The Chance: A Novel by Karen Kingsbury Page A

left.” She released his hands, stooped down, and unzipped it. She brought out a small, worn plush bunny. “Remember this?”
    His laugh interrupted the seriousness of the coming good-bye. “I won it for you . . . at the church carnival.”
    “It’s been on my bed since I was in fifth grade.” She handed it to him. “I want you to have it.”
    The lightness of the moment fell away again. He took it and brought it to his face. “It smells like you.”
    She rummaged around in the backpack and pulled out a framed photo, the two of them at eighth-grade graduation. “My mom had these made. One for each of us. I forgot about them until tonight.”
    Nolan took the picture. It was too dark to really see it, but that wasn’t the point. He set the frame and the stuffed rabbit down on the tree root and took her hands again. “I don’t have anything to give you.”
    “You already have.” She felt her eyes blur again, felt the tears overflow from her aching heart. “That diamond ring you won me from the machine at Pete’s Pizza. I kept that.”
    “You did?” He looked as happy as he was surprised. “I didn’t know.”
    “I kept everything you ever gave me.”
    “Hmm.” He took a slight step closer. The humidity was thick around them, the moss low in the trees, marking this magical place that had been theirs alone. “You have to write that novel. The one you always talk about.”
    She smiled even as a few tears slipped onto her cheeks. “I will.”
    When it was almost eleven, Nolan reached for her hand again. This time he slid his fingers between hers. The way he might if he were her boyfriend. “You know what I’m afraid of?”
    “What?” She leaned against his shoulder.
    “I play my best basketball when you watch.” He looked at her, his eyes searching hers. “How am I supposed to win a state championship without you?”
    “You have your dad.” She smiled, but her heart beat fast again. They had only a few minutes. “You’re the coach’s son, Nolan. You’ll always be the best.”
    “See.” He still faced her, their hands joined. “You say things like that. Around you, I feel like no one can stop me. Like I’ll play in the NBA someday.”
    “You will.” Her smile fell away. “I . . . have to go.”
    He hung his head, and his grip on her hands grew tighter. As if he were angry at time itself for daring to take them from this place, this night. When he lifted his eyes to hers once more, he looked broken. “I will call you. When you get there, call me and give me your number.”
    “Okay.” She knew his number by heart. That part would be easy. “But . . . how will you visit?”
    “I’ll get my license next year.” He ran his thumbs along her hands. “It’ll be fun. A road trip.”
    She didn’t want to say it, but his parents would never let him drive cross-country by himself. Not at sixteen years old. But she only nodded, wanting to believe it because he said so. Because there was nothing else to do.
    He paused, watching her, as if trying to memorize the moment. “Ellie . . . don’t forget me.”
    She wanted to ask him if he was crazy. Because she could never forget him, never stop trying to find her way back, never stop believing he would find her again somehow. But she didn’t want to break down, so she only fell slowly into his arms and put her head on his shoulder. “I don’t want to go.”
    “I’ll walk you back, since you don’t have your bike.”
    The idea breathed a few more minutes into their time together. He slung her backpack over his shoulder, and they walked to his house across the street first, so Nolan could leave the shovel and flashlight, the paper and pen. Then he eased his fingers between hers once more and walked close beside her all the way to her house, their shoulders brushing, their steps slow and even.
    The lights were off, but that didn’t mean her dad wasn’t waiting up. He would never stand for her being out past curfew. Even tonight.