Under the Moon

Right. So, Aunt Su was totally, completely mind-bendingly loaded. Turns out the rights for all those cheap, trashy romance novels are worth a veritable fortune. And on top of that, she was a closet real estate mogul. In other words, I didn’t just inherit a rundown little cabin with a hairy garden gnome out front and a rusty moped in the garage. Oh no. I inherited a giant chunk of premium lakeside property that stretches for kilometres in every direction. According to Mr. Duffy, Aunt Su bought it all up piece by piece over the years. She was so desperate for privacy that every time she sold a new book, she bought herself another chunk of land. A massive real estate bubble of personal space. Which, by the way, totally explained why she didn’t have any neighbours. Aunt Su owned half of Big Bend’s lakefront.

Which means, of course, that now I own half of Big Bend’s lakefront.

Head between knees. Deep breath in … deep breath out …

Okay, I’m all right now. Yeah, as you can guess, I really didn’t see this coming! But can you blame me? It was all so easy to miss. Aunt Su never lived the lifestyle of the rich and famous. I don’t ever remember her talking about money or wanting to buy a fancy car or go shopping on the French Riviera. She never wore jewellery or fancy clothes. As far as I know, she didn’t like polo or caviar or golf.

Her writing, the lake, me. Those were the things she got the most joy from. And none of them cost a penny.

Quel irony.

Dad said I’ll get access to the money and properties when I turn eighteen. He’ll help me decide what to do with all of it at that point. “Until then, I’m going to have to approve any purchases you want to make, since I’m the executor. Okay, Sweetness?”

“Yup, fine with me.”

And it really is fine with me. Fact is, now that I have my sleep back again, there are only a few things I can think of that I want in life, and money isn’t going to help me with any of them.

To start with, I want my freedom. After our talk, Dad got right on the phone and started the parental negotiations with Mom. He knows how to handle her better than anyone else. In the end, she agreed to let me live with Dad for the rest of the school year as long as I come to stay with her on weekends. Dad and I are going to start looking for a new apartment together this week. Really hoping Dad’s right — that Mom and I will get closer with a bit of distance. It’s all so ingeniously oxymoronic, it has to work. Dontcha think?

The other thing I want to do is figure out the final place for Aunt Su’s ashes. I got a good idea that last night at the cabin with Ben. But, believe it or not, the only person in the world who can help me make the idea work is none other than Todd Nelson. First thing after breakfast, I walk over to his house — which, incidentally, looks way nicer without the sprinkling of wrecked kids all over the property. Todd’s on the front lawn with what looks to be his grandfather, raking leaves into neat little piles. If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think they were sorting the piles according to shape and colour of leaf. I have to resist the urge to jump in and scatter them to the wind. Todd would probably forgive me but his grandpa looks pretty harsh — like he might even have less of a sense of humour than General MacArthur. If that’s even humanly possible.

“Hey, Todd,” I say, hovering back on the edge of the driveway. He drops his rake when he sees me.

“Lily?” He glances over at his grandpa, and when he turns back to me, I see his face is brighter than the pile of red maple leaves at his feet. “What are you doing here?”

Stepping over the leaves, he strides over to where I’m standing. His grandpa has his arms propped up on the end of the rake handle. He’s watching us with an overabundance of interest.

“I think we should talk,” I say, lowering my voice to a whisper so his grandpa won’t overhear. “First of all, I want to say that I think you’re really nice. And smart. And it was sweet of you to try and help me out last week in the hallway.” A slow smile starts to build on Todd’s lips. I hurry to finish my point before it takes over his face. “But … well, I’m so sorry … but I just don’t like you that way. You know what I mean, right?”

In a flash, his smile disintegrates. Okay, yeah, he knows what I mean. Todd’s face is burning so bright red, I worry it might just implode. He shuffles his feet and shoves his hands in his hoodie pockets. “But what about the night of the party … What about what happened —”

I hold up a hand to stop him from saying any more. Now my face is burning too. “No. I was drunk, Todd. I wasn’t acting like myself. I … it’s … I wouldn’t want that to happen again.”

He lowers his eyes to the ground. Zut. I’ve hurt his feelings. I take a step closer and give him a buddy-like punch in the arm. Hard, but not hard enough to hurt. “I’d really like to be friends, though — if you want.”

When he speaks again, his voice is a low rumble. “Emma told me you don’t have any friends. Well, except for her.”

“Yeah, well … guess you could say I’m turning over a new leaf,” I say. My introverted self lets out a weak squeal of protest. I ignore it, reach down, grab a handful from the neatly raked pile at my feet and toss them at his head. Leaves scatter around us like confetti. By the time they’ve landed, Todd’s smiling again. For all the right reasons, now. Behind him, I see his grandfather scowl and pick up his rake. “So, what do you say?” I ask.

He buddy-punches me back. Hard, but not quite hard enough to hurt. “Okay. We can be friends. Guess I’ll take what I can get.”

See, Lily? That wasn’t so hard, the little voice in my head says.

I let out a shaky breath. “If it’s okay, I have a favour to ask you.” Once I explain what I need, Todd happily abandons his raking and takes me on a shopping trip. To his family’s garden centre.