The momentum. It is still with us.
“Even old man Argus got his share of fair today!” Mira says.
“Won’t have me to make fun of anymore!” Aidan throws his hand out in a mocking arthritic gesture.
“The crater is quite an improvement,” I add.
Our laughter gradually subsides, except for Seth’s. He is still laughing hysterically, tears rolling down his cheeks.
“Seth?” Mira says.
“This morning,” he gurgles.
Aidan puts his hand on Seth’s shoulder. “You all right, buddy?”
Seth’s head rears back and he howls. “Me. The statue.”
“Oh, my God,” I say.
“What?” Mira’s head spins sharply toward me. “Will you please tell us what’s going on with him? Is he all right?”
Seth regains enough composure to string more than two words together and blurts out, “That’s where I was hiding!” And promptly goes into another blubbering fit of laughter.
“What’s he talking about?” Aidan says, grabbing Lucky out of Seth’s arms like he’s afraid Seth may drop him.
“This morning Seth was hiding out under the statue trying to avoid trash duty.”
“And Destiny came and got me,” Seth says in a gulping breath. The laughter drains away as quickly as it came, and he looks at me, his face definitely several shades whiter than it was just a moment ago. “She saved my life. If she hadn’t come and got me—”
“You’d be flatter than a pancake!” Mira gasps.
“Yeah . . . I guess I would.” His gaze is fixed on me, and mine on him. Everything shifts to slow motion. “You saved my life,” he repeats. He takes a step toward me.
“The day’s come full circle, then, hasn’t it?” I answer. He steps closer. And I think, right then, right there, even in front of all these people, if Seth leaned forward and bent his head down to mine, I would—
“There you are!”
The world is jarred back to its quick pace. Mrs. Wicket is breathless, her hair a disarrayed jumble. She blows out a well-directed puff of air to shoo a stray silver wisp from her eyes. “I’ve been three steps behind you all day! Seems every time I would arrive somewhere, I would be told I just missed you. I included you in the head count the headmaster wanted since Jillian, Curtis, and Ben had all said they had seen you, but I wanted to see you for myself too.”
“We’re here, Mrs. Wicket, safe and sound,” I say.
She smiles, clearly relieved. “Yes, you are.”
Baaaa!
Aidan shoves Lucky back into Seth’s arms. “He wants you.”
“What have we here?” Mrs. Wicket asks.
The color springs back to Seth’s face. “My lamb, Mrs. Wicket. But he’s very well trained. I promise he—”
“A lamb! Seth! How did you know? The headmaster will be delighted!”
“Huh?”
“You know he’s been wanting to restore the old livestock pen to its previous use. He’s been rumbling about that project for months. As he puts it, he’s tired of the pen being used as a ‘den for questionable activities.’ He will be so pleased when he sees this adorable lamb. An excellent first addition and a great way to get his project off the ground! He’ll be so excited. Smart thinking, Seth. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if he gave you extra credit! Must run now. Don’t forget, curfew in ten minutes.” Her eyes roll and she shakes her head. “Today has been unbelievable!” She gives Lucky a quick pat and is off on more business.
Extra credit. Unbelievable indeed. From start to finish.
She is already several feet away when I run after her. “Mrs. Wicket!” I call. She stops abruptly, and I nearly tumble into her. “I have a quick question.”
“Yes, dear?”
“I was wondering about Mr. Nestor, the visiting calculus teacher who was here—”
“Mr. who?”
“Nestor. He teaches calculus.”
“We have no Mr. Nestor here at Hedgebrook, dear. Visiting or otherwise. Are you sure you have the name right? Or maybe it was a reporter you spoke to? There’s been so much confusion today!”
A reporter? No. Perhaps the messenger who delivered the car and was trying to cover his identity? Maybe. A figment of my imagination? Possibly. Or perhaps someone else? Or something else? Something. “Of course. A reporter,” I answer. “That was probably it. Good night, Mrs. Wicket.”
