Page 23 of Somewhere Without You

Twenty Two

Before

The silver bell on my bike jingled as I pedaled towards Mr. Abernathy’s hardware store. The sound of it clashed with the chime of loose change stuffed inside my pocket as I made a sharp left turn onto Main Street.

Todaywasallowance day, and once a week Gran would let us ride our bikes into town to purchase penny candy at the local hardware store.Usually, Katherine would ride beside me, our tires in sync like always.Buttoday, she stayed behind.

“I’m fourteen now, Emily. I’m too old for penny candy,”she glanced up from her magazine and rolled her eyes.“You’re getting too old too.”

So I rode alone, the sun pressing hot against the back of my neck as I fought off the disappointment of my sister’s absence.She’dbeen distantlately—too focused on herself to pay any attention to me.

I reached the store and slipped my bike into the rack out front. The bell above the door gave a merry jingle as I stepped inside. Mr. Abernathy offered a quick nod from behind the counter before turning back to the customer hewashelping.

The airsmelledlike sawdust and oil as I made my way through the store.

Toward the back wall stood the candy display—fullystocked and waiting.

I took my time picking the perfect mix. Three strawberry bonbons, a marble-sized jawbreaker, and a chewy grape lollipop.

I added a few of Kat’s favorites too, just in case she changed her mind.

“That’ll be twenty-five cents,”Mr. Abernathy said, his voice warm. He reminded me of Santa Claus, with snow white hair and soft blue eyesthatcrinkled when he smiled.

I placed two dimes and a nickel on the counter and waitedpatientlyas he slid the candies into a small paper bag and handed it over.

“Thanks,”I said, already trying to decide which sweet to unwrap first as I stepped back into the sun.

Outside, a group of kids leaned against the brick wall. I didn’tknowtheir names, butI’dseena few of them around school.

“Well, well, well.Lookwhoit is,”a blonde girl sneered, her voice carrying across the quiet street.“Ifit isn’t the orphan freak.”I flinched when her eyes met mine.“Going solo today? Where’s your babysitter?”The others laughed behind her.

I swallowed hard, my mouthsuddenlydry.“Leave me alone,”I mumbled, trying to steer my bike past them.

She stepped forward, still smirking.“Sure, I’ll leave you alone. . .ifyou give me what’s in the bag.”

I held the paper sack tighter.“No,”I said, shaking my head.

She moved in front of me, blocking my path.“Give me the candy, freak.”

“No way!”I shot back.“Getyour own.”

Her lips curled into a mocking grin.“What are you gonna do? Cry to your mommy? Oh wait. . . that’s right. You don’t have one.”

Tears stung my eyes, but I lifted my chin and held them back.

“Aww, are you gonna cry?”she mocked, and her friends laughed again.“Is the little orphan freak gonna cry?”

“Come on, Maddie, give it a rest,”a boy’s voice cut in. Hewastaller than the others, but with a softer facethatmade himlookyounger.“Leave her alone.”

Maddie turned and glared at him. The rest of the group went quiet.

“Whatever,”she snapped.“Iwasgetting boredanyway. Let’s go.”

I gave the boy a grateful smile and mounted my bike, but before Icouldescape, Maddie spun back and shoved me to the ground.

I hit the sidewalk hard. The paper bag tore open, scattering my candy like confetti across the dusty pavement. Blood bloomed at my knee, and grit clung to my elbow as I struggled to sit up.

Everyone laughed. Everyone except the boy.

Crying, Ijumped back on my bike and pedaled home as fast as my legscouldcarry me—leaving the candy behind.

“What happened?”Gran asked,lightlydabbing my bloody knee with a tissue.

I didn’t want to tell her about Maddie and her friends.

I didn’t want her toknowthatthey’dcalledme a freak.

I didn’t want her toknowthatIwasangry—notjustat them, but at her too.

Angry at the world for mom dying and sending us here, and how I hatedthatpeople thought wewereweird because Gran was a little weird.

“It’s nothing,”I said, wiping the tears and snot from my face.“I just fell off my bike.”

Gran raised an eyebrow, but didn’t push.

“I hate it here,”I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest.“I want to go home.”

“You are home,” she saidgently, pressing the Band-Aid down over my scrape. “There, all better.”

I slid off the kitchen chair and stomped toward the door, anger still bubbling in my chest. My bikewaslying in the middle of the driveway and Granhadwarnedmethatnext time I left it out,she’drunit over. Gran never made empty threats.

Iheardthe crunch of tires and turned toseethe boy from earlier pedaling down the driveway—a fresh, paper bag clutchedtightlyin his hand.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he said, rolling to a stop.“Thatwasn’tcool.”

I stared at him, unsure what to say.

“I tried togetthe same stuff youhad, but theywereout of jawbreakers. I hope you like Lemonheads,”he grinned, holding the bag out to me.

I took the bagslowly, peeking inside at the rainbow of candy.“Thanks.”

“I’m Logan,”he continued without me asking.

“Emily,”I replied, slipping a strawberry bonbon into my mouth. I held out the bag.“Want one?”

He took one and we sat down together on the porch steps, the warm wood creakingsoftlybeneath us.

“Your friends aren’tverynice,”I said, twisting the wrapper between my fingers.

“They’re not my friends.”

“Thenwhy do you hang out with them?” I asked, watching him closely.

Logan shrugged.“It’s better than being at home.”

The way he said it made my chest hurt a little.Therewasmore tothatstory, but I figuredhe’dtell me when hewasready.

I popped a sucker into my mouth, letting the tartness settle on my tongue.“SothatMaddie girl. . .” I started. “What’s up her butt?”

Logan glanced down at his scuffed sneakers, the laces frayed and uneven.“Her name’s Madeline McBride. She’s the mayor’s daughter. Her mom’s on the city council, so their familyprettymuch runs this town.”

“Oh,” I tilted my head slightly. “Isn’t she going to be mad at you now?”

The late afternoon sun cast long, golden shadows across the porch. Logan stood, wiping his hands on his jeans.“Maybe,”he said, reaching for his bike.“Guess I’ll find out.”He straddled the frame,“Listen, I gotta go, butmaybeI’llseeyou at school?”

I nodded, watching as he pedaled down the driveway, the wheels kicking up tiny clouds of dust as he disappeared behind the curtain of magnolia trees.

The screen door creaked open behind me and Gran poked her head out.“Where’d your friend go?”

I climbed the porch steps, ignoring the sting in my knee as I passed by her.“Home,”I said, a hint of a smile in my voice.“Buthe’ll be back.”