Chelsea pulled a blanket out of her bag and spread it on the soft grass. They sat together, watching the sea in silence for a few minutes. Laurel felt so at peace in this rugged, beautiful place. Chelsea dug into her bag again and brought out a Snickers bar for herself and handed Laurel a small Tupperware.
“What’s this?” Laurel asked.
“Strawberries. They’re organic, if that matters,” Chelsea added.
Laurel smiled and popped the top. “Thanks. They look great.” A million times better than the candy bar Chelsea was enjoying.
“So what’s up with you and David?”
Laurel choked on the strawberry she had just started chewing and coughed energetically. “What do you mean?”
“I just wondered if you guys are a couple yet.”
“Well, don’t beat around the bush about it or anything,” Laurel said, more to her strawberries than to Chelsea.
“He really likes you, Laurel.” Chelsea sighed. “I wish he liked me half as much.”
Laurel poked at her strawberries with her fork.
“I think I’ve liked him since the day he moved here. He and I used to be on a soccer team together,” she added, smiling.
Laurel could see in her mind a ten-year-old Chelsea — opinionated and outspoken just like now, and not really fitting in — meeting David for the first time. Nonjudgmental, accepting David. It was no wonder Chelsea had latched on to him. But still…“Chelsea, no offense, but why are you telling me this?”
“I don’t know.” They were silent for a little while. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad or anything,” Chelsea assured her. “David doesn’t like me that way, I know that. Honestly, if he’s going to have a girlfriend, I’d rather it was someone like you. Someone I’m friends with too.”
“That’s good, I guess,” Laurel said.
“So…are you his girlfriend now?” Chelsea pressed.
“I don’t know. Maybe?”
“Is that a question?” Chelsea asked with a grin.
“I don’t know.” She paused, then glanced sidelong at Chelsea. “You really don’t mind if I talk about it?”
“Not at all. It’s like living vicariously.”
“You say the weirdest things sometimes,” Laurel said ruefully.
“Yeah, that’s what David says too. Personally, I don’t think enough people say what they really think.”
“You definitely have a point there.”
“So, girlfriend or not?” Chelsea asked again, refusing to let it drop.
Laurel shrugged. “I really don’t know. Sometimes I think that’s what I want, but I’ve never had a boyfriend before. I’ve never really even had a guy who was a close friend. I like it a lot…I don’t want to lose that part.”
“Maybe you won’t.”
“Maybe. I’m just not sure.”
“There could be fringe benefits,” Chelsea said.
“Like what?”
“If you guys were on kissing terms he might do your bio homework.”
“Tempting,” Laurel said. “I suck at bio.”
Chelsea grinned. “Yeah, that’s what he said.”
Laurel’s eyes widened. “He did not! Really?”
“It’s hardly a secret — you moan about it almost every day at lunch. I think he’d be a great boyfriend,” Chelsea added.
“Why are you encouraging this? Most people in your position would be trying to break us up.”
“I am
“I’m home,” Laurel yelled as she entered the house, tossed her backpack on the ground, and walked into the pantry in search of a jar of canned pears. Her mom came in a few minutes later as Laurel was nibbling on a pear half straight out of the jar. But instead of the “Mom look” Laurel usually got for not using a bowl, her mom only sighed and smiled wearily.
“Can you fend for yourself for dinner tonight?”
“Sure, what’s up?”
“Your dad’s just getting worse. His stomach hurts and is a little swollen, and now he’s got a fever. It’s not too high — around a hundred — but I can’t get it to go down. Not with cold compresses or a cool bath or even my hyssop and licorice-root capsules.”
“Really?” Laurel asked. Her mom had an herb for everything, and they worked wonders. Her friends often called her up when they were at the end of their ropes and the over-the-counter medications just weren’t cutting it. “Did you try giving him some Echinacea tea?” she suggested, since that was what her mom always gave her.
“Made him a whole batch of it, iced. But he’s having trouble swallowing, too, so I don’t know that he’s getting enough to help.”
“I bet it was something he ate,” Laurel suggested.
“Maybe,” her mom said distractedly, but she didn’t sound convinced. “He really took a turn for the worse right after you left. Anyway,” she added, snapping her head back to her daughter, “I’m going to spend the evening with him, see if I can make him a bit more comfortable.”
“No problem. I’ve got canned pears and a bunch of homework.”
“Exciting night for both of us.”
“Yep,” Laurel said with a sigh, looking over at the stack of books waiting for her on the table.
AFTER SCHOOL ON THURSDAY, LAUREL GRABBED HER blue apron and headed down the street toward Mark’s Bookshelf. Jen, Brent, and Maddie — her dad’s staff — had been putting in extra shifts, but if things continued the way they’d been, all three would top forty hours by Friday. Laurel wanted to at least give Brent and Jen the day off. She and Maddie could manage. Maddie was the only employee Laurel’s dad had inherited from the former bookstore owner. Maddie had been working in that store for almost ten years now and, luckily, could about run the place herself.
But it wasn’t the bookstore Laurel worried about as she walked toward Main Street. She’d gone into her parents’ room to get some last-minute instructions from her dad and had been shocked by his appearance. Dad had always been on the thin side, but now his face was sunken and gray, with deep shadows under his eyes. His lips were pale and a thin sheen of sweat covered his brow. Laurel’s mom had tried everything. Poultices of lavender and rosemary on his chest, fennel tea for his stomach, loads of vitamin C to strengthen his immune system. Nothing seemed to be working. She gave him brandy at night to help him sleep and dripped peppermint oil in the humidifier. Still no improvement. Not letting pride stand in her way, she had even tried a handful of conventional medications — NyQuil and Extra Strength Tylenol — and still he didn’t feel any better. What everyone had hoped was a nasty flu had turned serious far more quickly than her mom could have anticipated.
When Laurel volunteered to go to the bookstore that afternoon so her mom could stay home with her dad, her mom had hugged Laurel tightly and whispered thanks into her ear. He didn’t look like himself at all — more like a sickly caricature of the man he’d been only a few days ago. He’d tried to smile and joke the way he always did — always had — but even that was too much for him.
A cheerful chime sounded as Laurel opened the front door of the store.
Maddie looked up and smiled. “Laurel? You get prettier every time I see you.” She hugged her, and Laurel lingered in the embrace, feeling a little better. Maddie always smelled like cookies and spices and something else Laurel could never put her finger on.
“How’s your dad?” Maddie asked with an arm still around Laurel’s shoulders.
Her answer to everyone else had been a simple, “He’s okay.” But when Maddie asked, Laurel couldn’t just brush it off. “He looks awful, Maddie. Like skin sitting loose on a skeleton. My mom can’t do anything to help. Nothing is working.”
“Even her hyssop and licorice root?”
Laurel smiled painfully. “That’s what I asked.”
