The Summer of Moonlight Secrets by Danette Haworth Page B

that one later.”
    She goes, “I do have friends, you know. Just not a whole bunch. And definitely not those girls we saw.”
    â€œThat’s why you wanted to ride the bus, right? You didn’t want those girls to see you. You’re hiding.”
    Her mouth opens and an expression crosses her face before she switches on an angry look. Too late; I already saw it—the look of truth.
    â€œYou shouldn’t be bothered by them. Why do you even care?”
    â€œBecause they’re popular .” Her eyes bug out, like this means something.
    The bus stops and picks up two dudes wearing skullcaps and black T-shirts. Warm air whooshes in when the door closes after them. They pass us; one dude nods at me after seeing my skateboard.
    â€œThose girls probably pick their noses when no one’s looking and breathe in each other’s farts.” I crack up. Boogers and butts usually work, but farts are always funny. Allie Jo must be picturing it too because she starts laughing.
    â€œHey,” she says, “are you coming to Taste of Hope? Sophie will be there.”
    â€œSophie’s going?”
    She smiles. “She’s helping me pass out samples.” Then she slaps her leg. “You should help too! It’s really fun and there’re all kinds of food, which you get for free of course, and some places even give stuff out like little flashlights or key chains and—”
    â€œYeah, yeah! I’ll come.” It sounds like fun. Besides, “Does Sophie like me?” Oh, dude. You totally blabbed. I try to play it cool, shift my skateboard and stuff. I steal a glance at Allie Jo.
    â€œI can’t tell you,” she says, doing that lip-scrunching thing girls do. “I never tell secrets.”
    I nod and don’t say another word, but if she can’t tell me, that means only one thing—Sophie does like me! A weird sensation floods my chest and I suddenly feel like I do when I’m flying off a ramp.
    I feel so good, it doesn’t even bother me when we get off at the hotel and Allie Jo’s mom walks off the porch and gives her a hug. It doesn’t bother me at all.

33
    Allie Jo

    â€œYou mind if I sit on the veranda?” I ask Mom and Dad after supper.
    Mom looks at me oddly. “This is getting to be a regular habit with you. What’s so interesting out there?”
    My heart quickens. “Nothing! It’s just relaxing, you know, moon, stars, that sort of thing.” I lick my lips real quick. “So can I go?”
    Mom scrapes a plate; Dad clears the milk. “Yes, go ahead,” Mom says.
    I give them both quick pecks and dash away before they can change their minds.
    I hope I see Tara tonight. I can’t stop thinking about her. Neither can Chase.
    Throughout the day, we’d pieced together what we knew about her: she was from Ireland or Scotland but grew up in America; she has friends at wherever she’s from; something bad happened; no one was hurt, but whatever happened, she ran away and now she can’t go back home.
    â€œAnd what about how she talks,” Chase pointed out.
    I love her accent and the lilt of her voice.
    But Chase went on to say it wasn’t just her accent. “It’s the way she talks, like all sophisticated.”
    True, but I like that too. I think it makes her sound wise and knowing. She doesn’t speak like a normal teenager, but I guess that’s because she isn’t from around here.
    I told him my stepmother theory on why Tara was running away and how that could explain why she has only one outfit.
    He shook his head slowly, then snapped to. “It means she ran away suddenly, like not planning it.”
    I inhaled sharply. “Yes! Whatever happened, she had to get away right then.” But for the life of me I couldn’t think of anything so bad that someone would have to run away with just the clothes on her back.
    I’m still wondering as I close the