a stop, not trusting myself to talk.
    Sam was silent. Listening. And I realized he was the only one who might truly understand what I’d gone through.
    I cleared my throat. “We never went out anymore. You know that.” I peeked at him between closed lids. “After that I took care of her; took care of the house. I made the meals and cleaned and looked after the cat. Right on up until she died. Sometimes …” I opened my eyes again, but this time the stars were blurry. Unrecognizable. “I would have kept on doing it, Sam. I would have kept on cleaning forever if it had kept her alive. Honest.”
    I turned and looked at him. He was watching me. Sam smiled a little and nodded. “I know.”
    An awkward silence fell over us. I shook off my tears and settled back on the rock. “Um, can you see the Big Dipper?”
    Sam pointed at the sky. “Up there. It’s the one that kinda looks like a crooked pencil.”
    “It does not!”
    “Does too!” he protested. “See it, there? Hmm? A crooked pencil, I’m telling you!”
    I huffed and jumped up. “I’m leaving. You’re a bore, Sam Carroll.” I could hear him laughing as I walked back up the beach alone.
    “Allie!”
    I turned and waited, a teasing grin ready.
    Sam smiled. “You haven’t changed.”
    My stomach tickled. “Thank you.” I paused. “I’m glad.”

Chapter 9
    I’m nobody! Who are you?
    Are you nobody,