I join the others and we begin walking back to Carroll Hall. When we are a safe distance away from the crowd, Mira raises a victory fist and whispers, “No one missed us!”
“We’re off the hook,” Aidan adds.
“And I’ll be able to stay at Hedgebrook.”
“And I’m still alive,” Seth says. “With Lucky and extra credit.”
We pause at the hallway where we must part ways, Mira and I to our wing of the dorm, and Seth and Aidan to theirs.
“It’s like we were never gone,” Seth says.
“Oh, we were gone, all right,” Mira replies, admiring her red pumps.
“What happened today?” Aidan asks, like he is freshly stunned.
We are all dazed, thrown yet another curve from what we were expecting. I look at my three road-trip renegades. I have no answers. I only know that in a vast and infinite universe, somehow today, I feel less small, less forgotten, less afraid, and infinitely more ready for another day.
“Life, Aidan,” I finally say. “And trying to explain it is like trying to explain a lambadoodle to someone who can only see a woolly sheep.”
Mira lightly pokes Aidan on his chest. “Pay attention, Cowboy. It’s The Day That Never Ended. Remember?”
“And it’s also the day Destiny Faraday smiled at least a dozen times,” Seth adds.
Aidan scratches his head and smiles. “Did hell freeze over?” Mira punches him, and they fall into giggles and close muted conversation.
“Could be,” Seth answers, even though Aidan is no longer listening, and right there, Seth bends over and kisses my cheek. “See you at breakfast,” he says and walks away with Lucky still asleep in his arms.
39
I LOOK AT THE CALENDAR. October 20. Its own once-in-a-lifetime kind of day. I smooth my hand over the page. I don’t tear it or crumple it. I don’t want this day to pass before its time. Next to the calendar is a pink sealed envelope. I slide it from my dresser and tuck it into my pocket, to be mailed later, my long-overdue letter to Mr. Gardian.
There is shuffling in the hall. Mira pokes her head in. “Breakfast, Des.”
Like I don’t know.
“On my way, Mira.”
“I’ll save you a seat between me and Seth.”
“Mira!” I turn sharply, then stop. A saved seat next to Seth. Certainly not the end of the world. Not at all. “Like I said, on my way,” I answer.
I tuck my sheet beneath the mattress, folding the corner the way Aunt Edie—the way Mrs. Wicket—showed me on my first day. Routine, the lifeblood of Hedgebrook. At least it was. Today Seth will be at breakfast, and I will sit next to him. And today—who knows?—maybe Cook will even stir the lumps from the oatmeal.
“On my way,” I whisper again, this time to no one but myself, and I hurry to join the others.
Acknowledgments
I OWE ENORMOUS THANKS to Jill Rubalcaba, Jessica Pearson, Melissa Wyatt, Marlene Perez, Karen and Ben Beiswenger, Shirley Harazin, Catherine Atkins, Lisa Firke, Amy Butler, Laura Weiss, Kristina Cliff Evans, Lisa Harkrader, Cynthia Lord, Amy McAuley, Nancy Werlin, and Amanda Jenkins, for reading first drafts, snips, and wild calls for help, answering questions from the bizarre to the mundane, and offering an endless amount of support and encouragement.
I am grateful to the amazing staff at Henry Holt—too many to name and I know I would surely leave someone out—but they make the publishing process a delight with their professionalism, wisdom, and enthusiasm. So many thanks to you all.
Rosemary Stimola is one brilliant lady, and I am so grateful she is my agent. Thanks for all the hand-
holding, advice, hard work, and friendship, Ro.
My editor, Kate Farrell, continues to be the most supportive and wise editor a writer could ask for. I am blessed. Thank you, Kate.
An ocean of gratitude to my precious family, Dennis, Karen, Jessica, and Ben, who are a never-ending source of inspiration for me. They make the ride wild, fun, sometimes bumpy, and always interesting. My infinite love and thanks go to them.
Mary E. Pearson, The Miles Between
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