fun. But, anytime she tried to reason with herself to explain why she didn’t want to go, she felt blank.
I just didn’t want to. I just don’t like to leave home. She was confused about it but there it was.
Even though John had come to Shirley for a quick visit before the camp started, the two had avoided each other. Candy blew off efforts to unite them, and she was sure John did, too. She wondered if his grandma was as embarrassing as hers was.
“Pearl said John’s in town, honey. She invited us for lunch—don’t you two want to play together?”
“Grandma, please. We’re too old for playing.”
“Oh, is that what it is?”
“What do you mean ‘that’?”
“He’s a good looking boy, isn’t he?”
“What? Gross, Grandma.”
“Well, what? You don’t have to sleep over or anything.”
“Forget it.”
“If you want to, though, I’m sure Pearl could put you in separate rooms for the night.”
“Ugh.”
“I think it’s sweet, and it would all be very proper.”
Candy’s face still went hot just thinking about it.
John had returned for a few days at the end of the summer, right before school started, and they saw each other briefly, each of them ready to forget the fight after a few months of cooling off. Things were awkward. They kept in touch over email during the next school year but John decided to make Camp Wekeima an annual event. He said he was saving money for a car and that the Wekeima job paid well. Candy doubted John’s reason for keeping the job and jealously clicked through pictures online that were obviously his girlfriend, more often than she was proud to admit.
John and Clara, picnic at the lake.
John and Clara, fun at the derby with her family.
Clara with birthday cake on her nose, John laughing beside her.
That summer, he hadn’t come for a visit to his grandma’s at all, and hadn’t bothered to supply a reason. Candy tried to shrug it off, but she was crushed. She had pushed him out of her head, until her dad sprang the news on her. She had no idea how to feel about the prospect of his actually living in Shirley and going to school at Andrew Jackson.
Does he already know? Did he email me about it already? Candy wasn’t too big on email after she and John had lost contact. Who else would she get mail from besides him? All the people she knew lived in Shirley and email was usually all garbage and school stuff. She often received messages weeks after they were sent, so John might have already sent something. She couldn’t wait to check.
Nearing the Eastern Mountain foothills, where her father’s shop lay in view, the road started to level out and Candy picked up speed. She rounded the last turn at an all-out run, dashing off the pavement through the trees, the slick soles of her worn sneakers slipping in the dirt. She lost her balance and caught herself on an outstretched yellow buckeye limb, upsetting a couple of its low-hanging, overripe fruit. They bonked her in the forehead and almost tripped her, the smooth balls rolling between her feet down the last stretch of hillside. Steadying herself and wiping the sweat from under her hair, she winced at the smell on her hands. Stinky sap. Whew. Without thinking she wiped her hands on her cargo shorts. Too late, she remembered where today’s errand would hopefully lead, and how badly she didn’t want to be wearing stinky shorts.
“Nice,” she panted and shook out her tank-top to let her armpits breathe in the breeze.
Slowing down to a walk, she glanced around the front of the gas station, expecting to see Ms. Willow. Luckily, there was no sign of her, only her father’s mechanic, manning the counter inside. She spotted her dirt-bike leaning against the side of one of the mechanics bays in the garage.
Thank you, Jo.
Candy blew her damp bangs in relief and changed direction to wait under the shade of the sprawling Magnolia tree in a neighboring yard.
“Okay…email…”
She pulled her phone out of her
I just didn’t want to. I just don’t like to leave home. She was confused about it but there it was.
Even though John had come to Shirley for a quick visit before the camp started, the two had avoided each other. Candy blew off efforts to unite them, and she was sure John did, too. She wondered if his grandma was as embarrassing as hers was.
“Pearl said John’s in town, honey. She invited us for lunch—don’t you two want to play together?”
“Grandma, please. We’re too old for playing.”
“Oh, is that what it is?”
“What do you mean ‘that’?”
“He’s a good looking boy, isn’t he?”
“What? Gross, Grandma.”
“Well, what? You don’t have to sleep over or anything.”
“Forget it.”
“If you want to, though, I’m sure Pearl could put you in separate rooms for the night.”
“Ugh.”
“I think it’s sweet, and it would all be very proper.”
Candy’s face still went hot just thinking about it.
John had returned for a few days at the end of the summer, right before school started, and they saw each other briefly, each of them ready to forget the fight after a few months of cooling off. Things were awkward. They kept in touch over email during the next school year but John decided to make Camp Wekeima an annual event. He said he was saving money for a car and that the Wekeima job paid well. Candy doubted John’s reason for keeping the job and jealously clicked through pictures online that were obviously his girlfriend, more often than she was proud to admit.
John and Clara, picnic at the lake.
John and Clara, fun at the derby with her family.
Clara with birthday cake on her nose, John laughing beside her.
That summer, he hadn’t come for a visit to his grandma’s at all, and hadn’t bothered to supply a reason. Candy tried to shrug it off, but she was crushed. She had pushed him out of her head, until her dad sprang the news on her. She had no idea how to feel about the prospect of his actually living in Shirley and going to school at Andrew Jackson.
Does he already know? Did he email me about it already? Candy wasn’t too big on email after she and John had lost contact. Who else would she get mail from besides him? All the people she knew lived in Shirley and email was usually all garbage and school stuff. She often received messages weeks after they were sent, so John might have already sent something. She couldn’t wait to check.
Nearing the Eastern Mountain foothills, where her father’s shop lay in view, the road started to level out and Candy picked up speed. She rounded the last turn at an all-out run, dashing off the pavement through the trees, the slick soles of her worn sneakers slipping in the dirt. She lost her balance and caught herself on an outstretched yellow buckeye limb, upsetting a couple of its low-hanging, overripe fruit. They bonked her in the forehead and almost tripped her, the smooth balls rolling between her feet down the last stretch of hillside. Steadying herself and wiping the sweat from under her hair, she winced at the smell on her hands. Stinky sap. Whew. Without thinking she wiped her hands on her cargo shorts. Too late, she remembered where today’s errand would hopefully lead, and how badly she didn’t want to be wearing stinky shorts.
“Nice,” she panted and shook out her tank-top to let her armpits breathe in the breeze.
Slowing down to a walk, she glanced around the front of the gas station, expecting to see Ms. Willow. Luckily, there was no sign of her, only her father’s mechanic, manning the counter inside. She spotted her dirt-bike leaning against the side of one of the mechanics bays in the garage.
Thank you, Jo.
Candy blew her damp bangs in relief and changed direction to wait under the shade of the sprawling Magnolia tree in a neighboring yard.
“Okay…email…”
She pulled her phone out of her
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