And every time I saw her, she seemed more beautiful. She just seemed to glow.
I’m not talking like a hundred-watt bulb; she just had this warmth to her.
Maybe it came from climbing that tree. Maybe it came from singing to chickens.
Maybe it came from whacking at two-by-fours and dreaming about perpetual motion. I don’t know.
All I know is that compared to her, Shelly and Miranda seemed so… ordinary.
I’d never felt like this before. Ever. And just admitting it to myself instead of hiding from it made me feel strong. Happy.
I took off my shoes and socks and stuffed them in the basket.
My tie whipped over my shoulder as I ran home barefoot, and I realized that Garrett was right about one thing – I had flipped. Completely.
I trucked down our street and spotted her bike lying on its side on the driveway.
She was home! I rang the bell until I thought it would break. No answer.
I pounded on her door. No answer. I went home and called on the phone, and finally, finally her mother answers.
“Bryce? No, I’m sorry. She doesn’t want to talk.” Then she whispers, “Give her a little time, won’t you?”
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