now.
“Jaxon, what are you doing?” Her palms started to sweat.
“You spent the day with the narcotics twins and you’re worried about what I’m doing?” He laughed. “Relax, would you?”
“I really just want to go home.”
“Brea, you’re acting nuts. What’s wrong with you?”
“I don’t want to be here. Please…”
He set his hand on hers. “I just want to talk. That’s it. It’s really nice here.”
He was right. He parked at the edge of a clearing overlooking the pond. The trees had not yet lost all their leaves and the red and gold color reflected on the water’s surface.
“Is this okay?”
Besides nerves, she saw no real reason to be scared. “Okay.”
He pulled up the emergency brake and turned up the radio.
“I have something for you.” He rifled through the door pocket and handed her a ticket for Shriekfest—a horror film festival hosted for the first time by the Summit Theater in Reston. “I bought two of them for Mitch and me, but he’s going to Maine for the week and I don’t know anyone else that would want to go. No obligation. I just thought you might like to go.”
Gifts, especially considering how she’d been treating him, made her uncomfortable. “I can’t take this.” She pushed the ticket back at him and he crossed his arms, refusing to take it.
“Then throw it out. It’s yours. Do what you want with it.”
“I’ll pay you back.” She put the ticket inside her bag and thanked him.
“I don’t need the money, Brea. I need a date for prom.”
Need, she thought, might be an overstatement.
“I…” The whole fight with Harmony negated their plans for the Bloody Mayhem show.
“All right. One last try.” He reached across her and popped open the glove compartment, handing her a small, turquoise box wrapped in a white satin ribbon from inside.
Signature Tiffany’s.
She’d never had anything from there, but had seen the box in magazines. She smiled.
There’s no way Harmony was right. He wouldn’t go this far if it was true.
“Oh, boy.”
“It’s not going to bite.” He pulled the ribbon tail and the bow dissolved. “Your mother helped me pick it out.”
He opened the lid and she let out a small, unintentional whimper.
It’s beautiful . Of course it’s beautiful. Probably cost a fortune, too.
“You like it.” He smiled, proudly.
“I…I can’t take it. It’s too much.” She set the box down between them.
“Nothing’s too much.” He lifted the silver key necklace out of the box and leaned over her. “One last time, will you please go to prom with me?”
The cool silver rested against her chest, an unintentional sign of ownership.
“Yes,” she said, slumping slightly forward. “I’ll go.”
There was no other answer.
15 .
The town library was a ramshackle one-story building that was once someone’s house. The floor plan had been opened up, but it didn’t change the feeling. Harmony was still high when she got there.
She walked around, confused, having no real idea the best way to find Tom G’s obituary with only an unreliable year of death.
A middle-aged librarian in a floor-length skirt and turtle neck asked if she could help.
“I need to find an obituary,” Harmony said. “From 1996.”
“Those would be downstairs in the archives. We don’t have fiche, but we have bound copies.”
She led Harmony down a narrow stairway into her idea of a spooky basement: low ceilings, broken up floor, moisture, and a lot of beams and wires. It was dimly lit and smelled of mildew.
“Let me see.” The librarian scanned the bindings. “It looks like 1996 are from here down. Are you all right? Anything I can do for you?”
Her eyes were as red from the joint as from crying. “No, I’m all set. Thanks.”
Harmony pulled up a chair to the splintering wooden table and searched through the first few volumes.
It wasn’t long before she got a headache from reading in near-darkness and she was about to
“Jaxon, what are you doing?” Her palms started to sweat.
“You spent the day with the narcotics twins and you’re worried about what I’m doing?” He laughed. “Relax, would you?”
“I really just want to go home.”
“Brea, you’re acting nuts. What’s wrong with you?”
“I don’t want to be here. Please…”
He set his hand on hers. “I just want to talk. That’s it. It’s really nice here.”
He was right. He parked at the edge of a clearing overlooking the pond. The trees had not yet lost all their leaves and the red and gold color reflected on the water’s surface.
“Is this okay?”
Besides nerves, she saw no real reason to be scared. “Okay.”
He pulled up the emergency brake and turned up the radio.
“I have something for you.” He rifled through the door pocket and handed her a ticket for Shriekfest—a horror film festival hosted for the first time by the Summit Theater in Reston. “I bought two of them for Mitch and me, but he’s going to Maine for the week and I don’t know anyone else that would want to go. No obligation. I just thought you might like to go.”
Gifts, especially considering how she’d been treating him, made her uncomfortable. “I can’t take this.” She pushed the ticket back at him and he crossed his arms, refusing to take it.
“Then throw it out. It’s yours. Do what you want with it.”
“I’ll pay you back.” She put the ticket inside her bag and thanked him.
“I don’t need the money, Brea. I need a date for prom.”
Need, she thought, might be an overstatement.
“I…” The whole fight with Harmony negated their plans for the Bloody Mayhem show.
“All right. One last try.” He reached across her and popped open the glove compartment, handing her a small, turquoise box wrapped in a white satin ribbon from inside.
Signature Tiffany’s.
She’d never had anything from there, but had seen the box in magazines. She smiled.
There’s no way Harmony was right. He wouldn’t go this far if it was true.
“Oh, boy.”
“It’s not going to bite.” He pulled the ribbon tail and the bow dissolved. “Your mother helped me pick it out.”
He opened the lid and she let out a small, unintentional whimper.
It’s beautiful . Of course it’s beautiful. Probably cost a fortune, too.
“You like it.” He smiled, proudly.
“I…I can’t take it. It’s too much.” She set the box down between them.
“Nothing’s too much.” He lifted the silver key necklace out of the box and leaned over her. “One last time, will you please go to prom with me?”
The cool silver rested against her chest, an unintentional sign of ownership.
“Yes,” she said, slumping slightly forward. “I’ll go.”
There was no other answer.
15 .
The town library was a ramshackle one-story building that was once someone’s house. The floor plan had been opened up, but it didn’t change the feeling. Harmony was still high when she got there.
She walked around, confused, having no real idea the best way to find Tom G’s obituary with only an unreliable year of death.
A middle-aged librarian in a floor-length skirt and turtle neck asked if she could help.
“I need to find an obituary,” Harmony said. “From 1996.”
“Those would be downstairs in the archives. We don’t have fiche, but we have bound copies.”
She led Harmony down a narrow stairway into her idea of a spooky basement: low ceilings, broken up floor, moisture, and a lot of beams and wires. It was dimly lit and smelled of mildew.
“Let me see.” The librarian scanned the bindings. “It looks like 1996 are from here down. Are you all right? Anything I can do for you?”
Her eyes were as red from the joint as from crying. “No, I’m all set. Thanks.”
Harmony pulled up a chair to the splintering wooden table and searched through the first few volumes.
It wasn’t long before she got a headache from reading in near-darkness and she was about to
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